Sweet Revenge by Jackson

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Based on characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series, created by Joss Whedon.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Biteable: http://www.biteable.co.uk/jackson/home.html
All others, please ask first.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: Season 5.
Author's Notes: A big thank you to Kira who made the title image. To send her feedback email her at kardasi@kardasi.com.
Pairing: Xander/Spike

Summary: Spike has a plan to hurt Buffy by using Xander, but Xander has an unexpected effect.

Spike lit a cigarette from the butt of another and surveyed the Bronze wearily. Same old, same old. Same bloody people, same bloody thing night after soddin' night.

There wasn't anything to do in this piss ant town! He didn't even have Harm to be mean to anymore, she'd sired some college guy exchange student and finally buggered off to France.

He hated this town! He hated this bloody chip, and most of all he hated the Slayer! Stupid bint! She should be honored that he'd even considered liking her.

He took a long pull on his beer hoping it would wash away his disgust with himself for basically saying, "hey Slayer, here is my heart, why don't you stick a bleedin' knife in it".

Unfeeling bitch! Well no more. Yeah he'd been a little…ok, ok a lot off his game lately, but now he was back, yeah the big bad was back and he was going to make the Slayer beg and plead. Oh she'd want death by the time he was through with her.

It was good to hate her again. Felt simple and clear, no more bloody angst. God for a while there he'd been acting like Peaches. Good thing he'd caught it. Next thing he knew he'd have been wearing a long sweeping coat and sporting more hair gel than a 50's rocker…Oh. Wait.

Well anyway he was gonna bash her head so hard…oh damn it! He hated this bloody chip! Hated. It. Sometimes he just wanted to shove his fingers through his ears and rip the thing out.

He inhaled deeply on his fag, and forced himself to stay calm. Not easy when you were wound so tight you could happily crack a nut with your ass cheeks.

Alright so he couldn't kill her, but there must be something else he could do, he was evil after all, 'bout time he started acting like it.

Course he was still rude to the Scoobies, but they barely even listened to him anymore.

Him! William the Bloody! Being ignored by the Slayerettes when he once had them jumping through hoops to try and stop him.

He'd decided to leave town, he'd only been staying for two reasons anyway. Firstly to find one of those initiative doctors to take his chip out and secondly a certain annoying blonde. Since both those reasons had pissed on him from a great height he had no ties anymore.

But no way was he slinking away with his tail between his legs, if he was gonna go it'd be in style. With the Slayer crying and cursing and swearing revenge howling for his blood, even though it'd be too late. If he couldn't have her love, then he'd have her hate, but he damn well didn't want her pity.

A memory suddenly hit him, Angelus, smiling that gentle smile that made even his blood run cold, saying in that seductive voice; "To destroy this girl you have to work from the inside." And Spike covering up his nervousness with a light retort, but thanking God it wasn't him making Angelus have that particular look on his face.

Spike snorted and shook his head. "Tried it mate," he muttered to himself. The Adam fiasco. Close. Bloody close now he thought about it, but still no cigar.

But that was definitely the right track. Although going after friends and family of victims had never been Spike's bag, Angelus was the head game master, Spike preferred the direct route. Still desperate times and all that, but he couldn't kill any of them and there was no way the tactic he'd used for Adam would work again, they were all too solid at the moment.

Shame Angelus was gone really, he'd have been great for giving pointers here. Another memory hit. Him and Angelus watching Dru dance and babble happily. Making Spike's heart twist a little. Suddenly asking Angelus how he drove her mad, Angelus replying, amused.

"Spike my boy, breaking a human is simple as long as you have passion. Love, grief, hate. Take it down to its most basic form and its sex and death".

Oh no way! He was disgusted with himself for even thinking of it! But still…Say if he could seduce one of Scoobies, make them want him as much as they hated him, humiliate them over and over. It'd drag them away from the Slayer, there was no way they'd tell her something like that. Use them and discard them. God he knew how much that hurt. Maybe he'd tell the Slayer himself, send them a dumpogramme via Buffy. When she checked his story out, he'd have killed two birds with one stone, hurt and violated someone she cared about, which would just eat up at her, and have shown her that William the Bloody wasn't loves bitch anymore

Of course he'd have to get out of town fast otherwise the only way he'd be leaving was on a dustpan, but happy vampires travel fast.

It was a good idea, the problem was the thought of seducing one of the Scoobies apart from it being difficult, was it was well, yuck.

Giles, no chance in this world or the world to come would he let himself be seduced by Spike. A challenge was one thing, working a miracle was quite another. Not his type anyway. Willow was possible he thought, she had a bit of a soft spot for him, but far too engrossed with the witch, it'd take months and he wanted results soon, besides he'd have to play nice which wasn't the plan, which left…Oh no way!

He had that whole 'not a superhero' inferiority complex going on, lessened but there. Recently dropped by the ex demon so extra vulnerability, bound to be needy. Well needier.

And okay he hated Spike, but he was about the only one who even listened to him any more, at least Xander always rose to the bait, and he got a reaction. Now he thought about it he'd had some fairly enjoyable little spats with Xander. The kind you got when there was a spark there.

Yeah and when he'd been staying with Xander he'd noticed Xander's eye s on him a bit longer than strictly necessary when he'd been changing his shirt or whatever. He'd come out with some quip actually, "enjoying the view mate?" to which Xander had replied, "just marveling at the Big Bad discarding a Batman T-shirt for a Hawaiian shirt." But there was a blush to his cheeks. Spike had just shrugged it off at the time, so the lad wasn't completely straight, so what, but now…

Although…Spike blew smoke out slowly as his eyes narrowed in thought. The lad was nicely built, no doubt about that, and a brunette, he'd always had a thing for brunettes, and those huge dark eyes…and what was it Anya had said, "a Viking in the sack". Hmm.

An unpleasant grin began to spread over Spike's face. That grew even wider as he looked up to see none other than the whelp himself enter the Bronze.

This had to be a sign, hell it would be wrong not to do this! Spike necked the rest of his beer, and ordered another two bottles. Then he made his way over to where Xander was leaning against the wall watching the dancing. He had to go see about a guy.

Xander was having a bad day. Worse because nothing particularly bad had happened. It had just been…tiring. It was exhausting waiting to feel better after Anya's departure. He didn't want to talk about it, he was tired of even thinking about it, he just wanted it to stop and he could feel better, but it didn't and he still felt numb and empty. He almost wished something had happened, like a demon attack or something. At least it'd give him something else to think about. But no. Nothing. Nada. Kind of like his life at the moment.

Saturday so no work. Patrol with Buffy, no bad guys. For the first time in history Giles didn't need help looking up something obscure, and Willow and Tara had a spell session going on. Whether spell was a code for something else Xander didn't know, and for the first time didn't really care.

He'd been at home until the silence began to severely creep him. Even under the sound of television and stereo he could hear it. The quiet. The emptiness, so he'd come to the Bronze, to be around other people. The guys were great and all, but they expected him to be cheery, or to share his pain, neither of which he wanted to do, this was good. Alone but not. No one expecting him to talk…

Xander closed his eyes briefly. Spike. Great. Of course. He really didn't think he had the energy for this, but the Bronze was too small to avoid him, best to just exchange insults until Spike got bored and went away.

"Spike. Taking a break from Harmony's intellectual brain teasers on fake tanning lotion?"

"Oh woe is me." Xander paused. He didn't think Spike and Harmony were the love affair of the century but he couldn't help but empathize with Spike a little bit. "Are you heartbroken?"

Xander felt like he'd been punched. How did Spike know these things when nobody talked to him? Suddenly the avoidance option was looking mighty appealing, and he shook his head, turning to walk away.

Spike rolled his eyes "Oh please. Give me some credit, piss in it maybe, here have this one then."

Spike passed him the other bottle, Xander took it and looked at it warily before shrugging and taking a deep swallow.

"Well us heartbroken types have to stick together. Plus a bloke's gotta look after his nummy treat." Spike lowered his voice to an almost growl, accompanying it with a long, slow look up and down Xander's body.

Xander almost choked on his beer, Spike wasn't, he couldn't be checking him out could he? Of course he wasn't. No. Not SPIKE. That was crazy thinking. It was just the song. That was it. Some slow achy song had come on and bodies were pressed together, swaying on the dance floor. Making him imagine stuff.

"Well much as I enjoy our little chats Spike, and when I say that I'm lying, why don't you tell me what you want?"

Spike rolled his eyes. He was going to have to step this up a bit. Shock him out of that joke reflex of his. He took a step closer, pleased to see Xander didn't back away.

"Just thought we could cheer each other up a bit. You're better off without her, mate"

Xander's eyes were drawn to the movement of Spike's fingers. They were rubbing up and down the neck of his bottle. Up. Down. Circling the tip.

"Lot's of possibilities in the world today, be a shame if two blokes like us couldn't find something else to do."

"Spike what are you talking about?" Yes good. Words are good. Those words were good, except maybe he could have said them less huskily and more firmly.

Spike lifted his beer to his lips, wrapping them around the rim of the bottle and taking a drink. Xander watched at he swallowed long and deep, then dropped the bottle to his side, running his tongue along his lips. Like it tasted good. Too good to waste. Now the smoke was getting heavier, and he could still kind of see other people through it, all pressed up against each other, but the only thing he could see clearly was Spike. Like they were in a private little world.

And through the fog that love creates The night is filled with all the usual mistakes

"Just saying is all." Spike began to circle slowly around Xander, "Doesn't do to be all frustrated when there are ways to find release."

Now Spike was standing behind Xander and breathed the last two words in Xander's ear. Xander flinched as the puffs of air hit his skin. Maybe not a flinch. Maybe more like a tense shiver, and what the hell was Spike doing?

I'm looking for something, and anything will do So hey babe it might as well be you

And now everything was feeling thick, and heavy and slow, except his heart. That was thumping away very quickly thank you. And now Spike was in front of him again. Smiling, looking very satisfied with whatever he was seeing on Xander's face.

Spike was looking at him, looking him up and down again. Looking at him with something like, anticipation, interest. Curiosity. Like he was waiting. Waiting for Xander to say something. As he should. Spike had just asked him a question. But he wasn't sure what the question was. Or what his answer would be, and maybe Spike was just suggesting that they go patrolling or something, but he doubted it. Him and Spike were parallel lines that never…um…touched.

Xander very slowly set his beer bottle down. Carefully. Like it might just shatter. And now was the time to say something witty and get out of here because maybe it was just his imagination but there was a seriously bizarre feeling here and he had better things to do than go along with whatever twisted game Spike was playing. Okay he didn't but still, enough was enough, but the best he could manage was a husky, "I'd better go now."

But Xander couldn't move, just looking at Spike. Like he was waiting for something. Spike flicked his fingers casually towards the door.

"So go." Those words broke whatever the hell kind of hypnotism Spike was working and Xander found all limbs were present and correct, awaiting instruction.

"Yeah, um, bye." And he stumbled towards the door, not looking back, no not at all, except when he's almost out the door he couldn't help but look back, and Spike was looking after him, like Xander somehow knew he would be, but he kept on going, and didn't stop until he got home.

And in the Bronze Spike grinned and ordered another beer. This was going to be easier than he thought.

Spike winced in anticipation as the demon hurled him at the wall. Groaning inwardly as he hit the wall he turned back to the demon and gave it a half hearted kick to incite it to get a few good punches in on his face.

Fortunately it was only a Telcot demon, more slime than strength, which was good, wouldn't be any fun trying to work his magic if he was on the point of collapse, but still enough was – ow! – enough and he finally let loose on the demon, punching and kicking viciously before grabbing it and snapping its neck.

Shaking himself out he tenderly probed at his face. Unfortunately it was necessary to be convincing tonight, shame he couldn't see himself, but he certainly felt convincing especially where a claw had caught his cheek. Yep and his nose was bleeding.

"Nice one mate" he said, stepping over the dead demon lying at his feet. "Sorry about insulting your sister like that."

With that he set off towards Xander's apartment. He hated to admit it, but he really was pretty excited about tonight. Well why shouldn't he be? If all went well, tonight would be the first step in screwing the whelp physically, while sticking it to the Slayer metaphorically. A small voice whispered he'd still rather forgo the whelp and have the girl. Hey, he admonished himself, none of that! Hate her. Hate her. Gonna make her and her friend bloody cry. You had your chance bitch now Xander's paying the price.

Having sex with Xander wasn't a problem, vampires could get it up with the tooth fairy if she winked at them. Besides he'd only have to imagine Buffy crying to get hard. As for the whelp. Well. He was certainly up for a walk on the gay side. Spike was willing to bet large amounts of the cash he didn't have that Xander had tossed off to the memory of that conversation in the Bronze at least once, against his better judgment of course. Spike was also willing to double the bet that Xander had never even attempted to explore this side of himself. Humans. Always so bloody uptight. Still it was working out better for him so why worry? Vulnerability. Such a useful thing to use. Keep him off balance and he'll soon be flat on his back, or his stomach. Whichever Spike preferred really.

Spike entered the foyer to Xander's building. None of those annoying Scoobies were about tonight, he'd checked. He paused for a moment, this had to go just right, before anything else he needed an invite. It wouldn't do for the idiot to open the door to see Spike grinning all over his face. Okay, lights, camera, action! He began hammering on the door.

Xander had been half watching T.V half dozing on the couch when a thunderous knocking jerked him up.

He hurried to the door to see Spike in a disheveled bloodied mess on the other side.

"Invite me in!!" Spike threw a desperate look over his shoulder /Should get an award for this/. "They're right behind me!"

Xander grabbed Spike and pulled him into the apartment, not seeing the quick smile that flashed over Spike face as he checked the corridor for any nasties. When he turned back Spike was leaning against the wall, looking like he might faint.

"Vamps. Don't worry, now they know they can't get in they'll go." He closed his eyes and began to slide down the wall.

"Woah, come here" Xander slung an arm around Spike and led him into the front room, sitting him on the couch.

"Was out looking for something to pound on, got back to the crypt and a bunch of them were waiting for me, said they didn't hold with me working with the Slayer, killin' me own kind. Fought as long as I could, but there were too many, had to leg it but they chased me then I realized I was by your place."

Xander felt a pang of sympathy that unknown to him was written all over his expressive face. It looked like they'd given Spike a good working over. He could have been killed.

Spike noted the sympathy, physically biting his tongue not to yell "I don't want your bleedin' sympathy you useless git!" Slowly, slowly.

"Me! Why do I have to…oh forget it, I don't even have the energy to fight about it. Go and wash your face, and next time try running in the direction of Giles' place."

"Yeah, next time I'm trying to shake off a pack of vampires baying for my blood I'll ask if they wouldn't mind turning round while I run for help." Spike retorted as he heaved himself off the couch and headed for the bathroom. Xander didn't bother responding, but busied himself pulling out his first aid kit, well not really a kit, more of a case, and finding the things he might need.

"Sit down" Xander said not looking at him. Spike sat back down on the couch, and oh God. Spike had taken his shirt off, Xander's eyes widened as he traced the pale skin, defined muscles, the dark hard nipples, to the narrow waist where the thin line of hair led downwards, disappearing into his jeans…Xander wrenched his eyes away, and looked quickly at Spike to see if he'd noticed, Spike's clear blue eyes were amused as they met his.

Xander flushed, cleared his throat uncomfortably then began to dap at Spike's cuts with antiseptic.

"They looked worse than they were" he said, more to break the silence than anything else. He felt very awkward for some reason. He'd sat like this a million times with Buffy, Giles and Willow, patching them up and being patched up, but for some reason Spike was making him desperately uncomfortable. Maybe it was the way he wasn't taking his eyes from Xander's face. Maybe because none of the others ever took their tops off. Maybe it was the way Spike's knee kept brushing against his. Or maybe it was the memory of that bizarre night at the Bronze, which Xander had studiously not been thinking about, because there was nothing to think about. Spike had not been coming on to him, and even if he had, weird homo vampire that dyed his hair, Xander had done the manly thing and run away. So there was no reason to think of it when he was lying in his lonely bed.

With fingers that shook slightly Xander fixed a small plaster to Spike's cheek, pulling back as quickly as he could.

"Will this even help? You know with the undead healing thing?" He asked as he tried to cover his discomfort, concentrating on replacing the items in the case. Spike didn't answer.

"Spike?" Xander turned back to him. And Spike had scooted a little closer to him, as Xander turned they were practically eyeball to eyeball. Xander inhaled sharply, smelling the smoke and danger, the scent of Spike that until now he hadn't even realized he knew so well.

His heart in his mouth Xander leapt to his feet, putting half the room between them. "So, you can go now okay?" Xander said hurriedly. /Get him out, get him out, get that freaky vampire out/

"Go! How can I bloody go? They'll be waiting for me, can't even go back to me crypt, I'll have to find somewhere else, and get a new bleedin' telly."

"One bloody night. Come on Xander, it's not how I wanted to spend the night either, but it beats being tortured to death."

Xander ran his fingers through his hair. /Why me?/ "Fine. One night. And you're on the couch."

/Not going to ask. It'll only encourage him. Don't want to know./ Again, enough was enough, it seemed to be his standard reaction around Spike lately and it was far too late for exchanging barbed comments and insults.

"You know I'm doing you a favor…" Xander trailed off as Spike stretched his arms out along the back of the couch and slung his feet up on the coffee table, regarding Xander mockingly. Xander wanted to yell "Get your feet off my table you undead prick" but the power of speech had temporarily deserted him. His eyes traveled along the long lines of Spike's body casually sprawled out for him to see then looked away, ashamed of himself.

"Goodnight Spike." He muttered between clenched teeth as he closed his bedroom door.

It was another of those nights. Hot, restless, fidgety, pissed off in a tired kind of way, because he just wanted to go to sleep, and wake in the morning, when he would be, hopefully, seeing clearly, in more ways than one, but he was still lying awake, staring up at the ceiling.

Sleep was a million miles away, no matter how tired he may be, he had a lot on his mind. Well he had a certain vampire on his mind.

It just throbbed harder in response every time Xander thought of Spike stripped to the waist, sitting so close to him he could smell him. Xander groaned silently to himself. He was so ashamed of himself. Not the guy thing. That was something he'd always kind of known about himself, but that for some reason it was directed at Spike. Spike! Again his body stirred restlessly at the thought of him, and a surge of lust, faintly mingled with revulsion flooded through him.

And what the hell kind of game was Spike playing anyway? Probably Spike had sensed Xander's attraction to him and was just playing games with Xander's head. But Xander hadn't really thought of Spike like that seriously. Not when there were girls around to divert his hormones nicely. Just every now and then it kind of hit him, like when he'd been tied to the chair in Xander's basement. For a brief moment he'd wondered what would happen if just for once they put all that energy they expelled fighting into something else. Wondered what would happen if he slid onto Spike's lap, wondered if kissing Spike deeply would shut him up. Would he respond? The thought was painfully exciting, but he'd shaken it off at once.

But it was only lately, only since that night in the Bronze that he'd been thinking about Spike constantly. The night that Spike had started it! /God, sound like a five year old much?/ The night when he'd come home and dreamed about Spike pushing him down on the bed, pulling off his clothes. Moving back to look at Xander, at his body, those cold blue eyes, hot now, registering approval with what they saw. Their bodies pressed flush against each other, Spike leaning down to kiss him, ravaging his mouth, Spike's body, rocking against him, against his cock, the words "ways to find release" in Spike's rasping English accent echoing through his mind. That was what pushed him over the edge. Waking up in his own sticky emissions, he'd wanted to die. Kissing Spike! Kissing Spike! Even in a dream, what the hell was wrong with him?

Whatever it was it was still wrong and getting wronger. It didn't matter. One thing Xander was sure of was no matter how powerful his attraction for Spike got; Spike was up to no good playing on it. It would only lead to hurt. Just keep treating Spike as the enemy. Nothing was going to happen. Not now. Not ever.

And now the memory of that dream had only turned him on even more. He should just toss off and go to sleep, that was the sensible thing to do. That was what he would do. He slipped his hand into his boxers, stroking himself carefully, a shudder ran through him. He was so sensitive down there! He snatched his hand away. Couldn't vampires smell pheromones? If Spike was awake he'd be doing this to the accompaniment of sardonic remarks. Maybe he'd better check Spike was asleep.

With a long suffering groan Xander threw his feet on the floor and tramped towards the door. Peering around it carefully, he couldn't see a damn thing. Oh fuck it. While he was up he might as well get a drink. He headed towards the kitchen, casting a quick look in the corner of the room where Spike was just a dark blur, on the shadow that was the couch.

In the dark Spike's teeth flashed white as he grinned. About time too! He'd been waiting long enough. Fair play to the lad, he'd lasted longer than Spike had thought he would, he'd been lying awake for over two hours. Though the wait had probably just made Xander even more up for it. The rush of pheromones as Xander had opened the door had damn near overpowered him. For the first time a flicker of genuine interest in the lad passed through him.

He slid off the couch and slinkily made his way over to the kitchen where Xander was gulping juice like his life depended on it, the only light coming from the fridge where the door was still open.

Xander stiffened, then put his glass down. He didn't jump, because somehow he'd known. Known that if he'd come out here Spike would be awake. But in the end he hadn't been able to stop himself, and, oh shit, Spike was only wearing his jeans.

"Just thirsty," he muttered, willing his erection, that was just begging for a chance to come back, to stay away.

Spike looked at him knowingly, taking in the rigid set to Xander's shoulders, the tension emanating from every line of his body.

God as if he needed reminding of that particular little snippet. Willing his erection away wasn't working, he half turned away from Spike, hoping he wasn't planning on looking down any time soon.

"What you want to go patrolling or something?" Xander tried to ask casually, miserably aware of the quiver in his voice.

"No." Spike grinned to himself, it'd been fun watching Xander squirm, but it was time to get this show on the road. His voice had no trace of laughter as he said firmly;

Spike lightly ran his finger down Xander's spine and Xander gasped sharply before he could stop himself.

The sensible thing would be to run, or say explain his arousal away by saying he needed a piss, or something but a mixture of miserable defiance and a feeling of sick excitement was flooding through him, and silently he turned to face Spike

And Xander's stupid, stupid body was defiantly agreeing with that, arousal was pooling in his groin and Spike was way to close to him, now, he was running his hand along Xander's arm.

"Don't". And any minute now he'd move away, somewhere his mind was screaming at him to run, but his cock was begging to be touched.

"Get out, I've got better things to do than listen to this crap," he said strongly, but it felt like he was wrestling with quicksand.

"Like what? The witches are off workin' their spells, Buffy's battling evil and doesn't need you gettin in the way. Hell even the Watchers gettin more action than you Xander, the only thing you've got is this place, and yeah it's nice, but it's nothing. Its empty".

"Is this your usual method of seduction? Cos on you it's still coming across as being a hurtful loser." And his mouth, oh his mouth was still on autopilot, still saying the things it would normally say, but oh, every fucking nerve fells like it's jumping up and down, and every inch of skin is begging to be touched, and if Spike doesn't stop wasting time on his stupid arm and slide that hand into his boxers Xander just might do it for him…

"I'm not trying to be nice, I'm being honest. The only person who really made you feel wanted and needed was your demon. But she's gone now and you don't think anybody will ever want you or need you again, but I do Xander. I want to nail you to the mattress and fuck you into oblivion, I need you Xander. Let me use you. Use me. Fuck ME".

And oh not a shiver now, past shivers, this was like a blast of confused desire just ripping through him that Spike must surely be able to SMELL but this is just a game, just a twisted game…

Moving very slowly Spike moved his hand, taking Xander's placing it on the bulge in his jeans. And Xander looked down at his hand, like it was disconnected from him. It had to be. It couldn't be him rubbing his hand along Spikes erection like that. Squeezing gently.

"I want you so bad I can taste it. I want to shove myself so far up you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week."

"Yeah," and Spike's voice made Xander look up and there was that damned smile that was somehow a sneer. "That's the plan."

Spike's lips were cool, hard. His tongue rough, lapping at Xander's closed mouth, making small noises of frustration that Xander wasn't letting him in. /Come on you bloody poof for Gods sake, just let go/. A surge of anger raced over him, it was bad enough he was having to do this at all, he didn't need the lad to stand there like a stuffed dummy while he was working his magic. /Should be pleased about me usin' him, it's the only chance he'd ever have with me, and does he bloody appreciate it?!/

His hands tightened on Xander's shoulders then he suddenly shoved Xander, hard so he was pressed against the wall. Xander's eyes were wide with shock, but he could still smell the lust emanating from him and it calmed him a little.

Oh yeah the lad wanted him alright, he was just working through a 'I – shouldn't – let – this – happen' hangup. Spike revised his plans for the night with lightening speed, obviously a full on fuck was out of the question, the whelp was still way too nervous, needed a little time, but still a little taster should get him tickin' over nicely…

Spike moved close so his body was hard against Xander's and returned to the fray. Letting his hand brush lightly against Xander's cock an involuntary groan and thrust from Xander had Spike smiling to himself, /that's it you slut, but if you think I'm gonna toss you off before you start showing a bit of involvement you're very much mistaken/. Ignoring Xander's whimper he moved his hand to Xander's hip, moving his thumb in soothing circles.

Xander couldn't understand why he felt so hot. A cold wall pressed against his back, a cold vampire pressed against his front but he felt like he was hovering on the edge of meltdown. Burning. Spike's mouth was on his neck now, mouthing frantically his hands running swiftly all over him except where he needed it most and suddenly Xander's body had evidentially decided that this standing frozen thing wasn't enough anymore, and this must be what an out of body experience felt like, because surely that couldn't be him grinding his hips into Spike, not caring that the jeans were chafing on sensitive skin, couldn't be him desperately clawing at Spike's back, couldn't be him making those moans, definitely couldn't be him muttering those words "want you, always wanted you".

He wouldn't do something like this, therefore it couldn't be happening, except it was and Spike's mouth was back on his and stupid, stupid Xander couldn't help it, couldn't, he moaned under Spike's mouth, opening his own, with a grunt of satisfaction Spike swept his tongue in for the first time, not exploring, not gentle enough for exploring more like claiming, and Xander was kissing back just as hard, and he could taste blood from somewhere and his lips hurt, and it almost felt like Spike was grinning as they were kissing, but he'd started now and nothing in the whole damn world was gonna make him stop. Spike's hand was moving down now, and Xander's bad, mean body was rocking harder, trying to get Spike to touch him, but Spike apparently had other ideas, Xander pulled back, panting as Spike unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his own erection free.

Xander's eyes swerved down then back up, appalled, for a second slipping out of this world that was nothing but cold wall and hard mouths and unbearable painful lust, the thought /what the hell am I doing!/ crashing into him, but then Spike grabbed his hand, placing it on his erection.

Oh and those sweet words had him drowning in this all over again, and never before had those words sounded so fucking sexy, just because it was Spike asking Xander for something, but he still couldn't look at Spike while he was doing it. Xander closed his eyes and leaned his head on Spike shoulder as he began to move his hand, tentatively at first, but the feel of Spike in his hand was turning him on even more, the contrasting sensation of silky skin covering the hardness /Spike's hardness! Spike wants ME!/, and he began to move faster, closing his hand more tightly around Spike, maybe trying to show Spike this was what he wanted Spike to do to him, and he was out of control hard, and could just come from this, just from feeling Spike, but oh God how he wants to be touched and his cock is jumping and aching for Spike and he wants to say that but he's too shy, and the only way he can get it across is to try to show Spike by pumping his hand faster and sucking on Spike's neck harder and using his free hand to steady Spike's hips that are bucking faster and harder, and Xander couldn't help but let out a moan of frustration because he wants to be where Spike is and he's pumping, pumping, pumping, his wrist is aching now, and fuck knows how long he's been doing this for, but he can't stop, won't stop, because now Spike's shuddering and thrusting harder and he wants to make Spike come, right now, and he wants Spike in his mouth and up his ass and this isn't nearly enough and he wants wants wants, and now his hand is a blur on Spike's cock, and Spike is biting down hard on Xander's shoulder, and his fists are clenched on the wall on either side of Xander and suddenly the smell of Spike's come hit the air as he spurted his lukewarm orgasm over Xander.

Spike gasped as he came hard over Xander's hand, thrusting into him until it was over. For a moment he stood there, leaning heavily on Xander, too heavily probably, but who cared? He was feeling decidedly weak kneed and would've like to sit down, but Xander was pressing into him, still wordlessly begging to be touched, his erection still jabbing into Spike's stomach, and if he didn't give the lad something now, he might not want to come back for more. With an inward sigh Spike slid his hand into Xander’s boxers and began to move it, hard, fast, it'd been fun making the lad go cross-eyed with frustration, but now he was finished he wanted this to be over.

Xander let his head fall back, banging on the wall, panting as Spike's slim fingers expertly moved on him, and now it was actually happening he almost wanted it to stop because this was all way too much and way too good, and wasn't gonna last, couldn't last, he'd been waiting for too long, and he bucked hard, coming with an intensity that was almost painful over Spike's hand, splattering his stomach and chest.

His knees buckled and he closed his eyes again, leaning against the wall, gradually coming back to himself to realize the fridge door was still open, and it was still semi dark, but his eyes had adjusted a little and Spike was leaning back from him, and his eyes were glittering with something like…triumph? Whatever it was it was cold, and Xander shivered, suddenly realizing he'd done something incredibly stupid.

"See," Spike said at last, "told you there were ways to find release." He pushed himself away from Xander and went to the bathroom, and Xander dimly heard the sounds of splashing water. Xander went to run his fingers through his hair, then paused, Spike's come was still on his fingers, ignoring the twist in his stomach, Xander wiped his hand quickly on his boxers, and was probing gently at his sore, swollen lips as Spike came back in the room. Xander stared at him, /if he thinks he's gonna sleep with me in my bed because of this…/ No way. He never, ever wanted to see the vampire again. But Spike didn't seem to even look at him, never mind want to sleep in the same bed as him.

The what? Oh. Right. Numbly Xander did as he was told, and as Spike only seemed to want to go to sleep now he made his way back to the bedroom. He paused at the door, hating himself for asking, but he had to know.

"Right" Xander slammed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed feeling bruised and battered beyond belief and shocked to the core.

The sound of his alarm pulled Xander out of the deepest sleep on record. Eyes still screwed shut he fumbled for the off switch. Ah peace. He slowly began to wake up, but something was niggling at him, telling him that waking up was not a good idea, what the hell was it…?

He flew bolt upright in bed as the memories of last night rushed to meet him, and sat rigid as shame and humiliation stickily spread through him like someone had just up ended a bucket of scum over him. He buried his head in his hands thinking helpful things like /Oh no. God no. Please no. It didn't happen. It was just a dream. Please make it not have happened./

Something that was going to be pretty impossible to pull off as Xander was fairly certain that Spike was still asleep on his couch.

Maybe he'd gone. /Yeah Spike took a walk in the dawning sun to save me embarrassment/

Maybe he could stay in here until Spike left, but he absolutely balked at the thought of spending another minute in here alone with his thoughts. Thoughts were not going to be happy today, he had to get out and go to work. And that meant leaving the bedroom.

Okay he could do this. On shaky legs he went to the door, noting in an abstract way that his hands were clammy. He opened the door and immediately saw Spike's outline huddled underneath a blanket on the couch.

He silently and quickly got ready for work, but it seemed to take forever, when he was eventually ready he headed for the front door only to be stopped dead as Spike's voice floated over from the depths of the couch.

Xander flinched. Obviously praying that Spike had been struck with a bout of amnesia hadn't worked.

Xander whirled around, "I don't! I've never…" He trailed off as Spike sat up and let the blanket fall away. /Ohmigod I kissed that mouth, I clawed that back, I tossed that guy off!!/

Alone Spike grinned madly. /Hmm lets recap. Invite? Check! Sexual encounter? Check! Secrecy? Check! One humiliated Scooby? Check! On track for one hurting Slayer? Double check and mate!/

He hadn't felt this good since the chip had been shoved in! Should've tried something like this long ago. Of course it wasn't as much fun as ripping the heads of everyone she loved and leaving them lined up on her doorstep, but hey he wasn't complaining. Spike was completely convinced that after Xander had battled through the whole 'ooh what have I done' reflex, that he was going to be ready for round two.

/Recipe for round two…take one dark haired young lad in denial, add drop dead gorgeous blond vampire, male of course, stir in a hot night, and mix together in an intense wanking session, separate immediately and leave dark haired lad to simmer for a couple of days. Simmering process could be skipped, but you run the risk of dark haired lad crumbling under pressure, best to let him rise on his own. When lad has reached boiling temperature re-introduce vampire. Serve on bed and let the shagging begin.

The thought crept unbidden into his head and pain flashed through him at the thought of her, but he ignored it. /No good getting soft on her again, you've started this, so bloody well finish it/

Anyway, revenge thoughts, Spike was ready for round two right now, was actually looking forward to it, and not just in a 'screwing the Slayer' kind of way, last night had been something of a surprise, he hadn't expected Xander to be so…passionate. That was the best hand job he'd had since…well he couldn't remember a better one. He tried to remember for a moment, then shrugged, probably it was just because vampires weren't much with the fooling around thing, full sex was pretty much a given. He'd forgotten how good the lead up could be, the anticipation…and what was it Xander had muttered? "Want you, always wanted you". His cock twitched at the memory of Xander panting that in his ear as his hands scratched down Spike's back and their hips ground together…

This revenge thing just got better and better! Of course the destination was the same, but it made it so much more fun if the journey included some good shagging.

Xander slowly walked home. He was dead tired, work had been long, then he'd been patrolling with Buffy. And if he'd kept his eyes open for a certain bleached vampire nobody needed to know that but him. It had actually been on the tip of his tongue to ask Buffy if she wanted to go by Spike's crypt just to check he wasn't up to anything, but then he'd remembered Spike had been looking for a new crypt after the vampire attack, he wouldn't be there anyway. It had been two days since the night with Spike. Two of the longest days of his life. The whole never wanting to see him again thing had lasted approximately 10 hours.

Until he'd gone home to an empty apartment and was aware inexplicably of disappointment. And no. He hadn't asked Willow to come and do the de-invite spell for him. He told himself it was because she'd ask questions, questions he wasn't up to answering.

As the days passed he couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd alternatively been flashing hot with a shameful lust and ice cold with fear.

Not fear that he'd see Spike again. Fear that he wouldn't. He was hurt, humiliated and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Couldn't stop thinking about Spike's skin that was every bit as silky as it looked.

The things he'd said. "I want to nail you to the mattress and fuck you into oblivion…"

Something in Xander's stomach kind of twisted over at the memory of it and a shiver of arousal ran through him. He shook himself, he was so stupid! He'd given Spike blackmail material for the rest of his life. It could never, ever happen again.

"Let me use you. Use me. Fuck ME." And Spike's voice was rough and sweet all at the same time like honey over wood…

And why the hell hadn't he? Fucked him that is. Spike had said, he wanted to fuck him. So why had he stopped at, um well why had he stopped?

And it wasn't getting better. If anything as the time passed it was getting worse. An ache had set up camp in his body and wasn't going anywhere. That night hadn't been nearly enough. Not by a long stretch, had just fanned the flames inside him and they were still burning away. Something had been set in motion, Spike had reached out and bent the parallel lines, then left, leaving unfinished business hanging between them. Leaving Xander in a state of half horror, half aching need.

/Knew it was just a head game. He's probably gonna resurface and say how crap I was and that's why he doesn't want to sleep with me/

But somehow Xander didn't think that was the case. He'd felt Spike, and known, instinctively that whatever else was going on in Spikes mind, his body was enjoying what was happening.

Xander shook his head at himself /losing it much Harris? Does the term bitter enemies mean nothing to you?/ and went to open the door to his apartment block.

Xander came to an abrupt halt, then, his heart in his mouth, slowly turned around.

/There's the answer to one question anyway/ The bleached wonder was right in front of him.

And. Wow. Surely it couldn't be right for a guy to look that good. Scuffed DM's black jeans, black T-Shirt, black duster.

Kind of made Xander wish he was wearing something more low key than purple pants and an orange shirt.

"I'm not your lover." Xander muttered. How come if Spike was the harmless one, Xander felt like he was the one with a chip in his head? Defenseless. Stripped bare. "What are you doing here?"

"You live in there" Spike jerked his head towards the apartment block in front of them.

Oh. /He's come looking for me/ The memory of Spike coming over his hand suddenly flashed through him and his fists clenched compulsively.

Spike ignored him anyway, flicking the butt of his cigarette away and flung his hand wide, acknowledging and disregarding the stars in one gesture. "So isn't it a nice night we're having, how 'bout them Redskins, well that's the small talk all taken care of. Ready to finish what we started the other night?"

Xander swallowed back the urge to scream "Yes!" at the top of his voice and ignored the blood throbbing in his veins in a seductive slow beat.

"It's never going to happen again Spike," he said strongly, "in fact there is no again because it never happened."

/Yeah/ a small amused voice popped up in his mind /you talk the talk, but you know you can't walk the walk, and Spike isn't going to take no for an answer. You hope anyway./

Spike's eyes narrowed and he stared hard at Xander. /Got to love the way he keeps trying. Course it'd be a whole lot more convincing if I couldn't smell the potential hard on from 50 paces/ He decided to have a little fun with the lad. /Play with this fish a little before reelin' him in and gutting him/

"Oh well. If that's the way you want it." He feigned disinterest, not missing the flash of disappointment that fleetingly appeared on Xander's face. "I do have a reason for being here."

Xander heaved a long suffering sigh. "Fine, whatever, get it and get the hell out."

He opened the door and they walked down the corridor in silence. Xander stole another look at Spike, the plaster on his cheek was gone, the skin smooth and unmarked.

They reached his apartment and as he unlocked it Spike pushed past him and was inside before he could draw breath.

Spike raised an eyebrow at him, "Never got round to doing that de- invite spell I see"

He went to turn the light on, but Spike's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist before he could reach the switch.

"What are you doing?" he yelped. As much as he hated to admit it, it definitely was a yelp.

Spike didn't answer, but his thumb began tracing the hot skin on Xander's pulse point.

"You said you left something in here" Xander stammered, trying to ignore the distracting sensation of Spike's caress.

Xander tried half heartedly to pry Spike's fingers from his wrist. "Spike if you try anything with me I will stake you."

Spike grinned. "Well I'm game mate, but I really see it more as me staking you. At first anyway, if you're a good lad, and a fast learner though…" /Yeah and I'll be handing out ice skates in hell before I let you do that to me/

Xander closed his eyes helplessly as the image suddenly hit of with all the force of a kick to the stomach of Spike /fucking me/ thrusting into him. That arrogant smirk for once wiped out. Opened them to find Spike looking at him intently as his thumb still circled on his wrist, and his stomach felt like it had been hollowed, a low hot throbbing began to pound through him.

"No Spike." /Yep going with the denial. It's my best friend. Try it again without the erection/

"Never happened remember?" The words were meant to come out strongly, but came out more pleadingly. /OhGodohGod what the hell is this, please don't do this to me, he used me, he's going to do it again, and I'm so completely fucked up and want him so badly I think I'm going to let him…/

"But it did," Spike lowered his voice "I was the one that was pressed up against you that night, hearin' those sweet little noises you make when your about to…"

Spike let his eyes flicker down to the lads mouth, moist and panting, then back up to meet his eyes. "Make me. I won't bite. You're quite safe."

Safe? Safe? The words Spike and safe did not belong together, Spike didn't make him feel safe, he made him feel like prey, like the hunted, like he was burning from the inside out and he was gonna die if he didn't get just one more taste of that cool skin and wicked mouth, made him so turned on and so hard that he could fuck if the world was ending and here it all was being just handed to him, but they hated each other, and Spike was up to something…

"Don't start lying to me. You've never lied before. You want me." Spike inhaled deeply. "I can smell it."

/I want to have this bloody chip out of my head. I want to kill each and every one of you I want to kill the Slayer and turn her and make her my bitch for eternity. But this will have to do so don't fucking push me/

Instead of answering Spike tightened his fingers on Xander's wrist and pulled him until the lad was pressed against him, leaning in so his lips were hovering millimeters away from Xander's and he could feel the heat radiating from his mouth, the tremors running through him. He let go of Xander's wrist and waited for a moment to see what he would do. His breath was coming in short pants, but he didn't try to move away.

He should throw the lad on the floor and take him right now. Hard. He could do, he could get round his chip enough to do that. And it wouldn't be rape either. The lad was begging for it, with his eyes, his scent, far more eloquent than words. But he felt oddly reluctant to do it that way as happy as it would have made his demon. And yes, fine his own erection. Yeah it was all ultimately a plan to screw the Slayer over, but still…The lad was doing things, awakening sensations he hadn't expected. The way Xander was staring at him with such a look of aching want, desperation clear in his eyes, because he knew there was no way he was going to win this…Spike couldn't remember when anyone had ever looked at him like that before. It was beautiful, intoxicating, and, oh yeah, as sexy as hell. Instead he flicked his tongue out, letting it dart along Xander's lips. Xander made a strangled sound in his throat the tremors became more apparent and Spike could feel him, straining against his pants, rubbing against Spike's own erection, and well well what was this?

Xander shuddered as he pressed against Spike, feeling his hands, that had apparently developed a will of their own slide around Spike's waist. A part of Xander's mind appeared to be screaming something along the lines of /No! STOP! That's Spike!/

"Spike…" he moaned, grinding his hips into Spike, and that felt so good, he just had to do it again.

Spike shivered, pleased. "You remember it don't you?" Spike murmured, his lips brushing Xander's with every movement. "Us coming all over each other? Haven't been able to stop thinking about it have you? Wanking off about it, imagining it's me. Don't have to imagine tonight. Remember what I said that night?" Spike's hands were sliding under his shirt like smoke, reaching to trail lightly over his hard nipples, pulling and pinching gently.

"Yeah." Xander gasped. Insanity. This was insanity. He had to pull away. But he couldn't move, didn't want to move, the slim cool fingers sending delicious shivers sparking though him, Spike was almost magical in his moment, enchanting, hypnotic, creating a fog of desire in Xander's mind. So gorgeous, he'd wanted this for so long, and he was right there….

"Liked it didn't you?" Spike let one of his hands slide out from under his shirt, ghost along Xander's body until it came to rest, just over his heavy arousal.

"Yeah. Knew you did. Could tell. Got you all hot and bothered didn't it? What'd I say that got you the hardest?"

Xander felt his face flame, even as the bolts of excitement leapt straight to his groin.

"Well?" Spike prompted, his hand toying with the fastening to Xander's pants. Xander shuddered, tried to look away from Spike's eyes that were just drawing him in, swallowing him whole, and couldn't.

"That…that you wanted to…to" He gulped. As he spoke Spike was slowly popping open the buttons on his pants. "To…nail me to the mattress and…and…" He stopped, painfully embarrassed.

"And?" Spike was relentless, shifting his hand away, sliding it around the waistband to his boxers his thumb brushing Xander's wet tip. A groan flew from Xander's mouth before he could stop it. He took a deep breath. "And…fuck me into oblivion" he gasped out.

"Well" and there was the faintest hint of amusement in Spike's voice. "Since you ask so nicely."

Spike's mouth was suddenly ravaging his, using tongue, teeth, as he freed Xander's erection and oh yes that was it, that sweet fucking rhythm that was just the best feeling in the whole world and God it was like being stuck by lightening, and fucking hell so much better than he'd dared let himself remember. Xander moaned in the back of his throat wrapping himself around Spike, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on his ass, pulling him in trying to get closer to him, whimpering under the attack Spike was making on his mouth, and kissing back just as hard to stop himself from begging for more and he wasn't going to think, he wouldn't let himself stop and think…Except that Spike tasted just like he smelt, like smoke and cold and danger. And he had way to many clothes on, and he was trying to do too much, shove off Spike's duster, and unbutton his jeans and pull up his T-Shirt.

Spike pulled back and arched an eyebrow at him. "So. Do I need to ask if you're ready?"

As he spoke he squeezed a little harder making Xander jump and clench his fingers a little tighter on Spike. He couldn't say anything. But he didn't have to. He knew his answer was written all over his face.

"Right then" Spike smiled a truly evil smile, /I love it when a plan comes together/ "Lets get the hell on with it."

Lying on the bed, not sure how he's got there, well he knows how he got there. Spike pushed him on to it, but not sure how this is happening, how he and Spike have ended up here. Out of a million possible future this was the one least likely to happen. Doesn't really care about that as long as it carries on happening. Clothes. His and Spike's. Seem to be vanishing. That's good that's fine and doesn't Spike have nice feet, and arms and shoulders and chest and nipples…

Hot. Too hot, but Spike was on him, pressing his cool body onto Xander's. Pressing it back on the cool sheets. So he wasn't going to melt. Wasn't going to vanish in a pool of molten Xander and any small chance he might of had of stopping this from happening has long gone, was gone the second he let Spike touch him again, and now Spike was pulling roughly at his pants and Xander was helping, kicking them off, and the boxers were going as well, and oh yes. Spike's cool, talented fingers were wrapping around him again, with the other hand holding him still, like Spike was worried Xander was going to try and stop this, like Xander wasn't arching up into Spike's touch, moaning at the friction, toes and fingers curling on the sheets for something to hold on to, cause this was being up on the tightrope with no safety net, this, this was going to happen, right now, wrong, wrong, wrong, but he can't understand what the hell wrong could possibly mean. Because this feels so good. And yeah evil vampire using him and maybe being used isn't so bad if this is what he gets out of it. The cool slide of his tongue and the slightly rough fingertips driving Xander mad, right away from common sense and he couldn't care less.

Nothing mattered because Spike was so fucking gorgeous and he's running his hands over the satin skin on Spike's bare back, and now letting them move round to trace the bulge straining against those jeans, that just have to come off and oh he wanted this, but fear was dancing through him but he couldn't stop and think about it, because if he did he might just stop…

And he doesn't want to stop. The only thing he really wanted was more and Spike seemed to get that and his hand is moving fast on Xander now…

"Oh God." Whimpered fast. Fingers clenching a little tighter in the sheets as his back arches again.

/Nah, far from it actually, but you'll be on your knees to me soon enough/ Spike thought dizzily. For some reason Spike had always thought Xander would be a clumsy kisser, a theory that had not stood up to the test. The lads wise cracking tongue silent now tangled with his, sucking and nipping at his bottom lip. /A guy could really get used to this/ Spike felt his cock throb a little harder at the thought of all the other uses he could put that mouth to.

"Very quiet for a change mate. Vampire got your tongue?" Having to joke or something, just to remind himself that he is in control here, because the heat is scorching, and Xander is all golden, smooth and tight…

"Shut up" Xander muttered fast, quick fingers working at Spikes jeans, unbuttoning him, "If you talk I'm either gonna come right now or kill you, don't talk, I don't want to…I just want…"

He pulled at Spike's jeans, heat rising as Spike slid out of them. Naked at fucking last, and he couldn't seem to see enough of Spike, not looking away appalled this time, cos Spike is so beautiful all of him, dark hard nipples, tight muscles, pale skin, fathomless eyes, narrow hips, long hard cock, couldn't keep his eyes on one point of his body, trying to devour him with his eyes, but it wasn't enough and he just had to touch Spike, had to believe he was really there, pulling him down on top of him, the cool heavy press of Spike's body holding him down, so he couldn't get out of this now…

And that's just great, just fine why would he want to get away, especially when Spike's quickening his strokes like that, making Xander gasp and buck, and gasp, and no! Moving his hand away.

Spike grabbed the lube out of his discarded jeans and slicked his fingers ignoring Xander's whimper of protest as he took his hand away. /Be whimpering even more if I don't use this mate/

Watching Spike with wide eyes, get himself ready, and suddenly Xander's thinking maybe he needs a little time to get ready, a couple of years maybe, just to get used to the idea but suddenly Spike's hand was back on him moving it down, past his balls, tracing along the tight skin between them and his ass and oh. A slick finger, pressing into him now, just moving around his entrance, and suddenly ridiculously he's wishing that he's done this to himself, practiced or something, because at least then he'd know what to expect, but too late now, Spike pushed it in and ow, how can anyone want to do that? It hurts, and that moving in and out thing is not good, it's making him feel shaky and sick, and he wants it to stop, shifting uncomfortably, ready to try and pull Spike out, but when he moves it feels good, so he does it again, and Spike's in just a little deeper, and weirdly the further in it is the less it seems to hurt and still not pleasure, not really, but it feels something, so okay he'll let Spike do it a little more, and suddenly he's being stretched more, a lot more, what the hell? Oh another finger and Xander bit his lip, because as Spike's working past the opening he's just gonna scream, not biting it enough apparently because a pained moan flew out and he can't help it, his whole body tenses up, but suddenly Spike's other hand is sliding towards his cock and fancy that he'd forgotten about it with all the fingers up the ass, and Spike's pumping, squeezing, his hand getting slippery with pre-come and Xander's bucking, but that just sends the fingers further in, and owowow.

Hand pumping and fingers thrusting around like their searching for something and what the hell is Spike looking for up there and

"Fuck! Yes!" He yelled it out and he flushed embarrassed, stupid maybe cos Spike is seeing him naked right now with his fingers inside him and what's a yell of pleasure between bitter enemies? But still he's embarrassed and shoves his hand in his mouth to muffle the cries, but Spike knocks it away, looks almost angry with Xander and a huge wallop of fear hits him.

"Want to hear you" Spike growls, his face rigid, and okay that's just fine, whatever Spike wants, one less thing for Xander to worry about, and the fear recedes as Spike touches that place again, that place that sends Xander arching up off the bed shouting. And does it again, and again, and yeah he'd read about it, but didn't know anything could actually feel so good and body is out of control now, jumping and thrusting around, jerky, hard movements, pushing back on Spike's fingers now, trying to get them in deeper and moving faster and it's gone from kind of awful to just the best fucking feeling in the world and Spike's hand is still fisting his cock, and it's all way too much and Spike had maybe better hold him still 'cos /oh yes just like that, that is so fucking good, don't stop don't…/

"So good, so good. Spike! Oh I'm gonna…" Jerking and bucking under Spike, fingers clenching, cock jumping, shooting over Spike, over himself. Shivering and moaning and eventually relaxing back on the bed, Spike's fingers sliding out of him, and that feels a bit awful, and Xander looks up at Spike, who raises an eyebrow in a kind of suggestively amused way, the intensity gone now, his glance oddly…gleeful? And Xander feels a little cold all at once, but then Spike is kneeling between his legs slicking his cock and pumping it before Xander's fascinated eyes and Xander's legs are over Spike's shoulders.

And that brings the fear right back up, and Xander placed his hands on Spike's hips trying to push him back.

"Wait, no, you're too big…" No doubt blistering shame will follow, and bitter regret but he can't let Spike do this, it'll rip him apart.

"Shhh." Spike ran his hands soothingly over Xander's sides, waiting for the trembling to lessen. He kissed him again, long and wet, feeling the hot velvet mouth under his moan as Xander began to relax under him, buck under him just a little. He let his fingers play with Xander's rock like nipples and lowered his mouth to one lapping and sucking hard. Smiling to himself as he heard the gasp from Xander /yeah take it while you can get it mate/ probably meant he was ready as he was going to get for this.

Spike moved himself into position, running his cock along Xander's entrance. He had been going to do this from behind, it'd be easier, but he wanted Xander to know exactly who was fucking him, indelibly burned into his memory, he wanted Xander to see his face, to remember that his hated enemy was taking his virginity. Making him ache for more.

Spike pushed in a little, and Xander clenched his teeth against the pain, squeezing his eyes shut, but Spike pushes in a little more, and Xander's heat is calling to him, he's so hard now, so ready for this, for beautiful Xander, sweet and hot and he knows in a vague kind of way that he wasn't supposed to find this so exciting, was meant to be in control but the scent of lust and fear coming from him is just so fucking sexy, can't ever remember having a lover wanted him like this before and he's going to get it, oh yeah, gonna get it good and God how he wants to be inside. But Xander's hands were suddenly back on his hips and his teeth were clenching in frustration, /he can't stop me, just stop fighting me/ maybe should pull back and tease a little more, but didn't want to do that, needed this now and couldn't help but say,

"Don't stop me…don't." Biting his lip to stop from begging Xander, hot, tight Xander to let him in.

"God no, don't want to stop" Xander gasped using his hold to pull Spike in deeper, and they both froze, shocked into stillness by Spike's sudden and easy slide in. Spike gasped as his hands clenched on Xander's hips. The heat, the incredible tightness was overwhelming, drowning him sending hot flashes all through him.

"Open your eyes." And Spike wondered briefly if that was his voice because it didn't sound all cool and in control the way he was used to sounding with Xander, it sounded all tight and shaking, intense.

Xander's eyes flew open. Spike looked down at Xander whose chocolate brown eyes were almost coal black with desire as he stared at Spike, and there was pain in them, pain and lust and just enough to push him over the edge and he starts moving, pulling out almost to the head before slamming back in again, and Xander's eyes are bright maybe with tears because this had to hurt, but Xander, hot, passionate Xander was thrashing under Spike, trying to hold on to him as Spike thrusts and pulls and thrusts and pulls.

/Fuckfuckfuck/ One part of Xander's mind was screaming as Spike began to move even faster but he didn't know if it was a cry for help or a beg for more it's too much and his body is all out of control, somehow he's hard again, aching for release again, but can't even think or feel anything except it's too good and /Spike stop please stop, but if you stop I'll have to kill you/ and it's all pleasure and pain and sparks shooting violently all through his body, shocks crashing though him, Spike's hard strokes hitting him just where he wants it, needs it and he can hear things that must be them, the smack of flesh to flesh and his cries echoing around the room and a weird kind of gasping noise and Xander doesn't know what the hell is going on, doesn't know if he's laughing or crying, but he's doing something, and he can't take anymore, but now Spike is whimpering his face twisted in that way that's so gorgeous pleasure so intense it hurts and somehow even though he's the one being fucked here, he feels powerful in this moment, cos he's making Spike cry out and lose it, making him thrust so hard Xander thinks he's gonna die and that's okay, cos there couldn't be a better way to go. Making Spike feel it, the heat the drive, the want to get as deep in as he could get, faster and faster and seeing that wicked gorgeous mouth part, and the words;

And his name spilling from Spikes' mouth, and somehow that's better than anything although Spike's cock hitting that place and Spikes hand fisting his cock is coming a close second, and he's coming again, over Spike, with Spike. And too much, too much. Wants to say Stop, stop, stop, but what seems to be coming out is "Spike, Spike, Spike."

/Mine now/ The thought flashed through Spike's mind too fast to stop as his cool dead seed spurted into Xander, possessing him. Gradually letting his thrusts stop. Collapsing on Xander, still inside him, waiting for the after come shivers to fade away, soaking up the lads heat for just a little longer before going back out into the cold. Xander's fingers gradually easing away from their tight grip on his hips. Reluctantly he pulled out and rolled over on to his side. Waiting for his legs to stop trembling. He glanced at Xander. His eyes were closed, his face turned away from Spike.

Something flashed though Spike an inner hurt that no amount of time had ever been able to heal. Angelus. Drusilla. Always good enough to shag, but never to talk to. Never to love.

Impossible to love. Or so Bitchy thought. The thought of Buffy snapped him back. She was why he was doing this. Payback for her. What did he care if the lad didn't want to look at him? That was all part of the plan. To make the lad ache for him, his sworn enemy even as he hated him. To humiliate him, steal his pride and self respect until he was only a shell of a Scooby, and then…

Shaking off the memories, with a huge effort to pull himself back under control he slid off the bed and began to dress himself, keeping his eyes on Xander. Xander eventually opened his eyes, watching Spike dress. Spike snickered slightly at the sight of him rumpled and still sweaty. Obviously well shagged.

Xander swallowed as the cold feeling began to trickle through him. Reality was back, and he hated the man in his bedroom who was looking at him with a mixture of amusement and triumph. Had he actually been stupid enough to think that Spike was going to lay with him, hold him? Actually maybe like him? Yeah, right.

Hating his stupid body at the minute for wanting this so much. Hated feeling so good, so sated. Hated the feel of Spike's come trickling down his legs.

"What was this all about? Really?" Xander asked voice shaking with the aftermath of two intense orgasms and anger.

Spike shrugged indifferently as he located his duster. "I told you luv. Unfinished business, thought you'd be pleased. I'm doing what you said. I got what I came for and now I'm getting the hell out." The undisguised laughter and satisfaction in his voice made Xander flinch. He leaned into Xander to kiss him. Xander moved back sharply.

Spike grinned then grabbed Xander by his hair and crushed his mouth to his ignoring the brunettes' struggles to pull away, running his tongue lingeringly over the hot mouth until he felt the lips begin to part under his. He released Xander and straightened up.

"I'm going. Don't worry though, I'll be coming back. You were right. You really are a nummy treat."

In a swirl of black leather and cigarette smoke scent he left. He banged the door behind him and hit the streets with a grin on his face. Unlife was good.

Xander lay back on the bed, covering his face with his hands, blinking back the tears. He wondered what the hell was going to happen next. But for now he just wanted to lie very still and not look at anything.

Xander stared up at the ceiling. The apartment was so still he could hear a tap dripping in the kitchen from lying on the couch.

/Bang bang? That's not supposed to be in the routine/ Routine was important. Without routine everything was chaos, everything went wrong, bad things happened. Like letting a bitter enemy fuck you then stroll out of the room while you lay there feeling like a whore who hadn't been paid. Well and truly fucked. In more than one way.

With a monumental effort Xander slowly hoisted himself off the couch and padded over to open the door to possibly the only person in the world he'd let in right now.

"Hi! I thought I'd bring some food," she held up two bags that appeared to be crammed with edible goodness. "I thought we could spend lunch time together."

"Yes, and it's Saturday and you haven't been to see me, so I'm thinking you've been in bed all day, which would make this lunch time."

"Whole day on the couch actually." Xander said with a pained smile. /Not the bed. Oh dear God definitely not the bed/ but he stood back and let her slide past him. She tripped into the kitchen, cuffed the dripping tap, emptied the bags of food out on the counter and began to make coffee. Xander had long since stopped wondering how she managed to do all these things at the same time, he just sat at the table and watched as she worked her magic.

It was kind of soothing to watch her flit around, though she looked nothing like soothing. Her pink top and checkered skirt clashed wildly with her hair, but it was Willow, and he felt some of the screeching tension begin to ease up from his body.

"You. Eat something." She ordered as the rich coffee smells began to fill the kitchen.

Xander stared blankly at the food in front of him. Slice of pizza or a burger? Maybe just a sandwich? And if a sandwich which one? Chicken or Cheese? Tuna or beef?

He rearranged them thoughtfully, then as no inspiration was forthcoming put them back in their original positions.

Willow paused in making the coffee to look at Xander in concern, he was staring at a beef sandwich as if he couldn't quite remember what it was.

She pulled out a chair and sat next to him at the table, her eyes wide with worry.

"Wrong? Nothing. Why?" /If Spike's told anyone I'll kill him, then I'll kill myself/

Xander resisted the urge to smack his head with his hand. Of course he did. That was why he couldn't decide. The thing was…he really wasn't all that hungry. Couldn't ever really imagine being that hungry again.

"Besides for the last few days you've barely said a word. What's up?" She put her hand over his. "Is it Anya? Are you really missing her?"

Xander conjured up a mental image of his last words with Anya. She'd been struggling into the car with her bags, pausing to give him one last kiss.

He'd grabbed her hand, and said desperately; "Don't leave. “All he could say to make her stay. And it felt like it had been ripped out of him, but it still wasn't nearly enough. She'd dashed the tears away and gently pulled her hand from him. "Got to. Goodbye."

Goodbye silky hair, wide eyes. Goodbye to one of the most cynical, yet innocent women he would probably ever meet. Yeah, this was something to do with Anya. But mostly…it was to do with Spike.

But he couldn't tell Willow that. He knew he could supposedly tell Willow anything. But how could he expect her to understand when he didn't get it himself?

He didn't know. He just knew he'd been lost, lost the minute Spike had touched him, couldn't have said no anymore than he could have stopped breathing.

And now everything that he used to do, patrolling, working, even this, him and Willow felt weird, not quite real, like he was suddenly an actor playing his own life, because outwardly everything was the same, but it wasn't because he was different, Spike had made it different. He had slept with Spike. He couldn't take it back.

It had been…the sex had been…well how did he go about describing something like that?

He couldn't think of the words, could only remember the feelings. His mouth going dry and his breathing quickening as he thought of it. So intense it was frightening. Painful. Yet somehow just the most beautiful, wrenching pleasure he had ever felt. And try as he might he couldn't regret experiencing it. What he did hate and wished with every part of him that he could take back was the fact that it had been Spike that gave it to him

Maybe he should just admit he was bi or gay or whatever the hell he was and find a non evil guy to have sex with. Maybe even a guy he actually liked.

He tried to imagine letting anyone else do what Spike had done to him, wanting anyone else to do what Spike had done to him, and couldn't. Maybe sex with any guy would have effected him like that, but somehow he doubted it. He might be very ignorant about it, virgin territory so to speak, but he didn't think that just the fact it was with a guy could explain sex like that. It was Spike. Spike had made it what it was. His mind just kept coming back to Spike. Spike biting his lip as he pushed into Xander, Spike sinking deep inside him, Spike gasping his name as he came, Spike, Spike, Spike.

And he did hate him. After Spike had gone /fucked me and left bastard, bastard, bastard/ and Xander had roused himself from his horrified stupor he had suddenly had to move, had to erase it, had to, changed the bed, but it hadn't been enough he'd scrubbed the mattress, scrubbed himself in the bath until he was almost raw, getting rid of the kisses, the semen, but even though the physical evidence was gone Spike was still fucking him in his mind, over and over.

And if Willow could understand any of that could she explain it to him? And for a second, he didn't just hate Spike, he fucking hated him, for pulling him away from his friends like this, for making him keep secrets. But then again, this was nothing new. There was so much stuff he never told people. Like about Cordelia, when that first started, like when he felt left out and alone. Like exactly why he didn't go home to visit anymore. Like these feelings he'd been busy suppressing before Spike came along and blew his defenses apart.

Willow knew so much about him, but she didn't know. She knew cos she'd always been around, not because Xander had talked about it. Couldn't tell her. Couldn't tell her about the sex, about the /wantingwantingwanting/ thump he still got right in the stomach every time he thought of it. Couldn't tell her about the prison of steam and too hot water he'd incarcerated himself in, trying to wash the memory right away. About hammering the mirror with his fists, shattering it because he just couldn't stand to see himself right then. Couldn't tell her about shoving his fist in his mouth to choke down the sobs, because he never cried. Wasn't going to start over this.

Instead he raised his familiar defenses /hey had a lot of practice/ and smiled at her. "I guess I am missing her yeah."

She gazed at him sympathetically "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but maybe it really is for the best."

"How?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. How could it be for the best that the one girl he might have actually had a shot at living reasonably happy ever after with had walked out? Besides if Anya had been around, the chances were none of this Spike madness would have happened. He'd still be in ignorance of the dark, hungry look Spike's eyes got when his pace became frantic, wouldn't know how it felt to be stretched so wide it seemed impossible that he'd ever get back to what he was…he tuned back into Willow quickly.

"Well, maybe, kind of…" Had he loved Anya? He didn't know. He knew life had been better with her in it, he knew he missed her, knew it had hurt like hell when she'd left. Was that love? A kind of love he guessed. But not in love. Not passionate. The only passion he and Anya had had was in the bedroom, but that wasn't being passionate about her, that was just bodies. Whatever it was, it was as close as he thought he could get to being in love, as much as he could give.

"Whatever it was Will it wasn't enough for her. It was all I could give though. Probably won't be enough for anyone." He concluded painfully. /So useless. Such a failure./

"Don't say that! You will fall in love, completely one day, and all those barriers you think you need? You'll want to take them down, cos you'll just know, this is the person you can't do without."

Xander smiled as he remembered the best friend promise they had devised and they solemnly shook thumbs. Then he pulled her close in a hug.

"Aww Xander!" She hugged him back hard, and he wondered briefly how differently his life might have turned out if he had noticed Willow back when she thought he was the greatest guy in the world. That would have been sweet. No Spike madness there. /And you thought Cordelia was against all laws of God and man, Wills, if you only knew./ He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to push the memory of Spike away, just for a few moments.

"So where's Buffy?" He asked as they released each other, trying to distract her from the truth he felt sure was written on his face.

In the graveyard with a surge of satisfaction Buffy dusted her second vampire of the night, and looked up just in time to see a third launch straight for her. She raised her stake, but before she had time to begin to fight, the vampires eyes widened in shock and it burst into dust.

She looked down at her stake in confusion, then up to see Spike smirking at her, showily brandishing his stake. A surge of annoyance flooded through her.

Spike felt a weird kind of joy that she was there, in front of him, talking to him, albeit a through clenched teeth kind of deal. /Now, now, hate the bitch, hate the bitch, hate the bitch…/

"I was. What do you want?" She willed herself not to react as Spike openly leered at her /eww shouldn't have said that eww Spike likes me eww/

"To save the world from the evil undead" he dead panned letting his eyes flick appreciatively over her lithe form, noticing her eyes were bright with satisfaction from the kill.

"Looks more like lurking to me." She challenged her arms folded. /Yuck. This is beyond creepy and disgusting, how long has he been watching me?/

See there was a sentence she didn't have to say! She was talking to him. She was coming round, getting used to the idea that there was something between them.

The pull of her was still strong. If she'd only let him, he could be good to her wouldn't hurt her stupid friend, wouldn't hurt her, it still wasn't too late, they could all still get out of this with a minimum of heartache…

"Spike, I don't want you to lurk. I don't want you near me. I hate you. The only thing I want from you is out of this town, out of my life, and if I could wipe the memories as well I would, what isn't clear about that?"

Snippy little bint! The pain that had settled into a kind of simmering ache at her rejection of him flared up again, ripping through him. "Fine! But don't blame me when I finish what I'm doing!"

"What reaching new levels of patheticness? Cos I have to say you're already way ahead of anyone I know!"

"Oh yeah? What about Xander?" Shit! He hadn't meant to say that it had just slipped out. /Not yet for Gods sake, not yet, it's too soon./

/Yeah and last week your manly little friend was letting me break in that virgin ass of his and begging for more. How manly do you think that is bitch?/

"But he doesn't. And you're not going to tell him" he blurted out quickly. /He can't know, if you fucking dare tell him…/

Buffy rolled her eyes. "As if I'm going to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it."

He ignored her as he stalked away. Lighting up a smoke when he got away from her. Fine so the revenge plan was still all systems go. Just thought he'd give her a chance to change her mind, try and be all decent like. Give her a chance to save her friend. She didn't want it. Suited him fine. Bitch.

It was just…he'd really been hoping she'd come round, and not just because he still wanted her under all the hate he was carefully nurturing. He'd almost hoped he wouldn't have to go on with this. The lad was unsettling. Spike hadn't expected to feel so…carried away. Yeah he'd expected to enjoy it, but he'd thought it would be the idea of screwing Buffy that really got him turned on. But he hadn't thought of her at all. Instead Xander had been all he could think about, all he could see, all he could feel. He cursed softly as his cock began to throb insistently as he remembered Xander under him, his eyes dazed, his mouth soft and wet and open. All that scorching heat and tightness.…his hand tangled in Xander's soft dark hair as they kissed, frantic with need. Need Goddamnit! Need wasn't part of this fucking plan! Even now, even while he was giving her the chance to let him out of this with his pride intact he barely knew how to wait for the next time. And he didn't like that. In fact he fucking hated it. Not that he was going to get out of his depth or anything, of course not, not with Xander for Gods sake, okay so it had been a good /fucking incredible/ shag, no need to go nuts. But still…

He shook his head in confusion, what the hell was wrong with him? This was the perfect plan, and it was all working beautifully. So the lad was better in bed than he'd expected, that was no reason to stop, it just made it more fun for him. Besides the better the sex was, the harder it'd be for Xander to say no, which would make Xander hate him all the more every time he shagged him into the floor and left. Right. The perfect plan.

Right then. He'd best go and find his little nummy treat. He'd kept his distance for a few days, aware that Xander probably hated him so much right now he'd be staked on sight, but he'd waited long enough damn it. Anyway he'd proven he could take the boy, proven that he still had nothing but contempt for him. Now it was time to show the lad that this wasn't going to be stopped, no matter how much he might think he wanted to. That this would be over when Spike said so.

Willow left Xander less than reassured about him. He'd looked a little better, but she knew something was wrong, it was just so hard to get Xander to talk about stuff that was upsetting him. He kind of had this thing were if he thought if he covered it up with jokes he could fool everyone that everything was ok. More importantly fool himself that everything was ok, and while she didn't agree with it, it was his way and she respected that. But lately he hadn't even been making jokes, it was like things had gone so wrong Xander couldn't even fool himself anymore. It was probably that Anya leaving was upsetting him too much to keep his defenses all the way up.

She made her way across the road, then paused, slapping her hand to her head as she remembered her new spell book she'd left in Xander's apartment. For a moment she hesitated, she really didn't want to leave it any later before going back home to Tara, she could get the book another time, but then again she had only just got it, she would like to look at it tonight…

She turned back to Xander's and stopped dead as she saw Spike stride into the building. He was unmistakable, the streetlights picking out his sharp cheekbones, reflecting off his bleached hair. Open mouthed she watched as he confidently entered the building.

Why was Spike going to see Xander? As far as she knew they loathed each other….He was probably going to try and borrow money or something, but Xander didn't need Spike in his face right now. On the other hand Spike bugging him might give Xander a little fighting spirit. She made her way towards the window to see what was going on, if Xander looked like he couldn't deal she'd tap on the window and ask Xander to pass the spell book to her, and mention it might be a very nice idea for Spike to get the hell away from him and walk her home. If Xander looked okay she'd just leave them to it…

Peering through the window she saw Xander apparently yelling at Spike, nothing new there, but Spike was inside, that was weird, Xander had never mentioned he'd given Spike an invite. She wished she could hear what Xander was yelling, Spike was lounging against the wall, looking at him with an expression she couldn't quite place, and wasn't sure she liked, amusement, and…she didn't know…maybe complacency? /Like the cat that's got the cream, like it doesn't matter what Xander's saying, cos Spike knows its going to work out the way he wants it/. Fascinated she leaned a little closer. Spike raised a hand to Xander, not violently though, slowly, she couldn't see properly, Xander's body was blocking her view, maybe flipping him off or something because Xander jumped back sharply, turned away from Spike and gestured to the door again.

She dithered, should she interrupt or leave? A sudden sound of movement behind her made her jump, whirling around, her heart pounding she saw a crowd of young girls laughing as they wandered down the street.

However it was a reminder that Sunnydale wasn't the safest place to hang around at night. Whatever Spike wanted he was harmless, irritating, but harmless. Xander would be fine. She might not be if she carried on hanging around in the dark.

She decided against getting the book, she just wanted to get straight home, reluctantly tearing her eyes away, she began the walk home.

Xander noticed Willow's spell book a moment or two after she left, when he heard the knock at the door he just assumed she'd come back for it. With a light hearted remark on his lips he flung the door open…to Spike.

For a moment he froze, taking in the bleached hair, the pale skin. Then he slammed the door. Too late. Spike had already jammed his foot in the way. There was a shamefully brief pushing match, and Spike was inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Tut, tut, lover," he sighed with mock sorrow "I'd almost think you were ashamed of what happened or something if you keep talking like that."

'Ashamed doesn't begin to cover it, I'm not your lover and again I say get OUT!"

"Can't mate." He watched Xander through half lidded eyes. He wasn't joking before, Xander was beautiful when he was angry. Not as beautiful as he could be though. Naked, sweating and riding Spike's cock…and he was so close to having all that, just as soon as they got this pointless yelling out of the way. He felt his breath catch, cleared his throat as he finished. " I had to come back."

Xander glared at Spike. He was leaning against the wall, watching Xander with that smug look that set Xander's blood straight to boil. At this moment he didn't think he'd ever hated anyone more in his life because Spike had left, he'd just left, and no he hadn't been expecting true love or even a 'kind of like you', but something, not for Spike to actually try and make him feel like shit, and now he strolled back in after a week, a week Xander had spent feeling scared, lonely, ashamed and used and he expected a replay?

Xander advanced until they were nearly nose to nose. "What do you just want another shot at making me feel like a complete whore?" he spat into Spike's face furiously; "because I have to say you did a pretty good job of that last week, you really don't need a second go!" He was shaking, his fists clenched, so close to punching Spike in the face, except if he did that he wouldn't be able to stop, would have to beat him to a bloody pulp, and then maybe give him a taste of his own medicine? See how he liked being fucked for Xander's pleasure.

And that wasn't him. Wouldn't ever let that be him. He doesn't get mad and hit people, especially if they can't hit back, no matter how much they deserve it. So he let his nails dig into his hands clinging on to his temper, but though he could control his fists he couldn't control his voice, it was full of anger and hate…and hurt.

Maybe Spike heard that, or maybe he was just standing a little closer than he should because the smirk vanished as Spike stared at Xander's mouth, his eyes darkening.

"I didn't make you feel anything mate," he said slightly huskily. "I don't control your bloody feelings. All I did was make you feel this…"

He raised his finger, stroking down the side of Xander's face, Xander leapt back like Spike had burned him, and in a way it felt like he had, he could still feel the path of Spike's finger down his cheek. /don't let Spike touch me/. It was a simple rule for self preservation. Though it would probably be easier to walk through fire. A memory of Spike kneeling on the bed, sliding into him slammed into his brain, and he turned his back on Spike, his legs trembling, the desire that had been simmering for a week, hidden under the anger breaking free.

"Am I not saying this right?" Voice shaking, and he can feel the heat rising in him radiating throughout his body. Knows the fight, such as it was, is over. Can only hope Spike doesn't know. Will take his words at face value. Pointing at the door, not looking at Spike. "Out."

Silence. Then Spike's arms were sliding around his waist. The slim fingers that already know his body very much too well playing with him. One hand reaching under his T-shirt, teasing his nipples, the other freeing him from his jeans, and he should push Spike away, throw him out, but it seems like so much effort. Far easier to just stand here. Not moving, just watching those fingers, skilful and quick, touching him, manipulating him, in more ways than one, and he's never felt so alone, so completely helpless because he'd sworn, never him, no, no abusive people in relationships with him. And what happened? Spike comes along with the his bleached hair, black leather wearing, universal, bad boy uniform and Xander had caved. Couldn't even throw him out now, because, deep down, he just didn't want to. Spike began to kiss up his neck, as those fingers finished unbuttoning him and he's so hard already, his breath beginning to come in pants as Spike began to jack him off. Slow and steady. Spike pulls him closer so he's leaning against Spike a little harder and he can feel Spike's erection pressing into his backside as Spike starts rocking his hips against him. Eyes closed. Can't watch that hand touching him like that anymore.

And yeah, there were a million and one reasons to throw him out, but put them all together and they still couldn't come close to this, this overpowering want, this need deep inside him. This need that he couldn't seem to fight. And as much as he hated Spike, he hated himself more for not being able to stop it. And what did that make him? Some sick weirdo who got off on being treated badly?

Still keeping his eyes closed. Maybe it wasn't happening if his eyes were closed. So desperately tired, he didn't want to fight, but he didn't want to be here either. Right now all he wanted was to just wish it all away.

Unresisting, not saying anything as Spike bundled him into the bedroom, stripping him, stripping himself, what would be the point? He obviously wants this, otherwise he wouldn't be here, and Spike could see through any resistance in a second. But he can't bring himself to respond. Even when Spike is on him again, and it's like he's been burning up and he never even noticed until Spike's cool skin was on him. Not responding. Fine, /Just do it Spike, just get it over with, you've already made your point, but do it again just to prove how pathetic I am./

His eyes were stinging and his throat ached. His mom used to buy him ice-cream when his throat hurt he remembered. Comfort food. Once she'd taken him and Willow to the fair and he'd told Willow the best way to get ice cream was to pretend to be ill. His mom had known exactly what they were up to of course. But she'd been cool about it, not pretended to take them home or anything, just laughed, still got them the ice cream.

Spike was dizzy, his head whirling with excitement, as he quickly slicked himself. He hadn't thought getting back into Xander's bed would be so easy. He'd spotted Red through the window and as he'd hung around outside chain smoking, waiting for her to leave his anticipation cranking up notch by painful notch he'd imagined how the night would go. He'd been prepared for a hell of a fight, roaring rage from Xander and finally grappling to the floor in a heat of lust and anger, instead after some token protesting they were both naked, and he was harder than hell, and Xander was right there, underneath him. He pressed himself flush against Xander, reveling in the feel of his skin, scorching hot and silky with the hard muscles underneath not fighting. Smart lad.

Not fighting…or even moving at all. Still. Very still. What the hell…? Spike kissed him hard, passionately, aching for this, for the contact, that like it or not, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about. But he wasn't being kissed back.

Spike broke the kiss, pushed himself up, looking down at Xander with frustration. His face was pressed against the pillow, his eyes tightly shut, like he was trying to block it all out. Like he was trying not to cry. Spike clenched his fists, this wasn't it! It was no fun to fuck a responseless piece of flesh. He felt mad as hell, what was Xander playing at?

/Playing at being away from you/. A voice in his head spoke up, and he froze. Remembering Dru. She used to do that, not with him, but with Angelus before he turned her. Taking her mind away to some safe place while her body lay still and passive, taking whatever he dished out. He could almost hear her telling him about Angelus.

"He wanted to do so many things, go places he shouldn't go the bad vampire. I used to go away to happy places where he wasn't and play with kittens and ducks until he'd gone. Because I was so bad urrrgghhh! Dirty girl in bed with the vampire. And when I came back, he'd left his mark between my legs."

He looked down in dismay. Xander actually wanted him gone. This wasn't a violent protest covering up hidden passion. This was Xander actually wanting him gone, this whole situation to just vanish. /What does it matter?/ A voice in his head questioned. /Just shag him. He's not going to try and stop you. Flicking his eyes between Xander's thighs. The erection gone. No scent of arousal. Just lying there, waiting for Spike to use him in any way he wanted. He wasn't going to fight. Or even respond. And that disappointed him more than he could have believed. Lying passive wasn't good enough. He wanted Xander totally involved here. Wanted him looking at Spike the way he had last time, all hurt and fire, body and mind totally caught up in what Spike was doing. Wanted him to love it, want it, crave it more than anything.

Pushing aside his own need for the moment he licked up Xander's neck, he tasted like salt, like tears.

"Xannnder" he crooned. "Don't be like this." He began to rain kisses, gentle bites over Xander's face, his cheeks, lips and eyelids. Mouthing down his neck. Trailing kisses down his face again, the hidden pain and unreleased tears making him taste oh so sweet, and maybe he's taking the kisses as comforting because this time when he brushes a kiss over Xander's mouth, he feels the lips part slightly in response. Not stopping though, can feel Xander's cock twitching unfurling against his thigh, feels triumph and relief flood though him and moves his mouth down Xander's chest, letting his tongue trace in patterns over his hot skin. Pausing to lavish kisses and licks on his nipples that harden instantly.

"Please Xan," he whispered, moving up again, keeping him guessing as to where he was going to kiss, suck next, licking around Xander's ear "be like you were last time. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, fucking you, feeling you…"

Feeling Xander's arousal. Hard and heavy brush against him. Letting his cock push against Xander's feeling the lads tiny instinctive jump forwards for just that little bit more contact.

Eyes still closed though. No sound coming from him yet. And he wanted that, craved it. Needed to hear his boy. /Easy, easy, don't rush/ he chided himself. Lapped down again. Across his hips, licks up his thigh, a whispered moan fled from Xander, and his cock twitched towards Spikes mouth.

Spike paused for a moment. He really shouldn't do this for him. Really shouldn't, but he wanted to taste Xander so badly, wanted the lad desperate and begging for him.

Shivering at the feel of Spike licking up his thigh, Xander tried to push his mind back to that place where there was no Spike, no hurt, but Spike was hauling him back here where there was pain and hate and sweet gentle bites and kisses and /Omigod can't be happening, Spike can't be doing that to me!/, but he definitely is and oh god . Spike's mouth is cool and oh so wet his cocks just in this wet, sucking place and the only thing that matters right now is the way it's slipping over his cock and the tongue that's running up and down his shaft, lashing around the head and a light scrape of teeth there, and he's lost any ideas about how to switch off from this, because why would he want to, feels his back arching, then a finger touching him, flicking at his entrance and he's making those noises again, those gasping, pleading cries as he feels it slide in, slippery, bites back a shout and he is Losing. His. Mind, and Spike's sucking harder now, one hand pumping Xander into his mouth the other with fingers thrusting in and out of him and everything’s tense, from his fingers clenched so tight they were aching, to cock, rock hard and oh so nearly there, to buttocks squeezed tight around Spike's finger and his breaths coming in loud harsh pants and not gonna last, not gonna last….

Watching Xander's reaction with hungry eyes as he shakes his head and whimpers nonono.

"You with me here Xander?" Knows the answer will be yes, but wants to hear him say it. Xander seems to have lost the ability to form words, but the half sob of frustration and the hips bucking helplessly are good enough and he leans down, taking him in hard and fast and he's yelling shooting load after load of precome, shudders, gasps, comes hard and shaking into Spike's mouth.

Spike swallowed the last of Xander's orgasm, feeling his own need surge through him at the taste of it. Sliding himself up Xander's body and. Oh yes. Xander's wrapping his legs around Spike's waist, pressing into him as he looks up at him with those huge, aching eyes, full of shock and want. Asking to be filled, and he wants to sink into him, but forces himself to hold back, just for a moment. Balances himself one handed over Xander, cock in hand. Right. There.

"Do you want me inside you Xander? " Asked hoarsely, knows Xander wants this, but needs to hear the words, and Xander's looking at him, those dark eyes all confusion and lust, fuel for Spike's ego but this wasn't as much fun as Spike had thought it'd be. /If he doesn't hurry up and say it within exactly 20 seconds I'm gonna ram myself in him and fuck him so hard he'll pass out/ Spike felt his hips thrust against Xander uncontrollably, couldn't stop them, moaned and almost hates Xander for doing this to him. Making him feel so out of control.

Staring up at Spike, can see the look on his face, rigid control and anger, and could it be…pleading? Wonders what would happen if he said no. Knows he won't. And maybe Spike was trying to prove something, but he knows from the look on Spike's face that this isn't entirely Spike's round. Knows when this is over he's gonna regret it and doesn't care.

"Yes…I want…you. In me." Pauses. Swallows, says it, voice trembling. "Fuck me."

Spike shuddered. Hears a small unintelligible noise knows it's come from him, but he can't think of anything to do about that. Giving into their need, he finally let himself sink into Xander, taking a moment to thank god that he's already slicked, otherwise Xander would be taking it rough, cause he couldn't stop now if the Hellmouth itself was opening.

"Oh, yessssss." Xander's hissing it between clenched teeth as he arches up towards Spike because maybe it actually does hurt a little less this time, or maybe he just has a better idea of what to expect, and how has he done without this for nearly a week? And it's just like he remembered hurt and good, and somehow too much and not enough all at once and knows Spike is feeling it too because he's pressed against him shaking all over.

"Oh hell, Xander," Spike moans against his neck. " 'S been too long. Want you so bad. “And it's like Spike is reading his mind, and maybe there is something there, some connection, or it could just be pure sex need, and he just has to touch Spike. Pulling him up, stares at him for a second, those blue eyes dilated and dazed, makes his breath coming in shuddering gasps, then kisses him.

Spike was shocked still for a moment, then opened his mouth, sinking into the kiss. And where the hell did Xander learn to kiss like that? Mouth as hot as he remembered, sucking on his bottom lip and Xander's whimpering, tongues dancing, mouths retreating for scant seconds, returning, and haven't kissed him like this before, slow, gentle and deep, can taste coffee and chocolate and under it something that's Xander himself, and it's even hotter and sweeter than coffee and chocolate.

And Spike's feeling something inside him execute a long, sweet roll over in his stomach and it has nothing to do with fucking. Pulls back from Xander's mouth for a moment.

"What kind of a kiss was that?" Spike asked, half jokingly, half seriously. Trying to stay in a place where there's reason and control, except he's sheathed in Xander who's holding him a velvet vice, gazing up at him with huge eyes and his mouth is swollen and begging to be kissed again and reason and control are just meaningless words. Begins to understand how Xander's been feeling ever since this began and isn't sure that he likes it.

"A good one?" Brow furrowed in confusion as to why it's stopped and Spike feels a smile pull at his lips, sees Xander's curve in response, and falls back into the kiss. Lets himself melt into the body under him and his hips began the steady pull and thrust and Xander's moaning into his mouth and can't believe how good this feels this hard hot rhythm and now Xander's sliding the hand that wasn't in his hair down his back, on his ass, trying to pull him in deeper and Spike bucks, gasps. Mouths breaking apart as he shifted to balance on both hands and really let go.

Heat, so much, drowning in this heat, and this is gonna be over too fast and he should slow down a little but he can't, just can't, feeling the need, the mindless aching want to get in, something he'd thought he'd lost long ago in just too many years of having sex and what the hell does Xander do that leads to over a hundred years of control just flying out the window? Because oh hell, he just can't go slow, can't do it, has to get in, has to see that body arch, has to hear the screams…

Xander knows he's making gaspy, pained sounds again, but can't think of anything to do about that, body is a thrusting, lighting rod of pain and good and just when he thought he could handle this Spike takes it up another level and it hurts. Hurts like a bitch, but oh, it hurts so good and he's got his legs wrapped around Spike and Spike is thrusting so hard it's almost like he's trying to throw Xander off, but he meets him on time with every thrust, and he's in so deep, and just keeps getting deeper with every movement, and wishes he hadn't only just come because he wants to come with Spike, and his prostate yelling for more and his cock trying to rise to the challenge and he is. Going. To. Die, and who the hell cares…

"Ohh, yes Spike…" Cried out on a wail and Spike has never heard anything sound better.

"Say it again, say my name." Not begging, demanding, but maybe Xander hears it as begging because he holds on a little tighter, pushes up harder and says it, no screams it again.

"Ahhhh! Yessssss!" and Xander doesn't think he could ever see that enough, Spike losing that control of his as he comes inside him, and can feel the coolness slipping around inside him as they slow, stop.

Spike lit up a smoke as he walked slowly back to his crypt. He didn't feel particularly good. Not as good as he should considering the evening had gone just the way he wanted really. Not good at all actually.

Everything felt drab. Looked dull. Like Xander was some kind of drug that now he'd had a fix of he was having the come down. And his mind kept wandering down paths he didn't like. Whispering things to him that he couldn't block out. No matter how deeply he inhaled on his smoke or how much he shook his head futilely to try to dislodge the thoughts they were still there.

He threw his cigarette away angrily, picking up speed as he began to walk faster, jog, soon out and out sprinting, but he could still hear his thoughts through the roar in his ears and eventually he stopped.

"Right! Fine!" He walked into the kiddies park he'd stopped by and sat down on the swing. Lit up another smoke and let his thoughts come out clearly. /Deal with 'em one by one. Nice and logical./

/Oh great. Nice going mate. Talking to yourself. Treating your brain like it's a separate person. You don't think you might have spent just a tad too much time with her looniness do you?/

"Whatever. Just stop festering and whispering in there before I really do get as loopy as Dru and come out so I can deal with it."

He flicked the ash away, tried to relax his shoulders and attempted to face the feelings bubbling away under the surface that were driving him crazy.

He'd been propped above Xander, still inside him when he'd felt Xander pushing against his chest. Since speech was still a fair way away from his brain he'd just pulled out and watched as Xander slid on his boxers and without looking at Spike, left the room. A moment later Spike heard the shower click on.

A few minutes passed by and Spike had managed to pull his jeans on with fingers that seemed curiously reluctant to work properly. He'd felt…weird. Not really ready to go. But didn't want to stay either. He'd felt fidgety. Restless. Unsettled and he didn't like it. And it was all bloody Xander's fault with his sweet mouth and hot skin and the 'oh yes do hurt me a little more' look in his eyes. For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on Spike felt incredibly pissed off with Xander at that moment. Wanted to yell at him, or punch him or fuck him or something. Just anything, just to make him feel like Xander was still working in this plan, like Xander wasn't spinning off in his own direction and taking the plan with him.

Remembering letting Xander come into his mouth, that tender kiss, Spike felt the anger and tension coil up another notch. Bloody Xander, making him act all nice, all caring and gentle. What the hell was going on? His fingernails dug into his palms and he had an urge to go in that bathroom, drag Xander out by his hair, throw him on the floor and give the lad his first lesson in how to suck off a vampire. /Show him who's in charge here. Why not? I dropped my head to him. Only fair he returns the favor./ His features in a snarl, fury just below the surface, his game face hovering far too close he'd entered the bathroom.

He could see the shape of Xander through the shower curtain. Unaware that Spike was standing so close to him. Spike forced himself to take a moment. To just calm down a little, the last thing he needed was for the chip to go off, and if he didn't do this right it would. And hell he hated always having to be so bloody careful! He'd looked away from Xander, and his eyes fell on the cracked mirror.

He stared at it, confusion gradually fading away as he realized that Xander must have done this. Hammered at the mirror with his fists. In pain. In fear. Not now or he'd have heard it. Before. After the first time. /Now you don't know that mate/ he thought uncomfortably. /Could have been anything, you don't know/ Except he did, with a certainty that defied logic. He just knew, and he should be pleased about it.

He turned his eyes back to Xander through the curtain. Looking properly now, not just through a haze of anger. His head was hanging dejectedly, his fists clenched against the wall. The water was obviously too hot, Spike could feel the heat from where he was standing and the steam was filling up the room.

He'd felt…something catch in his throat. Something painful balled in his chest and his game face had receded without him even noticing. His fists relaxed and he'd backed out of the bathroom. Closing the door with a tiny click behind him.

He'd tried to dress himself quickly, wanting to be gone when Xander came out, cursing his own clumsy fingers, and his dithering that caused him to waste time, he'd just grabbed his duster when Xander had reappeared. His dark hair was plastered against his head in a black wet slick. He'd slipped on a pair of jeans and his skin was still flushed from the heat of the water.

And Spike didn't think he'd ever seen anything sexier in his entire existence. It was only spoiled by the utter misery on his face. And for a second he remembered the tremulous smile Xander had given him, just before he began to move inside him. The painful feeling in his chest intensified.

"Still here then?" His voice came out hard, brittle with tears he was determined not to shed for Spike.

Spike shrugged on his duster, trying to move slow and casually, like he just couldn't be having a better time, and shoved his hands deep in the pockets to hide the shaking.

"Wouldn't be very polite to shag and leave without saying goodbye now would it?" He forced himself to sound jaunty, amused, and it must have come out fairly convincingly because Xander's face closed down a little more and his voice was harsh.

"Right. Goodbye." He'd brushed past Xander quickly, no smart comments this week. He just wanted to get away, escape from the feeling that he was in a steadily shrinking room. He'd reached the door when Xander spoke again.

"What the hell do you want?" Anger and hurt. And self hate. Acres of it. "What is in this for you? Mind games? Are you that bored?" A pause. A pronounced tremor as he asked. "Do you hate me so much?"

Not looking round at Xander, he hadn't intended to answer him, because talk was so cheap, it was actions that counted and no matter what he said he was still going to hurt Xander, and he just wanted to leave, to get away from these fucked up feelings, but he heard his voice say, "Low self esteem much mate? How do you know it's not just the sex? You might not have been around much, but I have, let me tell you, sex like this doesn't happen everyday."

Spike turned around. The dark eyes were fixed on him intently. Shaking, but determined, his jaw looked like it had been cast in iron. Xander wanted some answers. And Spike felt something, some touch of…respect? Admiration? Even after everything Xander still was asking for answers from him, a demon. Still trying to work this out. And maybe he did deserve an answer of some kind. Not the answer, but something.

"You know" he began with no clear idea of what he was going to say, "Dru used to ask me if I would give you to her. She liked you. She said you were strong and beautiful. Light held in darkness. She wanted to see what you'd be like when you were dark inside and out. Crazy, I wouldn't of course, had enough problems trying to keep her under control. Last thing I needed was her lifting her dress for someone else, and the Slayer chasing us with a personal vendetta. Then she got strong. She used to go out and watch for you. It was a full time job keeping her away let me tell you. You were lucky, well protected. Angelus came back and she started on him. Trying to get him to turn you, he wanted to. He would have done. I kept talking him out of it. He would have still done it eventually but got distracted by the Slayer and the whole trying to end the world deal. I think he wanted to break you in." He shook his head in amazement. He hadn't thought of this before but it was true. "First time I've ever got somewhere before him, got something he wanted."

Xander stared. Confusion written all over his face, trying to make sense of all of this. " Dru was insane, and Angel, he wanted to kill all of us, to hurt Buffy."

Spike shook his head, "No, Dru was crazy, but when it came to what she sensed, what she wanted she was bang on, and with Angel…well Buffy would have been a plus, definitely, but if it was about hurting her, he'd of just killed you, turning you wasn't about her really. He just wanted you. It'd just eat him up to know I've got there first."

"And you hate me, but you still want me don't you? Passion has got nothing to do with liking someone mate."

Not waiting for a reply, he left the apartment. Heard nothing behind him but silence.

Now sitting on the swing in the park his cigarette turned into a long column of ash, Spike swore softly. That little scene had bothered him. In fact the whole night had somehow taken a swing into weird territory, despite it also somehow turning out how he wanted it.

He didn't like that Xander had wrung an admission of sorts out of him. He didn't like that he'd wooed the lad gently as he seduced him to respond. Being gentle wasn't part of this. In fact it really would have been better to take him hard when he was trying to be switched off. That would have really proved the point that Xander was Spike's to use as he wanted to. He didn't like the sad droop of Xander's head in the shower and he didn't like that shattered mirror. He didn't like that he was starting to think of Xander like, well like a person….like he wasn't just a commodity to be used and discarded as Spike saw fit. Most of all he didn't like that little voice in his head telling him that he was abusing Xander.

Oh yeah?/ Piped up another voice. /So it's not abuse of his body. What about his mind? What about his feelings? When you know you're only doing this to hurt him, to hurt Buffy? Not rape but bad enough. Face it, for all your high and mighty speak about being better than Angelus you've turned into a sick, twisted, mind game playing prick just like him./

"Shut up!" He muttered. "Buffy deserves it. And if this is the only way to teach her a lesson then I'll do it. And I couldn't give a toss about little Xander's soddin' feelings."

"Cos I'm not Angelus! I'd never do to anyone what he did to Dru. Cos I don't want to be staked! Besides yeah I might be fucking him to hurt him but it's me preference innit? I want a bloody lover who appreciates the things I do, not one who doesn't notice not matter what I'm gonna do at the finish."

/You want him. You want to crawl back in that bed with him and spend the night taking him, teasing him, making him beg for you. You want to feel what it would be like if he took over, if he lay you down and ran his hands and mouth over you. You want to take him and kiss him and suck him and worship him with your body until you collapse into an exhausted sleep, then wake up in the night and do it all over again and again and again…/

But it didn't feel like a dream. And he knew. It wasn't Xander he was pissed off with back there, it was himself. Things might be going smoothly on the surface, but the reality was his stomach clenched in knots. His knuckles glowing white and the tension radiating from the inside out.

"Alright." He admitted. "He might be having an…effect. I'll just have to try a bit harder. Not let him have an effect. I am still in fucking control here."

Xander was lost. Not physically, that would have been pretty easy to sort out. Ask for directions, buy a map, whatever. This wasn't so easy, emotionally, mentally he was about a million miles from where he should be in a strange land where the sky was yellow and the grass was blue and water ran upwards and there was nobody he could ask for help. Completely alone. Led here by a demon with blue eyes and a wicked mouth and without the faintest idea of how to get home. And he wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh and he wanted to stake Spike and he wanted to fuck Spike and he wanted Spike to vanish and he wanted Spike to carry him away to a place where there was just the two of them forever and ever and ever…

Xander jumped slightly then raised his eyes to look around the magic shop where the Scoobies were in high research mode, and turned to see Willow watching him. He realized he'd been clenching the book he was supposed to be translating so tight the spine had bent.

"What?" Shouldn't snap at Willow. Willow is good and sweet, but he has to snap at someone he feels like a ball of energy shoved in a too small cage and wants to run and shout and scream and kill something but he can't. So he's just sitting quietly with a book clenched in his hand feeling like any minute he's going to explode.

Xander slowly stretched his fingers out, it was hard going, they felt like they'd cramped up. How long had he been drifting in his spooky world ?

"Oh come on, it'll be fun." She paused then batted her eyes teasingly at him. "Pleeeaaase?"

Xander felt a smile tug at his lips then gave in to it grinning reluctantly. "Don't give me the bambi eyes ok?"

"I'm ruthless when it comes to getting my own way." Just to prove the point she gave him her resolve face that worked as well now as the first time he'd seen it after he'd stolen her Barbie.

"Don't I know it." He shook his head slightly in defeat. "Okay, I am party guy, hear me roar."

His smile faded as he looked back at the book. What the hell was he doing? How had he somehow gotten into a place where smiling was almost a chore?

As if he had to ask. He was sick. That was the only thing he could think of to explain it. Sick.

To fool around with Spike once – okay curiosity and lust. Fair enough. To sleep with him once, maybe, that was bad, terrible, but still kind of understandable but to do it again! After Spike had treated him so badly….twice! It was unbelievable. Except he had to believe it because it had happened. Why? Why, why, why? All he had to do was say no. One little word no. N.O. Spike couldn't force him to do anything. But he couldn't say it, and even if he could say it he didn't mean it, and even the last time, when he'd tried not to respond, tried to take his mind away Spike had done things, made him feel things that had him begging for more. He flushed with embarrassment. He'd actually asked Spike to fuck him!

But still…Spike could have fucked him, used him and strolled out but he didn't, only sliding in when he knew Xander wanted him to, /Yeah to make it more fun for him. To prove that I'm putty in his hands. Not because Spike actually cared about how I was feeling/ And he'd been feeling…bad. Used. Dirty. But somehow Spike had made him forget that, at least for a little while, so even though the afterwards horrified realization that he'd done it again was awful the sex was still amazing. The only problem was the afterwards lasted a hell of a lot longer. Except it was hard to remember that when Spike was wrapped around him like a second skin and that hard sweet body was thrusting against him.

And not thinking about Spike anymore. Nope. Not a bit of it. Not remembering the last time he had Spike in his bed. Not remembering the line of his neck as he threw his head back, not remembering how he sounds when he whispers to Xander when he's inside him, not remembering Spike's mouth wrapped around his aching length….

Bad, bad thoughts and Xander was great at dealing with bad thoughts. There were simple rules. You never speak about them, you batten down the hatches and keep smiling so that nobody asks what's wrong and eventually you stop thinking the bad thoughts.

Except normal rules don't quite seem to be working here because he is still thinking about it, and smiling is hard to do and he is remembering it and he's got the evidence to prove it. Hard, heavy, straining against the fabric of his pants.

He shifted uncomfortably, shivering slightly as the fabric rubbed against him, thanking god he was sitting at the table and nobody could see. Staring blindly down, not wanting to look up in case they can see the truth on his face.

And God he hated Spike, but he wanted him. Wanted him so bad…/I guess it's official. I am completely fucked up./ Felt edgy and antsy and bad and wanted Spike to come and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him because when Spike was fucking him everything went away, and he was lost in his cool skin and demanding kisses and pleasurepain but that was what had gotten him into this bad place in the first place so it must be wrong, it was wrong and Willow was asking him if he wanted to go to a party? It felt like two desperately incompatible parallel universes trying to converge and yeah he actually had considered that option. And what the hell had that last conversation been about anyway? Xander didn't really believe that Angel and Dru had wanted him, but maybe Spike believed it which might explain why Spike was doing this, except Spike had already said it wasn't and for some reason totally beyond his comprehension Xander believed him. So it was something else. Spike had all but admitted it, and whatever these reasons were Xander doubted they were for the good. Someone was going to get destroyed. Probably him. All because he couldn't say no to a guy he hated who was busy playing mind games with him.

So somehow his almost extinct social life wasn't high on his list of priorities of things to worry about. What was high on the list was the current family of demons trying to make the Hellmouth their new home. Even higher than that was that no amount of research was yielding what they were or what would kill them so Buffy had gone to ask Spike if he knew anything. And yep there it was, top of the list, clear and undisputed winner of the things to worry about was maybe Spike was going to make an announcement of exactly what they had been doing with each other lately, and though that was a stupid idea, Xander couldn't shake the feeling that Spike just might do it.

Xander gazed at her completely befuddled. What was he going to wear? What did it matter?

"Clothes matter" She said sternly almost like she was reading his thoughts, "If you want to meet someone else you know, now Anya's um, gone, you gotta make the girls go non verbal."

"As much as I hate to interrupt this obviously important matter of Xander sartorial elegance," Giles said, interrupting, "have either of you actually found anything about the demons currently wreaking havoc?"

"Nada. But we should keep looking don't you think? Then we can call Buffy and tell her not to bother with Spike and…" He trailed off at Willow's look. "What?"

"Nothing." She turned to check on Dawn who was fast asleep her head pillowed on her arms

Xander stood up to get another book, thankfully his erection had receded – for the moment. Pure fear had a habit of doing that.

/Please God/ He prayed fervently /Please don't let Buffy find Spike. And if she does please don't let him say anything/

Spike was in a graveyard. Except he thought he knew every graveyard in Sunnyhell, and he didn't remember this one at all. There was something…wrong with it. It was huge, filled, practically stuffed with the dead, and the grass was slightly too long, ragged, and there were way more headstones than there should be, and they looked wrong as well. Too crooked and dirty. He could almost imagine faces leering out of them, faces of the dead with sly smiles that didn't hide their hate and anger. The branches of the trees were almost reaching towards him, and he knew it was crazy but they looked, felt, like clutching fingers trying to grab at him and the sky was blood red and the moon had fangs and it was cold. Bitterly cold, can feel the coldness in his very bones and can't think of a way to make it stop. Hasn't felt chill like this since he was alive, and there's nowhere here to shelter. The graveyard stretched out as far as he could see, bleak, the wind is whistling through him and he is completely alone.

Then he saw her, in the distance just like he'd seen her the first time. Dancing to a tune he can't hear and as he stumbled towards her the graveyard rippled, changed and he was in the Bronze circling around merging with the crowd and watching her dance, the red head and the whelp moving with her and the song starts echoing in his ears.

And he is there, back at the beginning, where it all began but something isn't right, the Bronze has no scent and the people aren't giving off any warmth, but Buffy was the same. He began to move closer but the closer he tries to get the further away she moves.

I called you, a moment of weakness, no not a moment more like three months of weakness

The music was louder now, he could feel it hammering through him, feels like his ears are going to burst with the noise, and the louder the music gets the fainter the crowd gets until they just drift away, Willow and Xander vanish and the Bronze fades, and he's back in the graveyard, like he was there all the time.

But he's not completely alone, she's still there some distance away. Her back was to him and she was retreating fast. He began to sprint after her, her golden hair beckoning him on like sunshine, vaulting over the gravestones and no matter how fast he runs she's always just too far away from him and his legs just won't move as fast as he wants them to, and that damn song is still thundering.

His hands are raw and bleeding, and pain, awful, ripping, agonizing throughout his whole body the more he runs the more it hurts, but he can't stop, won't stop, feels like his insides are smashing up inside just gonna bust out through the frail covering of muscles and skin and bone, and he races past Angel? Wearing a cowboy hat and leaning against a headstone watching him with amusement.

"Not this time you didn't" Spike gasped as he sped past him but that makes no sense because he already knows that Angel has gotten to her, but none of that will matter if he could just reach her, trying to yell but nothing comes out, and she couldn't hear him over the damn music anyway but now she's closer, and she must be slowing down because he's not speeding up. Then she's so close, waiting for him? Did she know he was here all the time? Running up behind and she turns. He can see the crossbow in her hand, aimed right at his heart.

Finds his voice, wants to say something, anything, there must be words that exist to make her stop, make her love him, but can only stammer. "No. Don't…can't you give me some hope?"

Cold eyes, detached look with a touch of disdain on her face and can't she see how hard this is for him?

Hears the arrow released a split second before his stunned eyes tell his brain that she'd fired it and he doesn't know if it's hit or not, but feels himself falling, falling back,

landing on a bed, soft under his naked back and he is beneath her and she's riding him hard, and he's still so cold he grabs her hips and rolls them until she's under him, pounding into her,

And opens his eyes to see blonde hair shorten and turn into brown, blue eyes darken to chocolate, breasts flatten and body lengthens and it's Xander, he's inside, Xander looking up at him with pain and lust he knows that look so well now

and it's all so black, so dark, so lost in Xander’s' hot flesh and wet soft mouth and somehow Xander must be passing his heat to Spike because it's overwhelming, so hot, can't imagine ever being cold again, and he's moving inside Xander, watching as he writhes under Spike

and the daylight hits his eyes, makes him blink with pain, but he's not on fire, he's alone, cold and naked in the bed and Xander is standing by the door to his crypt, fully dressed and

he's going to do something awful, Spike knows it but he can't move, can't speak can only watch in horror

as Xander finishes pouring the petrol over himself and holds up the match. Looking at Spike sadly he lets it fall to the puddle of petrol at his feet and the flames burst out all around him

and Xander is on fire, but not moving, not screaming only standing there, and Spike can smell the skin burning, but is paralyzed as Xander dies before his eyes and he knows he's crying

He can hear Drusilla, and where was she hiding? She's yelling, "Open your eyes Spike! Open your eyes!"

He wants to yell that his eyes are already open, but then understands what she means, and opens his eyes somewhere else, in another body, and he's still alone, cold and naked in his bed, but this time the music has stopped and he can move and he shoots upright in bed just as Buffy bursts into the crypt.

"Huh…" What the hell?" Staring around wildly looking for Xander, he has to put him out, it might not be too late…

"I…what?" Completely disorientated. Where the hell had Xander vanished to? Had he all burned up…and Buffy was here and what the fuck was going on?

She rolled her eyes. "We need some information. Fifty in it for you, and if I were you…" She fixed him with a look that could bore a hole through a two inch plank. "I wouldn't push my luck."

"Information?" Slowly coming back to himself. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Xander hadn't set himself on fire, Dru was nowhere around and the real Buffy, who was much less fun than a dream version and who didn't morph into Xander was standing in front of him, bleating on about something.

"Uh…yeah. Information Slayer? What kind?" He slid his jeans on then untangled himself form the sheets.

"Demons. Black. Slimy, at least three of them moving into town. Do you know anything?"

Spike sniffed the air cautiously. It smelled like the sun had been down for a couple of hours, maybe about ten o' clock, that was unusual for him, he was generally awake early in the evening and vibrating with impatience, waiting for the sun to go down.

" Spike! " Buffy snapped suppressing a shudder. She had argued long with Giles about this asking Spike for information thing, Giles being the only one that knew about Spike supposedly – eww – being in love with her he had understood her feelings, but pointed out with perfect logic, (God she hated it when he did that) that Buffy had had her ass kicked by these demons and Spike probably knew what type this family of demons were that had apparently set their slimy black hearts on moving to the Hellmouth, and more importantly what would kill them, and it would save valuable hours that would otherwise be spent on research while they killed with happy abandon.

It was times like this that Buffy really missed Anya. She would have identified the demons in a second. Instead she was here with Spike who kept drifting off on her…

"Skalor demons, you kill 'em by stabbing them in their eye with something iron. They sleep in the day, you've best to do it then, they hunt in their pack and they're strong bastards."

Later he would probably be ashamed of himself for coming out with a straight answer at once but he had other things to worry about, like Xander who wasn't dead, but he really would like to have that confirmed…

"You've not sent your little Scooby brats after them have you?" he asked trying to hide his horror at the thought.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Research. And don't even think about trying to get more money out of them."

She shook her head slightly in disgust, then shrugged her delicate shoulders and pulled the money out of her coat and threw it on the edge of the bed with a glare. "If you're lying…" She didn't finish the sentence but somehow Spike was in no doubt as to what she would do if he was.

"Hardly likely now is it?" He muttered picking up the money, beginning to count it.

"No Spike." She snapped, her back still to him. "I don't want to talk to you. We're not friends. Just…don't, " she finished softly as she walked out, slamming the door behind her.

"Yeah you're welcome!" He called after her. For gods sake there was no need for her to act like he was a Chaos demon bent on destroying the Earth. He had only told her he was in love with her and she acted like it was the worst insult in the world, rude, hurtful, arrogant cow why the hell had he fallen for her again?

He slowly felt himself begin to return to normal. Not completely though, he was still so creeped out by the dream that having Buffy in the room with him, asking for help hadn't made his heart race the way it usually did. Well in a manner of speaking of course. Odd thing about vampires that. They didn't have the physical reactions to love they used to have, like heart racing, short of breath all the rest of it, but they still felt like they did. Just look at the way he panted when he was inside Xander…Spike cut that trial of thought off quickly.

But still Xander, suddenly the urge to see Xander to just check he was still alive was overpowering. Research she'd said, which meant the magic shop, he wouldn't go in, he'd had enough Scooby hatred for one night thank you so very much but he could look through the window. And yeah stupid to get so wound up over a dream but it had been a hell of a dream and fuck it he was only going to look at the whelp. No harm there. Right?

The pealing of the phone in the magic shop made Xander jump, and he jerked his head up to listen to the one sided conversation as Giles answered it, wondering what Buffy was saying. A cold feeling began tapping lightly down his spine and nausea swirled in his stomach as he began to sweat icy beads of fear.

"Buffy did you find out anything?" Giles was saying concerned, and what the hell might Buffy be saying on the other end?

"Oh dear, that's bad. When are you going to kill them?" /You, you, they're talking about you/ Xander's mind whispered and he knew it was paranoid, and he knew it was crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking it. /All going to hate me, turn me away/

"Fine, well you do a couple of sweeps and I'll look into their living habits." Giles continued.

Giles hung up and Xander leapt. "So did she find him what did he say, did she find him?"

Giles blinked slightly and Xander cursed himself. /Never, ever fluster Giles it takes him twice as long to get his words out./

"Yes she found him he says they sound like Skalor demons, they're killed by, um, being stabbed through the eye with something iron."

"Nothing just um, you know." Xander trailed off, relief and confusion flooding through him and the tension eased up slightly from his body.

"Yes. Um, I'd better look them up just to be sure. Buffy's patrolling tonight and tomorrow morning we'll find the nest and kill them."

"We can start looking for spells to try and locate them." Tara suggested to Willow who nodded thoughtfully.

"And I'll…" Xander trailed off looking around him somewhat helplessly, "do nothing."

"Oh you can help me look them up" Giles said cheerfully. "Now we know what we're looking for it should be much easier, we can research weak spots, nesting grounds, possible dangers Buffy is unaware of…" he was already halfway into the bookcase passing huge volumes out to Xander.

Outside the shop in the darkness of an alley Spike watched as Xander, surrounded by books listened to Giles burble on about something that could probably be condensed into about two sentences.

/See there he is, all nice and safe. Not setting himself on fire, not that I care or anything/

Right he'd seen the lad. He was gonna go, time was awasting, the Slayer could come back at any minute and he was going to miss his chance to get in a kill before sun up. He was going. Right after this smoke.

The lad looked fine but the set to his shoulders was so tense it had to hurt and Spike thought he could hazard a guess as to why. /Worried I was gonna spill the beans to the Slayer were we? Not likely. Or at least not yet. Got a few more plans in mind for you, think it's nearly finished? We've hardly begun./

Hmm what else could he do to Xander? There was the old 'keep him on his toes in front of his friends' technique, making comments that Xander would be reading hidden meanings into, hints and innuendo to get the lad jumpy, on edge, even more so than now, be a bastard to him one minute and sweet to him the next, keeping him anxious, eager to please. Cut him down and keep on cutting him until everything about him was ground into the dirt beneath Spike's boots. Angelus had employed this technique with victims with considerable success. And maybe he could take pictures of Xander, sleeping, sated, reeking of Spike's scent, filled with his come and use them to torture Xander with. Threaten to show them to the goody gang. Maybe even, when all this was finished he'd send one to Angel with a post it note on it saying. ' Guess who got there first.' Kill two birds with one stone, twist the knife into both of them. Angel would hate that, Angelus would have loved to take the boy, break him down, and that kind of feeling didn't just vanish, soul or no soul, but that was just tough for Angel because he'd won.

Xander's first. Something kind of balled inside him at that thought, the aching feeling he'd been carrying around in his chest ever since he'd last seen Xander intensified. He was Xander's first. He was the one Xander had wanted enough to overcome any doubts or denial.

And he was going to use it against him just to hurt Buffy. He was going to destroy that lad just because his bitchy friend hadn't wanted to be with him.

The rogue thought skimmed through his mind and was gone before he could stop it. If he could catch that thought he'd beat it to death with his bare hands. Of course it was worth it.

He waited for the familiar painful burning anger to flood through him as he remembered Buffy and her undisguised loathing of him.

Any familiar painful burning anger out there, this is where you're supposed to be.

Ah there it was. For a second there he was worried, if he didn't have that anger pushing him on…

Spike took a deep drag on his smoke and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. This was meant to feel great! And he felt like crap. Now he knew why he'd never bothered with mind games before, just ripping the heads off people didn't lead to these awful feelings. This angst. He cursed softly to himself, he hated this, this sick disgust directed at himself, and he knew he was a long way from the vampire that had lightheartedly set out to seduce Xander that night in the Bronze, but he was damned if he could figure out a way to get back there.

He tossed his smoke away and absently lit up another. He frowned as he watched Xander. There was something different about him, what was it? He knew the answer almost at once.

All that relentless keeping-the-spirits-up moral boosting that Xander performed could be very tiring. He let his eyes flick around the others. Willow and Tara deep in discussion their faces serious and pale, Giles feverishly flicking pages over, Dawn blearily blinking, a frown on her young face, and it was all because Xander was in the corner, slightly turned away from them, drawn and worried. Not bouncing around the room, lightening the burden, getting them to find the fun instead of being overwhelmed by the fear.

Well fine. Nice to know the plan was working so successfully. Getting to all of them. He stared at Xander, all that tension just because the dark haired lad in the corner was lost in his own world. A world Spike had put him in. He shook his head angrily, what the hell was wrong with him tonight? That dream must have really gotten to him. Maybe he should call Dru to find out what it meant, but then again maybe not. Dru had very little interest in anyone’s dreams except her own. Besides the last thing he needed was to put Xander back in her mind. The thought of Dru rampaging through Sunnydale to get her 'dark kitten' was not a happy one. Besides Xander was his. Dru couldn't have him.

He watched as Xander's brow furrowed as he gazed down at the book he held, and felt a smile tug at his lips. It was so cute when he did that. He looked good tonight, a tight blue sweater and dark jeans. He took a step towards the window before he caught himself. Dru had been right. Xander was beautiful, why had he never noticed before? Timing he supposed, he'd always had bigger things to worry about like Dru and…Dru and the Judge and Angelus, the Slayer and the end of the world, then the bloody chip shoved into him. But he was noticing now.

Spike felt a sudden cold feeling trickling down his spine. /Careful. Don't let your guard down. Don't let him get to you./

Inside the shop Xander stretched and shrugged on his coat, saying his goodbyes he opened the door.

Spike sank back into the darkness of the ally until all that could be seen of him was the red glow at the tip of his cigarette.

Xander got into his car and drove away, and Spike looked after him. Angelus had told him this was the best part to playing games, the satisfaction of the plan in motion coupled with the anticipation of what was to come. Not for him though, he didn't have any anticipation and the satisfaction was running out from his fingers. He came to a sudden decision, no more waiting. He was going to step this up straight away. Tomorrow he would put the rest of the plan in motion and get it over with….he just wanted it done. A party, the perfect place to torment him. By this time tomorrow Xander would be wishing he was dead. He ground the butt out under his heel and slowly walked away.

Later, in the magic shop after Buffy had come back to report on her night Willow opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it. She took a deep breath. "Buffy?"

"How?" Buffy rubbed her eyes in an attempt to get them to stay open just a little longer and slowly brought Willow into focus. It had been a tough patrol and the morning was only going to be tougher with the slayage of the Skalor demons to look forward to and she really, really wanted to be in bed.

"A lot quieter" Buffy finished on a yawn. "Yeah now you mention it I had noticed, it's just things have been so crazed lately, you know mom being ill" she glanced at where Tara was showing Dawn a glow spell and lowered her voice " and Glory and Dawn…"

"I know you've got a lot on your mind, but I'm really worried about him, he never makes stupid jokes anymore, or laughs or makes eye contact…and he bailed early tonight, before you even got back, he didn't even wait to find out hat had happened. When was the last time Xander ever bailed early?"

"Well don't you think it's more likely that he's upset about Anya?" Giles asked concerned. Come to think of it he had noticed Xander was looking slightly droopy lately.

"I guess…" Willow bit her lip then continued. " It's just…well it's probably nothing but…I saw Spike go into Xander's apartment the other day, and well he was inside, so Xander must have invited him in."

"Well they were yelling at each other so the same as always but then Xander turned away from Spike, and I could see their faces and…"

Willow remembered back, to the look she'd seen, a kind of sad, hopeless want on Xander's and Spike's a kind of a pleased, hungry…

"God!" She examined suddenly, "I just wish I'd looked in a little bit longer but it was getting late and I wasn't really taking it in, and it's only when I started thinking about it…"

Willow regarded Buffy's concerned blue-green eyes for a moment, then came to a decision not to mention the half formed suspicion that was hovering in the depths of her mind, Buffy really did have enough to worry about without her spouting theories based on one look that she hadn't even really been paying attention to, but hell she wished she'd stayed at that window a little longer.

"Xander looked upset" She finally said. "Like really. And Spike looked kind of pleased about it."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "So you think Spike is doing something to Xander? Something to hurt him?"

"It's possible" she said slowly "that Spike is trying to upset Xander to…I don't know, hurt me in some way."

"Hurt you?" Willow's brow creased in confusion. "Why go through Xander to hurt you?"

Buffy shrugged, "Well he can't do it directly he knows I don't pay attention to anything he says and he can't kill me, the perfect way." Her eyes flashed with anger, "hurt one of my friends behind my back then leave me to pick up the pieces, he knows you guys are my life and I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to one of you."

"But why hurt you, I mean yeah, evil, but he's been better." She trailed off at the look Buffy and Giles exchanged, "hasn't he been better?"

"Well about three and a half weeks ago Spike and I had a um, talk and he urm…." she shuddered and carried on "kindoftoldmehewasinlovewithme."

Tara and Dawn looked up in surprise. "She's told you about the Spike thing?" Dawn asked, she smiled slightly smugly. "I knew about that first."

"Yeah, um Tara?" Willow waved a hand at her girlfriend who nodded in understanding and drew Dawn back into the spell, shooting a look of curiosity over at the group.

"Spike said he was in love with you?" she whispered furiously at Buffy "Why didn't you tell us?"

Buffy shrugged, "I didn't want to talk about it, I told mom and Giles and Dawn already guessed, and I wasn't up for any more discussion. Besides I didn't think he do anything to you guys."

"But Buffy these things can get really…" She trailed off, remembering the state Spike had been in when Dru had left him. "And well, Spike, I don't see him taking rejection well." Bits of information were flying together in her brain and she suddenly felt cold. Desperately concerned about Xander, paying for something Buffy had done, wandering around in a haunted house after dark and all the ghosts had Spikes' face. "Maybe Spike is…"

"Pissed off with me and trying to get his own back through Xander?" Buffy finished for her. "What a prince" she said in disgust.

"I'd better just remind you two we don't have any proof of any of this" Giles said.

"Yes nonetheless some action does seem required. What do you think Spike is doing to Xander? Should we ask him?"

"No!" Willow yelled. Buffy and Giles jumped slightly. "Well whatever it is that Spike's doing Xander obviously doesn't want to talk about it, I don't think forcing it would help."

"She's right" agreed Buffy. "We'll just keep an eye on him, not let Spike near him. I mean like Giles said, we've got no proof we should just let him know we're here, let him come to us." A thought occurred, "and we're probably just being paranoid, I mean what could Spike do that would upset Xander so much?"

"Um…maybe Spike made Xander do something ah, risky, and is holding it over him." Giles suggested.

"It's hardly likely though, I mean Xander is pretty well balanced." Buffy pointed out.

"So was I, but Ethan came along. So were you, but Faith came along" Giles said gently. "Being, well foolish or wild can seem fun in the moment, and we all know Spike can be convincing."

"Yeah" Buffy half whispered, remembering her wild time with Faith. Something they had both paid a high price for later on. Too high. Giles placed his hand over hers briefly and she gave him a wan smile.

"Anyway" she said briskly, there was no time to mourn the past. There was never any time to mourn the past, "Is Xander coming to the party tomorrow?"

Buffy yawned and stood up wearily. "Dawn, come on, Giles' will give us a ride home."

She paused and put her hand on Willows shoulder. "Don't worry, if Spike is up to something we'll find out and we'll stop it."

Xander peered though the haze. Another college party filled with people he didn't know. On the plus side the place looked great, though they'd really gone mad with the Hawaiian theme. He dropped his wreath of flowers over the head of a girl looking very much the worse for wear. She obviously had the right idea. He wandered over to the punch bowl and helped himself to a glassful. Although he hadn't wanted to come tonight it really wasn't so bad. Mostly thanks to the large amounts of alcohol he was taking in.

"Oh come on you can't say no." She smiled at him, and for a second he was reminded of why he'd fallen so completely in love with her back in high school, before Angelus and Faith and Glory and just too many tough choices had sealed the impatient and somewhat glitzy, hardened image she was putting out these days. It was a flash to the girl she had been, still was at her core. Sensitive. Kind. Impossible to refuse. He let himself be dragged onto the dance floor and took her in his arms. It felt…pretty good. Nice to be holding someone. He hadn't realized how much he missed it.

/Spike never holds me/ He shoved that thought to the very back of his mind. He didn't want to think about Spike tonight.

"You know I am. Dancing with you is way better than trying to hook up with some good looking guy."

They danced in silence for a few seconds then Buffy said awkwardly. "Xander are you…is everything ok? I mean with, well everything, cause you know you can talk to me. If anything or um, anyone has upset you."

He blamed the alcohol and nostalgia for the lump that rose in his throat and swallowed it down determinedly. "I'm fine Buff! “He said in as cheery a tone as he could manage. " The only problem I'm having is wondering how badly you'd kick my ass if I tread on your feet."

"You already have " she grinned. "Seriously though. If you ever need, well, anything…"

"I hear you. And thanks, but I'm fine." He tried for a smile and felt like it missed but Buffy looked convinced.

She smiled. "Why thank you kind sir, but I mean girls to enter date territory with."

"I don't think I'm ready to enter date territory Buff. I think date territory is going to be an unmarked, unmapped place for some time to come."

"Oh Xander, just try it! I guarantee " she grinned "it'll make you feel much better!"

After the dance Xander weaved his way unsteadily through the crowd back to the punch bowl. He wasn't much of a drinker, his parents had knocked any interest he might have felt in booze right out of him, but tonight was a night to push rules out the window and it was making everything pleasantly woozy, and that was pretty damn appealing right now. It felt like he'd been caught like this forever, every minute of the day he was worrying about Spike, wondering what the hell was going on with him and he couldn't take anymore. He just wanted to stop thinking about it just for a night. He was sick of feeling like this, miserable and scared. Cut off from friends. Sick of being used and forgotten about, pining for Spike like he was a drug in between hating him. For one night it would be so good to let it go, to forget, to lose himself, to just get away from the hell that was his life. He couldn't stand feeling like this another minute.

He turned to face a girl who despite appearing in triplicate looked vaguely familiar, pretty with gorgeous ruddy gold hair.

"It's Julie" She supplied seeing his difficulty, "I guess you don't remember me. We met at the frat party last year? You know the uh, incredibly scary one?"

"Sure I remember" it was coming back to him now. This was the girl he'd been trying to impress after having a fight with Anya. He remembered the party more clearly than her, but then it was hard to forget a party that had released poltergeists thanks to Buffy and Riley screwing the night away.

He smiled at her a little dizzily, glad to see she didn't seem to have any lasting scars about thinking she was wicked and unclean. Not if the somewhat flimsy top and clinging pants she was wearing were anything to go by. The alcohol and the haze might be playing tricks on him, but he thought she was standing a little closer than she really needed to be, and that was fine, it was kind of nice, reminding him of taking Buffy in his arms on the dance floor and the scent of her perfume brought back dozens of memories of Anya and nights when she lay next to him.

"So how have you been?" he asked, feeling proud he wasn't slurring his words at all.

"Ah." He considered telling her the truth but decided against it, the people of Sunnydale had brought denial to an art form. Why spoil it. Besides then she might go away and he liked having her here, she sure was pretty to look at.

She laughed and did that thing that girls do, that thing were they look up at you from under their lashes and it makes you feel like you're the only damn guy in the room, and a warmth, not entirely due to the alcohol spread out in his stomach, and maybe Buffy was right about girls and date territory.

"Oh, I um, you're welcome" he stammered. /Great where's my fast moving mouth when I need it?/ "So are you having fun?"

Xander let his eyes flick over her slowly, a way he'd never have dared do when he was sober in case he got his face slapped, but she didn't seem to want to slap him. "Do you feel brave enough to chance some punch tonight?"

He took the glass she handed him and looked at her for a moment. Maybe this wasn't the best idea, but the haze was comfortable and the girl was smiling and screw it. He was tired of being miserable.

Slipping into the party Spike prowled around, keeping his eyes open for the Scoobies. The noise of the party and the scent of all the perfume and aftershave made it hard for him to instinctively home in on whoever he was looking for, he was looking so hard into the haze that he damn near mowed the Slayer down.

Looking exceptionally lovely tonight. And exceptionally pissed off. Obviously expecting him to take the shine off her night. And who was he to fly in the face of tradition?

"Small world" he mused mockingly. He wouldn't have thought it humanly possible but her glare intensified.

"Oh dear, If looks could stake. Having fun pet? " He grinned, he knew she hated it when he called her that. He glanced after the guy she'd obviously been trying to pull, Ben something he thought. From what he could tell a pretty average guy all round /thought she'd have learnt her lesson with soldier boy./ "Trolling for your next ex? Gotta say, you can do better." /Like a Scum demon. And he'd be the looker/ He bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Thought I was gonna leave town. It's a free country, Free party." /And if you think I'm gonna leave when life is so full you've got another think coming Slayer, Xander's to shag, pictures to take, busy, busy, busy/

"If you want me to leave" he upped his leer so a blind nun would have had no difficulty in understanding him "you can put your hands on my hot tight little body and make me."

Hatred dripping from every word. And he forgotten how much fun it was to piss her off to the point where she was practically spitting venom. He drew breath for his next insult when just over her shoulder he caught a glimpse dim and fleeting of Xander. Losing interest instantly in exchanging insults he nodded absently to the Slayer and backed away, trying to get a better view and my, my he was looking good enough to eat tonight in some pretty subdued clothes for a change. Maybe tonight would be the night to fuck that hot beautiful mouth of his. The excitement began to radiate through him as he squinted through the haze, no wonder he'd nearly missed him all tucked away in the corner talking…to…that…girl.

His eyes widened and the rest of the party faded to grey, a roaring sound in his ears as he stared in disbelief at Xander and the girl.

A girl. Xander and a girl looking all kinds of cozy, a pretty little thing too, all ruddy gold curls and a big smile. Jealousy rose like bile in his throat as he took in the sight of Xander nodding along to whatever the girl was saying, then obviously made a quip of some sort because the girl burst out laughing and touched him on the arm. And left her hand there.

Xander leaned in closer to the girl and for one awful endless moment Spike thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he stroked a curl, letting it run through his fingers his face amused and admiring as he pulled out a tiny petal that had obviously been caught there. The girl went up on her tip toes and pulled Xander to her so she could whisper something in his ear, and they both laughed again.

A growl ripped through Spike and he looked away, because he couldn't bear to see anymore, then looked back because he just couldn't stand not to see, not to know. And Xander's hand was on her shoulder moving down her arm. Up again, and maybe the Slayer was even now sticking pins into a voodoo doll of him, because something had to be causing this awful painful burn in his chest. He watched with mounting horror as Xander slowly and seductively stroked her skin and the girl stepped even closer to him, so they were scant inches away and she let her finger trace down his face. /Mine. Stop that I'm the one that gets to touch him! Get away from him bitch, he's mine!/ That was one lucky little girl there was a chip in his head otherwise that pretty little head with all it's curls would be ripped off for him to play football with and /easy, easy, don't vamp out, not here, not now/ but that roaring in his ears is getting louder and his fists were clenching tighter and /I'm a reasonable sort of vamp but there's gonna be blood and screams if he doesn't get the hell away from her/

/Come on Xander smile and leave, smile and leave, in fact don't even bother with the smile just leave please, okay? Just…please/ Which went to show what a waste praying was as the girl reached up to run her fingers through Xander's hair and he pushed against her hand like a cat, he was rocking a little on his, feet, obviously had a few to drink, but the girl didn't seem to mind as she slid an arm around his waist supposedly to support him.

"I'm not causing bloody trouble" /But I soon will be if you don't get out of my face and let me see what the hell is going on over there./

She turned to follow his eyeline and saw him watching Xander talking to Julie. She glanced up at Spike and said casually. "Xander's been talking to her for an hour, they really seem to have hit it off."

"Is that right?" Spike spat as his eyes flashed yellow. /Knew I should have got here earlier, oh fuck, shit, shit shit, don't do what I think you're going to do…/

They watched, Spike in horror and Willow in interest as Julie took Xander's hand and led him out of the party.

"What? Who?" Willow turned to answer the peachy, pretty girl who was talking to her and he took the opportunity to slip past. Xander and the girl had gone. /Relax, relax, part of the goody gang remember? Not a casual pick up kind of guy./ Except someone had obviously forgotten to tell Xander that as he darted outside just in time to see Xander getting into a car with her. For a second he stood frozen as they roared away, then he shook himself out of his shock and began to run after them, but stopped before he'd even reached the end of the street. There was no way he could catch them.

"Fuck!" He gasped, his voice coming out strangely broken and almost tearful. "Shit." He lit up a smoke with trembling fingers. Inhaling with ragged breaths. So Xander had picked up a girl. Fine. So what. It was too late to stop Spike doing whatever he wanted now, he could still destroy Xander. Let him have a night off. He didn't care.

The fucking cigarette had gone out, he tried to relight it, then realized it hadn't gone out, it just wasn't calming him the way it should. He threw it on the floor, he didn't need it, he didn't care. Xander was just an unexpectedly useful pawn to checkmate the Slayer. That was all. So if Xander was just a pawn why did the sight of him with that girl, the thought of what they were probably doing right now hurt so much?

Xander sank woozily onto the couch. The room was spinning but it felt nice, if a little weird. Everything about tonight had been nice if a little weird, but hey he didn't have a problem with that. Escaping from his life that was what it was all about and he thought he was doing pretty well. /See Spike you bastard. I don't need you/

He wondered if Julie would be mad if he closed his eyes for a second and decided she would. She'd been so keen on bringing him back for a drink the least he could do was stay awake. "Hey" She said amused as she sat next to him handing him a glass of something cool and fruity tasting. "Not flaking out on me are you?"

"Good." She gazed at him for a moment. "Because I've been wanting to do this for a while now."

And it was like floating out of his body, watching from a distance as she leaned in to him her eyes drifting closed as she brushed her mouth lightly over his, letting the faintest hint of her tongue trace along his mouth askingly, and suddenly sleepy was the last thing he was feeling. Carefully, without breaking the kiss he set his glass down, and let his arms slide around her, pulling her closer to him, and hell she felt good. Smelt good. Tasted good. And slow and distant suddenly wasn't good enough anymore as her hot tongue traced a path of fire into his mouth, arousal zinging throughout his body, pooling in his groin and yeah his mind might be befuddled but his body seems to know what it's doing so he'll just let it take over from here on as his mouth was exploring hers, tongues sliding against each others and the room was still spinning and her lips were feather soft, sucking on his bottom lip and he had a lapful of a beautiful girl and it was all good. The need to be close to her, to feel her against him was overpowering. Pushing her back until she was lying on the couch, lowering himself on top of her and he'd almost forgotten what a girl felt like. Sweet and soft and curving. Fitting against his body perfectly as she hooked her leg over his and ground her body closer into him. Moaning into her mouth he slid his hands under her top and she lifted her arms letting him pull it off, her skin was smooth and so hot.

He frowned, almost shook his head to dislodge that thought that had flown into his head out of nowhere. His hands traced her breasts through her bra and she arched up into him as he trailed kisses down her neck. Breath coming faster now and almost unnoticed they'd slid into a rhythm, bodies thrusting against each other his hardness rocking into her, only the barrier of clothing preventing him from sliding inside, and this, oh this, it was so good, so familiar, no pain or confusion just bodies and sweet scent and heat.

Stupid, betraying thoughts. Kept buzzing through his head. Irritating little flies that won't leave him alone.

/This isn't right/ He opened his eyes and looked into hers. Serious and wide. A gorgeous greeny color. Not like Spike's, a pure blue.

/Yes it is, yes it is, yes it is/ He trailed his hand down her thigh and squeezed his eyes closed, her hands were sliding under his shirt to gently scratch down his back.

He shuddered and dropped his head, kissing across her breasts, but memories of a cool silky chest washed over him. She was arching up into his mouth making small moans and gasps and all he wanted was to crawl in from out of the cold, to a place where there was no more Spike, except Spike was here, because he couldn't stop thinking about him! /No, no, no. Damn you, you bastard just get out of my head!/

He kissed her again, hard, almost angrily, trying to get Spike out of his mind, trying to lose his thoughts in her warm mouth and the taste of mint on her breath, but he was remembering kisses that were cool, tasting of smoke, kisses that felt like they were swallowing him up, kisses that were the best he'd ever had.

Sliding his hand between her legs, rubbing through the material. She moaned into his mouth and let her hand begin squeezing him through his jeans, and it was like trying to swim in water that was just too shallow, and sleeping with the light on and feeling one person against you and wishing it was someone else, and he wanted to scream with frustration.

/No, this isn't fair I won't let him do this to me!/ He was going to forget about Spike if it killed him. Unzipping her pants clumsily and letting his hand slide under her panties. Finding the spot, the place that had her bucking under his hand, and cutting off her moan by sealing his mouth over hers. Letting his fingers slide into her, heat and tightness surrounding his fingers as his thumb circled right there.

And she was bucking desperately under his fingers, her hands clenched on his shoulders, her gasps vibrating into his mouth.

How can his name sound so different coming from two different people? Hands, his and hers roaming frantically over each others bodies and he hears the sound of his zip a split second before she took him in her hand and he's hard and aching, but he doesn't know who for and he's missing the feel of cool skin and that wicked mouth, but he can't really stop now…"Julie" he groaned, not even sure now what he was trying to say. Stop? More? And her hand was moving, stroking and yes it felt good. Everything felt good.

Gasps and bucks and the light is bright against his closed eyes and everything feels so weird he's too close yet somehow too distant and it's too intimate for strangers so he really should stop this but the drink is ruining any control and she stiffened with a cry as he touched that place again, her hand compulsively tightening on him is enough to make him follow. And gradually, panting a little he opened his eyes to look at her.

Julie all disheveled and flushed, partly crumpled against the back of the couch, partly underneath him smiled at him shyly and he had to bite his lip and look away because she was so pretty and her eyes weren't blue.

The night air was cool against Xander's overheated cheeks as he walked home. Walking faster, trying to leave the memories far behind him, but the harder he tried not think of it the more he kept coming back to it.

This was so humiliating. A gorgeous girl, practically begging him to stay with her for all kinds of naked fun, so ironically he must have done something right with the groping on the couch but what had he done? He'd come up with the feeblest excuse in the world about working in the morning and hightailed it for home because he couldn't have sex with her. For one thing it wouldn't be fair to her, and for another…

The other problem was his own sick self. The only person he wanted to be with was Spike. But that sounded rather more cozy than it actually was.

Spike was making him sick. That was the truth of it. Lustsick, literally, sick with lust. Dying for his touch. He felt so empty without him. Yeah it was crazy but when Spike was next to him, his cool skin brushing against him, sliding into him he felt so…right. So complete. And there was no way Spike felt the same because if he did he wouldn't keep treating Xander the way he did and he hated this. Burning for someone who had made it very clear he had nothing but contempt for him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Spike once, just once showed some sign that he cared in some tiny way, that Xander wasn't just a thing an object to be used…But of course he didn't. He didn't care at all.

/Yet again I've managed to screw up my life on a truly spectacular scale. At this point I should qualify for some kind of award. Always being used. Cordy, who was ashamed to be seen with me, losing my virginity to Little Miss Psychotic, she tried to kill me./ He cut that thought off, he couldn't bear to remember Faith. That was in a big box labeled 'Never Open'. /Anya who left me high and dry, and now Spike/ Why did this keep happening to him? He tried to be a good guy, he could be in bed with Julie right now but he wasn't because he just didn't use people like that. Nope, always the used, that was him, never the user. Always being dropped and treated like human trash, well no more!

He walked faster, his anger powering him so he felt as through he was practically flying. The anger and the alcohol creating a red mist where everything was so simple. He couldn't go on like this. Spike, the bastard was screwing him in every fucking way. Over and over. /Well hope you enjoyed the ride Spike, pun definitely intended because it's over!/

There was only one way out of this. Treat Spike like a drug he'd accidentally got hooked on and go cold turkey. No more Spike.

A sharp pang of something, fear? Loss? Had to throb and disperse before he could think again. It had to stop, whatever Spike's reasons were for starting this just weren't important anymore. The only thing that was important was getting his life back, and maybe some tiny measure of self respect. No more being treated like a toy. If…when Spike next turned up he was going to tell him it was over. Tomorrow he'd call Willow and get her to come round and do the de-invite spell. But what if Spike told the others?

"Then bring it on." He muttered as he approached his apartment, "cos I'm tired of playing these games."

He couldn't help but feel relieved as he approached his front door, it had been an eventful night one way and another even though it was barely midnight. At least now he could drop into bed and sleep, the prospect of total oblivion for a few hours was incredibly appealing. He took out his key, then paused. Looked at his front door that had been left ajar. And knew, just knew that some intruder had been in his home. Was still in his home. The anger still thrumming through him made him want to throw the door open and beat whoever was in there to a bloody pulp, but some small part of him that remained dispassionate warned him that could be a good way to get killed. Instead he swallowed it down and moving oh, so slowly he laid a finger on the door and gently pushed it open.

Spike had taken his duster off, sprawled himself out on the couch, making himself look the very picture of relaxation, never mind that his spine felt like it had been fused and every damn muscle was aching with tension, and yeah he knew it was crazy coming here, pathetic in fact but he couldn't help it, he had to know what had happened. He felt a fierce charge of relief as Xander walked in, felt the almost insane urge to throw himself at the lad, hold him, never let him go in case he disappeared on him. Kiss every inch of the boys /his boys/ face. It was alright he hadn't stayed with her, maybe they'd just gone for ice cream or something, he didn't know but it was okay…

Then the scent hit him, the salty tang of sweat and semen, the smell of a girls orgasm swirling around him like a haze, and hey it might smell like strawberries and musk but all that he could smell was an arid stench, because that meant that Xander had done it. He'd actually slept with her. He'd actually done it.

Awful ripping hurt tearing through him and something stung in his eyes. For a second Xander blurred before him, but that was just the anger, that was what it was, blind with rage, literally. His fingernails dug into his palms but he couldn't move. So fucking angry with the lad /not hurt, angry, not hurt/ he could kill him, who the hell did he think he was making him feel like this? Xander stared at Spike, speechless for a moment, forcibly hit by his beauty. He hadn't seen Spike for days and he'd somehow forgotten how he was so perfect it was almost painful to look at him. And he was here right now…

Yeah here right now, without Xander's consent. The anger began to burn again. Spike was doing it again just walking in and taking what he wanted, well this time he had a surprise coming. He slammed the door and glared at Spike.

"Do you usually walk into other peoples homes while they're out? Well you can just get out because as far as I'm concerned your invite is revoked and tomorrow I'm making it official. It's over Spike."

/Over./ Spike swallowed down some painful lump in his throat at the word. Over. No, no, no. Not over, it couldn't be. Xander was his, all his, he wasn't going to lose him, he couldn't bear it. He was still in control here and he wouldn't let it be over.

"I mean it. You might as well leave now because I am never going to sleep with you again." Arms folded Xander glared at Spike, but felt suddenly…uncomfortable. Spike was still sprawled on the couch in the exact same position, yet somehow without moving an inch his posture had changed, become less relaxed and more coiled, like he was getting ready to pounce and it's been a long night and he really doesn't need this…

"I mean it" Xander repeated but it feels like he's missed a trick here somewhere and his resolve is draining away and he took a sudden instinctive step back, but it came too late because in a blur of movement Spike had him pinned up against the wall before he'd even registered what was going on.

"Shut up." And Spike sounded almost tearful, pissed off, his mouth on Xander's and he was kissing him. Hard.

Spike ran his tongue along the velvet of Xander's mouth trying to wipe away any scent of the girl from him. He hadn't realized until just now how much it meant to have his lingering scent on Xander, marking him, but Xander struggled, freed his mouth and pushed him away. "Why are you doing this?" The boy yelled, tears and rage and all harsh things in his voice, but at least it means he's feeling something for Spike and it's a hollow kind of victory but he'll take anything he can get. "What the hell do you want?"

And Xander found himself shoved back into the wall and Spike is almost glaring at him, leaning into his face and this is so not good…

"I want to fuck you." Harsh, angry and Xander's never seen Spike like this before, hard and frantic and really, really pissed off, can feel the anger in the palpable tension coming from the body pressed against his, can hear it in the growls Spike is making, vibrating into his mouth as he kisses him again, Spike flush against him, grinding into him hardness thrusting against hardness and oh fuck. Doesn't know why Spike is so upset, doesn't care. This is what it should be like how could he ever let it go, an almost painful hitching deep in his stomach, the achingly familiar feel of Spike's mouth on his and he's gasping for air but can't quite get enough and fuck it, who cares? Drowning, drowning, in this kiss, opening his mouth and meeting Spike's tongue with his own his hands scrabbling at the fastening on Spike's jeans, as he toes off his shoes because everything is just a waste of time all that matters is getting naked, now, if clothes would just vanish that would be perfect. Has to touch, feel, wants to fuck all night, wants to do everything, suck him and take him, and be taken, make himself all open all for Spike, all for Spike…

And somehow those words, the look on Spike's face, the mixture of triumph and hate brought Xander back to himself, reminding him of exactly how shit he felt, how humiliated and hurt every time Spike walked away after using him. With a thud he could almost feel body and brain reconnected. He grabbed Spike' shoulders and shoved him away. Hard.

"You…" His voice doesn't seem to want to work and his knees are decidedly shaky, but fuck this, he won't be Spike's toy for the night. "Don't touch me." He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand trying to eradicate the taste, the memory of the way he just gave in to him. His voice trembling but determined. "Don't ever touch me like that again."

"You're the one that wanted it you bloody poof." Spike snarled as he righted himself.

"Nice to see you acting like yourself again. Knew the real you was in there somewhere, take it outside Spike."

"Get used to disappointment." Xander managed to get out as he backed away on trembling legs. /That's it. Every step takes me closer to sanity./ Somehow he thought if he could just get far enough away he would STOP wanting Spike. /Yeah because it's worked so well before./ "Whatever twisted game you're playing Spike I'm not going along with it anymore, it's over. The end."

His head still spinning from the kiss and the alcohol earlier, Xander didn't notice Spike's eyes flash yellow, didn't hear the underlying threat in his tone as his words came out dangerously slow.

"I don't care what it is Spike, I'm telling you it's over and don't try any threats they won't work." Too caught up in trying to avoid one mistake he didn't notice as he headed straight for the biggest mistake of all. " And don't try to scare me. You've got that chip remember? You'll never make me do anything I don't really want to do!"

Spike's face was expressionless but his blue eyes darkened to almost black as he stared at Xander.

"Is that right?" Softly spoken, sounds almost calm, but for the underlying steel in his voice and the burn in his eyes you wouldn't know that he's just made William the Bloody very angry. Frozen. Mouth going dry. Suddenly knowing it's only the chip, tiny little piece of metal holding Spike back. The violence was radiating out from him, the room is almost shimmering with it. A predator, deadly and very, very pissed off and he's trapped and Xander felt his anger flee as fear. Cold. Icy. Began to trickle through his body.

"Spike I didn't mean…" Shaking, trying to somehow put this back, put it right, but when things go wrong so far then they just keep getting wronger and Spike is very slowly coming towards him.

"Didn't mean what luv? You're quite right. I can't force you to do anything. Can I?"

Spike slowly moving towards him, and Xander backed up against the wall. "What are you doing?" Hoarse whisper and he hates the fear that's apparent in his voice.

"Nothing you don't want me too. Isn't that what you've just been saying to me Xander? No need to be scared now, since I can't do anything you don't want." The last word almost spat out, tiny, tiny expression of how pissed Spike is and oh shit, oh no…

"Take your jeans off." Whispered soft, falsely seductive and a huge wallop of terror hits him right in the chest and this is so so bad and Spike is way too close and surely oh please God, surely he's got this wrong, this can't be about to happen…

"No" Gasped under his breath and /trapped trapped trapped/ And he has to move, has to get away cos those eyes were suddenly spitting blue fire, his jaw line rigid, like he might just decide killing Xander was worth the pain…

"Take. Your. Fucking. Jeans. Off." He leaned inches away from Xander, his hands were on the wall on either side of Xander's face.

"If you lay one finger on me…" He'll what? Stake him? He has to get out of here but Spike's eyes are pinning him down and all he can do is mouth empty threats and knows Spike can sense the terror stringing through him.

"I'm going to lay a whole lot more than that on you…" A growl and Spike's eyes flash yellow and a split second before he moves to slam Xander into the wall he breaks from his paralysis, ducks from under Spike's arms and quickly darts past Spike /ohgodohgodohgod/ hears Spike curse and gets almost to the door before he feels those cold hands grab him. Bends over desperately trying to throw Spike off over his back, and it almost works, feels Spike lose his balance for a split second before he regains it and Spike is pressing his rock hard erection into Xander's backside. Wriggling and writhing even more franticly to try and escape but the cold hands are bruising his arms and each movement is only making him thrust back against Spike harder.

Spike swallowed a groan back at the feel of Xander pushing against him and managed to breath into his ear. "Easy, easy, eager little thing aren't you?"

"No" The small whisper hit his ears as he unzipped Xander's jeans and pulled his already stiffening cock out. /Not eager but still hard for me though aren't you?/

"I can't force you" Spike whispered in a mockingly gentle tone as his hand moved, coaxing him to full hardness as he stood, frozen, want throbbing through him alongside the terror and oh God, was it even possible for this to get any more twisted? Obviously it was because it's taking everything in him not to thrust, to fuck Spike's hand.

"You must want me" he breathed in Xander's ear. "You do don't you pet? Feel that?" Tighter grip on Xander's cock and a long hard downstroke. The groan escapes before he can swallow it and he knows Spike is smiling. A smile that would chill his blood if he could see it. "You want me. Want me to wank you. Suck you. Take you so hard you see fucking stars. Isn't that right?" Licking around his ear and a tremor ran through the lad.

"No." Whimpered pleadingly through gritted teeth, and oh hell, Spike's hand is pumping.

"If you say that again so help me Christ…" he growled furiously. Xander grabbed Spike's wrist and turned to face him as best he could against Spike's vampire strength.

Spike spun Xander around, wound his legs around Xander's the brunette tried to struggle away and Spike didn't try to hold him still, just hung on to him. They both crashed to the floor, Spike on top, his legs straddling Xander, knocking all the air out of him, pinned by his weight, Xander bucked trying to writhe away from Spike. He grabbed Xander's flailing arms, pushing them into the floor, holding him still with his vamp strength and his mouth is running off, can't control it, can't stop himself and his demon is howling with delight and all he can hear is the blood roaring in his ears and what must be him saying "Yeah I can't force you, you must want me, you do don't you say you do Xander say you want me, say it…"

Dark hair and soft mouth and hard body and they were HIS, chip or no chip he'd kill anyone who tried to take him away.

Xander bucked wildly under him, trying to throw him off, hard pelvis banging together. And it's all out of control, trying to get a grip on slippery glass and mind is a long way away and her hands, her smell was all over him the bitch had touched what was his, stroking where he stroked, and he couldn't bear it.

"I will kill you if you don't get of me." Dark eyes and they've never had that look in them before, pure, burning hate and that's something he's got out of the lad anyway, not love, but almost as good, or that's what he's telling himself.

Pushing down pinning Xander's hands above his head enough pressure to break his wrists if he moves again and Xander's getting frantic now and he couldn't really hurt the lad, of course he couldn't, he couldn't get round the damn chip that much, if Xander really did want him off he could do it, but the heat coming from his body, the hardness pressed into his and the struggles that just fell short of being convincing was telling him that he didn't.

Grasping both Xander's wrists in one hand as he yanks Xander's jeans, boxers, down and off and he should leave it there but he needs to feel Xander against him everywhere, trying to get him naked one- handed as the lad struggles under him.

"Fuck" Just rips the shirt Xander's wearing practically in half and he keeps reciting to himself intent is everything, intent is everything. If he didn't intend to hurt the lad the chip wouldn't go off but he did. Oh he did want to hurt him just a little but he keeps pushing it down and in his head he can almost hear the chip humming, getting ready to fry him if he makes just one wrong move if Xander would just stop fighting.

"Keep. Fucking. STILL!" With one hand Spike managed to work the fastening on his jeans pulling his cock out, that's so hard it hurts, kissing Xander and if the victory tastes sour it's lost in the sweetness of his boys mouth and Xander is biting his lip hard, Spike can feel the blood pouring from his mouth into Xander's but doesn't let up from the kiss. Moves so he's pushing Xander's legs apart with his knees, pressing against Xander and thrusts and rubs, thrusts and rubs, cock riding against cock, sweet frantic friction and Xander was trying to hold his moans back, but thank god for vampire hearing he could sense them rippling in his throat. Pumps Xander, once, twice and gathers the glistening strands of precome in his hand and pulls away to spit into his hand, coating his cock with spit and blood and precome because the lube might only be in his pocket but that's just far too far away right now and Xander's just gonna have to take it rough.

Releasing Xander's wrists as he moves himself into position, the slide of his cock in the crease of Xander's ass, pressing forward like it just can't wait to get there, and now is Xander's chance to stop this to get away. Waiting for a moment to see what he'll do and Xander lay still, panting heavily, staring up at him.

"I hate you." Xander spat through tears of humiliation shining in his eyes as he felt the nudge of Spike's cock at his entrance.

"And my god I hate you too." Spike ground out between clenched teeth and slammed into him. Xander's eyes flew open and he's biting his hand trying to keep the cries in as Spike slammed in again and again. So much pain, he's being split in two and it won't stop, the worlds just gone away to trying to survive that huge blunt thing that's inside him and moving and he's choking back tears that he won't let out and it's awful and wrenching and it's swallowing him up and it's all hot and cold and pain and how has he ever thought this was good, when there's a shift in positions and suddenly he's caught the rhythm and has to move and oh shit, dear god and the pleasure is just ripping, wrenching through him, and suddenly he's grabbing on to Spike and shifting so Spike can hit that place again and again and it's just too good, too good, too good…

Vibrating flesh and the harsh cries filled the room and two pairs of hate filled eyes clashed as Xander's legs tangled around Spike's waist and he worked himself on Spike's cock, Xander's back arching and Xander's hands on his ass pulling him in deeper and harder and Spike wanted to do this forever and ever but it was too good and too much and he wasn't gonna last but he wanted to hear something before it was over….

"You know I do you bastard" and that, that admission was almost better than anything. Pounding into him with a burning fury that's almost joy.

Had to touch, had to fuck, had to come, getting rid of her scent with his essence and he can't slow down can't stop and the carpet burn on his knees is just something on the very edge of his mind and Xander is choking and growling, clawing his fingers down Spike's back, biting his shoulder and it's painful and twisted and it's getting him so fucking hot…

White hot fire racing through every part of him and Xander's teeth have broken his skin and it feels like blood is everywhere, from his mouth, from his shoulder, maybe from between Xander's legs as well but who cares about anything when Xander's underneath him, and

"Oh FUCK oh Christ, oh hell Xander" he's coming, coming so hard and Xander grabs his hand, puts it on his painfully hard cock and Xander's begging for him.

"Oh god Spike please" And he has to, has to make Xander come, and he's moving his hand on Xander's cock and Xander's so close himself, one stroke from Spike and he's coming as well in long hard spurts, with a gasp that's nearly, nearly a sob.

Movement, slowly returned to shaking limbs. Thought began to play through minds now the desperate, frantic need had been sated and the litany of complaints that their bodies had stacked up unnoticed in what had just happened were now about ready to be heard. Spike lifted his head heavily and shook it, trying to snap back into reality, but he felt like he'd been caught underwater, things were heavy and blurred, sound felt dimmed, not quite real and right now the only clear thing was Xander under him, staring back at him with a look as stunned and confused as his own

Silence fell again, unbroken apart from the sound of their shuddering gasps for breath. Spike just gazing down at him and his eyes are so blue and right now Xander could just drown in them and time and movement are things that have no meaning here, nothing matters except that Spike doesn't move away ever again. Like they've fucked all the anger out, all that's left is this. A moment that's spinning on and on.

Then he remembered the admission he made as Spike pounded inside him and he felt his cheeks flame with shame, he'd told Spike he still wanted him! He looked away, Spike saw, sensed Xander's withdrawal from him and reached out a hand to touch him, hold him, draw him back.

"Don't, " Xander said through gritted teeth. Spike was probably only waiting to catch his breath before he walked out again and he had to hang on to some pride. He'd rather Spike hated him then pitied him, and if Spike touched him he knew he just couldn't hold back. He'd sob into Spike's arms, tell him the whole story of what happened tonight with Julie and how he couldn't sleep with her because she was a shadow compared to this, compared to Spike, and beg him not to go because somehow he doesn't know how, Spike's not only inside him physically, but he's in his thoughts and feelings and yeah it's fucked up and crazy but right now he almost feels like he loves Spike, loves him all the time he's hating him, sick fool that he is. And he'd rather die than let Spike know that.

Spike froze his fingers less than an inch away at the harsh sound of Xander's voice. And how can one little word make him feel so bad? All at once snapping him back to what this really was, and of course Xander didn't want to be touched by him. Now the sex was over Xander probably couldn't wait for him to leave. Xander probably wanted to get a good nights sleep in so tomorrow he meet the bitch from the party. Something was hurting like hell but he'd deal with that later. Right now he had to get away. Xander didn't want to be near him? Fine, he wasn't going to hang around.

Xander shivered as Spike pulled out of him, he didn't think he'd ever get used to that, the empty feel after being filled to bursting. Plus the feel like Spike was pulling out all of Xander's insides along with his cock.

Spike staggered to his feet clumsily and drew up his jeans that had gotten no further down than his knees. His boots and T-Shirt were still on and he struggled into his duster, only wanting to get the hell out before all this hurt just breaks down his defenses and comes pouring out.

"Not staying then?" Xander spat pulling up his own jeans in quick, angry movements.

"No" Spike ground out, there was a weird quaver in his voice that Xander put down to amusement at the thought of actually staying.

"Good." And oh, the bitterness in that word he can practically taste in his mouth as he watched Spike wrench open the door.

"Fine!" Spike slammed the door behind him and Xander was alone. Which was what he expected. So he couldn't imagine why he felt so desolate.

"DAMNIT DAMNIT DAMNIT!" Spike matched the words in rhythm with the thud of his feet as he strode towards his crypt and lucky it's deserted around here otherwise he'd be introducing some demon face to face to it's own internal organs. Almost screaming and almost laughing because this is so insane.

Hurt, acres of it. Because Xander had slept with someone else, and even now, even with his scent wiping out the bitches it didn't help. Because he could cover it up but he couldn't make it go away and it shouldn't matter so much. It shouldn't but it did, and he didn't know what the hell Xander had done to him, but it was something alright if the thought of Xander with someone else causes a painful ache that won't stop and he hates this. Hates all of it, hates that Xander can hurt him so easily, hates that he just stop it, can't stop feeling things. Things that were never meant to be a part of this plan.

Things like jealousy and hurt and want and sadness and wanting to comfort Xander and wanting kill him and this plan is so far beyond fucked up…

"Sod the fucking plan!" He yelled, "just fuck it! I don't care about the plan. I don't care about the Slayer, I only care about…"

He stopped. He didn't know. He didn't know what he cared about anymore. Just knew that the all important 'teaching the Slayer a lesson' idea had slipped away, run through his fingers like water and this wasn't about her. Hadn't been almost from the start.

"Oh please God" he whispered, "I know you've got no use for me and I've got no use for you but please. Please don't do this to me."

He couldn't care for Xander, he just couldn't. It was impossible. Not when Xander hated him so much. Not when he had treated Xander so badly there was practically no chance he could ever fix it.

It was impossible. He wouldn't even think it. He was in control. He was fine. He would get over this. Of course he would. And if his eyes were stinging then it was from the dust in the air and there was nobody there to say any different.

Willow hovered outside Xander's door. She ran her hands through her hair and futilely wished Tara was here. Last night after the party she'd finally broken down and confided in Tara exactly why she was so worried about Xander. Tara had barely batted an eyelid at what Willow had confided but had said what Willow was dreading she would say. Namely that she had to tell Xander about Spike's crush on Buffy. If nothing else Xander deserved to be in the loop since they all knew now. And if she was right about what she thought….well then Xander had the most right to know what was going on with Spike. Besides now they all knew it was only a matter of time before it came out and better gently from Willow that just dropped on him from Dawn or Buffy.

She wouldn't even care if Xander and Spike were together she thought, really clutching at straws if Xander was happy and Spike actually did want to be with Xander, she wouldn't like it, but she could deal with it, but she just kept coming back to the awful satisfied look on Spike's face that night she'd looked through the window, and couldn't shake the feeling that Spike had liked to watch Xander suffer. That hurting someone Buffy loved turned his crank in the biggest possible way. And Xander wasn't happy. That was very obvious. He'd been drinking last night, Xander had always made his feelings on drinking perfectly clear.

/It could all still be okay/ she thought frantically, trying to calm her racing heart. She could be wrong or it could be over, Xander had after all met a girl last night. Finally knocking on the door she had to knock a few times before Xander eventually answered. Willow swallowed a gasp. She'd been expecting him to look hungover, tired, but not as bad as this. Deathly pale, dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Yeah I saw you leave with Julie? That's her name right?"

Xander's voice was so flat Willow's smile faded. She took his hand and sat him down on the couch.

"Nothing, a big nothing happened with Julie." He ran his fingers through his hair and slumped back against the couch. She winced it was painful to look at him when he looked so ill.

She watched as he wandered into the kitchen, moving stiffly, rubbing his neck and she caught her breath. He was only wearing a pair of boxers so she could see clearly the scratches down his back, and the carpet burn on his lower back and legs.

Never before in her life had she wished for Xander to lie to her but she was doing it now. She absently toyed with the leaves of the plant that stood by the couch. She looked down at it and her eyes widened. The soil was dotted with cigarette butts.

/Ohgodohgod/ It was one thing to come up with a theory that fitted. It was another to see the proof of it scratched down your best friends back. For a moment she felt sick as the old world she and Xander had shared tilted into a new one. A new one where Xander and Spike could apparently put all their differences aside in the bedroom.

How could Xander? She was baffled and hurt and…outraged. Mr. "Oh I'm perspective guy. Angel's a killer" Yeah where was perspective guy now? What the hell had he been thinking? she thought viciously, of all the stupid, stupid things to do. Even if he didn't know Spike was obsessed with Buffy he must know that Spike was an evil bastard who would chew him up and spit him out.

"Xander" she called out, knowing, appalled at herself that she was being spiteful but helpless to stop " have you seen Spike lately?"

A loud crash echoed through the apartment and her heart skipped a beat. /Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry/ She leapt up and ran into the kitchen where Xander was on the floor, picking up the pieces of the cup he'd dropped. She knelt down next to him, helping him to gather the shards.

Shame burst in her, the anger fled. So what if he had slept with Spike. This was Xander. Her best friend and first love and it didn't matter what he'd gotten himself into, what Spike had dragged him into more like. All that mattered was she loved him and couldn't bear to see him unhappy.

"It wasn't your fault Xander." She threw away the shattered cup then took his hand, pulled him up and led him to the couch.

"Because you're pale, unhappy, distracted on patrol and have barely said two words for the past few weeks. No reason really."

/Oh Xander I wish it would. I wish I could make it better, but I think I'm going to make it worse right now but you need to know this I'm so sorry please don't hate me, I love you so much/

"Xander the reason I asked about Spike is…" she took a deep breath. "Well there's something you should know. It's something to do with Spike and something to do with Buffy."

Xander hadn't really believed he possessed any innate instinct for reading the future, but from the second he'd heard the knock on his door something had told him not to answer it. That something bad was only going to come of it. And for a moment he'd obeyed that feeling. But in the end he couldn't fight it. Lemming like throwing himself of the cliff he'd had to know what it was. And now Willow was trying to break it as gently as she could. Whatever it was. He thought with a curious detachment that until this moment he'd never really appreciated the phase 'chilled to the bone.' The rest of him only heard a roaring in his ears and a sick feeling right in the pit of his stomach and his voice came out oddly strained as he asked. "What about Spike and Buffy?"

"Oh." Spike had a crush on Buffy. Spike had a crush on Buffy. Those words made no sense. He played them over again and they still made no sense. Maybe he was dreaming. But Willow was sitting next to him, her eyes wide with worry and sympathy, and surely dream Xander wouldn't have a hang over? Maybe he'd just heard wrong.

"Spike told Buffy a couple of weeks ago how he felt. She told him to stay away from her. I just thought you should know in case he…I just thought you should know."

"Right." He thought vaguely out of everyone in the world he was glad it was Willow who told him this. Later he would play this conversation back and realize that she must have had some idea what had been going on with him and Spike, and rather than the shame he thought he'd feel, he just felt glad she knew. But that was later. Right now all he felt was cold and sick.

"Is he…" In love with her was what he wanted to ask, but suddenly the words just wouldn't come out and there was a burning in his eyes and a tightness in his throat, and he had to get her out of here, right now.

She nodded and stood up, then leaned down and gave him a hug he just didn't have it in him to return.

He nodded and she left the apartment. Outside she wiped at the tears burning her eyes for Xander. She had to go home. Right now she needed Tara. Needed to try and forget the look she'd just put on Xander's face, and wished she could just pick him up and carry him away to a place where things like this didn't happen. Where there were no vampires with an axe to grind and no bad things that would hurt him.

Staring out of the window until he heard the click of the door behind him that meant Willow had gone. He still didn't move. Somehow it felt wrong that the morning sunlight should be so bright, it should be midnight and raining. But what did it matter? Nothing mattered. Just breathing in and out, and he's wondering why he's not feeling anything but numb. Anger he could understand, maybe even tears but not this, not this kind of numb disbelief. Life goes on people said, no matter how bad things got, so maybe that was it. Breathing in and out and staring out of the window and that was life going on wasn't it? Never mind messy things like Spike having a crush on Buffy because the leaves were still blowing in the breeze and he was still breathing in and out and life was going on and the pain slowly building up inside him was going to pass real soon.

So now he knew. Spike couldn't have Buffy so he had Xander. He wasn't even second best, he was just there. That was why Spike treated him so badly. Because he could. Like Harmony, Spike had done exactly the same with her and if whoever he was shagging decided they didn't like the way Spike treated them then hey, that was no skin off Spike's pale nose because someone else would come along and one shag was pretty much like the next because they were nothing compared to Buffy and if someone he was shagging, /yes you're just shagging them aren't you Spike,/ well if someone he was shagging began to have feelings for him then that was just more fun for Spike.

He'd always known there was another reason behind it. He'd just never in a million years thought it could possibly be because Spike had fallen for Buffy. Spike and Buffy. And if it was all wrong he couldn't say so because he can't really speak or think past that pain that doesn't seem to be passing. Just steadily welling up and instead of fading it's getting worse.

He really didn't know why he was even so upset. It was just sex. Spike was twisted and mean and treated him like crap. So he shouldn't be so upset.

Anyway of course Spike wanted Buffy. Get over the vampire/slayer bump which Spike obviously had and she was incredible. Brave and beautiful and smart. One of a kind. Of course Spike had fallen for her. Who wouldn't? Looking at his reflection in the glass, and it was no good. Stark and pale and plain. Not like Buffy, all glowing and golden and perfect. Why would Spike want him when someone like her was around? The sex that was so incredible to him probably was nothing to Spike, less than nothing. Spike probably found it funny to watch him try to struggle against it while he could take it or leave it. It was probably entertaining for Spike to just come and blast apart his whole life.

Like it was coming from a long way away he could hear the phone ringing. He didn't pick it up, and they didn't leave a message. Breathing wasn't really coming now, it was more like gasping. And the leaves weren't there anymore. There were just a blur of green. His reflection blurred and vanished. Good, best it go away, best it all went away. And sure life was going on. Sure it was. Just not for him right now but in an elsewhere place he couldn't quite get to. A place for people who hadn't discovered the chipped vampire that they were for some reason sleeping with had a crush on their best friend who was also a vampire slayer, and for some reason the fact that Buffy could turn Spike down made him feel worse than anything. She could do it and he couldn't because he was stupid and weak and for some reason, God only knew why was totally crazy about Spike.

Sometime later, could have been minutes, could have been hours the phone rang and he let the answerphone pick up again. He could hear Giles asking him to go over to the magic shop to help with some research when he got the message, but he still didn't move. Life could go on without him for a little longer.

Spike rolled over again. Kicked off the sheets. Pulled them back up. Threw them off. Rolled onto his back.

He hadn't slept a wink, too wound up to settle. /Alright, alright I need to think nice and calm like/ But he couldn't, his thoughts weren't making any sense, kept wandering round in circles, thinking about Xander and the sharp tearing pain of jealousy he'd felt, his hurt as Xander had pushed him away last night, his casual acceptance of the Slayers insults…Thoughts like little ants crawling over his skin and they were Driving. Him. CRAZY.

He felt a panicky fluttering sensation deep in his stomach and rubbed his damp hands on the sheet. /Okay this can be fixed, no need to get all worked up, I've just gotta start loving the Slayer again then it'll all be back to normal/

He closed his eyes and pictured her as he last saw her, at the party chatting up that Ben guy. He tried to fan the jealous feeling he knew he should be having. Nothing. It just wouldn't come.

Against his will he remembered Xander, touching that bitch, the scent of her clinging all over him and the searing hurt felt like an invisible hand was squeezing his heart.

/What the fuck is going on?/ he thought frantically. If he could just get inside his own stupid head he'd arrange things back the way they were, the way they ought to be. But they weren't that way anymore, and when love was gone, it was gone. It couldn't be forced back.

He didn't love her anymore, maybe never had. Maybe she'd been right. It was an obsession, maybe even escapism, hell he didn't know. Not that he didn't believe he hadn't had those feelings for her, they'd been there and they'd been powerful. Just not lasting.

And now, domino effect one realization followed another. What he'd been trying to hide from himself almost from the start. /It's not just time is it? It's him. The sight of him makes me catch me breath even when I don't need to breathe, I move inside him an' I feel like I'm drowning in him, and I see him with someone else an' it's like a knife in my heart and he hates me and I can't blame him, I've been such a git to him and oh shit, shit I can't do it. I don't know what I'm gonna do but I can't use him anymore he's beat me/

In a sudden rage he shot out of bed, picked up the radio he'd stolen from Xander about a million light years ago and threw it against the wall.

"You hear that you bastard?" He roared "You've won! Alright? You've won! Beat me to my bloody knees"

He angrily rubbed at his eyes, stupid tears. He never cried. Tears were for girls. So now what? His grand plan in tatters around him everything he thought he knew blasted apart and the only thing left he was sure of was that he couldn't hurt Xander. So that meant staying away from him. And that hurt more than anything. But it was just what he deserved.

He grabbed the mobile he'd frightened some hapless passerby into giving him, only days ago and dialed Xander's number. But there was no answer, eventually the answerphone picked up and he hung up feeling sick. He had to do something. He had to see him now. Had to try and put this right before he lost his courage. He shot to the door, then recoiled back as the bright sunlight hit him.

"Any answer?" Willow asked anxiously as she came into the back room to see Giles put the phone down from calling Xander.

"I don't know. I went over there this morning and told him about Spike liking Buffy. He was pretty wigged."

"Ah." Willow and Giles regarded each other for a moment. Willow didn't want to lie to Giles but it wouldn't exactly help Xander to have the whole gang knowing what he and Spike had been doing. She just hoped Giles wouldn't ask anything that would make her have to lie to him.

"Do you think now he knows he'll be more inclined to talk about whatever it is Spike may be holding over him?" Giles asked, polishing his glasses furiously.

"Yes. You did the right thing. Have you seen Spike lately?" Giles asked as they walked back into the shop where Tara and Dawn were talking. Buffy was out, looking for a robot of all things.

"He turned up at the party last night." Willow said catching Tara's eye. Tara gave her a supportive smile.

"Well personally until we find out what he's up to I'd rather not have him by any of you."

Willow and Tara exchanged a look. "It's probably nothing" Willow said comfortingly. And untruthfully.

"I don't want Spike to hurt him" Dawn said a little pathetically. Caught between being an adult and being a kid she just wanted to make all the bad stuff go away. Willow could relate wholeheartedly.

"We still don't know for sure that Spike is doing anything" Giles interrupted.

Willow stared steadfastly at the floor. She could feel Giles's eyes boring into her. Tara took her hand and she gave it a grateful squeeze.

"Spike's not really running to hang out with us on a regular basis, we shouldn't see him for a while." Tara said trying to distract them.

It might have helped if Spike hadn't chosen that precise moment to burst into the shop, his blanket almost in flames around him. He threw it off and stamped the fire out, ignoring daggers he could feel being glared at him from four sets of eyes.

"Well" He said at last as the fire smoldered away. "Hello all. What’s going on then?"

Trying to act all icy cool, but the sunlight was still sending prickles down his overheated skin and the light was hurting his eyes. He looked around but he already knew Xander wasn't here. Thankfully nor was the Slayer. He couldn't have coped with her threats right now.

"Yeah and by the way we're working on a way to deinvite you from here even if it is a public place." Willow glared at him, it was taking everything in her not to just kick him in the sun without his damn blanket. Right now she couldn't think of a better sight than watching Spike burst into flames and she knew it wouldn't help but she just kept seeing Xander's face in front of her. Looking like Xander never should look. Unhappy, ashamed and hurt and Spike had done it.

Reds eyes where boring into him like nails and weren't the rest of them even less pleased than usual to see him? What was going on? He tried to hide his discomfiture. "Hey! Someone’s glad to see me aren't you little bit?"

"I think you'd better go." Tare said strongly with a minimum of stutter, still about as threatening as an hour old kitten.

"Okay, look I don't want to be here with you losers either, and speaking of losers where’s the biggest loser of 'em all? Where's the donut boy?"

The rest of the sentence was lost in a gasp of surprise as Spike found himself shoved up against the wall with a very angry ex watcher leaning into his face in an awful parody of intimacy. Giles's eyes were suddenly the color of steel and twice as cold.

"Listen to me." Giles's said his voice taut with the effort of remaining under control "I don't know what you've done to that boy. I don't want to know but it stops now. Xander has been told about your fixation on Buffy. He is not your way to hurt Buffy. There is no way to Buffy. Stay away from both of them. Clear out of here, and Spike, listen to me. Get over it."

"I don't know what you mean." Spike said coldly. His mind stuck on one loop. /Xander knows, Xander knows oh shit no/

Spike didn't frighten easily. You didn't face down two Slayers not to mention over a hundred years with Angelus if you frightened easily. There was a steel thread running through him that kept him standing when other vampires would have long since been dust. Even with the chip where sometimes he felt so trapped and panicked that this damn thing was never going to come out, he'd be stuck with it for ever and ever, even then he managed to stay in control. But looking into Giles's eyes and what he saw there was ruthless. Merciless. /Family ties/ he thought dizzily and even Angelus would have backed away from the look Giles had in his eyes. And Spike was chipped. Sliding out from Giles's grip he grabbed his blanket without another word and slid out of the door, pausing for a second in the shade before making the run for a nearby sewer entrance.

He heard the shop door open behind him. "It was you wasn't it?" He said without turning around.

He turned and could this possibly be sweet, kind little Red? This witch with murder in her eyes? He took a step back, almost into the sun.

"I know what you've been doing. Do you really think he could hide that from me?"

"But then that was the plan right? You didn't want to hide it, I worked that out. Chew him up, spit him out and then tell us all about it? Humiliate him, destroy him and all just to get Buffy to notice you."

"You know nothing" he snarled, "nothing about Xander…" he stopped, the sound of Xander's name in the air twisting him inside. "Nothing about what's going on."

Another wallop of adrenaline hit him and he broke out in a cold sweat all over. "Did you tell him that?"

"Red you don't understand, the reason I was looking for him was to talk to him, you don't know, what he's done to me"

"I don't care he's done to you, I care what you've done to him, if you go near him again I'll know and just pray it's Giles that'll get hold of you. Because if it's me…" and all of a sudden that delicate face was carved out of granite, "I will cut out your heart and set it on fire." Not waiting to hear his next response she went back into the magic shop. Grasped hold of the counter as the trembles subsided and looked up at Tara, who for some reason was putting antiseptic on her hand.

The damn phone was ringing again Xander glared at it resentfully. Was it too much to ask for a little alone time? Why did everyone decide to call him now? Well he wasn't going to answer it. He'd watched the light of the day become brighter at noon then hazy and golden in the late afternoon and now he was waiting for the first tinge of darkness to spill into the sky, waiting for this dreadful, dreadful day to be over, surely things had to be better tomorrow? His answering machine picked up and he listened as the words came floating over to him.

"Xander it's me" Came Giles's voice. " Please pick up, we need you. I'm afraid…I've got some bad news. It's about Joyce."

Xander had thought about death a lot. Of course he had. Doing the things they did if you didn't think about dying, well that was a pretty good way to get dead. Had seen a lot of death, lots of casualties of the Hellmouth. But this was different. This was Joyce.

He hadn't known her all that well really. But he knew enough. Enough to know she was kind and loving and worried about all of them. That she smelled like warm biscuits. That he had loved her, in a way he'd barely even realized. That somehow she'd become a symbol to him, of a life that was out there, even though he'd never come within a million miles of having it. A family where mothers didn't cry and promise to change, promise to stand up for you next time when your dad was mad and then two days later get drunk and join in with the yelling and slapping and call you a disgrace.

He kept remembering one day Buffy and Willow had been studying. He'd got bored and wandered into the kitchen looking for something to eat and had gotten talking to Joyce. Eating a pan of Brownies together, laughing as he tried to convert her to watching 'The Simpson's' and sympathizing entirely with his utter hatred of math. And now she was gone.

Taken by something they couldn't even fight and why? And the answer he kept coming up with was; just because. Because that was the way life worked, it wasn't fair and it wasn't right and if you didn't like it get in line. He kept expecting Buffy to cry or break something, scream and yell but she didn't, just stayed eerily calm as she chose the coffin and sorted out the service. But if you thought she wasn't grieving you only had to look in her eyes and maybe it was selfish, but God it was exhausting to be around her. To sense all that grief and unable to touch it. She was faultless, completely controlled and utterly unreachable and if she wouldn't let out her grief, nobody else could either.

It had been less than a week since Joyce died. but it felt like months had gone by and they hadn't even had the funeral yet. He couldn't sleep. Physically exhausted but too nervy and tense to settle. Shaky from lack of food but can't really imagine being hungry again. Too tired and sad to do anything but try to mouth comforting words that seemed to vanish the minute they hit the air without drifting into earshot of Dawn and Buffy. Or maybe there was nothing he could say anyway. Swallowing down his own grief the pressure building up and up but he can't let it out, just rubs at his red eyes and shoves it down.

So much hurt, and as much as he'd like to deny it, as much as he hates himself for it, he knew it wasn't entirely because of Joyce. But now isn't the time to think about Spike and his hardon for Buffy. There are bigger things to worry about. Who cares about Spike? Not him that's for sure. But he was always there. Flickering at the edge of his mind. Taunting him.

Coming out of Buffy's house with Willow he could barely suppress a sigh of relief. Willow raised her eyebrows at him after the turbulent atmosphere between Buffy and Dawn, but they didn't say anything about it. They didn't have to. He looked up at the sky, despite it being clear it felt close out here, maybe a storm was brewing.

"Well I'm not going to my place those people are scary." Makes a joke about the pain, the way he always does but suddenly he's almost stumbling on the steps, cold all over, his heart in his mouth as the sight of Spike's distinctive blond head appeared through the darkness. Spike he'd been determinedly not thinking about because there was only so much he could take but all of a sudden Spike was right in front of him and he didn't think just the sight of someone could affect him so much. Disgusted that under the anger a part of him still wants to drag Spike away and let the night end with Spike pressed against him, that pleasurepain that could make everything go away. Everything of course except Spike himself.

Spike cursed inwardly as he saw them watch his approach. Yet another plan completely fucked. The idea had been to drop off the flowers and leave, not get into a confrontation with Miss Rip-Your-Heart-Out-And- Set-Fire-To-It or Xander. First time he's seen Xander since Red had oh so kindly filled Xander in on things and his damn legs were shaking on him. He forced himself to keep his pace steady. Threw his head up confidently as he walked towards them. Knowing that this wasn't going to be pretty. Even though Xander didn't know the full extent of the plan, for which he thanked whatever demon looked out for vampires, he still knew enough. Between Xander's anger and Spike's still hurting jealousy over the girl from the party the very air around them felt charged and murky. Too many damn emotions swirling around. None of them nice and Spike's crush on Buffy lay between them, still unspoken about. Stinking up the air.

"You have got to be kidding!" Xander examined, taking in the flowers Spike was carrying. Willow sent him a worried look as she felt the palpable anger begin to emanate from him, but he ignored her. All his attention was focused on Spike.

"I'm not going in." he said. Calm. Calm. Keep this simple and clear and calm. But Xander looks exactly half a step away from beating him to a second death. Red watching them wide eyed and terrified. The bad ass Wiccan that had threatened him gone now, only a frightened little girl left. Another time he might have found that amusing.

"And you're not leaving those. You actually think you're going to score points with Buffy this way?" Bitterness. Oceans of it spilling over into every word and he's powerless to stop it. Joyce, Buffy, Spike, all too much, pushing him further into his own grey, hurting place. Can feel himself drowning, and there's nothing he can hold on to and this feels so fucking surreal to be having this cold, controlled confrontation when he's never felt less cold or controlled in his life.

"This isn't about Buffy." And Spike doesn't even know if he's talking about the flowers anymore. Still speaking calmly, and it feels so weird to have Xander right there, and so totally out of reach, he can't help taking a step closer, Xander mirroring his action but not in a good way. His veneer of control cracking before Spike's very eyes.

"Bull. We're all hip to your doomed obsession." Biting his tongue to just keep from screaming at Spike, to just stop himself launching at him. Feel his fists clench and can see clearly in his minds eyes the first hit, the way Spike's head will snap back, blood arch from his nose. Knows if he starts he won't stop, and he can't not now this isn't the time but if Spike dares to leave those flowers he might just do it anyway…

Can feel the tears right behind the anger and he won't, he won't break down in front of Spike, won't give him the satisfaction.

"They're for Joyce." Waving the flowers around like they're a damn magic weapon, gonna put all this right, when pretty much nothing was going to do that. Keeping this simple, hoping using her name will remind Xander of why he's here. For once not for any other reason than trying to do right for someone who'd always done right to him. Not letting any of the other stuff cloud it. But Xander is all about the cloud, hell right now Xander wanted the damn cloud, doesn't want to think about anything but how much he hates Spike right now, hate keeps the hurt at bay. His already over wound up system tensing another notch with every word Spike utters, pushed into overload at him even saying Joyce's name.

"Like you care about her." And Xander had never known his voice could sound like that, so cold, so threatening.

Another step up to Spike, powerless to stop himself and close, now, close enough to hit. Trying to keep this about protecting his friend, the memory of Joyce and ignoring the sour curl of less noble emotions spreading through him. And he wants to see Spike's control snap. Wants to see Spike take a swing and collapse in pain for his trouble. Wants to do something to make this stop hurting so much.

"Guys – guys," Willow fluttered between them nervously. "Not here." She could feel the tension between them crackling like electricity, the hair on the nape of her neck standing up, and yeah, she's all for teaching Spike a lesson, but not here, not now.

And Spike could feel the anger rise in him. This was where trying to do the decent thing got you, spat on that was where it bloody got you. And Xander is looking at him like he's nothing and the only way to fight this is to play the game right back.

"Care?" he said his eyes locked on Xander's." Joyce was the only one out of the lot of you I could stand."

"And she's the only one with a daughter you wanted to shag. I'm touched." Still not raising his voice but Spike is flinching like each word is a knife.

"I liked the lady – understand monkey boy?" Seeing Xander flinch a little at the insult and feels a sick kind of joy he could still hurt him along with a wish he could just start this whole conversation again, just struggles on. "She was decent. Didn't put on airs. Always had a nice cuppa for me. And she didn't treat me like a freak."

"Her mistake." Xander goaded, a sour delight spreading through him at the hurt that flashed in Spike's eyes.

"Think what you want." Ignoring the pain that was fighting to come out Spike threw the flowers to the ground and stalked away.

"Unbelievable" Xander shook his head, "the guy thinks he can put on a big show and con Buffy into being his sex monkey." Feeling a little calmer now Spike had gone again, but still shaking with the effort it took to contain himself.

He looked at the flowers she had picked up looking kind of sad and vulnerable. Cardless.

And for the first time in his whole life he's truly speechless, words are so pointless. Doesn't know what this might mean, can just stare at the flowers and futilely wish all this would just go away. That it was a nightmare and he'd wake up and Anya and Joyce would be here and Spike had never come back.

Willow turned concerned eyes on him. "We haven't had a chance to talk, do you want to .…?"

She gently laid her hand on his arm and he shrugged it off. "No!" he snapped, then awkwardly said a little more softly. "No I just…I need to be alone."

"Fucking Xander!" He'd been wandering around for over an hour, ignoring the dark clouds gathering above him, the smell of the approaching storm, trying to shake of the trembling running through him after the confrontation with Xander. "Bloody hate him I do. Hate him. Hate him!" He leaned his head against a nearby tree and heaved a shuddering tearful sigh.

He missed Joyce already. She was the closest thing to a friend he'd had in a good long while. He'd liked her. Liked listening to her, liked how warm and soothing she was and how she saw things so clearly. Even though he'd gotten into this whole mess because of her daughter, somehow, crazily, at the back of his mind he'd thought he'd go to Joyce and pour his heart out. Tell her how confused he was, that even though he did…had, whatever loved Buffy, been crazy about her, somehow Xander had tied him up in knots. Had him feeling things he hadn't felt since he'd been – God help him – a human. Guilt and tenderness and total burning need.

Stupid. He couldn't talk to her now . Couldn't even leave his flowers for her. He swallowed back a lump in his throat. This was why vamps didn't get to attached to humans. They died so damn quickly in vampire terms. With this damn chip he'd forgotten that. Humans were food and possibly for playing with, nothing else. Not love or friendship or anything but food and entertainment.

Well now he was remembering. Maybe Joyce had helped him after all. Yeah. He was seeing things more clearly now. He might have had a crazy moment there where he thought he might actually be developing feelings for the boy, for a second had actually thought he couldn't go through with hurting him but that was over now. He wasn't carrying on with the plan because somehow, so gradually he'd hardly noticed his burning hate at the Slayer had faded away, not because Xander had gotten to him at all.

Nothing to do with Xander. He didn't care what the lad thought of him. He didn't care about Xander at all. It was all over. Xander hated him and he was never going to touch Xander again, never going to get to kiss him or slide into him, or hear his heart begin to race under his touch or feel his skin again…

He rubbed at his eyes angrily. Lucky the graveyard was deserted or he'd never live this down, but even so he turned into the older lesser used part of the graveyard where hardly anyone went, presumably because the corpses there were too old to be of interest to anyone human or demonic. He stumbled through the tangled undergrowth and made his way further into the graveyard. He was sure there was a bench around here somewhere…He found the clearing with the bench and froze in shock.

Misery radiated off Xander. Spike hardened his heart. He didn't care. He liked it when Xander was upset. He deserved it. Served him damn well right. And he wasn't going to let Xander see how much he'd hurt him. He forced a grin and stepped out. But then.

Tears. A couple rolled down his cheeks. Xander wiped them away, quickly. Angrily.

And he hated it, couldn't bear to see the boy like this. It felt like a huge fist had reached inside his chest and twisted his insides.

Xander, sensing someone watching him looked up, the rush of hate that flooded over his face as he recognized Spike made the vampire actually flinch.

"What did you follow me here?" He asked in disbelief. "Not quite wrung enough fun out of me for the night? Well I am really not in the mood to be your replacement fucktoy for the night so why don't you just go fall on a stake?" Bad enough that he had to sit here crying over Spike but for Spike to actually catch him…Managing to choke the tears down but he's got to get Spike away, away right now, before he just…breaks. Into tears, into violence he doesn't know what. And everything, feels like it's pressing down on him too much, unbearable pressure and God how can he bear this? Just wants to make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop…

The sky was steadily blackening above with dense clouds as Spike stood still. He didn't have to take this. A dozen cruel retorts danced around his mind, just by picking one of them he could have the lad in floods. That would teach him not to be so cruel when he was trying to pay his respects.

"Can I help?" Hears the words coming out of his mouth and hates himself even as he's asking it. Hates the milk and water weakling he seems to have become but is powerless to stop himself. He just wants to make Xander stop looking like that. All lost and alone.

"No really I'm thinking. How about letting me drown you in holy water? That might help, or how about you leaving me the hell alone?"

He turned to walk away, then suddenly turned back, furious, his duster snapping behind him as suddenly the sky began to rumble ominously. "You know I've been tryin' here, tryin' to be decent…"

"Shut up!" Dark eyes blazed in the white face. " You don't know how to be decent."

"And that's meant to make it all better? You used me." Knows he's sounding like a girl but can't help it. His voice was shaking now, his stomach in knots that tightened every time he thought of it pain roaring up to the surface.

A loud clap of thunder but it can't hide the hurt in Xander's voice and weirdly enough he almost like's it, alongside hating it because surely then he must have gotten to Xander a little bit? Maybe there was more to it than wounded pride, in spite of that girl. All the anger was sucked out of him, and suddenly he's left feeling very, very tired and like it or not, there's only one thing left to say.

"I'm sorry." Muttered low his eyes still fixed on the ground and he means it. He really fucking means it. But it's just not good enough.

"What!" Almost laughing because Spike, Spike has just apologized to him. It's got to be some kind of joke. Was the world ending? Was that what the lightening flash was for? Lighting the night with a quick blue flare before vanishing again. "Would you repeat that please? I'd like to note the date and time for future generations, William the Bloody apologizes to his whore!"

"Oh really? That's what you treat me like isn't it?" Suddenly the rage was back, the power of it singing through his veins, he stood to face Spike. "I'm easy right Spike? The loser boy you could shag while you were thinking about Buffy." And there. Coring at the place that's been hurting inside ever since Willow had oh so gently ripped him apart. The cruel throbbing nugget almost pulsing in him because it hurts so bad. Something he hadn't dared to look full on at, the real reason he was so angry with Spike.

"I never thought about Buffy when I was with you." Barely noticing the rain is falling heavier now, and maybe he's dancing far too close to a danger zone but the thundering above is only forcing him on and fuck it, he's tried everything else, he might as well try honesty. Give the lad a knife to cut him with why not? What does anything matter anymore?

"I'm supposed to believe that why?" His eyes are blurring and he can't tell anymore if it's rain or tears.

"Bullshit! You couldn't have her so you had me! And now you want to help? You could have helped by not treating me like your personal whore" He advanced on Spike, grabbing Spike by his T-Shirt and hauling him up so they were practically nose to nose as the rain turned to huge drops sheeting down on them, within seconds they were soaked, another deafening roar of thunder and he can barely hear it over the beating of his own heart and the roar in his ears.

"You could have helped by not making me want you so much it's tearing me up inside" His voice was shaking and his eyes were almost black with…anger? Lust? Spike didn't know but he could sense the violence shimmering under Xander's stretched way too tight control, and suddenly he was afraid, because Xander had been pushed and pushed and pushed. And now it looked like he was gonna push back.

"And now you stand here, after everything you've done and say you're sorry? Do you have any idea what it's like? Wanting you so badly? Aching for someone you hate who has nothing but contempt for you? Knowing I'm just a substitute and part of me just doesn't care?"

Rain falling into his eyes and mouth. Hair plastered to his head, the water from it running down his back. Loud clap of thunder above and that was the way life was. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair and good people died and vampires used idiots like him as some kind of sexual stopgap and he's sick of it, surely there's got to be something to make this hurt stop?

"Xander…" Tries to tear his eyes from Xander's but can't quite do it. He's got no clue what to say anymore, he's all out of options and his mind is something he can't quite get a grip on not when Xander is so close, soaked and angry and utterly beautiful, his breath warm on Spike's face even through the rain he can feel it and under the fear that he's gonna get his ass kicked, or even worse that Xander was just going to walk away, is desire, strong and thick. Throbbing through him.

"What Spike?" Shaking all over, even his voice trembling now. Maybe he's reading the want Spike is sure is written all over his face. "Didn't you know? No of course you didn't, because you never get fucked do you? Oh no not you, not the Big Bad."

Suddenly Xander's eyes flickered following the trickle of rain running from Spike's hair, along the sharp cut of Spike's cheekbones, pouring down to Spikes' mouth. His breath began to come in harsh pants. Need. Waves of it blasting through him. Taste of rain and want in his mouth, hot and clear and powerful. But he still wavered. Fighting a battle with himself. If he didn't push Spike away now, he'd never be able to.

Mouths crashing together, and everything is blurring in a swirl of stinging rain and roaring thunder and Xander's mouth. Oh God his mouth. Devouring him. Hot and desperate and hungry. His mind trying to stutter something out about this not supposed to be happening but its only a whisper a long way away, drowned out by the heat of the kiss and the chill of the rain and everything is spinning. Legs buckling and he would have fallen but Xander's grip is holding him up as that hot hot tongue moved into Spike's willing mouth and oh hell.

Bolt of lightening tears the sky and for a crazy moment Spike wonders if it hit him. Soaking wet and freezing cold and he's on fire.

His mouth frantic, open under Xander's, couldn't taste enough, all he can do is try to get closer and closer, tears stinging his eyes because he thought he'd lost this, would never get to feel this again, but now he can feel it oh…everywhere. Xander is everywhere, body, mouth, hands searing hot, and he's shoving Xander's coat off him, just has to touch and he's drowning. Rain lashing down, in his eyes, mouth, nose, Xander's hand is in his hair, pulling his head back, scraping his chin along Spike's supersensitive mouth, and he's just shuddering arching back into Xander's arms as Xander drops his head, kissing a burning trail up Spike's neck and his eyes are closed and his mouth is open on a drawn out groan, rain falling in his mouth, down his throat and holy shit he's never gonna be able to taste rain again without getting hard…

Kissing Spike and Xander can't tell anymore where he stops and Spike starts, body chilled but barely noticed not when Spike is kissing him back just as hard, holding on to him just as tight like Spike wants this, wants him, Xander, not Buffy. Blocks the thought of Buffy out before it even gets started and it's easy to do. Easy because Spike is making those noises into his mouth, sweet gasps and groans, hard cock digging into his hip and yeah it's happened before but not like this, nothing has ever been like this. Roar of thunder and Xander can taste rain and chill and Spike, trying to take him all in and he needs more.

And he's pushing and they're falling, hitting the ground with a bone jarring thud and Xander rolling on top, still kissing, his weight pressing Spike hard against the ground, mouth to mouth, cock against cock and thrusting.

"Want to feel you." Xander's voice rough and needy and his hands pulling Spike up, shoving his duster from his arms, pulling his T-Shirt off and rain hitting with little stings on Spike's skin, Xander's hands all over him, leaving smears of mud across his chest and everything feels swollen from the wet ground under him to lips tingling with kissing and cock trapped in his jeans and he wants it out. Metallic taste of desperation and desire in his mouth and /just touch me Xander, fuck me fuckmefuckme/ and all he can feel is wantwantwant.

And this was really happening, right now. Never been so out of control in his life, he's about to let a kid screw him into the ground, except Xander's not a kid, and Spike wants him so bad he's aching inside, an emptiness pulling at him that only Xander can ease and he can admit that, admit any damn thing Xander wants and what the hell is happening to him? Knows if he ever wants to walk away from Xander he shouldn't let this happen but he passed letting this happen way too long ago, from the second Xander reached for him and he can't stop it, he can't, not now when Xander fucking finally unfastens his jeans, his hands ripping at the buttons, and he reaches inside, pulling him out, cool air and hard rain hitting sensitive skin and for fucks sake they're outside completely in the open, but hot fingers are stroking him and all little voices disappear and it didn't matter about anything, not the Slayer, not the thunder, not the rain and not life outside this moment right now.

Xander watching Spike as he strokes him. Cock long, thick and so hard he can feel the tremors from Spike and maybe Spike did want Buffy but it was Xander he was hard for right now. It was him jacking Spike off, hard and fast and Spike was writhing under him, bucking his hips and clenching his fingers in the sodden muddy ground. Kissing again and mouths are bruised and swollen with how they've been kissing. Doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

Spike's shaking fingers unfastening Xander's jeans, pushing them down, boxers too and Xander's head is snapping back as he strokes the throbbing heat of Xander in his hand, perfect and he needs him. Needs him so bad it's terrifying. Desperate kisses and if he needed to breath he'd be gasping. He's gasping anyway.

Xander pulling away just long enough to pull off his shirt, Spike's wide eyes watching the rain trickle down his skin but no time to really think about it when Xander is pealing the sopping material of Spike's jeans down his legs, letting out a growl of frustration when he couldn't get the sodden material past his boots, he wrenched one of Spikes boots off and now Spike was helping out, raising his hips and kicking them off that leg. He left the other, the jeans bunched around Spike's ankle and kind of folding Spike, knees to chest. No idea if this was right, but it feels right. Feels pretty damn more than right and he's balanced over him, cock in hand, rubbing it along Spikes entrance. Wanting to be inside him so badly his stomach is in knots and his hands are shaking.

"W…Wait!" Spike groped awkwardly in the pocket of the duster crumpled under him finding the lube throwing it to Xander. Bolt of lightening crackling and everything looks different, black and green and wet behind the white spots in front of his eyes and Xander's eyes are burning like hot coals in a pale face. Looking at the lube, only still there because Spike couldn't face taking it out. Admitting he wouldn't need it again, but Xander probably thinks it means Spike was going to try and use him again and Spike wishes he could go back. Right to the start and do all this over again, try and do it right this time but he can't. Knows even if Xander uses it he won't be gentle, and that's okay. Anything is okay as long as he doesn't stop.

And Xander wasn't stopping. He was slicking himself, fast strokes. Moving back over Spike and pushing at Spikes entrance, not in, not yet, and asks him against Spike's ear rough and low. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Moan of pure need and a buck and Xander still sliding just there and it's close enough to make him feel the sparks under his skin and still way too far away and anything Xander wants. Anything as long as it happens.

And Xander's sinking in it's been so long and pain and scared and /ohholygodthatissogoodsogoodsofuckinggood/

"No, don't." Voice trembling, like he's scared Spike's going to make him stop, not quite a plea, but almost, harsh, rough around the edges with want and Xander's never heard his voice sound like that before. Doesn't sound like him. This doesn't feel like him and he doesn't care. "Don't, don't talk Spike, just…just let me…"

Pushing, hard against a moment of utter resistance that had him wondering giddily if there was some trick to this he didn't know, then feeling a slow slide in that suddenly got fast as he passed the opening. Crying out as his pelvis slammed into Spikes' buttocks and he was in and oh.

Roar of the thunder can hardly be heard over the roar in his head. Lightening flash highlighting Spike under him, but he could see that even without the lightening. Feel him, writhing, moaning because of Xander. Because of Xander being in him and never in his life had he felt anythingas good as this. Rain beats down so cold on his skin, but inside he thinks he's gonna explode, he's in a place so tight and hot and oh so good. Spikes deepest muscles clenching and unclenching in a slow pulses around him as he adjusted to Xander.

And nothing, nothing could compare to this. Spike around him. Waiting, because just the smallest movement now is gonna have him coming, and he really, really doesn't want that just yet. His hands clenched on the ground, mud slippery between his fingers, breath coming in shuddering gulps and every bit of him strung up and rigid with tension, control paper thin, blinking through the rain looking at Spike his face pale his blue eyes huge with shock, with hurt, and lust, and Xander knows that look. Has felt that look on his own face and somehow joyous to do that to Spike. To make him feel that pleasurepain and more and hurt and Xander couldn't stay still anymore, he had to move, and he couldn't start gently, he had to fuck , has to get away, away from pain and confusion and people with messy, hurtful lives, just go to a place where there's just him and Spike and heart hammering painfully fast like it's gonna burst out of his chest and hips pistoning and they're both yelling every time their bodies meet and the thunder keeps roaring and lightening keeps flashing like the Gods themselves are angry with this but they can just piss off because Spikes fingernails are digging into his ass, his hands trying to pull Xander in deeper and Xander was almost crying because it's all heat and tight and shudders and so good, and too much, out of control and painful, and then a small shift and no not pain the most excruciating pleasure and he was hitting something, something that made Spike jerk uncontrollably under him, and Spike was half sobbing, crying out pained, pleading cries

"Oh yes, oh fuck, oh Xander I never thought, holy shit , Xander so fucking good, please don't stop, please…"

And just riding him, thrusting like the world is going to end tonight, bodies are sweating, sliding against each other and can't seem to stop pushing like this, every time a little faster and little harder,

"Thought I'd never get to touch you again Xan…" Whispered frantic against his ear and he can't think of what to say, what that might mean and words are just a little too far out of reach just quickens his pace even more and thrusts harder and maybe it doesn't matter anyway because all that's coming out of Spikes' mouth now is

and Spikes' hand was suddenly slipping down touching himself with hard ragged motions on his cock,

"Xander" breathed into his ear and Spike was shuddering, his body clenching around Xander tighter than ever as he came, and came, long ropes shooting over his chest, hitting Xander as well and never, ever seen anything as fucking sexy as that in his life and feels it, the rush coming, and for a second everything was clenched so tight he was almost afraid to come, scared of falling into something that could feel like this feelings racking his body so intense he didn't even know if it was pleasure or not, then starburst of color bursting in front of his eyes, worlds and worlds that he never knew about, and

"Spike, Spike, oh God Spike" and he was coming and coming and coming, hips jerking spasmodically burning streams erupting inside Spike as he clenched and released, clenched and released over and over and he just has to trust his body to respond here because it's too much, too complicated, he's falling, falling into sensation and he could feel his hotness inside Spike slicking him even more and he didn't want to stop just kept thrusting until he couldn't anymore his head swimming and a roar in his ears he collapsed heavily on Spike.

After come shivers still racking him and the sobs wrenching and painful like coming inside Spike has opened a tidal wave he's been holding back, doesn't feel humiliated or anything but that this has to come out now, and even more surprising is Spike isn't pushing away or laughing, Spike is holding him. Holding on to him so tight, as he cried like he hadn't cried in years. Not since he was thirteen and his dad had broke his jaw for the first time.

Didn't even really know what he was crying for. Joyce, Buffy, Spike, Dawn, his parents and himself all swirled around in his head as he inhaled the leather and smoke scent that clung to Spike tasting mud and tears and held on to him.

And this was the last thing Spike had ever expected, he'd braced himself for a beating, for threats, for Xander to just walk away like he had done to Xander so many times, and quite rightly deserved to have done to him but not this. Not all this raw emotion being let out in his arms, not knowing what to do Spike just kept holding on, and he hated this, wanted to make it all stop, to soothe whatever it was that was making Xander hurt so much, even if it was him. But he didn't know how to put it right, so just did all he could, rocking and crooning nonsense words into his ear.

Eventually Xander's sobs became lighter, gradually tapering off. The storm had stopped, the rain still falling lightly in a gentle shower but that was it. He felt empty inside, but a good empty. There had been so much building up inside for so long, that now for the first time in a long time he felt almost peaceful. Still shaking, though but from the aftermath of the sex or tears he didn't know. Was scared to know. Teaching Spike a lesson was all well and good but what did you do afterwards when the only thing you knew you wanted was for him not to leave?

No way he can say that without Spike laughing at him so without a word he moved off Spike and looked at his shirt, pretty much unwearable, and shrugged on his coat instead. Not quite managing to get it on his still trembling arms when he felt a hand help him to slide it on. Spike. Pale and serious, not speaking and not laughing at all. Not leaving. And although Xander was alright, fine really, it was rain in his eyes, not more tears, not he let Spike help him stand up, and when Spike's fingers were shaking too much to pull on his own clothes Xander helped him, and when Xander was eventually ready to walk home Spike walked with him.

/Okay/ Xander thought uncomfortably. /This is weird/ Walking home and Spike was still with him, they hadn't spoken a single word. Hadn't even looked at each other, but he was acutely aware of Spike next to him. A sickly mixture of embarrassment, confusion and shame kept twisting inside him at the thought of what Spike must think of him, taking him like that, then crying all over him. For a second there, when Spike had held on to him, whispered frantic things into his ear he thought maybe, just maybe Spike had wanted it almost as much as he had. That maybe it was about him, at least a little bit. But Spike was in love with Buffy and when Spike loved someone there just wasn't room for anyone else. So why had Spike let it happen, why wasn't he mad? Was he playing games, still? Or maybe Spike had been trying to act 'decent' as he'd put it and just let Xander screw him because he felt sorry for him. Maybe he was even a little amused at Xander's blundering attempts to take charge. He flinched at the thought. He'd rather Spike was using him than feeling sorry for him, but why the hell was Spike still here?

When they reached his apartment block he was half expecting Spike to carry on to his crypt but Spike walked with him down the hall and though his fingers were numb and kept fumbling clumsily with the key Spike was still right behind him. Finally getting the door open and he wordlessly stood aside for Spike to follow him in, not looking him in the eye as Spike brushed past him and Xander hurriedly shut the door. The warmth of the apartment hit him instantly, thawing out cold toes and fingers. He flicked on a lamp covering the room in a rosy warm glow, he and Spike standing out in stark contrast to the comfort of the room, soaked, muddy and sore. Xander felt like he'd been rubbed raw all over, the cold, wet material of his coat and jeans chaffing on his skin. He wanted a bath, to get changed, but didn't want to leave Spike alone. So they just stood there. Not looking at each other.

The silence spun on as Spike stared out of the window and lit up a cigarette. Lengthened. Became unbearable. Xander cleared his throat.

"…didn't let you leave your flowers" had been what he was going to say but Spike was already talking.

"No need to apologize. Just a shag. Nothing important right?" Spike forced himself to sound like his usual don't care self, swallowing back the tightness in his throat, and if he repeated it often enough he might even believe it, never mind his legs were still shaking and his head swimming. Embarrassment washed through him at the memory of how him, a master vampire had been begging for a mortal boy. And now he was being given the brush off. It hadn't meant a damn thing to Xander, he'd just been using Spike to forget, and now he was feeling guilty 'cos he was such a good guy and that was that good guys did when they'd made a mistake. But it hadn't been a mistake, not for Spike, and one thing he knew was he couldn't bear to hear an apology for it. He inhaled shakily, letting the smoke fill his lungs.

"Right. Nothing important." Xander echoed flatly. So Spike thought the most powerful, explosive experience of Xander's life was 'nothing important', and he knew it was stupid to keep getting so upset, Spike was just being…well Spike, what the hell else had he expected? But the urge to hurt him back was strong. Too strong to hold in.

"So. Buffy huh? Have to say I don't really see you two together. Buffy's got…what is it now? Oh yeah. Taste."

Spike flinched as though Xander had just slapped him in the face. Actually that would have hurt less.

"What like you?" He responded shakily. "Didn't see you complaining out there, couldn't get enough of me out there." Gesturing at the window with his lit cigarette, scattering ash over the floor. He could feel his voice was too harsh, his eyes too bright, but he could still taste the rain in his throat, feel the wetness between his legs, the lingering effects of what had just happened clashing bizarrely with the loathing in Xander's voice, stripping his defenses bare, and it's typical, just fucking typical, every time he opens his heart to someone, even a little, they stick a knife in it and yeah, he deserves Xander's hate, God knows he hasn't done anything to earn his trust, but that still doesn't stop it from hurting. Like hell.

"You too." Xander flashed back at him, a flush staining his cheeks at the memory of what he'd just done, but he didn't look away, his arms folded, eyes blazing. /You said you wanted me, you undead bastard, you said you did, why do you keep messing with my head!/

"Yeah, just call me Mr. Masochist." Spike said bitterly. He'd known this would happen, that it was going to end badly, but he'd wanted Xander so badly he hadn't been able to help himself.

Xander dropped his eyes from Spike's, a flash of guilt flickering over his face. "Did I hurt you?" Xander asked quietly.

That small show of concern was very nearly Spike's undoing. It was harder this time to swallow down the lump that had reappeared in his throat, it didn't entirely disappear, he had to stick to short sentences. "No. Well a little. It's okay. That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" Xander asked cautiously, his dark eyes watching Spike warily through the wet strands of hair that kept falling into them.

"Oh for cryin' out loud Xander!" Spike exploded as the frustration overwhelmed him, how blind does the lad have to be to miss this? "Weren't you listening to anything I said out there?"

"You're gonna have to help me out here Spike what is it I'm supposed to know? Why are you even here?" Xander's voice was wavering dangerously but he was tired and wet and so confused and for God's sake he's just been inside the guy, why is it so damn hard to talk to him?

Spike ran his fingers through his hair, as though the tiny gesture could release some of his pent up emotion. /Why do you think you wanker? I think about you every bleedin' second of every miserable day that I'm not with you, when you cried out there it made my evil, rotten heart break to hear it. I'm shit and I know it but I can't help hoping you'll give me another chance, because I didn't want to feel for you but I do and if I'd had any clue this plan would have come in a million miles of ending up like this, I'd have packed up my smokes and duster and been out of this town faster than you can say 'sunset'/

For a second he opened his mouth, the words almost ready to come, then they stuck in his throat, and he couldn't force them out. "Forget it. Like you said, nothing important, I'll just be gettin' out of your hair now." He extinguished his cigarette with a single vicious twist and strode to the door.

"Fine." Xander ground out, wishing each word was a knife he could throw. "Enjoy watching Buffy through the window and wanking off."

"Who? What?" That's come so far out of left field Xander could only gape, he'd been deeply entrenched in his pain, his feelings of being used and Spike's suddenly switched conversations on him.

"Julie." Spitting out her name like venom, the very mention of it conjuring up images of a pretty girl with ruddy blonde hair and Xander stroking down her arm and the pain is still as raw and wrenching as when it was actually happening in front of him.

"What about her?" Xander asked bewildered, struggling to keep up with the conversation. "How do you even…"

"I saw you. At the party. I was there. I saw you leave with her. Good night was it?"

Spike's eyes were bright with an emotion Xander couldn't quite read, but he recognized the tone to Spike's voice, the same way he'd spoken that night when Xander had found him waiting when he'd returned home from Julie, a tight mixture of fury and something that almost sounds like tears underneath, like Xander's done something wrong, something to hurt Spike and for a second he actually felt guilty, then he remembered the rest of what had happened that night and the guilt was blasted aside with rage as the pieces fell into place.

"Wait, wait a minute, was that why you were here? You wanted to see what I'd been doing!" He stared at Spike in disgust, "Checking up on me, 'cos I'm your little toy, nobody else gets to play with me?"

"You practically raped me to prove a point?! It's nothing to do with you what happened!" Xander yelled, his dark eyes almost black with fury. "I can do what I want with who I want…"

"No you bloody well can't!" Spike leapt over to Xander, grabbed hold of his arms, openly snarling.

Xander shoved him away, the anger still streaming through his veins like fire. "I'm not yours! You don't own me, I can't believe you, it's okay for you to close your eyes and think of Buffy…"

"I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT BUFFY!" Spike roared. "For Gods sake! Open your bloody eyes Xander! Why do you think I just let you fuck me into the floor? That was nothing to do with Buffy!"

"And it was fucking important!" Suddenly the words were tripping from Spike's mouth busting out of whatever was holding them back, an unstoppable stream. "Do you think I wanted things to end up like this? Do you think I wanted to feel like this?" He grabbed Xander by his shoulders, pale fingers digging into him, bruising him. "I think about you every minute! You're in my head, Xander, all the bloody time, I want you so much it hurts and I can't stop. You've done something to me, got me feeling things that no vampire should feel! Feeling guilty for how I treated you, I was even gonna be noble, finish it because I didn't want to be the one hurting you. Couldn't stand the thought of it."

The words stopped, just as suddenly as they'd started, and Spike realized he was shaking, only inches away from Xander's mouth…

Spike inhaled with a ragged breath, the rage flooded out of him, leaving him limp. He let go of Xander's shoulders and stepped away. He felt sick. "Look it doesn't matter, I shouldn't have come back here, I hope you and your new bitch girlfriend will be very bloody miserable." Pride tasted bitter in his mouth as he fumbled at the door, eyes stinging, the stupid handle kept wavering in front of him.

Spike froze on the threshold, then closed the door again slowly, gently. For a second he rested his forehead against it, then turned to face Xander. He was pale, tension in every line of his body, his eyes defiant and desperate, like the words had hurtled themselves out of his mouth and he had no idea how Spike was going to use them now they'd been said.

Spike shook his head at his own stupidity, for a second there he'd almost believed him.

"Stuff." Spike repeated, smiling a little to show how mature he is. How cool and collected. Never mind his fists are clenched so tight in his pockets his nails are digging into him. "What stuff?" It still must have been pretty heavy stuff judging by what he'd smelt.

"Nothing, I mean we kissed and you know fooled around a bit, but nothing…um else." .

"Really," The jealousy was roaring in Spike's head at the thought of Xander touching her, kissing her, losing himself in passion for her. His voice came out sour and sharp. "Shame for you, she looked like a sure thing. What did she change her mind?"

"No." Xander's heart was beating with a shallow thud and his mouth was dry, because suddenly, somehow, things are changing, tearing along too damn fast for him to keep up with and he didn't know if it was good or bad, but honesty between them is just too rare and there's no way he was going to let the fact he felt like throwing up with nerves stop this conversation now. "I changed mine."

"I didn't think it was fair to sleep with her when all I could think about was you." The words came straight from his heart and out of his mouth and Xander couldn't believe he'd just said them. They resonated in the air, not only what he'd said, but all the things implied in it that he hadn't said and now he'd know. If this whole thing had been another game, or if Spike meant even a little of what he'd said tonight. He just couldn't get the courage up to look at Spike. He stared down and listened, for something. Anything. The pounding of the blood in his ears couldn't hide the silence from Spike though. He'd just opened his poor battered heart and Spike wasn't saying a word. Xander blinked against the stinging in his eyes. "Okay? Happy now?" He said hurriedly to distract himself from the pain. "Go ahead and laugh."

"I'm not laughing." Spike's voice was deadly serious, and quiet, and right in front of him. A cool hand was under his chin, forcing him to look into the blue eyes blazing into his.

"You…you didn't sleep with her?" Spike asked, trying to make it come out all firm and confident but he couldn't stop the stupid hopeful, pleading hitch in his voice.

"No. " Xander continued shakily. " I wouldn't have even gone back with her it's just I was drunk and mad and…" He paused. "I was so confused."

He was telling the truth. Spike looked away for a moment. There had always been a sore place in his heart. Always. From Cecily, to Angelus, to Drusilla, something that always told him he just wasn't enough. No matter how hard he tried, eventually the people he loved always needed something more. But Xander, this human, that was only supposed to have been a pawn, this brave, pure boy that had battered at every one of Spike's defenses until all that was left was the need to be with him, he thought Spike was enough. Even through seeing Spike at his worst. He still thought Spike was enough.

Deep and powerful, the relief swept through him, extinguishing that sore spot, blasting it away. The cure was so sudden and overwhelming, for a moment he couldn't speak. Tears stung at his eyes but he blinked them away, his vision clearing as he focused on Xander's dark eyes again.

"I've been confused as well." Spike said, his voice shaking. "About a lot of stuff, but I'm seeing things clearly now."

"Oh?" Xander asked, wide-eyed, trembling, and not because of the chill. " Like what?"

And oh shit. He knew saying that would be a sure fire way to get kissed, but his heart was still pounding like crazy in his chest and he couldn't quite get enough air into his lungs because Spike's eyes were locked on his, the blue almost overtaken with black as the pupils dilated and then Spike's eyes flickered down, held on Xander's mouth, then slowly, hesitantly leaned forward and caught Xander's lips in a kiss.

His mouth fell open as Spike's tongue oh so slowly traced along his lips and they've had hard kisses, frantic kisses even slow kisses but never a kiss like this. Tender and aching and somehow more real than any other. He could taste salt, but he didn't know whose tears he was tasting anymore. Spike's hands cupped his face, gently, like he was delicate. Like he was precious.

"Wait…" Xander struggled out of Spike's arms. "I , I just need a minute here, it's all a bit…um sudden." Xander stammered as he moved back, he struggled to regain his breath. /Okay need to think. Can't do that when Spike is so close/ Spike let him go, but kept his eyes fixed on him, his chest was heaving as he gulped for the air he didn't need. Xander shook his head, trying to clear it.

"So you don't want Buffy anymore?" He picked up an ornament Willow had given him, a little crystal bear with black eyes and stared at it, distracting himself from the effort of saying Buffy's name, like he needed to shield himself from the hurt Spike could still inflict. "Just like that you've stopped?"

Spike shook his head. "No, not just like that. It took a bit of time. I was obsessed with Slayer, I admit it alright? I was…"

He stopped himself before he said too much, now was not the time to tell Xander the full reasons behind why he'd started this. /Why not? Since you're being so honest, new slate an' all that? Why not now?/ a voice piped up in his head, but he ignored it, he'd deal with that later. Instead he continued,

"…but you kept gettin' to me." Spike said quickly. "I kept brushing it off. Until that night. It drove me crazy, seeing you with that….seeing you with someone else. When I saw you with her" he said painfully, "smelled her on you." He paused, swallowed, and managed finish, the words ripped out of him. "I was so jealous"

He stopped for a second, then carried on. "Then I got thinking. About you, and I knew I couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't use you. I had to stop, even though I couldn't stand the thought of not being with you anymore, but Red had already told you. She threatened me you know? Said she'd rip out my heart if I went near you."

Xander gave a snort that sounded weirdly like a sob. "That's my Willow, always with the death threats."

"And then Joyce died, and then tonight, well you know…." Spike trailed off, and examined his nail polish intently. If vampires could blush he'd have lit up the room.

"So what now? I mean what do you see happening here?" Xander asked, his eyes still focused on the bear. Its black eyes met his calmly.

/Let him go/ A voice in Spike's head told him. /You're no damn good, if you care about him at all let him find someone else, someone who can give him what he wants. What he deserves. For once in your unlife do the right thing/ And that little voice in his head was right. He knew it. Only a selfish bastard would still try to keep Xander with him.

Spike took a deep unnecessary breath, and took the plunge. "I know I'm not the kind of guy you'd ever normally go out with, but we could start again, do it your way, slow this time if you want….we could watch a film or play pool or…"

/Jesus/ Spike thought in despair as he ground to a halt /for a cocksure, sophisticated vampire of the world this is one hell of an incredibly lame speech. Even the kids from Dawson's Creek could do better than this/ The trouble was it was hard to come up with something smooth when you were painfully laying your heart in the hands of someone who could break it in two.

"I know things have been messy between us, I've been a blind jealous wanker." he continued rapidly, "but I know I still want you, and if you still want me even through all that's happened then there's got to be something there. It might not be pretty but it's real and it's powerful and we could try. If you want."

"Given up on the idea of being noble then?" Xander asked tightly, his knuckles white around the bear. And was that relief or disappointment he felt? He didn't know.

Spike gave him a twisted smile. "What can I tell you luv? I'm a bastard. You shouldn't come anywhere near me an' you know it. But I'm asking you for another chance, because being noble's alright for Peaches but nobility won't get me you."

He took a step closer to Xander, blue eyes flicking over him as though he could scorch Xander on his brain and never let him out of sight. "It won't let me feel you surrounding me. Won't let me lay next to you," his voice dropped as he moved closer to Xander.

"It won't let me see the way your eyes go black and hear the way you say my name." Right in front of Xander now, scant inches away from him, and he could taste the longing in his mouth. So close. He reached out his hand and gently removed the little crystal bear Xander was turning over and over in his fingers and set it on the table, the heat of Xander's fingers still lingering on his own.

His heart in his mouth he finished. "I could be noble. Could just walk away, let you find some bint to settle down with an' live happily ever after, but life's too short and it's every demon for himself and if I don't take my shot now, I will regret it forever. Yeah I'm a bastard, but I'm a bastard that is gonna treat you like a soddin' prince, because I want you pet, and I know there is some part of you that still wants me, so I'm askin' you. I want to make this up to you. I want you with me. If you want to take me on."

Xander kept staring at the floor, he couldn't look at Spike, couldn't speak to Spike because it has been one hell of a long night, and way too much has happened to fully take in and he was trying to fight off the urge to laugh. Crazed, out of control laughing. Because Spike, Spike is pretty near to begging Xander for a date. How utterly fucked up is that? The even crazier thing was he believed him. Impossible or not it had apparently happened, Spike had fallen for him. This was his chance, Spike was a bastard, he'd just admitted it, he was being selfish all over again, acting on what he wanted, not on what would be best for Xander, he'd behaved unforgivably and now he could hurt Spike back, tell him in a tone of utter contempt that even if Spike was the last thing left on the planet with Xander then he still wouldn't want to spend time with him…

Xander looked up at Spike. His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on Xander, like he was scared Xander would vanish if he looked away. Waiting in an agony of suspense for Xander's next words.

Xander stared at his reflection. It looked wide eyed and, frankly, terrified. He'd slept with Spike. Fought with Spike. Seen Spike naked and sucking his cock, so really, he should have passed the 'being nervous' stage. But this was different. This was a date.

Was he insane? After everything Spike had done to him, and now they were going out on a date? /Can we say 'twisted' boys and girls?/ he thought with rising hysteria.

He shouldn't be dating Spike. Whatever it was that he and Spike had, it was based solidly on fighting, misery and sex. Dating just didn't fit in with it. Dating sounded so normal, so safe, and just about as far as you could get from the mass of misunderstanding and pain that had characterized his and Spike's relationship so far. Besides so much was going on right now. Glory, Dawn, Joyce, This was just the worst possible time to start thinking about his love life.

But, here he was, staring into his mirror, as anxious as any teenage girl, trying to look good, but not like he'd tried too hard.

Xander groaned. His reflection had turned deathly pale with a hint of green. "Oh that's attractive," he said aloud in despair. Even his voice sounded weird. Too loud and shaking. /Okay so I won't talk too much. Or let him look at me – which basically means a date where we stand back to back in silence for a couple of hours. Perfect./

His hands just wouldn't stop trembling, all of him felt shaky with nerves, anticipation and a flicker of…self reproach? Because again despite his own better judgment and good sense, Spike had convinced him to do something that was pretty damn stupid. He shook his head. He needed a drink.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on the couch. He took a swallow of beer, which turned into him draining the can without pausing for breath.

/What was I thinking?/ he thought desperately. /Okay things weren't perfect before but at least I didn't have to worry about what to wear or if we were going to run out of things to talk about. I can picture it now, so Spike tell me tales about people you've killed. Oh God. I'm going out with a murderer./

Okay, he had to calm down, if he didn't he was probably going to throw up with nerves. He drummed his fingers on his thigh. /Relax, relax, relax, relax,/ he took in a few deep breaths and his stomach responded by tightening up an extra couple of notches.

Okay. Relaxing didn't seem to be working. It was hardly surprising, he'd spent the past couple of days swinging between a crazy, wary happiness that Spike wanted him, a helpless despair with himself that he was still tangled up in all this, and a crushing guilt that he felt happy at all when Joyce was dead and Buffy and Dawn were suffering so much. He missed Joyce too. Missed her desperately, but if anything didn't this mean that life was short, that you had to grab your chances when you could, because you never knew when…or if they would come along again? Or maybe he was just deluding himself with any excuse because he wanted to try this so badly.

Apart from all the other stuff, something else was giving him a major wiggins. He was going out on a guy date. It seemed so…gay. Like he couldn't pass it off as curiosity or hormones anymore.

In short, he was a mess, and really needed a moment, a month, a year, whatever, just until his head was straight.

Unfortunately he didn't have a moment, his issues would just have to wait. He checked his watch for – oh about the millionth time in the last three hours. Two minutes to eight. He was going to be here at eight.

He managed to still his fingers and the next second was up and pacing the room, if he only knew what to expect tonight it would help but he didn't have a clue. When he'd agreed to this Spike had hardly said anything, just suggested tonight at eight then left hurriedly without so much as a goodbye kiss, like he was scared if he hung around Xander would change his mind.

What if Spike was expecting him to sleep with him? Did he want to sleep with Spike tonight?

He did want to, oh God how he wanted to, but at the same time everything felt so jumbled and confused right now, the hurt still too raw to just fall back into bed with him.

/Yeah, but outside in a thunderstorm is okay huh?/ A little voice in his head pointed out.

/That was different!/ He snapped back defensively. Those had been exceptional circumstances. It might be stupid but if they could have a night just hanging out without it being about sex, then maybe it would help. Prove that Spike was right, that there was something between them and things had changed, it was him that Spike wanted. Him, Xander, not just a warm body and a hard on. Not just a substitute for Buffy. And yeah, maybe it wasn't as clear-cut as that and he wanted to push Spike, just a little, to see how much he'd take now that the balance of power was hovering uncertainly between them, and maybe even under that there was a voice he didn't want to listen to, whispering to make him suffer, make him ache for it, payback for using him.

/Don't think about that. I'm not ready to sleep with him just now and that's all there is to it. Stay calm, I'm not nervous, not nervous, not nervous…/

The sound of a door slamming down the hall made him jump so violently he practically had to pry himself down from the ceiling.

He grabbed the phone. This was crazy; he couldn't go through with it. There was just too much stuff happened between them too ever make this work. He'd call Spike right now and tell him not to come. Except he didn't know Spike's number. Or if Spike even had a number, and Spike wouldn't be there, he'd be on his way here.

Okay when Spike got here he'd tell him this was a stupid idea. He replaced the receiver and checked his watch again. His stomach gave an extra strong lurch as his skin began flashing hot and cold.

The sick tension increased ten fold. He forced himself to stay still and refused to go to the door and peer outside, trying to ignore the fact that he was feeling pretty wretched for someone about to call this date off.

The sound of a knock at the door stopped his rant in its tracks as his heart leapt into beating treble time.

For a moment he couldn't get his feet to move his knees were shaking so badly. /Come on feet, work with me here. I've faced down Angelus. This is just a date. With Spike. Shit./

He took a deep breath. Wiped his hands on his jeans, ran his fingers though his hair. Toyed with, and dismissed the idea of hiding under the bed. Walked over to the door. As his hand reached for the door handle he suddenly froze. /What the hell am I doing?/

/What the hell is he doing?/ Spike cursed internally, as his nerves increased with every second that ticked by. How long did it take to open a door? He wasn't feeling his usual cool, confident sarcastic self right now, in fact he'd never felt further from it – thank you so much Xander Harris – and the delay wasn't helping. It had taken him at least a minute of just staring at the door and trying to still his shaking hands to even get the nerve up to knock. His hands were still trembling so badly he had to shove them deep in his pockets to hide it and the little bastard didn't even have the manners to open the Goddamn door!

/Calm down/ The tiny part of his old self that was left, still clinging on against the rising anxiety, snapped out, disgusted at himself and the blind panic he was heading for. /It's just a bloody date/

Shouldn't think of the word date. That just made it worse. He could deal with sex, he could deal with hate, could deal with anything that required a quick response, either with sharp words or a hard hit, he knew about sex and violence and blood and bitterness, but this being gentle, taking it slow, dating thing, this was new. Even with Dru – especially with Dru – he hadn't tried anything like this before, and to be honest he was pretty fucking freaked about it. Falling for Xander Harris was tying him in knots in more ways than one. How the hell had this happened? The most sensible thing he could do was to get the hell out of town, as fast as he could, but then being sensible wasn't exactly his specialty. So here he was, about to take out Mrs. Harris's baby boy. No more game playing, just being himself, whoever the hell that was, he barely knew anymore. Demon, poet, man, or all three. It felt like he was on the roller coaster, looking down, right before the big drop, terrified and exhilarated and all he could do was wait and see where the ride would take him, cos there was no way he was getting off now.

The pause stretched on and no Xander appeared. Spike began to feel sick. Not feeling so big and bad right now, more like tiny and scared, and strangely naked. Feeling insecure and uncertain was something he hadn't felt for a long time. He definitely didn't like it.

/Must have come to his senses/ A voice that spookily sounded a hell of a lot like that bitch Darla, spoke up in his mind, sounding coldly amused. /Can't really blame him. Why would anyone want you?/

Spike wished briefly Darla was actually here so he could give her a smack in the mouth. He stared blindly at the door, willing it to open, trying to beat back the rising panic, Xander had gone out. He'd stood him up; he…was opening the door.

A rush of overpowering relief and joy flooded through Spike's veins, and if part of him was slightly appalled at how his mood changed so quickly at the mere sight of Xander he ignored it because Xander was here!

He was wearing black jeans and the tight blue sweater Spike had seen him wearing that night in the magic shop while he'd been outside, watching him, wondering what the hell it was about him that had his insides tied up in knots. And oh hell. He was beautiful, and he was here to go out with him, Spike. A surge of want hit him in the chest with a painful thud.

He hadn't been nervous like this for a long time, not pure stomach churning, tongue tied, cold sweat nerves that somehow tonight would go wrong after they'd fought their way so painfully to an understanding. It wasn't any consolation that Xander looked like he was feeling the same thing. He was deathly pale and looked on the verge of saying something, but stopped as his eyes traveled over Spike, taking in his appearance.

Spike shifted uncomfortably slightly embarrassed to have tried so hard with his clothes, his confidence wasn't increased by the fact that he didn't have a clue what he looked like, it was hard buying new clothes when you couldn't see yourself. He wondered if he should kiss Xander, that'd put a quick end to all this date stuff that was messing with his head, forget the beer, forget the chat, just hot skin and hardness rocking against him and sweet noises whimpered into his mouth, but the way Xander was watching him, half defensive, half wary warned him that it might not be the time to suggest it.

Xander knew he was staring but he couldn't stop. Spike, in a momentous break with tradition wasn't wearing his duster. He was wearing a three-quarter-length leather coat, obviously he couldn't bear to make a complete break with leather, a green shirt and a pair of black pants. The clothes were smart, brand new, and it was somehow incredibly touching that Spike had tried so hard for him. Even more touching was the fact that they didn't really suit him, the color was somehow more draining than his usual battered black gear, making him look even paler, his hair even harsher and blonder.

"Image change." Xander stated awkwardly. /Yup it's true. I am an incisive, witty and intelligent conversationalist, with verbal skills like this why didn't I go into politics?/

"It looks very um…different." Xander stammered. /Oh that's good. Way to compliment the guy. Smooth talking Harris, that's what they call me./ A flush of embarrassment began to rise. Oh this just got better.

"Different. Yeah thanks." Spike muttered stiffly, wishing he hadn't bothered with the new clothes.

"I'll just get my coat" Xander said hurriedly changing the subject, and forgetting all about his resolution to cancel. Somehow the look on Spike's face as he'd opened the door, all relief and nerves and uncertainty, so different from his usual effortless confidence had stopped him cold. As bizarre as this felt – and it felt pretty fucking bizarre – it was going to happen. Spike followed him inside while he grabbed his coat. It felt very strange to have Spike in his home when they weren't screaming at each other or ripping their clothes off.

"You know how I said the other night I needed a moment because this was all happening a bit fast? Well I'm still kind of there, needing a moment I mean. So I'm kind of needing tonight to be a no naughty touching deal." He looked up at Spike, trying to read his face, wondering what would come first, the laughter, the anger, or maybe just some casual cutting response tossed over his shoulder as he walked out like: "Whatever mate, give us a call when you're ready to stop acting like a kid and play with the big boys."

Spike almost laughed. He hadn't seriously been expecting Xander to just fall back into bed with him without batting an eye. Hoped maybe, but not expected. Xander little speech, so serious and nervous sounded like some 16 year old girl explaining to her boyfriend that she just wasn't ready to go 'all the way', but the laughter died in his throat at the look on Xander's face, uncertain and worried, just waiting to be kicked in the teeth and once he might have actually reveled in it, looked for it even, but now, it just makes him want to be all baby soft and make it better. Weird feelings, feelings he's not used to having and doesn't really know how to deal with, but somehow, okay feelings.

"Alright." He said gently, and when did being gentle become so easy? He'd thought all that had been knocked out of him. "If that's how you want it. I won't try to change your mind."

"Thanks." Xander said uncertainly as relief, exultation, and, perversely, a faint flicker of disappointment that Spike didn't seem to want to argue about it mingled inside him.

Spike pointedly hovered by the door, and Xander suddenly realized he was desperate to pee. Shouldn't have had that beer.

Xander looked at him for a moment then began unlocking the door again. "I want to pee."

The short walk to the Bronze seemed to take at least three times longer tonight, and despite Xander's fervent hope that maybe a vampire would attack them on the way or something, just to break the tension a little, nothing happened and the silence continued to hang heavy between them. All in all they were both relieved when they arrived at last.

As they went in, they both took a quick glance around, although neither of them mentioned it, they were both checking that none of the Scoobies were there, but Wednesday nights at the Bronze were pretty quiet, no bands, just records. It might not be the most adventurous place for a first date but Xander was glad they had come here, anywhere more exotic would have had him running screaming for home.

Spike ordered them a couple of beers and they sat down in a dim corner, looking pretty much anywhere except at each other.

Xander tensed instantly and Spike could have kicked himself. /Great. Just perfect, get him thinking about pain and loss and death. Why don't I just start reminiscing about the days with Dru and Angelus, that'll really get the evening going nicely./

"It was hard." Xander said stiffly, as he watched the bubbles rise in his beer. He really didn't want to talk about Joyce's funeral right now, or actually ever and if Spike hassled him about it then he just going to walk.

"Um…" Spike recalled his activities of the last couple of days. Frightening passer-by's into giving him the money so he could afford to take Xander out, using a combination of threats, bribes and blackmail on Willie to get him to 'loan' Spike the money for the clothes. "Not much."

For a moment they sat in silence then Xander took a large gulp of beer. If nothing else at least he could get drunk. But then he might end up doing something stupid, like giving into the sudden crazy urge to remind himself that yes Spike's skin really was as silky as it looked. No – definitely not going to get drunk.

Spike took a long swallow of his own beer. Not bad as American beers go. Had better. Also had worse, like the night he was here with Buffy. He shot a quick look at Xander, suddenly worried that somehow Xander might have noticed as the thought of Buffy had passed through his head, and that would probably be all that was needed to put their date to an abrupt end, but Xander wasn't looking at him. He was gazing around the Bronze and drumming his fingers nervously on the table. Spike wanted to reach out and still his fingers but didn't dare. Weird that. He had no problem with fucking Xander until he screamed, but didn't dare reach over and touch his hand.

As the silence stretched out Spike picked at his black nail polish. His nails were going to be a state by the end of the night at this rate. This unaccustomed formality was shredding his nerves, for the first time in his unlife he was completely lost for words. /For fucks sake. I've known him for years. I know his friends. I lived in his basement. I've had sex with him. I've fought against, and alongside him. There's got to be something we can talk about!/ A cold trickle of sweat was inching down his spine as he tried to think of something, anything to say.

/Ask about patrol? It'll lead to Buffy. Ask about Glory? It'll lead to Buffy. Ask about anything it'll lead to sodding Buffy!/

Spike shifted uncomfortably and Xander was staring at the fire exit like it held the answer to the mystery of life, or maybe he just wanted to make a dash for it and was planning his exit.

Xander jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, glancing up as Spike waved a cigarette vaguely in the air.

"No, uh, go ahead." Xander said, taken aback. Spike had always taken the attitude that he could light up whenever the hell he wanted and if anyone didn't like it then they could fuck off and die, and it was only a pity he couldn't assist with the second.

Spike fumbled to light up and Xander, who had never tried smoking wondered if now was the time to start. He knew Spike was trying his best, but somehow it wasn't helping, he still felt edgy and as tense as hell. Spike being polite was unnatural. This whole deal felt unnatural. Maybe they should have just stuck to what they were good at. Sex and fighting.

Spike finally managed to get his lighter to spark and lit up, taking a deep drag and exhaling. Okay. That killed a few seconds.

The silence fell again as they both looked aimlessly around at their surroundings. Xander shifted in his chair, and looked down at his hands. "I guess we're not so good with the talking huh?" he said softly.

For a second Spike froze, then let his cigarette continue on it's leisurely journey to his mouth.

"Well don't give up yet luv, we've not exactly given it a fair shot have we?" Cool, casual, calm, and he didn't have a clue how he was doing it, because the nerve endings were rippling in his stomach.

"As long as you don't mind the awkward pauses. In some cases longer than the actual conversation. " Xander joked, hiding his fear behind a flip remark, but Spike could see through that like glass and recognized it for what it was. A plea for reassurance.

"Alright then, we're not gonna be having any sex and we both want to be here. Anything else you want to get straight before we start?" Spike asked looking at him directly, maybe at least they could cut through some of his insecurities and get the damn night at least moving.

Xander actually managed an awkward half smile. When did Spike learn how to read him so easily? "No. That's all for now."

For a second they looked at each other, and there was something just burning in Spike's eyes, something Xander could feel reflected right back at Spike in his own face. Something almost like hope, a desperate desire, and frustration that whatever it was happening between them, they couldn't stop it, they were tied in for the whole ride. Almost making a mockery of this date, because in the end, a beer and a talk wouldn't change it. It was far to big, far too powerful.

Then Spike dropped his eyes, and Xander sucked in a quick relieved breath. Woah. That had been…intense.

"I'm glad we came here." Xander offered slightly panicked, suddenly desperate to fill the silence, and distract himself from the charge that was building between them.

"Yeah" Spike's voice sounded a little tight but it leveled out at he carried on talking to Xander's relief. "Thought we'd keep up the tradition, since you and yours practically live in here." Spike began flipping his packet of smokes over in his free hand.

"Was it?" Xander asked surprised, his eyes drawn to the movement of Spike's hands. Watching his pale fingers toy with the packet. Fingers that had held him steady, slid over his skin, been inside him…

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away, trying to concentrate on what Spike was saying.

For a second Spike's mind kind of flipped on him, and he had a sense memory, of their own private dance, Xander clenched around him, under him, could taste the sweat, smell the musk, hear the moans….

He shook his head slightly, slamming himself back to the Bronze, where they sat, opposite each other, not touching. "Um yeah."

"I thought you looked pretty good." Spike said seriously, this time recalling the right night, the right dance, alright at the time he had barely noticed Xander, too busy sizing up the Slayer but he was projecting back okay?

"I did? I mean, no I didn't. But thanks." Xander stuttered, unable to look Spike in the eye. An actual compliment, and from Spike as well. It was weird.

He could feel Spike's eyes on him and he looked up to see Spike looking at him, a touch of amusement at his embarrassment, but mostly just…entertained, uncertain, appreciative, he didn't know why he'd ignored his sensible side and come out on this date, but that look was making him feel all kinds of glad that he had. Now that really was bizarre. But kind of okay.

For the first time he took a breath that actually felt like it was going all the way down to his lungs, and managed to drop his shoulder rigidity a couple of notches. Smiling properly, although a little shakily at Spike. Spike tentatively smiled back. There was something weird about the smile that took Xander a moment to trace. It was…nice. No raised eyebrow or curled lip or any other Spike extras, just…nice.

It sounded corny in the extreme, and certainly not anything he'd ever say out loud, but Xander just couldn't take his eyes off Spike. Not in a 'gazing soulfully at him' kind of way, hey, he had a little pride. Trying to do it an a totally unobvious way, glancing under his lashes, letting his eyes pass over him 'casually' as he looked around, occasionally allowing himself a slightly longer look throughout the conversation, and he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop because every time he looked at Spike, Spike was looking back. Looking at him like he was special, smart. Maybe even kind of beautiful, and it made him feel special, a feeling he'd never had before in his whole life, so even as they talked in an awkward, painfully polite way about T.V, warm happy feelings were spreading out inside him, and who cared that Spike liked 'Passions', and Xander didn't, or Xander liked 'Star Trek' and Spike didn't. So maybe they didn't have much in common T.V wise, but that really didn't matter. Not when Spike kept looking at him like that. And no it wasn't what he'd call relaxed, but the tension wasn't grindingly awful either, it was more…anticipation. Just the average tension you'd get on a guy-guy date with a vampire, after they'd gone about everything completely backwards and already battled through way too much hurt and hate, but somehow still here, still wanting to try. For the first time in his life he finally understood what Willow had been telling him about one day meeting the person that would make him want to let his barriers down, because no matter how much fun he may have had with Cordy or Anya it had never been like this, and any bitterness that might have been lingering between Spike and himself was melting away like snow under the warmth of those glances, because here they were, at the beginning for the first time.

Spike prided himself that he'd seen a lot, done more, and had learnt by now that when something started going his way there was bound to be a fall just waiting for him. After all this was him, the unluckiest damn vampire in history, and the only defense he had against that drop was to wrap himself up in the Big Bad persona like a shield and pretend he didn't give a damn.

But Xander kept looking at him with these little flickering glances like he still couldn't really believe Spike was here, and it was hot and so adorable it was almost painful, and he wasn't thinking about a fall. Not at all, and why would he strut around playing Mr. Seen-It-All when Xander was sitting opposite him and stammering to explain in a slightly embarrassed, totally endearing way, why Picard was better than Kirk? In fact the he wasn't really was thinking about anything other than watching those dark eyes flick up again, and the faint flush that rose over his skin when Spike caught him, and he couldn't keep the smile away, because Xander was gorgeous, and brave, and bloody good company, and here with him, and it was different, just so much better than anything that had happened before. Until tonight it had all been rushed sex and bitter arguing, but now it was a quiet steady glow, inside him, surrounding him, he'd never felt anything quite like it before, and never mind that Xander was human, and a friend of the Slayer and that he was having feelings that no vampire should ever have, right now, it just didn't matter.

Drinking more beer and almost without noticing the pauses were less frequent, less awkward, the time flowed by, the conversation flowed with it and Xander vaguely noticed that things were getting hazy around the outside, except Spike, he was still clear, and if occasionally, more than occasionally, to be honest, Xander's brain would send him a flash of Spike kissing across his nipples and down his stomach, then nobody needed to know that but him. Crazy to be getting all dreamy eyed about Spike now, but maybe it was just long overdue, something he'd been holding back and was making up for lost time, because Spike was so beautiful it was almost blinding, even in a green shirt. Forgetting that Spike was a demon. Forgetting about Buffy. Forgetting about everything except Spike was looking at him with those blue eyes you could just drown in, and talking to him in that English accent, all rough and husky and although he'd thought about Spike a lot it had been about his fighting, his body, his cruelty. Something he'd never really noticed before was Spike was smart, Spike got his humor. Spike was…fun, even while he was protesting with the utmost seriousness;

"I'm just sayin' is all, Jar Jar was the most irritating little shit in movie history! If that had been me I'd 'ave strangled him with his own spindly legs. "

"Yeah I can see you'd be more of a Darth Vader fan." Xander began ticking points off on his fingers. "Obsessive love of black, deathly pale, crazy obsession with being the baddest in the galaxy…"

"Hey, R2 was totally comprehensive!" Xander interrupted indignantly. Then realizing there was something wrong with that sentence, "as am I. And I'm not R2. Darth."

Easy banter, which in it's own way was kind of amazing, and not very much was really being said, but under it all they just couldn't stop looking at each other, and that was saying much more than what was coming out of their mouths and everything else was kind of falling away because right now there really wasn't a world outside here.

And Spike was giving him that look again, that look that just kept upping his inner thermostat. " I thought I was."

"Really?" Xander asked, smiling slightly, and sometime over the last hour or so he'd given up on the 'casual glances' thing. Now he was blatantly drinking Spike in with his eyes and Spike was doing exactly the same back to him.

"Yeah." Spike said softly, almost dreamily. The heat in Xander's eyes was dripping into him, like warm honey sliding slowly down and spreading out inside him. It was bloody hard to resist, and talking of hard…If Xander didn't stop looking at him like that, that would be one lad that was going to get kissed to within an inch of his life before the night was out. He shook his head slightly to disperse the temptation that had lodged in there to just sling Xander over his shoulder and throw him on the nearest bed, and ran a finger under his collar, unfastening the top button on his shirt.

"Missing your T-shirt?" Xander asked amused at the sight of Spike actually squirming.

"I can't wait to get out of these things." Spike replied absentmindedly, and Xander felt his cheeks flush, his eyes dilate, for a second a sudden flash searing across his brain of

Spike caught the look on Xander's face and went still. Unable to tear his eyes away, drinking in the darkness in Xander's eyes, like for a minute he was…away. In his mind remembering. Reliving. Exactly. What. It. Was. Like. Crazily he felt his cheeks grow warm with a touch of embarrassment – something he thought he'd left behind about a hundred years ago – and something else entirely.

For a long moment they didn't move, then Xander broke the eye contact, looking down at the table where Spike's hands were resting between them. He reached for his beer, letting his hand brush against Spike's. Casually. So Spike could brush it off as unintentional if he wanted to.

Xander's hand brushing against his sent little sparks fizzing right in a base of his spine, Spike shot a look at Xander, but he was intently looking at some point just past Spike's shoulder. Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder Spike watched for Xander setting his glass down again, and lightly stroked Xander's hand with his finger.

Xander stroked back and this time Spike's finger curled around his. Thumbs extended, met and the next moment their hands clasped on the table. Smiling at each other, both stunned by the happiness flooding through them and not caring in the slightest that they were out in public.

Spike's hand was cool, strong, his thumb stroking over Xander's hand, made him feel shivery, and even in a weird way, safe. Taken care of. A feeling so unfamiliar he took a moment to place it, and who would have thought Spike would be the one to make him feel like this?

"So how does this rate on the naughty touching?" Spike asked. Teasing him a little, that was Spike, always acting the cool ironic guy, but it was just swirling right over his head because Spike was holding on to his hand in public no less, and Xander could feel himself glowing with happiness.

"Well" Xander said, feeling decidedly short of breath, as he played with Spike's fingers, "naughty touching really only involves touching naughty parts, so this isn't classed as naughty touching."

"Oh really?" Spike arched his eyebrow. "Sure about that?" Lacing and unlacing his fingers with Xander's, letting his thumb stroke over the sensitive skin on the underside of his wrist and Xander was watching him with huge hungry eyes, his skin flushed.

"So if this is naughty touching" Spike said half teasingly, half huskily. "Maybe I'd better stop it."

"Maybe." Xander agreed, holding on to Spike's hand a little tighter. Their eyes met again, and they both knew. The 'no naughty touching' rule had just struck out.

A thump of desire hit Spike right in his stomach – not the gentle hum that had been with him all night – this was hard, needful and suddenly, as much fun as he'd been having Spike didn't want to be here. He wanted to be in Xander's bedroom, in the dark, hot slick skin pressed against him, around him, feeling Xander's fingers holding on to him, hard and shaking and really this wasn't just about wanting to have sex. This was about wanting to be with Xander. To make up to him, to do it the way he should have done from the start, going to

treat him so nice, do so many things to make him quiver with pleasure, to use his body to show Xander just how crazy he was about him, and he should have known. It was all so sweet and nice and sweetness wasn't for him, it didn't happen to him, he should have had some intuition, but he didn't, he just kept on smiling at Xander, then Xander's eyes flickered past him and widened in shock, his face draining of color but before he could ask what was wrong a voice from behind him stammered out;

Spike whipped around and the warm happy haze that they had spun was abruptly ripped in two as a chill of shock, horror, all bad things ran through his body and his heart sank into his boots.

The cold shock hit Xander with a slap, his hand still clasped in Spike's felt suddenly icy, even the warmth that had been spreading throughout him seemed to freeze in it's tracks before evaporating. For a moment none of them moved, a little pocket of cold and quiet outside the warmth and noise of the room. Spike's eyes were horrified, Willow's eyes were stunned, and this was bad, beyond a mere gatecrashing of a date. Even if it was a date with Spike.

Tara was coming over to them, still asking Willow what was wrong, then pulling up short, her questions halting as she took in the scene, her gasp of surprise was loud in the stillness. The flicker of movement snapped Xander out of his paralysis. Time began to lurch on awkwardly again and he dropped Spike's hand, standing up quickly.

"Guys it's okay" he said quickly. He couldn't believe his voice sounded so calm when his heart was thumping uncomfortably fast, his knuckles white with tension. Shit, shit, what were they doing here? Of all the bad luck…

"Xander what are you…? How did you…? What's going on?" Willow stammered blankly, her eyes darting between the two of them in disbelief.

"Willow" Tara said anxiously flicking glances so quickly between him and Spike it almost looked like she was being played at a faster speed than usual, "m-maybe we shouldn't…"

Spike snapped out of his sick, horrified motionlessness, sharply jumping to his feet, as though the movement would shut her up. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to get out, the fear thudding through him, he had to go, right now, and he was taking Xander with him, he just had to keep her quiet for a minute…

"Yeah, witch girl's right. You shouldn't. We're just hanging out Red." Spike said, his voice low, dangerous and clearly stating 'so just piss off and leave us to it'.

"Really?" Willow said angrily, stepping up to Spike her green eyes suddenly blazing with undisguised loathing and Xander felt himself recoiling, because Willow should never have that look on her face.

"'Cos you know the two of you together, holding hands, drinking it kind of looks like a date. I told you what I'd do if you ever went near him again!"

"Listen!" Spike said, somehow keeping his voice calm, his temper down, though his guts were twisting with nausea and fear, the instinct to fight or run making every inch of him twitchy. "I'm not playing games. I'm here tonight because I want to be with Xander, no other reason I swear." His voice was low but fervent, all his attention on Willow willing her to believe him, but the anger and loathing on her face didn't even flicker. Spike snarled in despair, turning to Xander.

"Xander we should go, now." Xander nodded and went to grab his jacket, but Willow grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Xander are you crazy? Three days ago you were ready to kill him for leaving flowers and now you're on a date?"

Xander felt like he was being torn in two. Her fingers were tight on his arm, and her voice was rising with each word. Heads were beginning to turn, but the only thing that mattered was reacting to Spike's desperate signals to leave, leave now, but Willow was hanging on to him and he couldn't just push her off, she was only trying to look out for him.

"Will, just listen" he said, not even really knowing what was coming out of his mouth, just desperate to say something to put her mind at rest, but he couldn't think of anything. Maybe there was nothing he could say. All he could come out with was; "Things are different now, I was going to tell you."

"Things are different?" She repeated incredulously, "How? Has he suddenly developed a soul? Nothing is different!" She was yelling now, and people had given up even pretending not to watch, too many eyes, all fixed on them.

"Xander…" Spike burst out urgently. "Don't listen to her, she's just trying to bust this up…"

"Willow please!" Tara said shakily, taking in the curious glances that were being thrown their way, "I don't think we should talk about this here."

"She's right. Willow this isn't the time or the place. We'll talk tomorrow, I promise." Xander barely knew what he was saying as he struggled into his coat.

"No!" Willow grabbed at his other arm, trying to pull him away with her, away from Spike. "Xander you're not safe with him! Please, come home with me!"

It was the 'please' that caught him, Xander hesitated, and for a second, it felt like everything was slowing down. In a weird way he felt like every step he'd taken with Spike had been leading to this moment right here. Despite the roar in his ears, everything looked so clear right now, his mind recording the smallest of details, the half empty beer bottles on the table, the light catching on Willow's hair, the tightness on Spike's face as he watched him take Willow's hand.

Willow looked at him, a smile of sheer relief touching her mouth. Xander smiled back a little sadly and placed a loving kiss in the palm of her hand. Then let go and took a step back. Willow stared at him, the smile that had begun to touch the corner of her mouth vanishing.

"No Will" he said softly. " I want to stay." Spike's head shot up to look at him and he regarded Spike gravely over Willow's head. Spike's eyes were stunned, and right then he'd have given his heart to know what Spike was thinking.

Spike swallowed under Xander's calm unwavering gaze, for a second the outside world completely disappeared, and he felt his mouth opening, to say…God knew what, but Willow began to shake her head violently.

"No. No way!" She exclaimed, her eyes darting between the two of them in disbelief.

Spike snapped his attention back to Willow, but this time his eyes were narrow and flickering yellow. Xander was his, he'd just said so, and no interfering little bitch was taking him away. His demon had been stirring ever since the witches had walked in and it was roaring now, to fight, kill, destroy anything that threatened to take what was his away from him. "Red I've told you this is none of your bloody business so why don't you and the witch go work some 'spells'! Just sod off!"

"I know what you're doing Spike!" Willow spat at him. "Don't think I'm going to let you…"

"Willow…" Xander interrupted, suddenly desperate to just make her shut up because the palpable anger was coming off Spike in waves and any second now he was gonna…

"Red." Spike said quietly, his words coming out dangerously spaced apart, "you are skating on very bloody thin ice here. Leave it alone."

Willow whirled back to Xander in a last desperate attempt to convince him. "Xander he's using you! He's sick! He's obsessed with Buffy and he's doing everything he can to…"

Suddenly the words stopped on a gasp as Spike's arm flew out, grabbing her arm, whipping her round to face him, his other hand drawn back, and he could already almost taste her fear, feel the cracking warmth as his hand landed, bruising that pale skin…

Xander's voice ripped through the air, freezing him where he stood. It sounded weird. Harsh and scared and for a split second the moment seemed to drag on and on, no sound in the room, no color, all those curious eyes fixed on them.

Then his eyes flicked over to Xander. Shock and fright and disappointment all written on his expressive face and Spike slowly lowered his hand, releasing his grip on Willow who took a shaky step away from him, towards Tara who grabbed hold of Willow protectively.

Xander let out the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. Spike glanced away for a moment and when he looked back his eyes were pure blue again. Maybe they had pleading in them. He didn't know. Eventually he looked away from Spike at Willow, her face was pale, upset.

"Tomorrow." Cutting her off and why? Willow obviously had something important to say, but right now Xander just knew with a sick certainty that terrified him that he didn't want to hear it and he sounded so tight, so cold for a minute he didn't even recognize his own voice.

"Sweetie." Tara tugged at her hand gently, "Come on, you're upset, lets go home. Xander will be okay tonight."

"Fine." She said at last. Her voice cracked and dark. Hurt in there. Acres of it. "But he'll destroy you. And he'll enjoy it."

She looked at him a moment longer, Tara pulled her away, but as she passed Spike she paused, and looked into his eyes.

After they had left Xander drew in a long shaky breath. Finally letting the shock of the last few minutes catch up with him, his legs began to tremble.

Spike, hovering next to him tentatively put his hand on Xander's shoulder. "Well…" Spike began awkwardly.

"I want to go home now." Xander interrupted stiffly, shaking off Spike's hand without looking at him.

"Sure. Okay." Spike began clumsily gathering together his smokes and lighter, stuffing them into his pocket. Performing even the simplest of tasks had become a Herculean effort. He was shuddering with the aftermath of shock and relief, unable to believe that somehow he'd been in the tightest of corners yet still escaped. Wondering just how much Xander had read into that little scene, if he was going to realize that there had been more to it than Red throwing a snit because her childhood buddy was getting all cozy with a vampire. He picked up his coat and for a moment he just couldn't remember what the hell the point to it was, then he looked up and saw he was alone.

"Shit!" Spike hurried out after him, shrugging into his coat as he went, ignoring the still curious looks he was getting from people. Outside the air was cool after the warmth of the Bronze, and Xander was stalking down the street in the direction of his apartment.

He might have got out of there with his pale hide still intact but Xander was obviously pissed as hell, couldn't really blame him either. He shook his head in despair and turned to go in the opposite direction, he was still shaking uncontrollably. Something had happened to him in there. He knew he wanted Xander and all that, but just then, when Xander had chosen him over Willow, that was…well that had been something alright, nobody had ever put him first like that before. But Xander shouldn't have, no way should Xander choose him over one of his best friends. He was nothing. He was shit, he didn't deserve that kind of trust, he couldn't offer Xander anything…and Xander had obviously figured that out.

Good for him. Tomorrow Red was gonna spill her guts, and Xander would find out exactly how much he'd been used.

Shit. The sick despair gave an extra twist inside him. He turned and took another quick glance after Xander, who was still storming away from him. Fuck fuck fuck. He took a step after him before he caught himself and forced himself to turn away again. He got a full two steps before stopping and turning back around. He ran his fingers frustratedly through his hair, he hated everything, Red for showing up, himself for beginning to actually have a little hope that maybe holding on to Xander wasn't such a crazy idea, and all he'd ended up doing was upsetting Xander again and he hated that it all mattered so much to him when he should just be able to leave without a backward glance without caring…

He didn't care, see if he cared, there was no way he could win this. He was going to be sensible for a change, cut his losses, go home, pack his stuff, steal a car, then get out of town, before assorted Scoobies arrived screaming for his blood, going to get out of this insanity that was going on between them and never see Xander again…

Xander was walking fast, viciously trying to expel his anger, but it couldn't be burnt off, it was nestling inside him, making his eyes burn even though his cheeks were dry. Screaming inwardly at Willow for showing up and ruining things, screaming at Spike for nearly hitting her and most of all screaming at himself for getting so dreamy, and happy, and stupid. For having all these stupid little fantasies about waking up curled around each other and having breakfast and kissing when they meet and asking how his day had been, all those couple things that people did. He should have known it was all going to go wrong, this was him after all, good things didn't happen to him and they certainly didn't come in the form of someone who would have ripped his throat out without pausing for breath in the old pre- chip days, didn't come with guys who tried to fix things with their fists.

"Xander!" He heard Spike's voice yell, his footsteps running after him, and he couldn't deny that underneath it all part of him was glad, but it was overpowered by the part of him that was just as pissed as hell.

/Go away/ Xander thought angrily as he walked a little faster, though to his disgust he couldn't stop himself from straining to hear where Spike was now.

"Xander" Spike was right next to him now, almost jogging to match his fast pace but he didn't turn to look at him. He was tired and he'd just had a hell of a…of a thing with his best friend, and choosing Spike over her was seriously scary and seriously freaking him out, and all he'd ever wanted was a normal happy life, what was wrong with that?

And oh it wasn't fair. How could just his name coming from Spike's mouth make him melt like that? But he wanted to be pissed with Spike, the fact that Spike was making him want to forget about it just made it worse. He was confused and…mad. He didn't want to invite Spike back to his place, didn't want it all to be forgotten and forgiven, even though he didn't want Spike to go either and okay, it didn't make sense, but it was how he felt.

"Spike go home. I won't let myself get involved with someone that…" He caught himself. His voice had been wavering and rising dangerously. "With someone that…"

He snapped his mouth closed again. Spike had done a lot of terrible stuff in his time, killed people, fought with Buffy a hell of a lot, but that had been him being a vampire, awful but instinct. Tonight he'd almost hit Willow just because he'd wanted to, and that was different and they both knew it.

"I have had enough of that sort of thing in my life." He said at last. "I promised myself no more."

There was a long pause as Spike continued to hurry after him, shocked that Xander had referred obliquely to what nobody else seemed to have noticed, but what had been obvious to him within ten minutes of setting foot in that basement. And tonight he hadn't just touched that private and painful fear, he'd given it Willow's face. He could have happily set himself on fire he was so angry with himself.

"Nothing to do with the chip. It would have been worth it just to shut her up. I just knew the second I touched her it'd all be over with you. I'm not perfect, never said I was. But I'm not like your dad either."

Xander rolled his eyes trying to distract himself from just how much he wanted to believe that.

"And by the way," Spike carried on angrily. "We are 'involved'. You know we are."

"Alright. Since we're 'involved' you gonna tell me what the hell all that was about?" He picked up the pace. If Spike wanted him Spike could damn well run after him.

Spike fell back then caught up again to buy himself a little time. He would tell Xander, of course he would, he didn't have much of a choice. But not now, while he was still so mad. Tell the truth now and he could kiss goodbye to any tiny chance he had of holding on to him, but if he could just hold on for a little longer, later, when Xander was a little less pissed he'd explain that this had started for reasons even less noble than Xander thought, but they didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered anymore because whatever his reasons had been everything he'd said the other night he'd meant.

He made up his mind and shrugged. Ultra casually. Ignored the cold thud of fear in his chest. "Doesn't take a genius to work it out. Red's just a little ticked off that you're giving me another chance."

Spike had a sudden flashback to the dream he'd had, a flash of Xander looking at him sadly as he set himself on fire…

Xander didn't say anything but he slowed his pace a little, and Spike continued doggedly.

Spike grabbed hold of Xander's forcing him to stop and look at him. " But you made a choice in there, and it's time you stopped running away from it!" His fingers were tight on Xander's shoulders. "This is it, this is what you've got. All the stuff that's happened before now, the Buffy stuff…it's over. Red doesn't know that but you do." He pinned him with a sincere blue gaze. "And I don't want anyone but you." He released Xander's shoulders.

Xander swallowed and dropped his eyes from Spike's. "I still don't want you to come back to my place tonight." he muttered, confused and angry with himself, because he genuinely didn't want Spike to just come home with him like nothing had happened, but he didn't want him to go either, and if Spike could understand that then he deserved a medal of some sort.

"Your place?" Xander repeated in a hard voice, "What have I done to deserve an invite back there?"

"I want you to stay, you know, with me. In my home. Tonight." Then softer still. "If you want."

Xander swallowed again and looked away, running his fingers through his hair, trying to buy a little time, a little composure and blinked back the little pinpricks that just wouldn't stop burning in his eyes. He turned back to face Spike. Spike's eyes were bright in the moonlight and it almost looked like tears, except Spike didn't do that kind of thing. But Spike was right. They were involved, and he'd made his choice. It was no good trying to run away from it now.

Spike bit his lip and nodded. They turned back, together, walking to the graveyard. The walk was silent, both lost in their own thoughts, but Xander tentatively took Spike's hand and Spike's fingers curled around his gratefully. The graveyard had it's own beauty right now, moonlit and peaceful. Something he'd never appreciated before when he was trying to fight for his life against assorted demons. Spike led him around the gravestones and showed him into his crypt, gesturing for him to follow him down into the cavern beneath the crypt. Xander followed him automatically, looking around, straining to see in the dim light. A couple of candles were burning, and Spike began to light the rest. Xander frowned as the light increased fractionally and he realized where he was.

"Ah" said Xander, understanding at last. "They didn't did they? Just bullshit to get an invite to my place. What did you pick a fight with someone just to get those bruises? Just to get my sympathy, all part of getting me into bed?"

"Pretty much. Yeah." Spike didn't look at him as he finished lighting the candles. Too scared. Too ashamed.

Xander shook his head with a small humorless laugh. "You really are a bastard aren't you." He stated harshly, his voice jagged, darker than it should be.

Spike shrugged helplessly. /I don't want to be. Not with you. Not anymore. Do you have any idea what you do to me? Make me regret, make me want to be…something. Something good. But it's hard to start fresh when it feels like everything I've ever done is following so close and snapping at my heels./

Spike shut out the voice telling him to tell Xander now. That this was practically a gold plated invitation. Later, when Xander wasn't so upset. That was the plan. "You've pretty much exhausted my possibilities for now."

"Why do I seriously doubt that?" Xander said. But there was no real bitterness or anger in his voice anymore, just a touch of resignation. He looked around. Not really bad as a place that kept dead people in it went. Dusty and sparsely furnished, a T.V, an old beaten up chair, probably from the dump, his radio – he'd forgotten about that – a bed. A beautiful vampire with ice blonde hair dressed in smart clothes that didn't really go with the dust of the crypt. And right now the only thing interesting him were the last two things.

Spike looked up to see Xander watching him, and Spike felt a painful ache settle in his stomach. He was so good. So beautiful. Xander was going to leave him, he knew that. He didn't have a hope in hell of hanging on to someone as pure as him.

"Xander…" Spike said suddenly, and he would tell Xander he would, but before that just once more. Just one more night with him first.

He suddenly hurtled across into Xander's arms, the exact same moment Xander stepped forward and held his arms out. Spike clung on to him so tight Xander gasped for breath. Spike closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of Xander's heartbeat pounding in his chest, that special Xander scent that was warm and tangy and kind of like peaches, and if only he could just sink right in and never have to let go.

Eventually Spike loosened his grip a little and leaned back, still in Xander's arms, but unable to meet Xander's eyes, a little embarrassed at how blatantly he'd been seeking comfort, despite the fact Xander had been hanging on pretty hard himself.

"So" Spike said reaching for casual, but only coming up with shaking "how does this rate on the…"

Kissing furiously, tongues relearning the taste, trying to make up for lost time, unable to stop touching each other, hands crushed up against the places they've spent all night trying to avoid.

"Oh hell" Muttered as his head fell back as Xander kissed a bruising trail down his neck, he was rock hard, but felt weak inside. Xander's mouth was back on his and he remembered how Xander liked it when he sucked on Xander's soft bottom lip and there was the moan, right on time. And there was no way he was going to give this up, never. Xander was his and he was going to keep him, but forgetting for now about the sheer terror of telling Xander the truth, that could wait until later, right now Xander was grinding into him, and he was moaning into Xander's mouth, trying to show him, just through this kiss how much he wanted him. Xander pulled back, panting for breath, his eyes wide and dilated.

"Come here" Spike muttered, backing over to the bed that was covered with poncy ruffled stuff Harmony had left behind, but it didn't matter, not when Xander was kissing him again, like Spike was all the air he needed. He eased them down on to the bed pulling Xander on top of him, and Xander's knee was rubbing against his hardness with a sweet rocking motion that's just what he's looking for and Jesus.

What the hell has he done to deserve this? They've fucked, oh yeah they've fucked before, incredible, amazing, bitter sex, but now he just wants to show Xander the things he's too scared to tell him, he's sorry, he wants him, he needs him, he…

But he stops thinking there, because those are frightening thoughts that he's not ready to say, even to himself because then he'll have to deal with them, and he doesn't think he's ready for that. Need, so deep it hurt, and his eyes were stinging. Xander paused.

Spike shook his head. "Nothing. Just…nothing." He didn't want to talk, didn't want to think, didn't want to see the look of concern on Xander's face. He just wanted to lose himself in this, just for a little while to crawl in from out of the cold.

And he was pulling Xander's sweater off, bending his head to lick at his pebbled up nipples. Xander moaned and pulled Spike up so they were kneeling on the bed facing each other, kissing deeply, their arms wrapped around each other, as the kiss went on and on. Fumbling as they got rid of shoes and socks, Xander unbuttoned Spike's shirt, and this felt…weird. In a good way. It felt equal.

The sound of Spike's zip going down was loud in the quiet of the crypt. Xander broke the kiss, watching with hungry eyes as Spike shuffled out of his pants and his hard cock popped out. Breathing fast and heavily, Xander reached out, tentatively touching it.

A sharp gasp was torn from Spike, but they didn't look up at each other, just watched, hypnotized as Xander's hand moved on Spike's cock, his palm sliding down the underside, his thumb sweeping over the slick tip, then his fingers curling around, moving and Xander couldn't help wondering. What Spike tasted like there.

Spike's panting was harsh and loud in the utter silence, his fingers tightening on Xander's shoulder as Xander began to move his hand faster, and he couldn't stop staring at Xander's hand, flicking glances at Xander, whose breath was coming faster, staring at Spike's cock and his hand with an expression of intense concentration, as his tongue darted out along his lips. Spike felt the desire thickened, sharpen, settling in his belly a heavy, aching ball of need, and Xander's eyes flashed up to his face. Want and hope and a touch of sadness in his eyes. He tangled his fingers in Xander's hair, wanting to say something, do something, to just make this all better, to make that sadness go away when Xander's head dropped down.

Crashing back on the bed and Xander was holding him still, kissing him all over, lapping at his thighs, kissing over his stomach that quivered helplessly under his hot mouth, kissing his hipbones, trying to learn Spike's body with his mouth and his fingers brushed between Spike's legs and then Xander's mouth. Hot breath. Breathing. There.

A pleading moan that he can't hold in, the pause making the pressure build and build, and just when he was thinking that it wasn't going to happen, Xander didn't want to do it, Xander licked. Rasping, quick lick over the head, lapping away the drops leaking from the slit.

"Fuck" Wet scorching heat, right on the tip of his cock, little sparks rocketing off under his skin, and he can't help jerking up uncontrollably, one fist clenching in the sheets, the other tangled in Xander's hair.

Waiting again, his harsh pants filling the crypt, when Xander's head dropped and another lick, his tongue tracing a hard line from base to tip leaving a wet heated trail in it's wake, and just as Spike gasped again for unneeded air he was pulled into a hot velvet mouth.

Spike tasted like salt and soap. Smelled like warmth and semen and pure Spike, without the smoke and beer scent that clung to his clothes and Xander couldn't believe he was actually doing this, his hands still shaking with nerves, but he can ignore nerves as long as he keeps tasting, smelling. As long as Spike keeps up those harsh pleading groans, keeps rocking into his mouth. keeps his fingers holding onto his hair. Licking and sucking him in and the more he does this the more he wants too, wants to devour him. Sucking down, taking Spike in as far as he can, and Spike was Going. Crazy. His thighs hard and tense under Xander's hands, whimpers of what almost sounds like pain, or just too much pleasure, and he's going with the pleasure option, judging by the way Spike's hands are holding his head still, his hips jerking up trying to get in deeper, thrusting into his mouth, and he's breathing in through his nose and can't quite get enough air, and he's hard, painfully hard trapped in his jeans and Spike's thighs were pressed against his ears but he can still hear Spike;

And he's getting tired, a little achy but no way does he want to stop, wants to taste Spike and he's making little breathy sounds moaned around Spike's cock, but Spike seemed to like that, groans coming faster, harsher and…

"Wait…wait, wait" Spike's hands were pulling him away and he let Spike slip out, lifting his head, worried, embarrassed.

"Oh yeah." Pulling Xander up so they were face to face, his fingers frantic he had to touch him right now. His fingers ripped at the fastening to Xander's jeans, wrenching at them, until they were off and fucking finally hot slick skin sliding against each other, and friction and ohfuckyes.

"Too good. You carry on an' I'm gonna pop." Kissing him hard. "And I don't want it to be over, not yet. I want to do it to you all night."

Flash of heat in Xander's eyes and he thrust his hips against Spike's involuntarily, and both of them groaned as their cocks bumped and slid against each other.

Rolling and pulling Xander so he's up on his hands and knees, and kissing down Xander's back, and Xander was moaning, arching his back under Spike's mouth and he probably thought this was going to be the main event.

But not quite yet. Kissing down Xander's spine his tongue right at the base, just where the spine ended and the sweet curve of his buttocks began. Kissing there, then. Slips. Down.

"Spike! What are you…?" Panicked. Frozen with shock and /no, no don't do that not there/

"Shhh." Spike whispered soothingly, running his hand over Xander's back. "I'll stop if you don't like it, just let me try…"

And Spike's licking. Just at the top. And Xander's heart was pounding like crazy, and he's immobile with tension, scared of moving, of doing anything to betray how much this is freaking him out…and trying to ignore that Spike's tongue, there, where nobody's mouth has ever been before, lapping slowly just at the crease where his buttocks begin, touching that sensitive place was making his spine fizzle with excitement.

And it's moving. Wet, warmth caressing him. Moving down, and /no no Spike don't do that./

Back up to the base of his spine and he relaxed a little. But then moving down and the tension is right back up, holding him immobile even as he's getting harder with every rasp of Spike's tongue. Harder than he's ever been in his life; casting a quick look down and his cock was rock hard, a single drop of precome at the slit, and behind him, between his legs he could see Spike's cock. Hard as his. Spike's tongue moving up again and yeah, stay up there Spike…But no moving down again, a little further, he's gonna tell Spike to stop, he's gonna tell him to stop any second now. And Spike's…spreading him, and slowly…oh so slowly, darting his tongue along. Flicking tiny little licks and he can't stop his breathing coming faster and faster the sound filling the crypt and the tension is dissolving under that warm slick sensation and oh fuck.

Just staying very, very still, not moving, not speaking. Eyes closed, panting, and trying to forget that Spike shouldn't be doing that there, and concentrating on that tongue and where it's going to go next, but Spike isn't moving it away anymore, now he's lapping and oh yes, yes, yes, and suddenly it slips. In.

"Oh fuck Spike!" Cried out as his body uncontrollably rocks back into Spike, Spike's mouth.

Hot slick firm tongue suddenly inside him and amazing wetness sending tingles of sensation all over him and oh.

"Yes. Oh yes" Gasped, and he's sounding like a girl here, but doesn't care about that, eyes closed and fireworks are going off in front of the lids, and Spike's mouth descended again and now his mouth was almost frantic, like Spike was just trying to devour him, and that's it, that's good, oh shit yes, is that good, and he can feel Spike moaning, and not caring anymore about anything but the rasp as Spike's tongue slips in again. And again. And again. And he's just groaning and whimpering constantly, a counterpart to the wet licking sounds coming from behind him, and

can't help thrusting his hips forward, desperate for friction because it's all spiraling now, feels tight and oh so hard, and wants it so bad, as Spike's tongue is still inside, still moving and

But Spike's mouth moved away, moved lower, his head between Xander's legs now and he's licking still, darting his tongue over Xander's balls, and a long lingering lick on his cock that has him cursing softly and wants to just fuck Spike's mouth, and Spike's…rearranging himself, lying on his back, underneath Xander, so Xander's kneeling over him, and Spike's…licking.

"Oh fuck" Muttered low and he's watching. Watching Spike. Watching Spike's tongue, watching his cock slide between those dangerous lips and he doesn't know what's turning him on more, watching it or feeling it. One shaking hand cupping Spike's sharp cheekbone, feeling the movement as he sucked.

"Oh yes Spike!" Yelling, out and bracing himself against the wall and oh yes. Has to close his eyes because watching is just too much, pounding lightly on the wall with his fist and any second, any second now…

When Spike suddenly stopped, let him slip out and it's almost a relief because that was way too good, and Spike turned him over so he was lying on his back and he's sinking back on the bed, dazed and Spike was on top of him, settling between his legs, rolling his hips slightly, his cock sliding over Xander's. Friction making him whimper almost desperately, so close to coming, and he wants to so badly, but at the same time doesn't want to, not yet.

"How do you want to do this? Anything you want. Just tell me and I'll do it." Breathy hitching words muttered into his ear, and Spike almost sounded like he was pleading.

Grabbing Spike's hand and putting it on his hard cock and Spike was moving his hand, pumping slowly. Xander bucked sharply, then tore Spike's hand away, pushing it down towards his entrance, slick from Spike's tongue.

A moan and a hard kiss before Spike reached out grabbing the lube from the floor, next to the bed, and then Spike's fingers were there. Rubbing, and he's trying to relax but it's hard to when he knows the kind of wrenching painpleasure it's going to cause, but Spike was whispering, soothing little whispers into his ear, but the words don't make sense when one finger is slipping inside, rubbing, making him want to stretch, to take him in. He's so tight around Spike's finger, how the hell does Spike fit in there? But another pushes in and it's just like he remembered good hot and shivers and not so much painful, not anymore, but still makes him feel like his stomach has been hollowed out, his balls drawn up and tight, and this isn't going to last long.

Spike's fingers kind of unfurl inside him and brush against that place and fuck was it possible for him to get and harder? Jerking back violently onto Spike's fingers, crying out as bolts of sparking pleasure shot through him and Spike was actually biting his lip as he watched him.

"Yeah. There. Like that." Spike whispered, "do that again for me." Pushing against that supersensitive spot again, and he's bucking, crying out and Spike's eyes are so hot, so hungry…a hunger he wants to fulfill. His hands on Spike's hips, pulling him against him, spreading his thighs a little wider and Spike's kissing his neck and holding onto him tight and nerves and anticipation and rock hard and Spike's there, slippery and hard, pushing, pushing pushing. Biting his lip because it still does hurt, a little, and that kind of sickly sharp feel that always makes him think he's in way over his head here, but then Spike's past the opening, sliding in and it's heat and shivers racing through him, then that, ohfuckyes feel like he wants to open wide and take him in so deep…

And Spike was shaking as he finally sank in completely, for a moment just waiting there, locked into him. "Oh God. Xander, the way you feel…" Spike's hand encircling his cock almost crooning to him. "You're…so…hot."

Kisses pressed over his neck and shoulders and cheek, and Xander managed to lift his head enough to kiss him open-mouthed on the lips, then mouths breaking apart as Spike steadied himself with his hands on Xander's hips and began to move, move inside him, sliding in and out and it's never been like this before. Ever. Slow, easy, and so fucking sweet, so much more than sex, and something is welling up inside him, a feeling he's never had, like he just can't get close enough. Pushing back against Spike, legs wrapped around him, his eyes open and watching Spike above him, and can't stop touching him, running his hands along Spike, reaching up to kiss him, and Spike's eyes are locked on his, looking him like he's beautiful, like he's special. Like Spike cares, and it's a little frightening.

It's like coming home, and feeling whole for the first time in his life, and Spike has to feel something, he couldn't look at him like that if he didn't, and he's balancing right on the edge of something. Something he can't quite reach, not yet. His breathing was coming faster, the pleasure like waves, crashing then receding, then crashing again, but just when he thinks, yeah this is it, it backs down again, and he never wanted this to end, ever, but could feel the trembling in Spike's body, hear the hitches his breath was making and knew his control was shattering.

Panting now, getting a little tired, but can't stop not when they're so nearly there…and it feels like his body is being taken over by those sparks, making him push back harder against Spike, cry out louder, his hips snapping up to meet Spike's now and it's changing, speeding up until it's all a blur of flesh and sparks and frantic pace, their cries mingling together and Spike's eyes on him the whole time, his name keeps dropping from Spike's lips, and can't stop, not when Spike is driving into him, skin hot and slick and just sliding, and this is so good he can't hold on, it's too much Spike, in front of him, all he can see, inside him, inside his brain and his mind and heart.

And maybe he should be a little freaked, not just by what Spike's saying but the way he's saying it, all frantic and needful but he's not freaked, he only wants to make whatever Spike's scared of go away, to reassure him, pushing back against Spike and holding on tighter;

"Coming Xander, coming right now." Gasped into his ear as Spike slams up against him again and its all too hot, too good makes him push back harder and grab Spike kissing over his cheek, chin, jaw and Spike is kissing him again, hard and deep on the mouth, even as he thrusts and Spike's hand is pumping, hard, fast and he can't quite get a thought in his mind and he's falling, screaming over the edge.

Can feel Spike's fingers digging into his hips a little tighter then gasps, shudders, cries out, a hoarse shout as he lets go. For a moment they didn't move, just gasping for breath, then Spike's arms buckled and he slumped down on top of Xander, kissing him, hard on the mouth. He responded just as needily, and gradually the kisses died down from a storm into something soft. Gentle. Something he's never had with Spike before, and he was half on top of Spike, his head pillowed on his chest.

"Spike, that was…" He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't even say what that was, but Spike's arms tightened around him and Spike muttered into his hair;

"I know. It's never been like that for me before either." Low and muttered, and in a weird way almost…sad? Like Spike is expecting it never to be that way again? And he would ask but Spike was pressing kisses into his hair, and he was drifting, nearly asleep in his arms.

Spike swallowed. Xander lying in his arms so trustingly was making him feel so…good. Protective in a way he'd never felt before, not even with Dru had he felt this burn just wanting to watch over him even in sleep and kill with his bare hands anything that ever tried to hurt him, and now he can even understand why Red was so mad, trying so hard to drag Xander away from him, because God knows if he'd been in her shoes he'd have ripped his throat out to keep Xander safe, and Xander was his he'd got him, but he can't put it off any longer. He had to tell him, now. The toxic fear was rising up in him, and more than anything he just wanted to keep Xander's head nuzzled into the hollow of his shoulder and let them drift into sleep together for the first time. But he couldn't, he had to do this now, at least this way he could say he'd been honest, and maybe Xander might actually believe him when he said he was sorry. So, so fucking sorry.

He tried to swallow down the churning in his stomach and rolled until he was lying on top of Xander, body to body, skin to skin, and Xander's eyes were dazed, but awake. Staring down into those dark eyes that were staring trustfully back at him and he doesn't deserve that trust. Doesn't deserve any of this.

"Xander, there's something I've got to tell you." First sentence out of his mouth, and it felt like his tongue was numb, the sick fear was twisting in his stomach, he was cold and shaking all over.

"What?" A surge of worry in Xander's face replacing the contentment in his eyes, and it was breaking his heart.

How the hell can he say this? I had another reason that you didn't guess but Red did and that's why she was so pissed? I was going to destroy you to teach Slayer a lesson for turning me down? I didn't really want you even as a substitute?

No, no, he can't say any of that, and suddenly he remembered his dream again, remembering that this was exactly the position he'd been in with dream Xander, right before he'd set himself on fire. Cold shudders ran through him, slithering in his belly, the fear making him icy cold, his palms sweating icy, sticky beads of sweat, and he can't say it, he can't it'll destroy Xander and he only promised tonight that he would never do that.

"I was a real bastard." He finished abruptly, relief and despair twisting inside him.

"Yeah you were." Xander agreed, his mouth smiling slightly, but his eyes serious, though the worry was draining out a little.

"I'm so sorry." He muttered burying his head in Xander's shoulder, inhaling his scent, trying to buy just a little more time and if he could just melt into Xander right now that would be perfect. "I was so stupid, I'd never do anything like that again."

"I know." Xander's arms were wrapped around him and now one hand came up to stroke his hair. "In a way I can even get it. I mean I did the same with Cordy for so long, I was going out with her and I was still obsessed with Buffy."

One last ditch attempt to tell him the truth and the words are hovering right in the back of his throat they just need a little guts to bring them out. "Xander I…I"

And to tell him now would be wrong, he knows that, he just knows it, it's still too soon, too shaky between them, he'll lose Xander if he says it…

"I love you." It comes out shaking. Three words and he's torn aside the protective attitude he wears to keep him safe, exposing his heart. The blood was roaring in his head, and he felt weak, shaking, like the effort of saying those words, half known and wholly hidden had stripped him of all strength and he couldn't believe he'd just said it, out loud, to Xander, when he hadn't even dared admit it to himself before tonight.

"I love you." He said again, his voice unsteady. "I wasn't looking for it, didn't want it, didn't even have the guts to say it to myself till just now, but I do. I love you Xander, I love you so much…"

"Spike it's okay" Xander stammered out, the words tripping over each other, like he has to get this out now while he has the courage, "I do – I love you too."

For a second Xander could read Spike's face clearly as the emotions crossed his face, shock, astonishment, wonder a pure burning joy, that was as amazing as it was frightening, for a second he even held on to Spike a little tighter, like they were about to be blasted away, then…darkness. Something else. Something unhappy.

Spike shook his head. "No. You can't…you shouldn't. You shouldn't love me I'm…" Spike looked away, biting his lip, he couldn't say what he was, and oh God, was this his punishment? To be given all that he wanted right before he lost it? It couldn't be, he couldn't let himself believe this. Xander couldn't love him, he was scum.

"Really?" Stupid tearful voice, that he couldn't control, seeking for reassurance and Xander's eyes were brilliant with unshed tears, matched in Spike's.

"Yes. I do, I think I knew all the time but I was so busy hating you, and I was so scared…"

"Shhh" Spike kissed him, wet, openmouthed, passionate kissing, quietening him, kisses with tears in them and why was Spike unhappy?

"Don't have to be scared, not now." He muttered in a low fervent voice, almost like an oath. And he was covering Xander's face with kisses. "I love you. Love, love, love you. Understand? An' I am never gonna hurt you again."

And Spike smiled through the tears, and Xander's body was stirring under Spike's, Spike's stirring in response, and Xander was kissing him back so hard, holding him so tight, and suddenly smiling brilliantly at him through his wet eyes, and the happiness burst open in Spike, huge and so overwhelming, blasting aside any unhappiness, because he was with Xander, who loved him.

"So" Xander said mock teasingly, but with a tremor in his voice, "you've got me naked and in your bed, you just gonna look at me all night?"

Spike laughed, Xander reached up for him and all misery was forgotten as they fell into each others arms.

"There will be." Tara said, watching with worry as Willow threw books onto the bed, frantically examining and discarding papers and powders, scattering them on the floor. She was whirling through the room too hurriedly to even take in what she was looking at.

Willow barely even looked at her. "I can't calm down I have to do something! Xander is with Spike right now!"

"He didn't seem too unhappy about it." Tara said tentatively, with an awkward half smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little.

"He's crazed! He doesn't know what he's doing!" Willow's fingers flicked feverishly through a spell book. She knew that Tara was just trying to help, but she didn't want support, or to talk, she wanted to make this stop, right now, before it was too late. She gazed without comprehension at the pages that flashed before her, all she could see was Xander with Spike, holding hands. Her best friend gazing tenderly into the eyes of a demon bent on destroying him. Cold fear for Xander ran like ice water under her skin, into her bones, tightening her stomach, making her feel slightly sick. She had to help, she had to act, now.

"I don't know, maybe a spell to see things clearly, or a de-lusting spell or…"

"It's wrong." Tara's voice was as determined as when she was telling Dawn there was no way they would help raise Joyce. Willow bit back the urge to scream with frustration and worry. She didn't want to fight, she just wished Tara would understand there were no hard and fast rules with magic, rules didn't apply, not for something like this.

"No, I saw you demand that he come away with you, and now I see you trying to make this go away without even telling him! Willow this is Xander's choice. You can't just set yourself up as the boss of him and start using magic to make him behave how you want!"

"Spike can't hypnotize him or force him to do anything he doesn't want. I mean I agree it's crazy, but whatever is going on Xander has chosen to go along with it. Besides I didn't pick up any feel from Spike that he was trying to hurt Xander. I think when he said he wanted to be with Xander he was telling the truth."

"Oh right, so you what, read his aura or something?" Willow said sarcastically, "Oooh I feel so much better now that my best friend is alone with a monster."

Tara flinched and the shame crashed through Willow, rational thought returning as she saw Tara take a step back, her head ducking, her hair tumbling down to hide her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, going over to Tara and stroking her arm apologetically. Tara caught hold of her hand and Willow squeezed back tightly. That had been the first time she'd ever made Tara look like that and she didn't like it.

"I guess I'm acting a little crazed. I'm just so worried about him." Willow slumped down in a chair, all the energy flooding out of her. "Just seeing him like that. Like they were…"

"Yeah but not just that, the guy thing I could get used to. I mean, hello, look at me, totally on board with the gay thing. But Spike? And he nearly hit me, and Xander still…"

"What am I gonna do?" Willow asked helplessly. "Do you think I should tell Buffy, or Giles?"

Tara's hand was warm and soothing as she stroked her hair. "I think tonight you're tired, and upset. You need to try and get some sleep. We can talk in the morning when you're thinking more clearly, and my guess is Xander will be around here tomorrow, looking for some soothing Willow. You haven't lost him."

"I can't remember when I first met him. He's been in my life that long." Willow said, almost to herself. "When he was little he was always getting into trouble, and I'd try and cover up for him." She looked up at Tara, suddenly becoming aware of her again. "I feel like this is my fault. Like I should have saved him."

Tara continued to stroke her hair as she tried to think of the right thing to say. "He's still Xander. Maybe he just doesn't need saving anymore. He's like a boat."

Willow frowned as she replayed that last sentence. It still didn't make sense. "What?"

"You guys go back a long way and are really close, and maybe you've never really cut him loose. Like a boat. Maybe you need to let him sail."

Willow still looked bewildered as she struggled to see this new viewpoint and Tara pressed on. "What if Xander had tried to take you away from me?"

"No way would I let him…Oh." Willow began to grasp what Tara was trying to say – then hit a wall in her mind again. "But Spike?"

"You know I care about Xander, if I thought he was in any danger from Spike I'd have helped you try and take him away, I think he'll be okay, at least tonight. Do you believe me?"

Willow nodded. She trusted Tara completely, and Tara was able to tune into people's feelings, their auras so much better than she could. If Tara was certain Xander was safe with Spike tonight then he was safe. But even later, warm in bed, with Tara pressed against her, sleep remained elusive.

Spike woke slowly. Warmth was pressed next to him, an arm wrapped tightly around him. He opened his eyes properly to look down at Xander who was using his chest as a pillow. They were so close he could feel Xander's heartbeat thudding peacefully against him. He looked so calm. Content. Spike tentatively brushed his fingers brush over Xander's dark hair, afraid to disturb him. He'd had some sweet nights in his time. Some memories he relived over and over. Passionate, triumphant or tender. Not one of them came close to last night. And nothing had prepared him for the feelings he had on waking up and finding Xander Harris wrapped around him. Open and vulnerable and his. It was so sweet it hurt, made him ache inside. He'd never had so much before, never had so much to lose. He tried to take in everything. Every last detail. The exact feel of Xander's skin pressed against his, the texture of his hair, the scent…

Xander began to stir slightly in his arms and the dark eyes fluttered open. Spike met his gaze unwaveringly, though he suddenly felt cold, his throat tight. But he'd made up his mind. He wasn't going to stand back and watch as Xander was taken away from him. The quicker this was over the better.

"Um hey." Xander said, feeling a slight blush rise in his cheeks as he remembered some of the wickedly wonderful things Spike had done to him last night. Some of the stuff he'd done back.

Xander stretched himself experimentally and winced slightly. "Okay, a bit stiff. Not that I'm complaining" he added hurriedly.

Silence fell and Xander didn't quite know how to break it. He looked around aimlessly at the crypt. It wasn't exactly overwhelmed with home comforts, he needed a shower and a coffee in the worst way, though he was still loath to leave. "Do you know what time it is?" he asked at last.

"I guess so." Xander swallowed down the disappointment that Spike was being a little odd, slightly cool towards him. It was a bit of a let down, last night had been so incredible. Maybe that was the problem, Spike could be feeling a little embarrassed about just how much he'd said, done; it was all pretty overwhelming. Maybe a little alone time for them both to get used to all of this would be no bad thing.

His flagging spirits revived, he slid out of bed and began looking around for his clothes. He spotted his boxers and jeans in a crumple at the foot of the bed and slid into them, grimacing slightly at putting on the cold, none too fresh clothes. He was definitely going to have to stop at home before work. He found his shirt and glanced around for his shoes. One was under Spike's jeans, but couldn't see the other. Poking around he went to move back the curtain hanging in the corner of Spike's cavern.

Spike looked nonplussed for a moment then said, "It's there." He pointed to the other corner of the room, where Xander spotted his shoe lying on its side next to the chair.

"Right. Thanks." Then he looked back at the curtain. "What's behind the curtain Spike?" he asked flippantly.

"Blood bags." Spike replied, staring at his cigarette as though he'd never seen anything quite like it before. "Oh and a skull."

Xander shuddered. "Ugh. Too early." He sat down on the chair and laced up his shoes, then stood. "Well," he said awkwardly, "I'd better get to work."

"But tonight…I can get out of patrolling, or you could come over afterwards, and we could…" He trailed off feeling the blush rise again.

"O-okay." Xander turned away, then swiftly turned back. "Okay what? What's wrong?"

"Nothing" Spike fumbled with his lighter. Quick, quiet that was how it was going to be. Easier on both of them. When Xander finished work he'd be long gone from Sunnydale. Best thing. Obviously. Now if Xander would just leave. Stop making this so damn hard.

"Yeah I can see what a happy place you're in right now." Xander said irritated, ignoring the flicker of nervousness stirring. "I thought we were going to start being honest with each other now."

"You know if there's something you want to say…" Xander said, panic making his voice harsh.

Spike sighed, ran his fingers through his ruffled hair, trying to stall for time, but Xander just waited. His dark eyes frightened but determined and Spike felt that damn admiration for him creep through him again, that admiration that made him be honest, even when he least wanted to.

"She was shocked, I mean this is pretty shocking right?" Xander said quickly. "She just needs a little time."

Spike gave a humorless laugh. "And what about Buffy? Giles? How do you think they'll take it?"

Spike didn't reply and Xander swallowed down the guilty feeling that maybe Spike was hurt by his reluctance to admit they were together. He wasn't the bad guy here! Maybe if Spike hadn't been such an asshole in the past they wouldn't be facing this problem now.

"With my friends it's complicated! You know you haven't exactly got the best track record."

"And how long do you think Willow's going to keep this quiet?" Spike began to pull on his jeans in awkward, jerky motions.

"Spike?" Xander cautiously laid a hand on Spike's back but Spike shrugged it off, standing up and pulling on his T-shirt.

"Why do we have to think about all this now? Can't we just be for a while?" Xander snapped, fear making him sound angry.

"They would never let us just 'be', and maybe they're right. Xander I'm a vampire do you even know what that means anymore?" Spike knew he should keep his mouth shut, that he wasn't exactly sticking to the 'quiet, quick' approach, but it was so hard and hurt so much he was screaming inside. He couldn't bear it. He had to somehow get all this hurt out of him, load words up with poison and spit it out. Maybe it was better this way – to make Xander hate him again. Easier for both of them. And maybe at the end of the day, being a bastard was all he knew how to be.

"I'll tell you what it means, it means I look on humans as my food, it means I kill people. It means I've done things that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life if you'd seen them. I'm evil."

"And you're quite happy to just go along with it – until what? I get this chip out – or we might get lucky, it might never happen an' you might decide to stay with me and I get to watch you get killed in some little Scooby fight, or really lucky and just watch you grow old and die. I can't even turn you."

"What?" Xander asked stunned. That had come sliding out so suddenly he didn't even know if he'd heard it right. "Turn me?"

"Make you a vampire? Yeah why not?" And he didn't mean it, of course he didn't, no way would he let that happen, but Xander still wasn't leaving and he had to make him mad, get him out…

Xander shook his head slowly. For a second Jesse's face danced in front of him. Except it wasn't Jesse's face. It was something demonic and cruel. No, don't think about that, can't bear to think about that. He focused on Spike again. "I've always had nightmares about it."

Spike shrugged as if he'd expected nothing else. " But you're quite happy to fuck something you hate?"

"Don't what?" Spike said harshly. "Don't act like what I am? Like a demon? Like the thing you have nightmares about? I don't have a soul…"

"Okay but you have a heart and a brain, and you, you're different from other vampires…"

"I know I don't have to, I want to. It's what I am. You like what you've fallen in love with? I'm telling you how it is. I don't feel guilt about anything, okay? I can treat you however the hell I like, I could reduce you to rubble and not give that" Spike tried to snap his fingers, and couldn't. He rubbed the heels of his hands fiercely into his eyes. /No don't break down, not yet, wait 'till he's gone…/

/Just tell him you don't love him/ a voice spoke up in Spike's head, but he couldn't. The closest he could come was:

"I shouldn't have said what I did last night. You should just f- forget about it."

Spike squeezed his eyes tight shut. "Don't…" /Xander, no. Don't do this. Don't be nice for fucks sake. Hate me. Hate me. Its easy when you hate me. Easier for both of us. Don't love me, don't be sweet, it's only making this scary and hard and so bloody painful…/

Xander's arms slid around his waist. Holding him. Grounding him. The heat of him pressed up against his back, and Spike couldn't summon the will to push him away. He opened his eyes to look at the strong, slightly rough hands clasped across his stomach.

Xander's voice dropped into his ear. Close and warm. "Even when you're acting like this. I love you. I've never said that to anyone before. I know you're scared. I am too. But it'll be okay. We'll work it out."

"Would you come away with me?" Spike asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Xander's hands, already knowing the answer.

Xander froze. "I can't. Not now. I've got a life, a job, friends here, friends that are in a lot of danger, I can't just walk out on all that."

"It'll be okay." Xander crooned. Spike grabbed hold of Xander's wrist, holding on tightly. "One day at a time, that's how we'll do it. After we find out how to get rid of Glory, maybe we can go away, for a little while. The guys will understand, and we'll make this work, we will."

Spike let himself rest against Xander for a moment. Despising himself for his weakness he closed his eyes and listened to Xander's soothing voice spin an impossible dream.

The knock on Willow's door came early, she staggered out of bed, struggling into her dressing gown and yawning. Tara had already gone to class and she was alone, her brain still cobwebbed with tiredness she opened the door, then froze as she saw who it was. She tried to slam the door, but it was too late he'd already jammed his foot in the way.

"Nothing .Well…" Spike amended. "Nothing bad. I came to apologize to you, for last night, nearly hittin' you. I'm sorry."

Willow gave him a look of deep contempt. "If you think I'm going to fall for…"

"I'm really bloody sorry!" And he genuinely was. He'd always liked Red before this, she and Joyce had been the only ones who'd ever even been polite to him. He'd even considered turning her at one point. She'd have been a sweetly vicious little bit of stuff to have hanging around. In a way he'd almost thought of her as a friend. Before he'd started playing with one of her friends and awoken the bitch within.

"You always treated me decently, even when I had no right to expect it. So I'm sorry okay. I'm sorry I acted like a wanker when you were only looking out for your mate. And I know where you're coming from with Xander. If I'd have been you I'd have dusted me."

Her face remained unwavering, and shit this was hard work, His eyes ached with tiredness, his very essence felt rough and hurting.

"Look I'm leaving Sunnydale, today, now, but I had to see you first, to apologize and ask you a favor."

She would have laughed, except she'd never been less amused in her life. "You have got to be kidding – I wouldn't…"

"It's not for me, it's for Xander." Spike said, exhaustion and desperation jostling for position in his voice.

Her brow creased as she stared at him, like she was trying to discern just what he was up to now, and Spike didn't even have the energy to try and look sincere. He just leaned on the doorframe and met her searching emerald gaze with his own unhappy blue eyes. Whatever it was she was looking for she must have found, because her brow creased a little further, but she opened her door wider. "Alright. Come in."

"Now, as soon as I've finished talking to you, just gonna go pack and I'm gone." The words came out roughly like they were catching on something in his throat. He was beginning to understand why he'd never done the right thing before.

Her face was an open book, the sheer contempt and disgust for him were way to close to what he was feeling to take it from someone else.

"Oh don't look like that! I'm doing it for him. No games, no tricks, just this. Yeah I started this for all the reasons you guessed…"

"How could you?" Willow interrupted in disgust. "How could you use him like that! He's never done anything to you!"

"I know alright! It's not like that now. You know I've got bloody reason to be pissed off here as well. Things were going perfectly until he made me feel things for him."

Willow stared at him suspiciously. It was a trick. It had to be. But…Spike really did look terrible. Exhausted, and unhappy, and hurting. Much in fact like she had looked in those awful half-alive days after Oz had left.

Spike sensed she was wavering inside and pressed on. "I can't do it to him. I can't. Please." Oh hell how he hated begging. He gritted his teeth and said it again. "Please. Don't tell him."

"You don't want that. Neither do I, and if I'm gone there's no need to tell him right?" Spike's voice broke slightly.

Willow gasped as the truth hit her. She may not be as good as Tara at reading auras, but Spike was practically a floodlit signpost, she'd have to be blind not to get this.

"You're in love with him!" Willow said in a stunned voice. All the fight drained out of Spike and he just felt very, very tired.

Willow's arms fell to her sides. This was unbelievable, but looking at Spike, what could she do but believe it? Maybe a tiny thought whispered, she hadn't wanted to see this, it would be so much easier if Spike was using Xander, lines would be so clear, black and white, who was bad, who was good. She could have destroyed Spike with a clear conscience, but not now. This wasn't black and white, but a murky mixture of both. It was a mess.

She sighed. Why oh why did this have to have happened? Why did she have to be caught up in it?

"I'm not doing it for you." She said, ruthlessly negating any gratitude. "I'm doing it for Xander. You're right. It'll only hurt him, and all I want is for him to be okay."

"I couldn't do it if I saw him again." He inhaled raggedly, "and it'd never work. Thought we could start again, put it all behind us. But who was I kidding? Besides, he's a mortal. It's for his own good."

Willow rolled her eyes, as her anger, simmering within began to boil over. "What a load of hooey! At least be honest. You don't mean for his own good, you mean for your own good! I'm so sick of you men, you start something, knowing its going to lead to problems, and the minute you hit one you pack up and leave. You're just scared! You found something you really want and it might go wrong, well hello! Welcome to the world! Things don't always work out the way you want but they could still work out…"

She stopped, suddenly realizing what Tara had been trying to say last night. How her life had turned out differently – yet far better – than she or her friends had ever planned, and Tara advising her that maybe the time had come to let Xander 'set sail'.

She stopped and tried to reassemble her thoughts into some kind of working order. She remembered Xander, all those years she'd been best friends with him. Saved him, been saved by him in return. Memories jumbled in her head. Five year old Xander playing with her on the swings bounced off a grim, pale Xander who faced down Angelus. Tara was right. It was time to cut the cord.

"Lets get this straight." She said to the vampire her friend was in love with. "I hate you. I think you're cruel and sick and selfish, and you and me, we're not going to be friends. Ever. You should never have started this."

She stopped to drum up the nerve to carry on, but found it at once, remembering Xander's own willingness to let her set sail, and find Tara. "But you did, things have happened and Tara believes you when you say you don't want to play games anymore, and I believe you when you say you do love him. And if you can make Xander happy, then you should do it. I won't say what I know, whether you stay or go. Unless you step so much as one foot out of line. That's all."

Xander went through his day at work in a daze. One minute he could barely keep the smile off his face, the next he was quietly freaking inside. Spike loved him! Was this how it was meant to be when you were in love? He didn't really know – he'd never felt it before. Was he supposed to keep playing last night over and over in his head? As he worked his hands were encased in battered gloves, but in his head his hands were sliding over the satin of Spike's skin, his wet mouth at Spike's neck. At his nipples, at his…

Xander broke out of that memory with a palpable effort. The last thing he needed was to slice his hand off or something which he was apt to do if he followed that train of thought.

Being in love was amazing. Incredible. Scary. Last night was the first time he'd said 'I love you' out loud. To someone he was in love with. He'd said it to Buffy, a million times in his head. He'd said it to Willow as a friend. He'd never managed to say it to Anya though, or Cordelia. Even though he'd known saying those words would win them back. But the words he'd never been able to bring himself to say had come sliding out of his mouth, faster than greased lightening. True, emotions had been running high, but today he had to face facts he'd said it.

He was in love with Spike. So in love with Spike he could feel it with every beat of his heart. So in love it hurt to breathe and it wasn't happy sunshiny love, it wasn't something he'd have chosen, but it was something real, right in the ground of his being and he couldn't stop any more than he could have ripped a vital part of himself out. He didn't know how it could have happened but it wasn't going to stop.

He hated being so out of control. It wasn't that he didn't feel it, he did, he just hated admitting it, and he guessed by the way Spike had been acting this morning he felt the same. But when he'd left Spike had seemed okay. Still a little quiet but he'd given up on the idea of them going away together and he was going to come and see him tonight. Tonight.

A thump of need in the pit of his belly made him shoot another look at the clock. Damnit! Couldn't the day go any faster? Space was probably a good idea, but he ached to see him, to touch him. In just a few hours they could curl up for the night and shut the world out.

He could understand Spike was scared, he was scared himself, but after last night they couldn't walk away from this. Spike loved him! He loved Spike. They'd get all this sorted out, with some diplomatic miracle he couldn't quite imagine yet Buffy and Giles would be happy for him, Willow and he would make up and he would grow old with Spike, and Spike…wouldn't.

Okay, it wasn't going to be perfect. He honestly couldn't imagine the kind of life he'd have with Spike but whatever it was he knew he wanted it more than a life without him. Buffy and Willow would be fine, they had both had unconventional relationships in their time, a vampire, a werewolf another witch. Hey this was the Hellmouth! They'd get over it. And if they didn't? Well he wouldn't let himself think about that right now. It would be alright. It would.

Spike threw his pen down. What was it with these bloody Scoobies! They couldn't give a creature of the night a fucking break! He was trying to be decent. He was. With trembling hands he set fire to the letter. It was the fourth one he'd started, time was marching on and he still hadn't come close to writing out what was really swirling around in his mind, what he really wanted to say;

'I'm sorry I love you so much I'm too scared to stay and watch you die, I'm scared I won't be good enough and you'll start to hate me.'

Okay so maybe Red had a point. If she wasn't going to tell Xander then he didn't have to leave. She and Xander were right, he was scared, but this was scary stuff. He couldn't just go on and hope tomorrow would sort itself out. He needed to think. To make a decision. But not here. He flashed a glance around the crypt, his eyes fell on the bed. The crumpled sheets, that Xander's fingers had clenched in as he had thrust into him, all the heat, tightness…Spike shook his head, it was too confining in here, the air that still smelt of Xander was distracting.

After work Xander headed to Buffy's to explain he would be absent from patrol. He knew he could call, but he wanted to see if Buffy was okay, he hadn't seen much of her lately. Before he knocked he ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to compose his features, sure that somehow she was going to be able to tell he'd spent last night with Spike.

He took a deep nervous breath and tried to laugh at himself. This was crazy! It was only Buffy. They were still buds. But she knew so little of his life. For a second he caught a glimpse of what Spike had been talking about this morning. Hiding things from his friends, insurmountable tensions. But not forever, he thought quickly. Just until things settled down a little.

He wished he was at home with Spike behind the bedroom door for a few precious hours.

/Come on/ he chided himself /just a quick chat with the Buffster, then its home and peace and Spike kissage. Spike gropage. Spike lovage/

He knocked and after a moment Buffy opened the door, looking tired, but somehow better than she'd looked for a while. Calmer he guessed, like the pressure had eased from inside her a little.

"I just wanted to say I may have to bow out of patrol tonight, I'm uh, not feeling so hot."

"Oh." Buffy looked nonplussed. "Well actually I was thinking maybe we could all take a break from patrolling tonight. I wanted to hang out with you guys – I know I've been distracted girl lately."

She smiled sadly. "I know. But if anything all this – it's made me realize how important it is to be with you guys and with things so crazy with Glory…well, we never know what's going to happen next. We should spend a little time together. So you want to come over with Willow? Giles and Dawn too and we can…"

Xander shook his head. "It sounds so great, but…well me and Willow are kind of weird at the moment."

Xander struggled for an explanation that didn't involve Spike, yet wasn't a total lie. "I don't know…just she's a little overprotective since Anya left, and I know she's only looking out for me but…"

"Ah." Buffy smiled with understanding. "Been there. It can get to you. I remember when I came back after running away…" She faltered a little over the next word but carried on. "Mom and Giles drove me crazy."

She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "But she's probably only trying to help. I know you know this but she does love you. I mean, she was so worried about Spike and you"

Xander's heart gave a hard thud of fear. Willow, couldn't, she wouldn't have told Buffy about him and Spike already would she? Not without talking to him first? Buffy couldn't know, she was being way too normal, he reassured himself frantically.

Buffy replied unconcernedly. "Well you were kind of weird there for a while, probably just missing Anya, but Willow said she saw Spike going into your place and we were worried he was doing something to upset you. I mean I know Willow told you – Spike told me he was in love with me?"

Xander felt all the color drain out of his face. “She said…" Something seemed to have happened to his tongue. It wouldn't work properly. Words were hard to come by. "Um she said he had a crush on you. It was more that that? I mean he…he actually said he was in love with you?"

"Yeah. Or Spike's version of love, more like mega obsession. Yuk. God it was so creepy, he had all this stuff of mine, pictures. I don't even want to think about what he's been doing with them. Well lets just say he did not take rejection well. When I heard Spike was hanging around you and you were upset I was worried, well we were all worried, that he was doing something to you – you know playing games with your head, trying to hurt you so he could brag to me, trying to get back at me for saying no…Um Xander? Are you okay?"

It was the little things he remembered first, stuff that had never really added up. Spike starting this almost immediately after Buffy rejected him. Spike's obvious enjoyment of making it as humiliating as possible for him. Spike's instance on sleeping with him when Spike could get anyone. Then flashes of memory got faster, flickering through his brain like high speed shutters. The bigger stuff, Spike admitting the demon attack had been a lie to get an invite into his place, hadn't that been a little extreme? Willow gently telling him about Spike's crush – and hadn't he sensed even then that there was more to this than he knew? And finally last night Willow protective to the last, her shout echoing in his ears.

"Nothing," Xander heard himself saying as if from a long way off. "I've just remembered I have a place to be."

"…catch up later." Buffy finished to an empty room, her brow creased with bewilderment.

Spike lounged comfortably on his duster as he surveyed the deserted beach, the silver water. He'd been here for a while now. He like to pretend that he didn't have much time for beauty, but that was a lie. Of course he loved the noise, the scent, the charge you got off a roomful of smoke and loud music and people, but wide open spaces and sea breeze and moonlight had its charm. He'd like to bring Xander here. He wondered idly if he could take Xander away where they'd go. Anywhere where Xander would like to go he guessed. He'd already been pretty damn near everywhere on this rock. The only stipulation he'd make was they'd have to go someplace where nobody would bother them. Paris maybe. Parisians barely raised an eyebrow at anything.

Spike exhaled, feeling the tension draining away from his body. To think he'd thought he was being brave leaving town! To gutless to stay was more like the truth. He had genuinely wanted to do the best thing for Xander, but he'd also wanted to get away, before he got hurt. Caught up in a life where he'd have to make nice with the Slayer. A life where he would have to watch Xander grow old and die. And that was a best case scenario. William the Bloody. Terrified of loving a mortal. Except he wasn't William the Bloody anymore. He didn't know who he was anymore. Loving Xander meant giving up on being the man he had been. And he liked the man he had been. He'd had a blast.

Maybe he'd even wanted the Slayer because she was what he'd been used to. Trained for by Drusilla and Angelus. Someone out of reach, demanding, some good looking heartbreaker who would never have been happy with him.

With Xander he'd have to be a good guy. There was no other way – it was the 'good and pure' light that shone out of Xander like a lighthouse beam. Loving Xander meant giving up on the daydream of ever getting this bloody chip out. It meant giving up on seeing anything other than Sunnydale for the foreseeable future. No more hunting, drinking, bleeding, screaming. It meant bagged blood and good manners and drinking tea and helping people. The whole thing had a vanilla feel to it that made him feel slightly sick. But it also meant Xander, the one thing he now knew he was never going to give up. Xander was leading him into a new world, and while it wasn't his world, it was one he could adapt to. Maybe he wasn't the best thing for Xander, but he could make himself be, and although it wasn't going to be a picnic he already knew it was going to be worth it. Especially since Red was now – kind of – on their side, he could relax a little. Xander never needed to know just how badly this had begun.

It was time to use those famous guts he'd boasted of. Long haul guys didn't run away because they were scared. Yeah, the thought of watching Xander age was scary, but the thought of missing it…that was unbearable. Xander was going to die an old man, warm and loved, and Spike was going to be right there holding his hand.

He bid good-bye to Buffy. Silently and without drama, he'd been chasing something that didn't exist. He'd been a bastard so long he'd forgotten he could be anything else. It was time to find out.

Xander raced to Spike's crypt, his heart thudding fast, his breath sounding in his ears, harsh and loud. He felt disconnected to everything, everything was dreamlike, except no dream had ever taken so much painful effort to move. Never in any dream had he felt so much sick despair. Never had getting anywhere in a dream felt so bumpy and hard going. No, no dream had ever felt like this. But a couple of nightmares had.

He finally got to the graveyard and hammered on the door to Spike's crypt but when there was no answer he burst in.

There was no sign of him in the above ground part. There wasn't much of anything in this part – Spike kept all his stuff underground.

He scrambled down into the cavern his hands shaking so much he kept slipping on the ladder. It was empty in here too. Undisturbed from this morning. He felt oddly like crying and wanted to scream, to run away to do something, anything but be here, now. Wanted to go back to last night when everything was hopeful and new. Wanted to go home and wait for Spike and pretend he'd never seen Buffy today…

His eyes fell on the curtain in the corner. The nightmare feel was stronger, but the thing he was running from was right in front of him. He began to walk over to it. The sick feeling was getting worse, but he was only aware of it on the very edge of his mind, the rest of him was impossibly blank.

People hid so much stuff. So many things that you could never know about someone. No matter how close you were. But some stuff could be discovered if you tried, stuff hidden under the flimsiest of covers. But sometimes it was easier to just accept the cover. Not look at what was underneath. He could have found this out a long time ago if he'd really wanted to. But he hadn't, because maybe he didn't want to know, some things he just wasn't ready for. Like staring directly at the sun could blind you, some truths were just too painful. He stopped. For a sick, shaking moment he just stared. Then, with a quick desperate movement; he wrenched back the curtain.

When Spike got back to the crypt he was tired but excited. He quickly climbed the ladder down to the inner cavern and gazed around. The bed crumpled and untouched since this morning. This place was a dump. If he was going to be staying in Sunnydale and have a boyfriend he'd better find something nicer than this. The scent of Xander still hung lightly in the air from last night, making his stomach twist with the need to see him. He stared at the curtain in the corner of his cavern within the crypt. He hadn't looked behind since before Joyce had died, but it had always been at the back of his mind. Never quite forgotten. He reached out and slowly drew the curtain back. He walked into the small room, barely more than an alcove. The pictures, the scent, the sheer volume of Buffy souvenirs hit him hard. He gazed at it all for a moment, then lightly touched a photo of her stuck to the wall. So much stuff…He'd spent so long here in the past, soaking in the only tangible things of her he would ever have, even when he hadn't looked at this stuff, he still hadn't moved on completely. He hadn't been ready. But he was now.

With a sudden nod he made a fist around the picture, crumpling it and threw it into the cardboard box he brought with him, everything, her pictures, her clothing still faintly scented with her perfume, that shampoo she always used, a stake she'd dropped, it all went in, he didn't pause to look at any of it.

He lit a match and held it to her sweater, it caught quickly and he dropped it into the box, the fire licked hungrily at the fuel and burned merrily before sputtering and just as quickly dying down.

Spike turned and climbed up the ladder. He didn't look back, as he walked towards Xander's place he felt more light-hearted than he had in longer than he could remember, he picked up the pace a little. He couldn't wait to see Xander.

Xander staggered into his apartment, he didn't know how he'd got back from Spike's crypt, he couldn't remember the journey, just a rushing, noisy blur, though he remembered grabbing onto his stomach as he vomited, retching desperately without relief in the street. Disgusting. He was disgusting.

He looked around at his apartment with uncomprehending eyes. It looked so normal, so utterly still. It was home but he couldn't reach it, like he was looking at it from a long distance away, it was as silent as a tomb with no comfort to offer.

Shouldn't he be crying? Raging, screaming, anything, but all there was only an awful cold space. Surrounding him, inside him.

"I never loved him," he said aloud. His voice sounded so loud in his ears he winced. His throat burned, it hurt. Throat, nose, eyes, they all hurt. He groped his way to the couch and sat down stiffly, he needed to do something normal, and then he'd feel better. He pressed the remote and the T.V came on. He flinched back at the loud noise, the bright colors and groped again at the remote, turning it off. The silence fell again, worse this time and he began to shiver. Maybe talking to someone would help. He pulled the phone over to him and held the receiver up to his ear but he couldn't think of a number to call. There was no one he could talk to and he just listened to the dial tone until an automated voice came on and told him to replace the receiver. With a dull thud he put it down. What was wrong with him? Maybe if he let this out then he'd feel better. He tried to cry but tears wouldn't come.

"Bastard," he said aloud, but it had no power behind it. He moved then, stumbling into the kitchen, opening and slamming cupboard doors, blindly searching until his fingers closed over the bottle of scotch the guys in work had given him for his birthday. It was still unopened. He wasn't really much of a drinker. The liquid glinted brown. Brown like the curtain he'd pulled back in Spike's crypt, and behind it. Buffy. Pictures of Buffy, clothes of Buffy's, Buffy's perfume, drawings of Buffy, hundreds of Buffy's laughing down at him.

"Never loved him," he said again, trying to use the words to switch off the memories. He looked down at himself. He should be bleeding. He was bleeding inside, slashed, torn to ribbons. There should be marks on the outside, on his body, his clothes should be ripped, something. He slopped some of the scotch into a glass and drank it, his fingers numb, not gripping the glass properly. The liquid burned down his throat, but it tasted of nothing. Clutching the bottle he staggered out of the kitchen, towards the mirror. He stared at his reflection in the glass, tentatively touching his face. His reflection didn't look real anymore, just random shapes that didn't make sense. Was that him? Trapped in the world beyond the glass. Impaled on this awful moment that didn't seem to be ending. Unable to conceive of a future where he wasn't half dead and cold all over.

A knock was rapped onto his door, but he couldn't move, couldn't answer, just stared into the mirror at the room beyond. The door was knocked on again, rattled impatiently and it flew open, but there was no reflection of anyone standing in the entrance.

"Xander!" Spike examined happily as the door swung open to reveal that Xander was there. When there had been no answer he'd been worried that Xander had decided to go on patrol after all and he'd have to wait for him to get back. He really wasn't in the mood for waiting, last night felt like forever ago. He ached to touch him, he'd missed him so badly. This had been one hell of a long day and they'd already wasted enough time. He and Xander had a lot to talk about – but there were a few things he wanted to do first, none of which included deep conversation. A few moans and cries of pure pleasure however would be perfect.

Spike began to walk over to him, smiling, just a few steps before he could hold him, just a few steps to a whole new future, and no way was he letting go again.

"Why didn't you answer when I…?" Spike began then stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped moving. Just froze halfway across the room, his words sucked up until nothing was left but silence. Nothing but that and the sight of Xander's reflected face.

It was very quiet. Not much happened. Xander didn't move. Didn't speak. But in the utter silence Spike could hear the death knell as the future they'd come so close to collapsed around him. Something cold, sickly and frightened began to crawl under his skin, nestling inside him.

Xander didn't speak, didn't turn to face him, the silence was his reply and Spike felt a roaring in his head as he saw the few steps between them grow, expand into a gulf that he could never bridge.

"I tried to tell you." Spike said at last when the silence became too terrible to listen to any longer. "I wanted to tell you. But I knew if I did, I'd lose you."

"I couldn't bear it you see," Spike said, almost to himself. "If I lost you. I was going to make it up to you. For the rest of your life." Without him noticing tears began to slide silently down his cheeks.

"I didn't love you at first. You knew that. I do now. Nothings really changed." Was he even speaking? Was he even really here? It felt like he was sinking without a trace, his words falling on deaf ears because Xander never spoke, never even turned to see him, just kept looking at that empty space in the mirror where he stood in the room beyond.

"Xander, c'mon, scream at me, beat me up, just don't just stand there, trying to make out I'm not here. I know what I did. I can't believe I did it to you. I was an utter bastard – I seduced you, used you, played games…" He started stumbling over the words, but there had to be something. Something he could say that would fix this.

"I was so stupid…but then you were so…and I couldn't help myself I fell in love with you…I never loved Buffy, if I had I wouldn't have tried to hurt her – I know this is a nightmare, but…"

"I'll do anything to put this right, anything…I love you so much…just tell me what you want me to do."

Xander slowly turned around, Spike looked up as the hope, sharp and powerful sprung up inside him that died as he saw Xander's face. His eyes were red rimmed, burning in a white face, his mouth set in a cold hard line.

"No," Spike whispered through numbed lips. He moved suddenly, springing over to him, grabbing on tightly to his arms. "Listen to me I love you, why this started doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't!"

Xander tried to pry his fingers away from his arms, nothing on his face but an expression of horrified distaste. Spike began to shake him desperately; Xander shook back and forth in his arms as unresponsive as a rag doll.

Spike stopped shaking him, and let go of his arms. He reached up holding Xander's face between his hands; he swallowed down a sob as he frantically smoothed back the dark hair, trying to take away the pain through simple touch.

"You have to forgive me," he pleaded as the tears still slipped down his face, his fingers tight in Xander's hair. "You have to."

He gazed searchingly into Xander's eyes, only this morning they had looked at him with hope, love. There was nothing in there now, they stared back at him, empty, unresponsive and numb.

The sobs came then, wrenching through his body as he crumpled, sinking to his knees, his hands clinging on to Xander's waist, tears soaking into Xander's shirt while Xander's hands remained limply by his sides. He buried his face into Xander's stomach, smelling his skin under the fabric of his shirt and this wasn't his anymore.

A sound like a sob was trying to break free from Xander came from above him, and for a moment Spike allowed himself to hope, but then he was hauled to his feet, and shoved away. Xander's face was pinched, but his eyes were dry.

"Get out, get out, GET OUT!" Xander shoved him, again and again. Hard, quick pushes like he just couldn't stand to touch him. Spike staggered back as words coming from Xander filtered into his ears. Jerky, jagged sentences.

Until he was at the door, Xander reached past him and wrenched it open pushing him through it, slamming the door in his face, as though he couldn't bear to look at him a second longer.

Spike instinctively reached out to it, then stopped, his fingers hovering just over the doorknob. He dropped his hand and slowly backed away until he hit the wall and let his legs buckle as he sank down to the floor, shivering uncontrollably.

/Xanderxanderxander/ It was all he could think, over and over. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, crumpled outside Xander's apartment like he'd been gutted, weak and powerless. He couldn't bear to move away, but eventually he couldn't bear to stay sitting there, listening to the silence from inside Xander's apartment, knowing he was just behind that wall, so close, but so completely out of reach.

He dragged himself up and stumbled blindly down the corridor on shaking legs. His eyes blurred and he couldn't see, couldn't hear except for the hoarse sobs resounding in his ears, they just went on and on.

Willow was just getting out of the bath when she heard the phone ringing and made a dash for it, for once it worked and she caught it before it stopped ringing. Hopefully it would be Xander, she was itching to talk to him, but she guessed he'd be holed up with Spike, doing whatever it was that they did. Thankfully her mind blanked out in an anti-ick protection device.

"Yeah – can you pick up some chocolate ice cream on your way over? Dawn wants some."

"He was over here before and he rushed off on me, I've tried calling but there's no answer. I'm getting worried."

"I was telling him about tonight and he said he didn't think he'd come because you guys had been a bit weird. I said it was only because you cared and I told him how worried you were in case Spike was using him to get back at me after I told him to leave me alone and…"

"Yeah, and he just rushed off. Willow what's going on? Should I not have said? I was only trying to help. Is Spike doing something…?"

"…tonight." Buffy finished to a dead line. "Why do people keep doing this to me?"

Buffy flew out of the house, after extracting a sincere promise from Dawn not to move until Giles got there and headed for Xander's. She had a hunch that Willow would be heading there, but had the advantage that Willow had further to travel than she did. Plus she could run faster.

She was in so much of a rush that she flew scant inches past one of Glory's minions watching her from the bushes and didn't notice. She also didn't notice when he began following her.

She raced to Xander's place and hammered on his door but when there was no answer she tried it. It opened with no problem. She frowned – Xander must be here – no way would he go out leaving his place unlocked.

The apartment was dark, the curtains were closed so not even moonlight penetrated the gloom. She moved to snap the light on then paused. The hairs on the back of her neck stood lightly on end. Something was here, she could sense it. She lowered her hand. If the 'something' was Xander she didn't want to frighten him off or make it worse, whatever 'it' was, but something was very wrong. She could feel it.

"Hello?" She cautiously entered the room. In the darkness she waited for eyes to adjust a little before looking around. Dark, cold, silent. Yep. Wrongness was just baked right in. Ignoring the fear tickling at her spine she began to look around.

Nobody in the front room, no Xander curled up on the couch, or noisily pottering around in the kitchen. She peered in the bedroom.

"Xander?" He wasn't asleep in bed or in the bathroom. She stood and frowned as she circled slowly around in the front room. It seemed empty…

Then a kind of muffled shifting sound caught her attention to the corner of the room where the shadows were darkest.

"Xander? Is that you?" She slowly approached the shadows, seeing a bigger shadow nestled in amongst them. She knocked against his coffee table on the way over and flinched. Dreadful possibilities were racing through her head making her skin turn cold. Xander could have been turned, he could have been attacked, he could be dying…

"Xander, I'm gonna pull the curtain back a little bit," she said gently. She drew it back, letting the moonlight and streetlight enter the room, and lighten up the corner where he crouched.

She gasped involuntarily. It was the bad light, she reassured herself frantically. It was the poor light that made him look like that, like his eyes were bottomless dark pits opening up in the whiteness of his face. He flinched as he saw her and rubbed his eyes. Something terrible had obviously happened, but at least he was alive.

For a moment he didn't seem to have heard her then she saw the light glinting on the half empty bottle next to him, and wondered if he was just to far gone to respond.

"Okay – I'm just going to turn the lamp on over there," she said, swiftly snapping on the lamp.

He shook his head. "I don't want you to look at me," he croaked. His voice sounded rusty, underused.

"I don't think that." Buffy grabbed his hands and held them tightly, trying not to wince at the sight of him. "I'll never think that, no matter what."

His mouth twisted like he was about to cry, and she almost welcomed it, anything would be better than this bottled up unresponsiveness that was totally unlike Xander, but then he drew back from the edge, and just kept his eyes on the floor.

"Buffy. Let me talk to him," said Willow from where she had arrived, panting and out of breath in the doorway. "Give us a minute."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know what is going on here." Buffy snapped at Willow still holding on to Xander's hands. It was the only contact she had with him and it felt tentative at best.

"I'm trying to. You're not making it easy. Please Xander I know Spike's done something bad, tell me, I'll fix it."

"Whatever he's done I'll kill him!" Buffy swore as the frustration got the better of her. "Xander what could be so bad that…"

"Xander." Willow knelt beside him. "After Buffy told you, what happened? Did you see Spike?"

Buffy ignored her, still stroking Xander's hands. " What? What has he made you do? Why does seeing the pictures bother you so mu…"

She looked at him again, he was still staring at the floor, his hands resting limply in hers.

"Spike and you…" Buffy stopped. She looked at Xander who was still unable to meet her eyes, she looked at Willow and the wary, miserable expression on her face was all the confirmation she needed.

She dropped his hands in shock and leaned back on her heels. "No. No. You didn't, you couldn't have, Xander please, please tell me you didn't…"

But Xander just shivered and hid his face in his hands like the shame was too much to bear.

In Xander's bedroom, out of his earshot Willow and Buffy faced each other warily.

"But Xander isn't…he wouldn't…oh God what is happening to us all?" Buffy asked helplessly. "Spike and Xander. How could this happen?"

"I don't know." Willow took a quick peak out to check that Xander was still in the corner where they had left him, before securely closing the door.

"Oh God," Buffy whispered. "This can't be happening." Suddenly she turned to Willow.

"It wasn't exactly the right time to tell you! I tried to stop it, but things got complicated, I'm not sure what's going on. I know it's a shock but…"

"A shock?" Buffy mimicked in disbelief. " A SHOCK? When I get hold of Spike I'm going to rip him apart. He's sick, sick…"

Her voice broke as she sank down on the bed, and covered her face in her hands. There was a dip as Willow sat down on the bed next to her.

"I didn't kill him because he couldn't fight back…because I thought he was helpless." She dragged her hand across her tear-streaked face. "And now Xander is paying because I was so stupid."

"I hate him." Buffy's mouth twisted. "I hate him." Her hands clenched compulsively, like they just couldn't wait to get hold of him.

"Spike came to see me today," Willow said hesitantly. "He knew I'd worked out what was going on. He came to beg me not to tell Xander. He said he was going to leave town, and I'm not sure anymore what was going on, but I think…or I thought he meant it. He said he'd given up on the idea, he didn't want to hurt Xander. I don't think he wanted Xander to see all that stuff."

"Oh he was lying alright, he planned all this." Buffy rubbed her head trying to contain the ache throbbing inside. "Why didn't I make him leave town?"

"I'll help him in my own way. I will hunt down. Maim. Destroy Spike." Her voice was filled with utter loathing.

"Buffy no!" Willow examined fearfully. "I know how you feel, and as much as I'd like to throw a thunderbolt at Spike myself right now, killing Spike isn't going to help Xander, it's not going to make this go away, it'll make it worse. Xander doesn't need the Slayer, he needs a friend."

"I'm the reason this happened! I'm the last person Xander needs to see right now, he probably hates me."

"Willow I can't go out there!" Buffy rose to her feet and began pacing the room in agitation. "I know he's the victim in all this but it's not like he had to go along with it!"

"God!" Buffy cringed in disgust. "Don't say that! Don't even think it! He could have stopped, asked for help…"

"Like you did when Angel came back from Hell?" Willow pointed out sharply as anger began to boil up inside her. She stood and moved to block Buffy's path. "Like you could just switch off your feelings and kill him when he turned evil?"

"That was different! I was…it was all different. But this…it's like I don't even know who that is out there! Its not Xander, its disgusting…"

She heard the cracking noise a split second after the hot pain flew across her cheek.

Buffy gasped, her hand flying to cover her face. It hadn't been much of a slap, more noise than anything, and it certainly took a hell of a lot more than that to make her cry but her eyes still welled up again as she stared in shock at Willow.

Willow faced her looking just as shocked. "I'm sorry," Willow stammered. "I didn't…I'm sorry." She looked down at her hand incredulously. "God, I can't believe I did that, I didn't mean to….Buffy…" She tentatively reached out and Buffy's face crumpled.

They wrapped their arms around each other, clinging on in a tight embrace, trying to draw strength, from each other, reassurance that somehow all of this would work out.

"Don't you get scary on me Will, I couldn't take it," Buffy gasped into her shoulder.

"I won't, I'm sorry," Willow replied, holding on even tighter. The stayed locked in each others arms for a long moment then eventually pulled apart, a little embarrassed in a way they'd never been before.

"I didn't mean that Xander was disgusting," Buffy struggled to explain. "I just meant…that Spike did this to him and it's like he's…tainted him, and Xander's let him, I just wish I knew why."

Time didn't seem to have any meaning for Xander anymore. It felt like hours he'd crouched in the dark drinking before Buffy came, now it all seemed to be overlapping messily. He was drunk but it wasn't helping, it just made everything muffled and distorted. He couldn't believe it was still only one day. Only this morning he'd woken up in Spike's bed, from that to this.

But he couldn't think about that. Couldn't bear to think about last night, or Spike's visit this afternoon, he had to keep it blocked out, it was the only way he could stand it.

His bedroom door opened and Buffy came out looking pale and sad. He was half expecting her to leave, maybe spit on him as she walked past, but she sat down on the floor next to him.

It was kind of nice she was still trying, even now she knew. Xander only wished he could feel grateful, but he couldn't let himself feel anything. He knew what was lurking behind those floodgates of feeling, and it was too frightening to let anything in. He had to stay like this, trapped in a grey cold bubble he couldn't let himself get out of.

Silence fell between them. He didn't hate Buffy…exactly, it was hardly her fault Spike had done what he did, but why couldn't things have been different? Couldn't she have done something so Spike wouldn't have done this? And it hurt to see her. Hurt to listen to her, to watch her move and know that this was what Spike had wanted, had always wanted and he couldn't even compete. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, /never loved him/ and gulped at the scotch. Buffy shifted uncomfortably.

Yeah, silence was good, he could cope with silence. Silence where he could sit and not think, not feel, just finish the bottle. But Buffy was talking again, and though he tried to block them, the words dripped into his ears, into his head.

"I remember after I…sent Angel to hell I couldn't cry. I almost did, but I had to hold it back. I was scared once I started I would never be able to stop."

"I was the same when…when Mom died. I thought I was coping," she continued as she stroked his hand. "But really I was just hiding. When something feels that bad, like you're dying inside, well I guess anyone would be scared to face that. But until you do you can't let go. You can't get better if you just switch off."

He felt his hand grip on to hers a little tighter even as he thought frantically /Oh shut up Buffy, please shut up, please don't…./

"You loved him didn't you? If anyone knows that you can't help who you love it's me. And when someone you love breaks your heart, you're allowed to feel hurt. You're allowed to cry."

A tiny earthquake was beginning inside him. Despite sitting so quietly he could feel something shift inside him. /No, no/ he thought panicked, but it spread, got bigger, more powerful, until he opened his mouth.

"I loved him," Xander said aloud, slowly, tasting the words in his mouth. "I did."

Like he'd finally slid the final piece into a puzzle the world that had been looking so wrong, so confusing that all he could do was hide from it in a dark corner, flew back into shape, a terrible, heartbreaking shape that he couldn't avoid any longer.

The bubble burst. The iron grip around his heart loosened, and he was dimly aware of Buffy taking him in her arms at the tears finally came.

Later – a long time later he was lying in bed with Buffy sitting beside him. Willow was in the kitchen, probably getting yet another jug of water. She'd made him drink a lot saying it would help the hangover tomorrow. He didn't think anything would make him feel better tomorrow but he'd drank it anyway. They hadn't spoken very much. He'd cried lot, but then so had Buffy and Willow. In a weird way it had helped, at least it lessened his humiliation that they knew; that he'd hit rock bottom in front of them. It was still painful to look at Buffy but the near hate he'd been feeling for her had faded into an ache that he could live with. She was hurting because he was hurting and somehow it made it easier to forgive her for the memory of drawing back the curtain. He let his head rest back on the pillows. It felt so good to just let its weight go.

Xander shrugged, then tried to smile except his face was so twisted with tears that he couldn't manage it. He felt damaged, disfigured with his misery. "Shame?"

"You didn't think I'd understand? You fell in love with a vampire and you didn't think I'd understand?!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't like I was supportive guy there. I didn't think I deserved any help. I knew what I was doing was crazy, but I couldn't stop it, I just felt like I had to go my own way and hope at some point it would all come together." He sighed shakily as his eyes began stinging again, but managed to hold back another crying bout. "But it all fell apart."

"I know the feeling." She smoothed the blanket down over him and managed to choke down her own tears. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this I wish I could make it stop."

"How is he?" Willow asked as Buffy entered the kitchen where she was drinking her fourteenth cup of coffee.

"Not great. I've never seen him like this before. I think he's resting now," Buffy replied wearily. "What time is it?"

"Sure. Tara knows I'm here. Buffy? Do you think I should tell him about Spike coming to see me? Maybe it'll help, maybe this is all some kind of mistake."

"The only mistake as far as I can see is that Spike hasn't been introduced to my friend Mr. Pointy," she paused, then grabbed her coat. "But maybe I can do something about that."

Buffy turned to face her, and Willow felt herself shrinking back in the chair. The determined Buffy 'kick ass' look had nothing on the expression of pure murderous rage on her face right now.

"No maybe not." Buffy acknowledged as she opened the door. "But it'll feel good."

Spike sat numbly outside his crypt, the night air was waning into the pre-sunrise scent that warned him that time was short, but he still sat there, unmoving. No more howling, raging or screaming, he'd emptied himself out. Inside his crypt was torn apart, furniture broken, bottles smashed, one had shattered in his grasp leaving shards that had left tiny cuts all over his hands.

His eyes hurt but the tears still came, slipping silently down his cheeks, but no sobs, he was too tired now to sob. Still he couldn't face lying in the bed that had Xander's scent clinging to it. Couldn't face lying still and thinking about this day. Couldn't face sleeping only to wake up and know that Xander wouldn't be there, and it was all his fault. Every time the horror hit him afresh, that he'd brought this whole thing on himself, and even worse, on Xander. He didn't know how this had happened, maybe Willow had lied, maybe she had told Xander anyway, maybe she'd told Buffy who'd told Xander, right now it didn't matter. All that mattered was he loved Xander and Xander was gone. He couldn't bear to think of what Xander must be thinking, feeling. He had to find Xander, he had to explain, but what could he say that he hadn't already said? All he could do was say 'sorry, I love you, I'm sorry…' But it wasn't enough.

Maybe it would be better tomorrow but today, now he couldn't think about tomorrow, couldn't think about anything but sitting here. In the distance a pink tinge began to break in the sky. He had to move but he was afraid to, to scared to take that step into his crypt and accept that the day would end like this. To scared to do anything that might mean that life was moving on, without Xander, his mouth opened in a soundless wail, he couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it…

A rustle came from behind him, but he didn't turn to face it, whatever it was could have him. He didn't care. He felt himself hoisted up and hurled, when he flew through the air he just closed his eyes and almost enjoyed the rush as the air flew past his ears, enjoyed the moment of weightlessness until he smashed back to the ground. Not a second to recover, even if he'd wanted to, she was on him again.

She…the Slayer, Buffy. So she knew. She didn't speak a word, as she dragged him to his feet and hurled him face first into the side of the stone mausoleum. His nose broke and began to pour with blood, she raised his head and pounded it into the stone again, again, again. All the time she never spoke a single word and Spike felt oddly removed from his body, almost dreamlike, as she pulled him back, punched him to the ground, and kicked him, hard kicks that landed on his thigh, his face, his stomach. He gasped, retched, laughed, cried and laughed again. It had worked, it was perfect, the reaction he'd dreamed of getting from her when he'd first begun this. She was crazy with grief, out of her mind with anger and sorrow and it was amazingly, incredibly funny that he'd come so far, yet ended up back at the beginning. Just as he'd imagined it except he wasn't dodging, shouting taunts, reveling in her pain, he was too busy drowning in his own. She straddled him and began to rain blows down on him, harder and harder. No words, no quips, just her breath loud and hoarse and the crunching as his bones cracked under her blows. He didn't move to block her, to try to get away, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. He laughed and bled, and the tears kept pouring, mingling with the blood, he didn't care. He welcomed the blows, it was a distraction from the wrenching aching pain in his chest where his heart should be.

Buffy froze, her hands clasped firmly around the stake. For the first time she looked at Spike under her, bloodied and battered he just looked at her from reddened eyes. He was still laughing at little, but there were tears on his cheeks glinting wetly.

/Has he been crying all the time?/ The thought flashed in her head as she stared at him. One word, one movement from him would have brought the stake smacking into his chest, but he just lay still.

The red mist hanging over her eyes cleared. She still wanted to kill him. Her hands twitched with the need to slam the stake down. But the consequences were just too high, if she killed someone Xander had loved, probably still loved despite everything it would only set the pain in stone, he would never trust her again.

Spike shook his head. "Get over yourself Slayer," Spike spat out a mouthful of blood and stared up at her out of an eye rapidly swelling shut. "This hasn't been about you almost from the start."

"Then why carry on?" A moment ago she could have dusted him and only felt joy, now all she felt was terribly, heartbreakingly sad, for Xander, for herself, for continually trying to save a world that let things like this happen.

"Because you stupid, stupid bitch I love him." He laughed again then, a terrible lost sound that made her skin crawl. So might Drusilla have laughed when she found the bodies of her family; then his laughter turned back into tears. "I love him."

"You don't know how to love." She slowly lowered the stake and moved off him. She stood, looking down at him.

"You're disgusting. You're nothing. I want you out of town, I want you away from me and mine, if you come back…"

"Do your worst love! I've got nothing to bloody go on for anyway. Did you find out? Did you tell him? I've got to hand it to you – you just keep on fucking up my life don't you?"

"You started this!" Buffy yelled. "You did all this! This is because of you, you and your sick games!"

"The hell with you," Spike said wearily, bitterly as he staggered to his feet wiping blood from his mouth with a shaking hand. "The hell with you and your fight and your key…"

Buffy froze. Spike had never come closer to dying than he did in that moment. Maybe it was even what he wanted. "You ever tell anyone who the key is and I…"

Buffy regarded him through reddened eyes for a moment. Pure loathing flooded through her veins, she was so close to staking him it took a palpable wrench to pull her eyes away, to unclench her fists.

She turned away and wearily began the journey home. Spike's legs bucked again, but he managed to stagger slowly, reluctantly back into his crypt.

As the pink flooded the sky with the sunrise Glory's minion cautiously came out from the gravestone he had been hiding behind, his eyes alight with glee as an unpleasant smile began to spread over his face.

"What do you mean you CAN'T FIND HIM?" Glory roared, grabbing the offending minion by the throat, lifting him off his feet. She tightened her grip, listening to the minute cracking of his bones, the terrified choking sounds that escaped from his mouth. His arms and legs flailed wildly, yet he still didn't dare to try to force her hand away. Repelled by touching his grotesque skin she tossed him aside with a flick of her wrist as if she were brushing away a fly. He crashed headfirst into the wall and slowly slid down, where he lay motionless, a wavy red trail along the wall behind him. She turned her furious gaze on the others, who stood cringing in front of her, their forced smiles belying the horror in their eyes.

"I don't want to hear any more 'you can't find him' crap! It's been a week since you promised me this guy, and here I am and oh look around," she flung her arm out to indicate her apartment and they all flinched back in fear. "He's still not here!"

"Screw your apologies, he knows who my key is!" She stamped her foot in frustration and the building shook around her, a long crack appearing in the floor. "Are you sure he's still even here? What the hell is in this miserable town worth staying for?"

"Oh believe us most wondrous and worshipped one, we have been watching all the exits, most assuredly he is still in town."

"You'd better. Get out, out, out! I'm sick of looking at your disgusting faces! Follow the Slayer, follow all her little friends, scour this stinking town for him and don't come back without him!"

The others scuttled out while Jinx remained behind as Glory pulled at her hair, screaming in pure anger and frustration.

"Calm?" Glory whirled to face him and he recoiled at the mad light burning too brightly in her eyes. "This guy, we don't even know the name of has vanished knowing where my key is. Do you care that it's my only way of getting home?"

"I have been trapped in this miserable dimension for decades and now my one shot to get home is here and nobody will help me! "

Unaware of the chaos and frustration he was causing Spike was enjoying a rare moment of peace. He sank comfortably back on the bed, arms stretched above him, childlike and content, and gazed dreamily up at the ceiling, watching the flecks of light making hazy patterns.

Spike turned his head to see Xander lying next to him. His eyes were bright, his skin glowing.

Xander flashed a grin at him as he slid over, picking Spike up in his arms along the way. Spike laughed out loud as they rolled over and over. Just how big was this bed anyway?

Xander stopped rolling and shuffled around until they were lying in an embrace. Xander's hair tickled at Spike's cheek. Spike inhaled deeply, the unique Xander scent filled his senses. Sunlight streamed into the room, turning his pale skin golden. This was perfect. Except for that hissing, gushing sound that filled his ears. Where was that coming from anyway?

Spike glanced over at the bedroom door, it was slightly ajar, and through the crack he couldn't see anything but darkness, pitch black and for a second he could swear he had a flash of himself wading through the dirty water and grime of the sewers. Surrounded by chill and stench and dark. Shoving his fist in his mouth to choke back the sobs…

A sick thud of fear slammed inside him as the sight of the sheets hit his eyes. Long filthy streaks were smeared over the white cotton. Spike bolted upright, and stared in disbelief at his hands, black, streaked with dirt.

The rushing noise roared in his ears as the sunshine faded away, the color vanishing from the room, just the white sheets and the black grime he'd spread over them. He had to fix this, put it right…

"I have to wash my hands." Spike stuttered, holding them up in front of his face.

With a start Spike met Xander's eyes. Except Xander's eyes were never so empty and calculating. "You're not real." Spike said, and he knew it was true, but if Xander wasn't real why was he so scared? "This isn't happening."

"I thought it already had." Xander, sprawled in the filthy sheets, shrugged carelessly. "That's life huh?"

Spike shook his head. "No, it's not really black and white." And that was a pretty weird thing to say, but he couldn't think straight, the roaring noise was so loud and it was so cold and the right words were there somewhere, he knew that he just had to find them.

At some point tears had begun tricking their way down his cheeks, as Xander looked at him with a kind of disinterested compassion.

"Isn't it?" Xander took his hand, and the dirt oozed out from over Spike's hands covering Xander's skin. " See what happens when you touch me?"

"No." He frantically tried to rub it away, but it only made it worse, leaving trails of black all over them both, sinking into Xander's skin so much of it, he couldn't ever make this clean.

"He's with us now." Buffy appeared from behind him with a blanket that she wrapped around Xander's shoulders, her eyes like chips of ice.

"We'll never let you get near him again," Willow agreed as she sat down next to Xander handing him a flask of something foul smelling. "Just a sip of this and he'll forget all about you."

"I'm safe now Spike," Xander said calmly, lifting the flask to his mouth and this was all wrong Xander wasn't safe, Xander needed him, but the more he tried to yell at Xander to stop the more his throat froze up and all that came out was a choked cry, he could barely hear himself over the rushing noise.

Spike snapped awake, tasting salt on his mouth, trying to force the lump down in his throat to get the rest of the word out.

Spike shot up, groggy and disorientated as his eyes darted around. A trickle of cold blue light filtered into the sewer tunnel harshly highlighting the emptiness. The rushing sound that he had heard, could still hear, was some water nearby gushing along. The icy chill registered. He was shivering, he'd been shivering all the way through.

Spike lifted his shaking hands to his face, they were clean, or as clean as living in tunnels would allow.

"Oh great." Spike said striving for normality, his voice echoing emptily around the tunnel.

His attempt at being casual was ruined by the immediate wrenching retching that followed.

The pealing of the phone was relentless, hammering at Xander's ears. He reached out his hand, and lifted the receiver.

"Can you come over to the magic shop later today? We're having another research session."

He dropped the phone back into the cradle, and slowly managed to sit up. He paused there for a moment, staring unseeingly at the wall. Waiting for his head to stop screaming in protest and his vision to right itself. He hadn't been to work in days, when he'd rung in he'd said he was sick and it wasn't a lie. He just hadn't told them what he was ill with, heartbreak, drink. The two were becoming entwined in his mind. He didn't like to think about how much he'd drunk since Spike had

left, but it was way more than ever before. /Hey look at me dad! You proud yet? Your boy can put 'em away just like you./

His hands were shaking badly as he grabbed the bottle by the bed, there was only a little left, but enough to soothe him inside. Stop the shakes. Numb his feelings. The pain never vanished but it kind of distanced, like it was happening to someone else. Until he sobered up. Sometimes he wished he could just carry on until the numbness swallowed him up and he'd never have to come back, but that was suicide, and he wasn't the suicidal type. As he finished the bottle he focused on the clock at the side of his bed. It was ten in the morning.

He slowly moved off the bed. As he walked he pulled off his T-shirt and boxers, letting them remain where they fell. He flicked on the light and blinked against the brightness that flooded the bathroom. He didn't look in the mirror.

The light hurt his eyes. White light, reflecting off the stark white tiles and the taps that shone blankly back at him. He closed his eyes as he leant against the wall in the shower. His head hanging, he let the hot water cascade over him. He was fine. He was coping. He just needed to rest for a while.

Afterwards, when Spike had stopped heaving and shivering, eventually he was able to stretch out his arms and legs, letting tense muscles move, cold and stiff from being curled up so tightly. He groped for his smokes and lit up. He still smoked. Still drank blood when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, ran when he was restless. His body healed as the days passed by and he was doing okay. Sure he was. So okay he was letting himself rot down here in the sewers for the sake of being near someone he didn't even see. So okay he woke up crying. So okay he was cold, dying inside and nothing could make it stop.

This was love alright. Love, it held him here trapped and chained down, behaving – God help him – like Angel. Imprisoning himself down here, alone with his thoughts, risking his life if he got caught as though it would somehow atone for what he'd done. Except when Angel had done it, he'd kind of thought that there was something pathetically showy about it, all tormented and anguished. Sure Angel had felt bad, but didn't he kind of like the romance of the situation?

Except there was nothing romantic about throwing up over and over. About missing Xander so badly he couldn't look at it directly. It came out in the crying spates that came on him unawares and left him shaking and exhausted with tears of loss and self-hatred. In the pain that had settled heavy and sharp on his chest, stabbing him every time he moved, swallowed, blinked. In running so scared he couldn't even settle in one tunnel. Running, always running along the sewers, trying to burn himself out. Running until his head roared and spots danced in front of his eyes. And all the time no matter how fast he ran and how loud he screamed in the silence he couldn't blot out the look that had been on Xander's face. The look that he had put there with his bloody plan.

And yeah he wished he could take it back, yeah he wished he could do some time travel and go back and just fix it, kill his old arrogant, manipulative shit bastard self and take his place and do it fucking right this time, but he couldn't.

After Dru had been bad. He'd roared, killed, fucked, drank, cried, all the usual post-break up destructive crap. But this was worse. Oh so much worse. At least with Dru he hadn't been imagining the sunrise.

It wasn't that he wanted to go out in it…exactly. He just couldn't stop wondering about it. About how close he could actually get to it. How bright would the sky be? Would it be pink? Blue? How high would the sun be before his skin started to smoke, before the fire caught? How hot would he have to be before the coldness went out of him?

Spike buried his face back into his duster that he'd been using for a pillow. It was clammy against his cheek with tears he'd shed in his sleep. He managed to hold back another draining crying bout, but he lay there cold and cramped, unable to get back to sleep, until his thoughts tangled together about dark eyes and the sunrise.

Some time later Xander opened the door to the magic shop wincing as the bell rang out announcing his presence. Buffy and Willow looked up from the table where they were surrounded by books; he nodded awkwardly to them, the heat sending prickles along his skin, and his eyes scratchy and sore. He carefully made his way towards them. Mustn't let them know he'd been drinking. They'd worry. Ask questions. Make him stop.

Giles stood behind the cash register his grey eyes watching him closely. Though the girls had stopped by frequently over the past week this was the first time he'd come to the magic shop. The first time he'd seen Giles since all this had happened. Of course Buffy had told him. How could she not?

"Hey," she said, the guilty torment on her face at odds with her casual greeting. "Nice to see you back."

"We're looking into Glory," Willow said, beckoning him over to the table and he sat down, looking at the huge pile of books they were working on.

"So what's the problem? We call Cordy get her to take on this chick and we all go to Disneyland." He had to keep the light-hearted banter coming, it stopped them asking if he was okay.

Buffy half smiled, but quickly frowned again. "There has to be something, a weak spot, but I can't find it." She rubbed at her eyes.

Hopelessness radiated off Buffy and he didn't have anything left in him to comfort her with. Everything he had was directed towards on just getting through this moment, there was nothing left over. Besides what could he say to help? Something they all knew, but just didn't dare to say. There was no way to beat Glory. She was going to win. It was kind of scary how little that bothered him.

"We'll find a weak spot." Willow snapped. "Will you two stop looking like that! We'll find a way guys."

The three of them looked blankly at the books in front of them before reaching out to make another start. Time ticked painfully slowly by, Xander shifted in his seat as they read. The stillness and the silence of the room should have been easy to bear, but he hated being so quiet, he needed noise, movement, something to stop himself from exploding under the pressure. His mouth was dry, and he could taste the alcohol in the back of his throat. Foul and oddly comforting, he wanted some more. Needed some more. Now. His skin was overheating, and the book was shaking in his hands. He rubbed his face hoping it would take some of the edge off, and found himself looking straight at Giles who quietly slipped away into the training room at the back.

"Maybe, we could go out – just the three of us, do something a little down time would probably be a good thing, for all of us…"

"Oh. Um…sure. Sometime." He barely knew what he was saying, he was burning up in his own skin, he had to get out.

He shot up from his seat and the girls looked up at him in confusion. He couldn't leave, the weight of their concern pinned him down. He groped for an excuse that they would accept. "I'm just going to go…you know." He nodded towards the door to the training room.

"Do you think a night out will help?" Willow asked Buffy as the door closed behind him.

"Probably not," Buffy admitted. "But it's a start. He can't keep locking himself away."

"Can't I? I just wish I could do something. Mend the black hole where his heart used to be."

Willow flicked randomly at the pages in her book. "You really think it's that bad?"

Xander carefully closed the door behind him. It was cooler back here in the training room. The light was dimmer and easier on his eyes, and although he couldn't bear the thought of a humiliating lecture from a disappointed and furious Giles they had to get it over with sometime. He watched Giles in silence for a moment, clearing assorted weapons away from Buffy's training session.

"You can help put the pads away." Giles pointed to the padding he wore while Buffy was practicing her punches.

"Sure." He began to put them away. For a moment they worked in silence then Xander said numbly, staring at the bright blue padding in his hands. "You know huh?"

Xander nodded, staring at the blue pads like they could somehow anaesthetize him from this conversation. From this life. "I guess you must be really let down."

Giles sighed and he sat down on the bench, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. " I knew of course Spike was up to something, I even knew it involved you. I had no idea though…"

Xander dropped his head, unable to look Giles in the eyes. "I bet you never thought you'd have to yell at me for getting involved with a vampire huh?"

"Now you know how I felt." Xander said dully, "I wanted to stop, I tried to stop but I…" He stopped before he started raving. No crying though. He didn't have any more tears left, he was cried out and dry inside. "I'm sorry I let you down," he finished painfully.

"I am responsible, for Buffy I know, but all of you. If I'd have only noticed…"

"No!" Xander denied, horrified. "Giles it's not your fault, like I was going to discuss the interesting new turn my life had taken?"

Xander sank down on the bench next to him. Giles didn't speak, but his eyes didn't hold any disgust, only compassion. Support; wordless but real flowed from him, somehow cooling Xander's skin, loosening the tightness in his chest that didn't seem to ever want to go away.

Xander heaved a shuddering sigh as the words that had been trapped in his throat managed to come out haltingly. "Buffy blames herself as well. So does Willow. Everyone seems to think that my mistake is their fault. I really screwed up Giles."

"No! Well…yes." Giles admitted. "But Xander punishing yourself like this is pointless. Yes, mistakes were made, by all of us, and you're allowed to be hurt, but you're also allowed to uh…go easy on yourself," Giles finished slightly self consciously, and also without much conviction. As if he already knew that Xander would be completely unable to go easy on himself about this, ever.

"I won't lie Xander, this is going to be a hard and lonely time for you. Will be for a while I suspect. But you can always come to me. No matter how you may feel right now, you're not alone. And I'm not let down."

He placed a gentle hand on Xander's shoulder. Xander kept his eyes fixed steadily on the floor, unable to move, to speak, as gratitude so intense it hurt twisted with awful ripping shame inside him.

Memories flashed through his mind of how he covered the cracks with dry eyes and flip remarks. How he kept going, kept breathing, speaking, smiling, and it was all an act because reality was him unable to eat, to unclamp his jaw even the smallest amount in case it let out the screams of rage and misery and pure fucking pain. Reality was the sleepless nights and the empty bottles at the end of them. Reality was how he'd been invaded, the most private part of his body and soul exposed, used and humiliated and it would never get better. He'd offered his poor heart out to an evil soulless monster who had thrown it back at him, turning it into something disgusting. Used him and taken everything he had, everything that was good and strong and destroyed it, so all he was left with was this shell of flesh and bone.

As the sun set Spike emerged from the sewer entrance, nerves lodged firmly in the back of his throat tasting sour in his mouth. He set off towards the butchers on the outskirts of town, keeping to the shadows, people came past him and he dodged away from them like a rat on the run.

He found the butchers, and bought his blood where the guy he dealt with took his money with a barely concealed grimace of distaste. Whether it was because of what he was buying or how he looked he didn't know.

He slipped into the alley behind the butchers and slowly sipped at the blood. Pigs blood, cool and bitter. It hurt as it slipped down his dry throat, and burned as it hit his stomach. He slowly managed to drink almost all of the bag and wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, forcing his game face back down. A sudden blast of loud music caught his attention and he looked down the street to see a bar.

Spike drifted down the street and paused in the doorway of the bar. Less classy than even Willy's. It was dark, depressing and semi-full with people trying to drink themselves into oblivion. It was just the kind of place he needed. The chances of bumping into Buffy or any of her little gang in here were zero and Hell did he need something tonight. Anything to make him stop thinking, stop picturing that damn sunrise. As he walked to the bar he caught some hostile glances being shot at him. Later he'd probably find himself on the receiving end of some punching because his hair was dyed, or maybe because he didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter.

The guy behind the bar looked distastefully at him, and in this dump that must really be saying something. He probably already know Spike was going to cause some upset, Angelus had once said despairingly that he carried the threat of trouble around him like a beacon.

Xander sank down on the couch and uncapped a bottle. Nights were the worst. The quiet seemed to press against him in a way so much more frightening than daylight, and in the silence he felt like he could almost hear it, whatever it was inside him that was still wailing. He couldn't drown it out with noise, the only thing that worked was this.

He should feel safe, there was no risk of Spike anymore. Buffy had swung by his crypt repeatedly and reported no signs of life, or unlife, he hadn't even hung around to pack up his stuff. Willow had done the dis-invite spell on his apartment, just in case, and the Spike madness was over, just an odd glitch in his past, a mistake that he could forget about as he picked up his normal life again. But there over by the door was where Spike had grabbed his wrist. Over by the fridge was the first time Spike had touched him. Here on this couch Spike had slept. And in there on that bed. On that bed.

He took a huge gulp out of his bottle. He wasn't going to think about that anymore. Fuck love, just fuck it, this was what love got you, got you ripped up, smashed destroyed, bleeding and never, never, never again. Not that he loved Spike anymore. All he felt now was hate.

/Don't think about it!/ He took another swig and the burning down his throat distracted him for a second. Maybe less. But it was something, something to take the edge off. It was routine now, his drinking fell into a rhythm that he found almost soothing. The gurgle of the liquid. The swallow. The slow steady black out of his thoughts, as the level in the bottle sank, eyes unseeing, not thinking. Not feeling.

Time trickled by around him, and when he came back to himself again he didn't know how long he'd been zoned out drinking. The bottle was still a quarter full, and the liquid had faded from being rough and hot in his throat to a smooth warmth.

He flinched. If only he could blot out that last night he'd spent with Spike. He tried not to think of it, but sometimes he just couldn't stop himself. Torturing himself as surely as if he was pulling out his own fingernails.

His lips had been tingling with how much kissing they'd done. How he'd been scared he wasn't doing this right but Spike somehow made him know just what to do, never known Spike could be like that, so free from his usual cynical, jaded veneer, shivering under him, sweet and open and tender. So tender. Spike under him giving himself up to his hands, his mouth, whispering yes it's good, yes he likes it, yes he loved him so much…and he'd never really known his body could be like this, slippy and hard and soft at the same time, sinking in and smooth, liquid heat and Spike wrapped around him, fingers clinging on to him tightly. And eventually wrapped in Spike's arms speechless with happiness and feeling whole for the first time.

And all the time Spike had been lying. Wanting Buffy, with all that Buffy stuff so close to where they'd been. Using him, making him love him just to tear him apart, all for Buffy.

"No!" He yelled it out in the quiet his foot kicking out in angry protest and hitting the coffee table. A glass wavered under the movement then toppled. It didn't break but he heard a sharp crack. He snorted with a bitter amusement.

His words were slurred, and he flinched away from his tone, bitter and hopeless, just like his fathers, and he hates that, fucking hates it, but he can't stop because his skin is so hot he wants to rip it off, and it hurts so much, this thing inside just won't stop tearing him up and why can't he stop missing Spike, even now he hates him so much? He just has to take the edge off, has to…

Trying to distract himself he leant over and picked up the glass. It was still in one piece – just. A huge spiderweb of a crack had spread through it.

"My heart." He tested his voice experimentally as he turned the glass over and over. It came out rough, cracked, like the glass.

Wondrously he let his fingers explore the cracked glass, reveling in the slightly raised edge he could feel. He pushed harder on the crack and a large piece of glass fell out. Broken, like he was broken. He put down the glass and picked up the piece that had fallen from it.

Almost hypnotized he traced the edges with his finger. One was smooth, safe where the lip of the glass had been, the others were wickedly sharp. Flashing against the light it winked up at him, cool in his hand, dangerous and uncaring. He lightly let his finger pass over the sharpest edge, almost like a tender caress. It sliced idly over his skin, leaving a thin red line on his finger. He retraced over it, pressing down slightly harder, excruciatingly slowly. It swelled up into a deep bleeding cut. Still he didn't stop. He dragged it lightly across the palm of his hand, over up across his wrist. For the first time he couldn't hear any wailing, nothing but his own breathing, his mind miraculously empty, just this, indescribably awful in the relief it brought as he pressed down harder.

Spike was losing track of time as his money vanished. He drank, a lot, but still couldn't really manage to get drunk. Not drunk to the point where he wanted to be, where he could forget. His head sank lower and lower until it was resting on the bar, his cheek resting in beer and the pain still sat on his chest. The place was filling up and the music playing on the jukebox was roaring through his head.

Spike half giggled, snorted, and nearly sobbed as the sour smell of the beer spilled on the bar attacked his senses. Wasn't that the truth. Couldn't even lift his head up off the bar.

Spike grabbed at his drink to blot the memories out. Tried not to remember the first time, the way Xander had thudded down on the bed the air all knocked out of him as he watched eyes wide and pleading and hurting inside as Spike lowered himself onto him. Tried not to remember the graveyard, the taste of mud and rain as Xander hard and hot made him open, made him ache in such a good way, made him want to open up and take it in and never, ever let him out again. Tried not to remember the date, the beer and the awkwardness, so tentative and needful.

Resting his head in his hand he tried to light a smoke. His fumbling fingers let the lighter drop.

A light flaring up in front of his cigarette shone through the blur in his eyes, and he guided his cigarette towards it.

He hadn't even noticed anyone sitting next to him, as he inhaled deeply he met the eyes of a woman over the glowing tip of his cigarette. She was mid thirties with the restless air of someone looking for a little distraction. Her hair was dyed black and her mouth was outlined carelessly with deep red lipstick. She was watching him, as she flicked her lighter over and over in her fingers. Someone the Little Bit and her bitch of a sister would identify unerringly as a 'skanky ho'.

He didn't thank her. Just looked away and inhaled deeply. Maybe another time and another place he'd have taken her up, but not now. It's not what he wants. Not anymore. Would her eyes change to nearly black? Would her mouth taste like mint and air and beer? Xander had mentioned a guy that had made a robot girlfriend. Spike had laughed at the time. How much of a loser must this guy have been? But if he could do that – make a robot look, smell, act just like he wanted…

Maybe he should go and pay a visit to this guy. Except he didn't want a programmed perfect robot. He wanted the original back. Lonely and smart and complicated and real.

He clamped his fingers over the lit end of his cigarette, the pain blotting out everything else. For a moment, and Christ this bloody hurts. Way more than the stupid cigarette burn. How the hell has Xander done this too him? How can someone just not being there make him feel so fucking alone so much bloody pain? Trapped and alone in his own skin, sealed off from the rest of the world, with him bumping up against the glass unable to talk, to touch, because his body had died so long ago, and now the rest of him was following. Cold inside, cold and hurting and so alone, mumbling tunelessly along with the words as the song played on.

"'S been a while since I can say that I wasn't addicted, 'n' 's been a while since I can say I love myself as well."

He knocked over his glass, spilling the contents over the bar. The bar guy shot him a filthy look.

"Give. Me. Another," Spike growled, his game face flickering over his face for a second. The bar guy jumped and hurriedly slopped another whiskey out for him, sliding it over to him without even asking for any money. Spike gulped at it as the vibrations from the music rattled around inside him like some kind of bloody echo in there.

"'S been a while, since I've gone and fucked things up, just like I ALWAYS do, but all that SHIT seems to disappear when I'm WITH YOU."

The bar guy was talking to some other guy, glancing over at him, he was probably getting restless. Wanting a little action maybe? Well he wasn't the only bloody one. Misery and a hopeless anger boiled up and over inside him, and he couldn't really remember the last time he wanted to kill someone this badly.

Not because he was hungry, because he's really not, and not even really for the fun of it, but those moments, when he was chasing someone fleeing from him down a dark street, those sounds as their breath came out in pants they desperately tried to suppress so he wouldn't hear them, those moments where he could damn near taste the terror pouring off them as he finally reached out to grab them, and then that moment when his fangs pierced the skin and the maelstrom of taste filled his mouth. Hot, rich, pure, real. That was when he knew he was truly still alive.

But he couldn't. No bite and no Xander and dead inside, and feeling a flash of guilt for even wishing that he could kill someone. Xander would hate that.

His barstool rocking violently under him, he grabbed his drink and pushed away from the bar.

He couldn't get his feet to move where he wanted them. Or maybe he just didn't know where he wanted to go. He didn't know what he damn well wanted anymore, and it was because of Xander, not the stupid chip. Xander could have changed him, changed him into something, someone, he barely even knew what but something good. He didn't know who he was anymore. He wasn't the murdering evil bastard he'd once been. But the new him, unformed and cut off before he could really arrive hadn't taken his place. He was nothing. No one. All he had was an overwhelming love with nowhere to go and a glowing core of anger, at himself, at Xander at fate for throwing them together only to keep them apart and he couldn't stand it.

People were watching him now, wary or annoyed as he howled along loudly, staggering blindly into tables and chairs.

"Right that's enough!" The guy from behind the bar appeared at his side with another guy, and under normal circumstances he'd have backed off because these guys were looking pretty pissed off and pretty big, but these weren't normal circumstances, he was too bloody angry and let down and guilty and hurting.

"Stay away from me you bloody pair of poofs," Spike snarled and waving his hand violently at them, as though just his will could keep them back. Liquid flew out his glass, splattering all over them. They took a couple of wary steps back. He grinned, sourly amused. They wouldn't be so wary if they knew that was about all the damage he could do to them. Yeah he was a sodding poof himself with no fangs but he didn't have to bloody advertise it. He could still intimidate with the best of 'em. William the Bloody reduced to starting a fight he couldn't finish.

He was about two steps away from being thrown out of this dump, and probably going to get a bloody good kicking in the process. He hurled his glass, not at them…exactly, just close enough to make them nervous. It flew past, hitting the wall, it shattered, even past the music he could hear it, and it was crazy but the sound brought a kind of wrenching release, matching exactly how he felt inside. Something else was as shattered as he was right now, and right now it was the only thing that made any damn sense.

Grabbing blindly at glasses, bottles, people were yelling and ducking for cover as glass shattered, against the walls, on the floor, crunching underfoot as it was ground down even further. The sound of things breaking inside and out, loud and harsh and now he'd started he couldn't stop. He picked up a chair, smashing it into the wall and it disintegrated in his hands.

"You hear this Xander Harris?" Spike half yelled, half sobbed as he hurled another glass, the smash ripping at his ears. " This is what you're bloody doing to me! You come in and change me then you piss off and I."

Drowning, in the music, in the shattering and in his own head where everything was black and broken, other people were just shadows, and he had to get this out, couldn't stop, couldn't bear to stop and know that Xander was still gone.

He turned back blindly and ricocheted off the bar guy's chest. He could barely even see him anymore.

A whistling sound preceded him staggering back as the force of the hit shuddered through his body. His face was a ball of hot pain, his nose crumpled under whatever the hell he'd been hit with. Maybe a chair leg from the chair he'd destroyed. Now there was fucking poetic justice. With a roar his game face burst out as he tried to attackkilldestroy the guy.

Bolts of blue sizzling agony opened up in his brain electrocuting him inside. /Ohfuckstopstopstoppleaseohpleasestop/

He screamed, clasping his hands to his head, trying to force it back underground couldn't see past the black and red pain that shot across his eyes, couldn't hear past his own screaming.

Xander was floating now. Watching the deep red that spilled from his arm over the glass, and it was so hot and clear. So pretty and straightforward and this edge was sharp alright but it was okay because at least this one was outside trying to get in, not the other way around. His other wrist was tingling now, he felt a kind of dreamy contentment. He'd get to that one soon, there was no rush. Because when he was done he'd just lie here for a moment and let it all drain out.

A frantic voice in his head was screaming for him to stop, stop it now but that voice seemed so distant and faint and even as he heard it his glass pressed a fraction harder into his arm and that was far closer. And what was there for him outside this moment anyway?

Nothing. Out there he was frantic, screaming for a relief that would never come. But the swell of blood that tricked out was almost good enough. As he pressed harder again tears, fat like the drops of blood that fell from his arm, ran down his face. The first he'd cried since the night he'd first found out.

It couldn't be, could it? Spike couldn't have been like that without caring at least a little bit could he? But hadn't Spike tried to explain, to apologize? He hadn't listened, but Spike had never let that stop him before. Surely he was going to come back and try again? Spike wasn't going to leave him here to

The peeling of the phone shocked him, ripping the hazy web he'd been spinning in two. Before he could stop himself his hand shot out to answer it.

When the pain dulled to an ache in the base of his skull and Spike came back to himself enough to take in his surroundings he was lying on the ground outside the bar. The bastards had thrown him out. Call that a fucking fight? He could have ripped that place and everyone in it to shreds…once upon a time. At the moment he was lying face down on the ground unable to move as he waited for the nausea to fade. He lay still, his face throbbing from where he'd been hit. It wasn't much, nothing he couldn't handle compared to the pain of the chip going off, or a beating from the Slayer but it still hurt, more than it should.

Eventually he managed to drag himself to his feet and staggered down the alley towards the sewer entrance.

Blood that had poured from his nose stuck to his hands. Bleeding without Xander. Was Xander bleeding without him? He passed a pay phone, and the need surged up so suddenly it left him feeling sick. He couldn't stop himself; there was no reasoning, just the instinctive urge to hear his voice, to know he was okay, to say something anything Xander take me back, take me in, just take me any damn way you want, hard, easy I don't care, fuck me hard, make me cry, just make me feel, let me feel you…

He jammed a coin into it and feeling sicker than ever his fumbling finger hit the buttons to dial Xander's number, hearing the tiny clicks as the numbers were punched in, waiting for them to connect him, /hurry up hurry up hurry up…/

Xander couldn't speak when he lifted the receiver, could only cling on tightly, his knuckles turning white as his arm throbbed in pain, blood running over his fingers, the phone and dripping all over the carpet.

Xander closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at what he'd just done. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, like it was trying to make up for the moment it had slowed down. Could have stopped if he'd carried on. He clamped his hand over his mutilated arm, trying to stem the flow, it poured out from between his fingers. So much of it.

"Okay I understand. Listen, tomorrow I'm going away with Giles, I have this thing I want to try, a kind of a retreat, I'll be gone a couple of days and I was wondering…"

"If I'll be okay? Sure Buff, you go do the Slayer thing…" He ran out of breath, his arm hurt. Oh shit it hurt. Was he bleeding to death? His fingers were clamped tightly over his wound, and the blood was building up behind them, sliding out from between them, making them sticky and red.

"I was going to ask if you'd take Dawn to the movies." Buffy said. "She's staying with Tara and Willow, but I thought it'd be good to give them a break, but, uh Xander, will you be okay?"

"Oh sure." Xander looked at himself in the mirror and bit back the hysterical urge to laugh. A deathly pale, pinched face with lank hair and reddened eyes stared back at him. Blood all over him, his arm, his shirt, his hands, pattering on the floor around him. His eyes dropped and he found himself staring at the piece of broken glass. His stomach heaved at the sight of the traces of his blood smeared across it. Repulsed, he kicked it away, and it shot under the couch out of sight. "You know me. I'm coping."

Xander's line was busy. Spike slammed the phone down so hard the casing cracked, and he knew he wouldn't be picking up the phone again. The courage, cowardice, whatever the hell it was that had fired him to pick up the phone had ebbed away as fast as it had surged up. He turned away, heading wearily towards the sewers again. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away, but it was best to get under cover now. If he hung around he might not make it inside at all.

The sound of footsteps roused Spike from his drifting state of half awareness. Not that the footsteps were loud or that it was even so unusual to hear them. With Sunnydale's large demonic population it was fairly standard to hear some activity in the day as vampires tried to get from place to place. However it was rare that anyone came towards a tunnel that was clearly a dead end. Besides something about these footsteps bothered him. Maybe it was how quiet they were. Like it was someone, or something trying very hard not to be heard.

Spike slowly eased himself up from his prone position, crouching, his ears straining. It was still there, the overcareful lift and lowering of the feet that someone made when they didn't want to be heard. They were just around the corner now. Usually he'd light up a smoke and be waiting, ready for a fight, cocky attitude firmly nailed in place, but he was hungover and sore from the bash he'd taken in the face last night and inexplicably fearful of whatever was out there. Although his body was rooted to the spot his mind felt fuzzy, sliding out from his grasp. This felt almost surreal, like a typical kiddie's nightmare of something coming to get him. And it was getting closer.

Spike looked helplessly around the tunnel he had holed up in. Small and bare there was nowhere to hide and no way out bar the way that someone was in front of. The only concealment available was some deep shadows by the entrance. He swallowed. Shit. He didn't want to move closer to the thing out there.

/Move it!/ He snapped at himself, trying to jolt his frozen feet into action. /Any second it's going to come in and see me and something tells me that would be A Bad Thing./

His reluctant feet slowly inched their way over. Each tiny scuffle sounded like a thunderclap in the quiet. He didn't think whoever it was had heard him though, their pace remained unchanged, but they were still getting closer. Spike pressed himself against the wall of the tunnel, sinking into the shadows. If whoever it was came in there was a chance they'd walk past him before they saw him and he'd be able to run for it or attack them before they turned on him. He didn't know why he was so sure it was him they were after. Maybe they weren't. Maybe it was just a vampire looking for a place to sleep. Walking very quietly.

It wasn't the Slayer though, she smelt like vanilla. Whatever this thing was it smelt bad, like rotting rubbish that had been left to fester. Nearly here now. Slow and even quieter than before. Every inch of Spike tensed further, coiled and ready to pounce as the footsteps began to turn into his tunnel.

A male voice, loud and incautious broke the silence suddenly. It was hard to tell who started more violently, Spike or whatever it was looking around here. Fortunately the sound of one muffled the noise of the other.

A choked gasp from the first…thing suggested to Spike he was having difficulty getting his words out.

Spike stayed utterly frozen, he didn't dare to even blink. The voices couldn't be more than eight inches away, just air and shadows between them and although they didn't sound particularly lethal something about them made his spine prickle unpleasantly.

"I was looking for you!" The second said affronted. "Why did you volunteer to come down here?"

Spike felt his stomach lurch hard, even though he remained motionless. These things were hanging around the Slayer? What the hell was going on?

"She's gone away with her Watcher, that's why I came down here to find you. I was going to tell Glorificus, I um wondered if you would come with me."

Spike's mouth went dry, so these were Glory's boys, though what the hell they were looking for down here was anyone's guess, they surely didn't think the key was down here did they?

"Oh no – I'm not coming while Glory kills you for letting the Slayer get away."

"I didn't let her!" The second protested. " I heard her say she'll be back tomorrow, besides Glorificus could well be pleased, until she returns the key is unprotected."

They turned away and their footsteps, no longer cautious retreated, eventually fading from his hearing. Spike stayed pressed against the wall for a long moment as he shuddered – that had been way too close.

So Buffy was out of town for a couple of days with the Watcher in tow? Now that wasn't the kind of information that fate just planted in your hands without expecting you to use it in some way. Although Dru's habit of reading signs into everything, even watermarks on the ceiling, had occasionally bugged the hell out of him, every now and then she had been bang on. He'd been meant to hear that. Now he just had to figure out what to do with it.

It was the worst idea he'd ever had. Of all the insane ill thought out, half cocked plans he'd ever come up with this had to be top of the list. But hey, what did he really have to lose anymore? He'd already lost everything. If this went badly and he ended up coming across the business end of a stake then it would probably be a blessing. But not until he'd had his say.

The fact was that despite that he ached to run straight to Xander, if he turned up with no warning and Xander was still as pissed as he had been, he'd be dust before he got his words out. He needed someone who could break the news to Xander that he was still in town, convince Xander that he was genuine, persuade Xander to meet him…

Basically he needed someone to be on his side, but the only people that would have any influence on Xander were the Scoobies, and they were the whole problem. That left very few people. He'd sunk so low he'd even have begged for help from Soldier Boy if he'd still been around. Joyce was dead and Tara would follow wherever Willow led. No one else came into contact with Xander except his work pals, demons he was helping to kill and Dawn.

Dawn – whose very protective, very powerful, very pissed off older sister had gone out of town.

He cautiously rounded the ground floor apartment Tara and Willow shared, crouched so low he was nearly on his knees. The fresh air and nerves mixed with a painful shaking excitement made him weak, and despite his need to find Dawn, now, right away he forced himself to rest. To just stay still. There was no way he'd get to her like this, never mind convince her not to yell for the others. This was already dangerous enough – talk about confronting the lion in its den – without him passing out in the garden for the witches or sunrise to find.

There had to be one here somewhere, if they were watching Buffy and searching the sewers they must be keeping a close eye on Buffy's friends as well.

He scanned the outside of the building closely but this side was in darkness, he steeled himself and peered around the corner where a light spilled out from a window. There he was. The scabby little reject was skulking around behind a bush by the lighted window. Spike paused for a moment to make sure he stayed utterly calm and quiet, then silently sneaked up behind him. The scent of flowers and freshly cut grass was strong but the stink of the demon was even stronger. Spike grabbed him, clamping one hand over his mouth, the other pinning his arms back, and dragged him back away from the window. He managed a surprised gasp before Spike swiftly broke his neck.

Spike shoved the body under a bush, trying to control his heaves. He wiped his hands frantically on the grass, the skin of these things felt foul like sandpaper with open oozing sores. He glanced around again; the garden was utterly still, utterly silent under the moonlight. It was kind of beautiful and for a second he felt oddly like crying. He had to get Xander back, he just had to.

/C'mon/ he chastised himself. /Miles to bloody go and all that, just got to get to Dawn, then to Xander, then…/

His mind blanked out, When he was face to face with Xander then he could worry about what was going to happen next.

He crouched under the window of the front room and carefully eased his head up. Tara and Willow were curled up on the couch holding hands, and Dawn was sprawled out in the chair, watching T.V and looking a little bored.

Excitement churned violently inside him and he had to force himself to stay down, to stay quiet. She was actually here! True the options to where she could be had been limited but still, his half-formed plan was actually approaching being a real possibility. Luck finally seemed to be running on his side. Dawn was yawning and examining her fingernails now, it wouldn't be long…

Spike shifted from under the window and followed her around the house to the bedroom. He could see her through the window rooting through the c.d.'s and tapes they had and for a moment the world swirled disturbingly grey and misty.

He bit his lip until he could taste blood and the color came back into the world. He braced himself against the wall and lifted his hand to knock quietly on the glass.

Dawn brushed her hair in front of the mirror, humming along with an old tape Willow still had of the Dingo's and trying to stem the restless feeling inside her. She loved staying with Willow and Tara, it would just be nice to do something for a change, like the Bronze. She totally got the 'be careful' vibe, but still, all these quiet nights in were getting boring. She'd had to fight tooth and nail to go to the movies, with Xander, in daylight! She idly ran the brush over her hair watching the strands lift and fall. Mom had loved brushing her hair. A wave of sadness was threatening to overwhelm her when a gentle tap came at the window making her heart leap up into her throat. She whirled around, dropping the brush in a clatter, her lips parted to yell for the others when she saw it was Spike.

She still felt a moments worry, even though Spike was still harmless and didn't have an invite to anyone's house anymore, Buffy had been pretty definite about not talking to him if he showed up. She hovered uncertainly by the mirror, ignoring his frantic shushing gestures.

"What are you doing here?" She eyed him suspiciously, her arms folded, fixing him with a stern glare she'd been practicing in the mirror. It wasn't up to Buffy's standard yet but she was still pretty pleased with it.

"Shhh!" Spike held his finger against his lips looking panicked, and beckoned her over to the window.

Dawn rolled her eyes but walked over to the window, still half prepared to yell for Willow. However when she got her first good look at Spike she gave a horrified gasp. His pale skin was faintly blotched with the yellow and purple of fading bruises, his nose was slightly bent out of shape and his cheeks, always thin, now looked as though someone had taken a scoop to them and hollowed them out. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked painfully tired.

"Yeah I should say so, what's going on? Buffy thinks you've left town, Giles is ready to stake you, Xander looks like the living dead…."

"No, I heard Buffy and Willow talking." Dawn took a wary step back. She wasn't afraid of Spike…exactly. But he looked terrible, and a little out of it, like those crazy men Glory was leaving a trail of behind her.

"Oh." Spike slumped against the window frame as though all the energy had been drained from him and Dawn couldn't help a surge of sympathy for him.

"Dawnie? Are you okay?" Willow opened the door, and Dawn whirled around to face her, her heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest.

"I'm fine Willow," she said brightly. "Just you know – singing along with the music."

Dawn turned back to the window, where Spike cautiously got to his feet from throwing himself hastily on the ground.

"Close." Spike brushed himself off with shaking hands. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "For not saying anything."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Understatement! I thought we were friends, sort of, but you were just trying to get to Buffy."

"Yeah," Spike said with an ironic lift of his eyebrow, a flash of his old self that was almost painful to see in his current state. "Don't make me repeat it alright?"

Dawn felt a smile begin to pull at her mouth. Spike pressed on. "So – you want to be mates again?"

"Little Bit," Spike said, with a slightly odd tone to his voice, "you have no idea how much I've moved on from your sis."

Dawn couldn't help melting inside despite Buffy's warnings, Spike was so cool – and kind of handsome – even when he was exhausted and beat up, and he'd come here to make up with her.

"You too luv." Spike looked at her so gratefully she felt a little uncomfortable. Okay so they were cool again but Spike was looking at her like she was offering him the keys to Giles's car…or something better.

Dawn shifted awkwardly. "Sooooo were you just drawn here to apologize or was there something else?"

"I need you to do something for me. Can you…" Spike stopped, swallowed and Dawn found herself leaning forward a little closer.

For a second Dawn was disappointed, she'd expected something a lot more exciting than that. "Yeah I'm going to see him tomorrow. But only if you tell me what's going on."

"No," Dawn rolled her eyes. The key she may be, but she still had the heart of a teenager. "Nobody tells me anything. All I know is a while back they were all getting antsy in case you were up to something then all at once everyone's being weird about you, which probably means that you were up to something." She fixed him with a questioning look. "So what did you do – spy on Buffy in the shower? Steal Xander's money? I mean that's about as bad as you can get isn't it?"

She used a light tone to cover up her worry – because she really had missed Spike and didn't want whatever it was he'd done to be too bad, and with all the worry the others had been having that he'd done something to upset Xander…well she loved Xander, if Spike had been mean to him she didn't know if they could be friends again.

"It is to do with Xander. I…" Spike stalled, cleared his throat and tried again. "I…used him too, to try and get to Buffy. That's why Buffy and pals are out for my blood, that's why he's upset."

"But I'm sorry," Spike said hurriedly, maybe reading her uncertainty on her face. "And I want him to know that. That's the message. Will you tell him?"

Dawn thought for a moment then nodded. "Okay, but why don't you just go over and see him now?"

"I need him softened up a bit first – which is why I need you Little Bit, and…" Spike stumbled on the words again as though he was having to painfully carve each one out of stone. "Tell him I'll be at my crypt tomorrow night at nine if…if he wants to see me."

"You're really going to go?" Dawn blurted out dismayed. Spike may be an idiot – hey falling for Buffy was pretty stupid after all – and call her the 'Little Bit' but he never treated her like she was little and now they were friends again – or as much friends as you could ever be with Spike – she didn't want him gone.

"Well duh! Spike I'm not stupid. Oh fine." She crossed her heart. "I'll give him your message and I won't tell anyone else about this. Promise."

Spike finally managed a smile. "Thanks." He shivered slightly suddenly, although it was a warm night. "Well, I'd better go. Don't want you getting into trouble."

Spike's eyebrows raised themselves in an 'oh yeah?' look. She rolled her eyes and finished a little sheepishly; "They're watching some documentary about witches, they'll be there for hours. I can't invite you in but you can hang around for a bit." She tried to sound cool and like she didn't really care either way. "If you want, I don't mind."

He hung around at that window for an hour. Dawn carefully brought him a brimming mug of hot chocolate which they shared. They chatted quietly and she told him it was 'creepy' knowing Glory was looking for her – he didn't tell her about the lackey in the garden – and about a guy at school who was 'kind of okay'. Her hair smelt like coconut and despite the risk of being here, for the first time in over a week he felt a smile on his face and he wasn't thinking about the sunrise.

A minion staggered into Glory's chamber panting with exertion. From her reclining position on her bed propped up on silken pillows and surrounded by lackey's Glory looked at him with an expression of disgust.

"But I bring you good news! I have found him, the one who knows who the key is!"

"What?" Glory leapt up in delight, beaming at him. "You have him? Now? Well that's good news! I was about to start brain sucking to cheer myself up, bring him on!"

Glory stared at him, her smile fading. "You let him get away?" Her voice was dangerously calm, her eyes promising torture beyond his worst nightmares as she slowly came towards him.

"No! No, I didn't let him get away, he killed the other I was watching with, I was lucky he didn't see me. I didn't dare to take him on my own, lest he stole my miserable life – and thus depriving you of good news, most worshipped one! But I listened as he talked to the Slayer's sister."

"Alright." Glory asked, still calmly as she ran her hands lightly over his robe. "So where is he now?"

"Well as to now I was unable to follow him, I wanted to bring you the news, but Iknowwherehe'sgoingtobe!" This last was choked out in a last frantic breath as Glory's hand closed around his throat.

"Well this is perfect!" She turned to look at the others, beaming at them, and they returned her smile, relieved beyond words at her obvious happiness. "We'll send some of you boys to meet him!"

Xander checked around his apartment. It was clean; all the broken glass had been thrown away. His arm was bandaged up and he was okay. Well, okay was pushing it. But he hadn't had a drink yet today and hadn't had another close encounter with a piece of glass. He stomach heaved as he thought of it. Every time his sore arm chafed against the bandage he flinched and not just because of the pain. Had he really thought Spike was going to save him? That was what happened when you let the hate down – more pain, he should have learnt that by now. If Buffy hadn't called when she did…

He didn't want to think about it but his mind was filled to the brim of stuff he didn't want to think about – try as he might to keep it down sometimes thoughts sprung up in his mind. He automatically reached for the bottle hidden in the cupboard, then hurriedly snatched his hand away. He couldn't drink now – not with Dawn coming round any second for their movie.

He liked to think he would have stopped on his own, but would he have? He didn't want to die, but he couldn't bear to live like this either. It felt like Spike had taken a piece of glass to his heart and he was still bleeding, drowning from the inside out.

There was a knock at his door and he cast a last longing look at the alcohol before tearing himself away. He opened the door, managing a smile.

"Hey Xander," Dawn said perkily, her eyes and hair were glowing. She always seemed so glad to see him. So young and alive. For a second he totally got what Buffy was talking about. If Glory hurt Dawn then she had to die. It was just that simple.

He ushered them in hoping they couldn't smell any alcohol that may have been lingering in the room.

Xander tried to remember the last time he'd bought anything without an alcohol content. " Check the fridge Dawn, if you can track anything down and capture it – it's yours." Xander gestured towards the kitchen, and Dawn threw him a smile as she went to investigate.

"Cool! I know a couple of good ones! There's this one where this girl wants this guy to ask her out but he doesn't, but then he…"

"You should know better than to let a teenage girl have so much power," Willow agreed seriously.

They smiled at each other before Willow's face changed into a serious, worried frown. "How are you doing?" She asked in a low voice.

"And don't you're fine or you're coping. Yell, or punch something – punch me, but don't say you're fine."

Xander dropped his eyes, suddenly very aware of his arm throbbing dully, reminding him of just how far from 'fine' he was. "It's hard," he admitted. "And awful. And every day."

"I know." She patted his shoulder gently, unable to hug him, hampered by Dawn being so close. "Xander…I didn't know if I should tell you this or not, you didn't seem to want to hear it, and Buffy thought it would be a bad idea but, well Spike came to see me. You know, that day, before you found out. He wanted me to promise not to tell you about the Buffy thing. He said he loved you and couldn't do it."

"Oh." Xander said quietly. "Actually he came to see me, that day. The day I found out. He said pretty much the same thing."

No, he couldn't think maybe, thinking maybe drove him crazy, opened him up to all the pain all over again and he was filled up with pain – couldn't take anymore, he had to just keep closed, even if Spike had loved him at the end it didn't help. He couldn't let go of how this had started. How he'd been nothing but a toy. How Spike had still kept all that stuff, so close to the bed.

"I'll take you for a shake!" Xander shouted back, suddenly desperate to get out of here. "You know," he turned back to Willow, "I think we'd better head off. Dawnster! Let's go!"

"Xander," Willow said hurriedly. "I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing – I was only trying to help you."

"No it's okay Will, but none of this matters anymore. I hate him." Willow didn't look convinced so he said it again. "I hate him."

Xander settled down in the booth opposite Dawn, watching with a slight smile as she gamely set about drinking a shake almost as big as she was. Despite his initial worry about today it was proving better – much better than he'd thought. She was easy to be with, her bright chatter soothing. She offered him some of her chocolate shake. To please her he sipped a little and at her smile his throat unclenched a little, enough so for the first time in a while something other than alcohol slipped down his throat without choking him.

Dawn was going on about how Buffy was on this retreat for 'some Slayer reason she doesn't think I'm old enough to understand' and how it was so nice to get out the house without being cross examined, and then she asked curiously;

Xander looked at where Dawn was staring. His sleeve had been pushed back and the bandage showed.

"It's nothing. I was running with glass. Fell. It smashed," he lied awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.

"Just a quick ride to the fun room known as casualty and a couple of stitches," he said recovering his composure. "No big deal. And let that be a lesson to you." He tweaked at her hair. "It really does happen!"

Dawn squirmed under his teasing, pretending to be pissed off. "Hey quit it! Listen, I've got something to tell you."

"Oh yeah?" He continued to make a grab for the little sparkly clip she had in her hair. She shrieked and jumped away, fixing him with a fake glare, her eyes dancing with laughter. He kept his eyes fixed on that laughter. It made the image of the glass slicing into his skin fade away. "What have you got to tell me?" Thinking she'd spilt juice on a sweater of Buffy's that she shouldn't have been wearing or had a sneaky kiss with a guy maybe – there was an air of suppressed excitement about her.

His hand dropped away from Dawn as the room turned grey, his heart thudding sickly in his chest.

It wasn't real. This couldn't be happening, any minute now he'd wake up. Except he could still taste the shake in his mouth and feel the grain of the table under his shocked nerveless hands. He felt sick. Real twisting nausea from shock.

"He said he couldn't leave until he'd got things straight with you. He said you guys had a fight and he was really sorry, Xander are you okay?"

Someone was messing with the color and sound dial on this room, now it wasn't grey and quiet, it was suddenly so bright and loud he couldn't breathe properly and his head was roaring. Someone had turned up the pressure in here and any minute now he was going to faint.

"That he'd been trying to get to Buffy through you but once he'd got to know you he couldn't do it, but you'd found out somehow and he's really, really sorry. He told me to say the 'really, really' part…Xander? Will you see him?"

"I don't…uh, I can't." Xander floundered desperately. "You should tell Buffy he's still here. Tell her now."

Dawn looked at Xander uncertainly. "Xander Buffy's away remember? And I promised I wouldn't tell. I crossed my heart and everything. He said if you didn't want to see him he was going to go anyway so it wouldn't matter. But can't you guys make up?"

Dawn jerked back in her seat, she looked a little scared, and he managed to stop himself from shouting at her but he was sweating, shaking, and he didn't know what to do. He buried his head in his hands, trying to control nausea inside him, calm himself down.

Dawn tentatively reached out her hand, but then stopped short of touching Xander – she suddenly felt way out of depth on this one, too much mysterious, grown up stuff swirling around. " But…" she began cautiously.

"Dawn," Xander's voice sounded weird, angry and choked up and there was something else in there as well. " I don't want to see him. I wish he'd never come here. I wish I'd never met him."

"Xander I know Spike can be an idiot but you didn't see him! He looks…well kind of like you. And if you both look so bad, maybe making up will help. Wouldn't it?"

Xander was still staring down at the table, his eyelashes covering his eyes and she couldn't read him.

Xander finally looked up and Dawn felt herself turn pale, His eyes were full of tears, she'd never seen Xander cry, ever. But it wasn't that, it was him, he looked like he was hurting all over, with something so awful and painful for a moment it felt like a freezing cold hand was running over her soul.

"Okay" Dawn said rapidly, only wanting to make him stop looking like that. "Okay, so just don't meet him, and he'll go away. That's pretty easy isn't it?"

Easy. Right. But he wasn't going to tell a fourteen-year-old girl about the gay lovin' aspect to him and Spike, even if she was really a few millennia old. And she had a point; all he had to do was not turn up. He shouldn't go. All the way through the film that he didn't see or hear he knew that. All the way driving a mostly quiet Dawn back to Willow's he knew that. All the while he paced about his apartment waiting for the sun to set, for the clock to move forward he knew that. Waiting for nine. Once nine was over Spike would really be gone. But just before it hit nine he jumpily slung his coat on and left the house. Walking to the crypt felt like he was caught underwater pulled along by a current he couldn't fight. Even though he was walking quickly the movement felt slow. Sounds drifted into him from a long way away, his head oddly disconnected from his body.

When he reached the door to Spike's crypt he paused outside it. His eyes burned and he briefly rested his forehead against the cool stone. How had he gotten here? How had he gotten so hurt, so messed up? Even now it wasn't too late. He could turn back and go home, try and pick up a normal life again. He didn't know why he'd let himself be drawn here. Maybe it was the same urge that had prompted him to pull back the curtain, he didn't want to look but he couldn't stop himself. Maybe he just had a few things to say to Spike, because he couldn't go on like this, this wasn't a life it was torture. And maybe there was a tiny part of him that just wanted to hear some magic words that would put all this right. Easing the heavy door open he stepped into the crypt. It smelt musty. Old.

Spike's hair reflected off the light of Xander's torch, his pale face seemed to swim out of nowhere, the face that had haunted him. The face he thought he would never see again. They were both still, silent. The weird quality of the torch light bouncing around the crypt, the silence and the sight of Spike all gave him the confusing feeling of being in a dream. Spike looked so, so terrible. In a weird way it only heightened his allure. His eyes were burning in a pale, much thinner face; he looked macabre and beautiful. And for a second, just a second he wanted to take those few steps forward. Bury into Spike's arms and turn the clock back, tell him; 'oh I missed you, I missed you so much…'

But the memory of drawing back the curtain kept his mouth clamped shut and his feet rooted to the ground as the anger poisonous and ugly, thick and bitter twisted inside him. The dream feeling drained away, now he felt gritty and harsh, sore all over. Maybe Spike did want him back. And that was good, because how he had a weapon, something he could use to beat Spike black and blue, tear into him and make his heart bleed. He was glad Spike looked awful. He wanted Spike to feel awful. He'd been through hell and he wanted to kill the creature standing in front of him. Wanted Spike to ache, beg for him and know that he could never have him. Hurt Spike as much as Spike had hurt him. Hurt him until he cried, begged for it to stop, but it never would.

Spike waited in the crypt, growing colder and more certain that Xander wasn't going to come. This day had been endless, agonizing, and as nine came and went with no Xander arriving a sick despair filled him. Every second that passed beyond it was killing him a little at a time, taking Xander further away from him. He had to leave town, it didn't matter where. It really was over. Xander hadn't come. How could pain take up so much room? It was inside him, choking him, spilling up and over and no hope left.

He still waited though, pacing about the crypt, unable to bring himself to leave because if he did – then that really was the end of everything. Then suddenly, incredibly, he heard his heartbeat – smelt him, just beyond the door. Spike stared, frozen to the spot paralyzed by hope and trepidation as the door finally eased open and he was there. Dark and silver, almost an extension of the moonlight. Spike felt weak, drained suddenly as if all his energy the past endless week had been poured into waiting to see him again and now he was here his strength had deserted him. Xander's lips were pinched, his hair disheveled and his clothes crumpled. He looked pale and tired; his vitality stripped away, his energy cut to the bone. And he was beautiful.

The silence stretched out. Although Xander was here, somehow he seemed further away than when he hadn't seen him. He looked distant, removed from his reach, and Spike had never wanted him as badly as he did now.

"Xander." He couldn't stop himself from taking a step towards him, but when Xander swiftly took a step back he forced himself to stay still, stay calm, stay in control. Xander was here, that would do for now. He wanted to touch him desperately, but he was terrified to move in case it scared him off, terrified to talk in case he said the wrong thing. His tongue felt like it had detached from his mouth. It wouldn't work.

"Are you?" Xander's voice didn't rise but Spike found himself flinching back. There was a simmering anger gathering in the air between them, black and heavy like a storm cloud and it was all coming from Xander.

"Look," he began nervously. "I don't know what Red or Slayer told you about this but they couldn't have told you the whole story."

"Oh God no." Spike heard his horrified voice as though from a long distance away. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I burnt it. I burnt it all that day."

"You're sorry?" Xander repeated, his voice riddled with a bitter anger and Spike realized with a sick thud that there was no way this was going to have a happy ending. Xander was drowning, unable to hear, see anything right now but his own pain, any apology would just drift uselessly past him.

"Do you have any idea what it was like finding that?" Xander continued, his voice shaking. "Knowing that I'd spent the night with you and all that was just a few steps away, and how could I have been so stupid and all that shit I talked and all the time you wanted her…"

"No, I didn't," Spike pleaded. Yeah he was Loves Bitch. What of it? He'd beg on his knees if it would get Xander back. "I didn't want her from the start, it was all about you. You got inside my head, you're in my heart. In my gut. You're part of me now, I can't be without you. I can't say it right I don't have the words, but if you could feel what I feel. That night I told you the truth. Give me another chance, I'm not a monster."

"Yeah and I remember you promising you'd never hurt me again and I believed you! How stupid was I?" Xander laughed sourly, then abruptly stopped, too angry to even use the pretence of amusement. " How many chances do you want Spike? Because you've used every one up and more. The only reason I came here tonight was to tell you to stay away from me."

"No." Spike stepped closer to him, touching close. Searching his face frantically for something – some part of Xander in there that he knew still loved him. "If you wanted to tell me that all you had to do was not show up. That's not the only reason. I couldn't feel like this without you feeling it to. I know you still love me. I know it i…"

The punch was so hard, so quick he didn't see it coming. Even if he had he wouldn't have dodged it. He flew back crashing to the floor with a bone jarring thud.

Xander's face swam over him. "That is the only reason I have for seeing you!" He spat the words out, his voice trembling as he physically shook with emotion.

Xander grabbed him by his T-shirt, hauling him up to his feet. He was deathly pale and sweating coldly.

"I hate you." His voice shook with the violence of his feelings, he was gripping Spike's T-shirt so hard his knuckles were white. "You're an evil, disgusting thing and I feel sick that I let you touch me." He hauled Spike even closer to him so they were barely three inches apart. "You want me back Spike?"

"Good. Because this is the closest you'll ever get to me again. You're going to leave town tonight. You'll never come near me, or Dawn, or any of my friends again, and I hope it hurts. I'm glad it hurts."

Xander expected almost any reaction from Spike but what happened next. He started laughing. Laughing.

Spike's eyes were burning way too brightly as he hung, unresisting in Xander's grip. "You always hurt the one you love hey pet? The way I see it we must love each other one hell of a lot. We couldn't tear each other apart like this if we didn't."

To his dismay Xander felt his face begin to crumple. The anger still burned inside him, but now there was sorrow as well. Overwhelming, heartbreaking sorrow.

"It's true!" Spike's hands came up to cover his, and to his shame he didn't shake him off.

"Admit it." Spike said, staring into his eyes. Those blue eyes that made him ache inside. "You still want me. Still love me. Passion like this – you can't fight it."

"Watch me." Xander said quietly. "I want you away and if that means killing you – well that's just a bonus."

They faced each other – Xander pale and grim, Spike with helpless tears burning in his eyes, wishing desperately for some magical words to arrive fully formed in his brain that could fix this when the door flew open. The smell hit Spike immediately. Glory's boys. A whole posse of them.

"Gentlemen," the guy in the lead said smoothly. "I'm so sorry to intrude but I wondered if I might beg a moment of your time."

Spike didn't like the way this guy was looking at them. Sort of smug, his eyes darting between them, taking in how close they were, the atmosphere, drawing his own conclusions. Add this to the fact that these guys had just barged in on them and well the whole situation stunk as bad as the demons did. What the hell was going on? Had this whole damn thing been a set up to get him to come out of hiding?

"Guess not!" And that meant he could hurt them. How dare this scummy wanker touch Xander? Spike felt a growl well up, bursting into action he kicked the demon hard in the chest.

Xander groaned and managed to straighten up in spite of his kidneys feeling hot and heavy like they might just fall loose of their place in his body. Spike was fighting viciously, like something possessed, but there were so many of them he was surrounded.

He staggered over managing to grab one of them who immediately whacked him across the face, he flew back, sliding across the floor. The whole scene was beginning to feel like a nightmare where no matter how hard you tried to get to something it always remained just out of reach, but he had to get over there – he had to help…

Spike saw Xander hit the floor and a red mist of screaming fury and fear that Xander was hurt descended over his eyes he fought like…well like a demon kicking, punching even harder trying to crush, destroy, kill these things that had touched Xander, he had to get Xander away from them…but some of them managed to grab him from behind, pinning his arms down.

Rope chafed his wrists and damn it Xander the brave bloody idiot was coming back for another go! This time Spike heard the crunch as the demons fist connected with Xander's chin, he hit the floor and lay there, unmoving.

"Goddamnit let me go!" He was screaming – he could hear his voice but it made no sense to him, his hands were tied and they still jumped back nervously as he snarled at them, jerking his head to try and get to them. He struggled desperately against them but he was surrounded, pinned down, too many hands, fists all flying around.

"Gentle with him." The head guy was talking again in that plummy voice of his. Spike wanted to rip his vocal cords out. "She will want this one intact. After all he can't tell us who the key is if he is dead."

"Key?" Spike repeated as the words filtered in. For the first time panic for himself set in as he realized these guys were going to take him to the bitch herself. "I don't know who the key is I…"

Something was shoved into his mouth muffling his protests, and they dragged him out. He tried to yell out for Xander, still lying on the floor, but could barely make a sound, barely move against the rope that was cutting into his wrists and their hands digging into his skin.

Terror began to rise in him. However much he fought it wouldn't do him any good. He was going to Glory.

Spike glanced around him as he was dragged into Glory's place, very posh too. Being a Hellgod must come with a few perks. A couple of big mirrors, she obviously liked the look of herself, plus a lot of satin and rich colors made it a pretty sumptuous place. Although maybe she should speak to her decorator because somehow it felt like a shrinking cell lined with sharp pointy objects, all aimed at him. Glory looked up at him as he was shoved to a standstill in front of her, rising from the couch she tossed aside her magazine and glared at him with open distaste.

"Stunning One," said the lead guy – Spike had picked up that he was called Jinx. "This is the one who can tell you about…" He paused for emphasis and the other guy – Murk – finished with him; "The key!"

"Really?" Glory beamed at them both. "That's fantaboulas! And impossible." Her eyes flicked over Spike dismissively and he gritted his teeth, it felt she was scraping his skin with sharp metal. "Because see this is a vampire, Slayers kill impure creatures, not tell them their secrets. Lesson number one, vampires – not pure."

"Yeah damn right I'm impure. I'm as impure as the yellow driven snow." Spike agreed hiding his sick relief. "Let me go." Trying to sound confident, reassured. Now he knew he was home and dry his fears all seemed laughable, of course she wasn't going to torture him! It was all going to be okay – it wasn't like she would do any real damage to him if she didn't think he could tell her anything, surely? He was going to be let go, he wouldn't be hurt…

Glory ignored him, walking around him, assessing him coldly. "You can't even brain suck a vampire. He's completely useless."

"Yeah so I'm just going to let myself out." He tried to shake Murk off but Murk tightened his grip.

"But your Holiness," Jinx objected as Spike wished fervently for five minutes, just five minutes alone with this bastard. "We observed him with the Slayer. They were fighting but he most definitely mentioned the key."

"Yeah that was just trying to piss her off!" Spike said hurriedly. "I haven't got a bloody clue who the key is!"

Jinx rolled his eyes at the interruption and continued to soothe Glory. "Also he was with the Slayer's friend this very evening. A most determined young gentleman, unhappy about us taking the vampire. As though he was…precious."

Oh shit. Spike felt terror leap inside him. She looked like she was buying this.

"Oh yes Magnificent One," Jinx said smoothly, pressing his advantage. "Or as though he at least knows something precious. I believe if you persuade him, he will yield the information you need."

Glory smiled as she stepped back up to Spike. "Let's take a peek at you precious."

He looked at her warily as she studied him intently, a small smile playing on her lips. The scent of her perfume was overwhelming. A pretty little Hellgod, but the blueness of her eyes didn't hide that inside she was a ruthless, merciless bitch. Her smile scared the crap out of him, she was going to enjoy this. Oh shit what the fuck was she going to do to him…?

She laughed as though he'd just told her a slightly risqué joke – then punched him in the face. He'd been on the receiving end of a lot of punches lately. This bitch won hands down. The stinging pain of his face was only topped by the agony in his side and shoulder where he flew back and hit the wall with such force it crumbled under him.

Dazed, he lay on the floor, watching fearfully as her shapely legs danced over to him. "He doesn't look very fancy to me," she said threateningly, dropping her prattling exterior for a second. She pulled him up roughly by his lower lip.

"Hey easy with the lip!" Spike protested as he succumbed to her pressure, following her like a dog on a lead. Her nail dug into the flesh and the taste of his blood filled his mouth.

"But if he knows the Slayer's secret," Glory continued, ignoring his protests, "maybe appearances are deceiving."

She flung him down on her silken bed, and he landed on his back, unable to struggle away, laying there helplessly as she clambered on top of him, pinning him down. Her skin was so soft, her hair so golden, but under all that he felt as though a cold snake was winding itself around him, just waiting for the right moment to tighten up and crush his bones…

This was bad. Oh shit this was so bad. Nothing, not Angelus, not the Initiative, not the Slayer had made him feel this cold toxic fear. But Xander knew these guys had him, Xander would come for him. He just had to hold on. Spike clenched his jaw in readiness as her finger twisted teasingly in front of his eyes then slid down to his stomach.

And then awfulrippingtearingburning she was inside his stomach, /ohstopstophurtssomuch/ swirling his insides around. His scream of pure pain resounded around the room, as she twisted her finger around playfully.

"Shhhh." Glory crooned soothingly, as she dug around even deeper, her eyes bright, her lips moist with pleasure. "What do you know precious? What can I dig out of you?"

Xander was drifting, fathoms deep, someplace black and soft. It was kind of nice, floating along, a deep, restful sleep, the kind he hadn't had in a long time, but somehow he knew it was very important that he wake up. Now, right away. But he couldn't get his body to respond, couldn't pries his eyes open, couldn't break through the layers of this overwhelming darkness.

/Wake up!/ His mind kept bellowing it at him. He tried to break free again but the blackness pressed down on him, thick and heavy and soft, so soft…

Slowly, with a huge effort he began to obey the command, struggling through layer after layer of consciousness, a throbbing in his head and his arm was getting worse as he broke free. Finally he managed to pry his eyes open. This felt wrong, he certainly wasn't at home, he could smell the dust on the floor where he was lying face down. His limbs felt so heavy, as though he'd sunk into the floor. Groaning he painstakingly pried himself up and into a sitting position before he surrendered back into that beckoning sleep. He looked around, his fuzzy mind trying to grasp details of his surroundings while struggling to remember what had happened. He was still in the crypt, Spike – those demon guys, they were all gone.

Standing up falteringly, leaning on the wall for support Xander looked around the crypt. Utterly silent, still and dark. He shook his head and immediately wished he hadn't. It hurt like hell where he'd been hit. He checked his watch and felt a cold shiver of fear. He'd been out for hours. He looked around again hoping that Spike would miraculously appear, but nothing. He wasn't here. The last he'd seen were those demon guys surrounding him.

He opened the door and stepped outside. The fresh air helped to wake him up blowing the cobwebs away. The demon guys had surrounded Spike, and he was sure he'd heard one of them mention Glory.

Oh SHIT. Ignoring his head that was still banging in pain he broke into a run.

Spike didn't know how long he'd been here. It felt like days but was probably only a few hours. Only. That was a joke. The things she'd done to him in that time, the many ways she'd made him scream over and over, and she wasn't nearly done yet. But neither was he.

He tensed as she walked around him appraisingly. He was chained to the ceiling, his feet just brushing the floor, his arms burning in their sockets. Her dainty fingers paused in their torment as she stood behind him. She indicated in the large mirror hanging on the wall opposite him.

"See me there?" She asked him her breath close to his ear, her eyes luminous, trailing her hand over his body lightly. He tensed in revulsion and fear as her hands brushed against cuts and bruises. "See me? Not you. You're not in there, you know why? You're nothing!"

A cracking sound ripped the air and the leather cut angrily into the skin on his back. He threw his head back, biting his lip, unable to hold back a muffled cry of pain.

"Nothing! So why. Won't. You. Talk!" She was almost crying in frustration as she shot around to grab his face. "Tell me who the key is. Tell me, tell me, tell ME!"

He kept his eyes steadfastly on her face, watching as she turned red and blotchy with anger as his mouth stayed resolutely shut. /Aww. What's the matter bitch? Not playing your game? Take it like a man. I don't play to anyone's rules but mine./

"God!" She yelled in frustration, and punched him hard across his face. His head flew back under the force, he rocked on his feet, the chains pulled at his arms, and then snapped him back. He lifted his head, his face a hot agonizing ball of pain and stared at her defiantly through his swollen eyes.

"Yeah," Spike agreed, grinning wickedly through the blood dripping from his mouth. "But for a worthless, useless vampire, I'm doin' a really good job of pissing you off."

Glory stared at him, her eyes burning as the balance of power shifted uncertainly between them, and through his satisfaction Spike knew he was really going to pay for that. Now he'd gone and made it personal. She whirled away from him, throwing herself down on the couch, almost in tears.

"Jinxy why won't he talk?" She asked her voice wavering. "Why won't he tell me? Have I lost my touch?"

"No! Never!" Jinx rushed to reassure her. "It is a privilege for him to be honored with your touch! You are the epitome of skilled agony and exquisite precision!" Jinx glared at Spike, while clucking soothingly to Glory. "The vampire doesn't appreciate your mercy Wondrous one. Maybe you should be less gentle."

Glory nodded and drew in a deep breath. She walked over to the mirror, running her hands over her silky dress, readjusting herself. She stroked through her hair with her fingers admiringly, visibly calming at the sight of her reflection. Then she turned back to him her eyes glittering as she came closer. Spike swallowed.

"You will talk precious." She said confidently as she stroked his face gently. "Either you'll talk or you'll…"

Her hands burst through skin and bone squeezing until he was going to burst, white heated pain ripped through him like a bolt of lightening, his scream causing the crystals in the chandelier to reverberate.

"Guys! Guys!" Xander burst into Willow and Tara's place racing into the bedroom, turning on the lights. "Wake up!"

Willow and Tara blearily opened their eyes as Dawn shot up – she'd been unable to sleep for wondering about what had been happening with Xander and Spike, whether Xander had gone to meet him, if they were friends now.

"Guys," he panted. "Demony kinds of guys." He wanted to scream with frustration at himself, he couldn't get his words out properly, could barely breath, all he could think was those guys had Spike and God knows what was happening to him. "Buffy said the guys that work for Glory are kind of like hobbits with leprosy? Well this was like a whole flock of hobbits, they just grabbed Spike I think they've taken him to Glory."

"Wait – Spike's still in town?" Tara asked bewildered. Willow stared at Xander with stunned eyes full of questions. Questions that he couldn't deal with right now – he didn't know anything anymore. All he knew was these…things had Spike and that meant bad things, all kinds of bad things.

"How do we find him?" Xander asked, his voice shaking, trying to think past the fear that was thudding alongside every beat of his heart. There had to something they could do – a locating spell, anything, but the girls just looked around them blankly, maybe hoping a solution would magically appear.

"Yeah," Xander agreed thankfully, glad for something to concentrate on. "I got nothing – you guys?" Willow shook her head.

Spike wasn't sure where he was anymore, one moment he was sitting in his crypt with Dawn, telling her scary stories, the next he was floating in a bubble, white and safe, it turned to hundreds of tiny bubbles, he was in a bath with Xander, soapy and warm…but that had never happened. He didn't care, he liked it here. But something was pulling him back. Slowly he drifted back to himself and struggled to open his eyes, wincing as the blood made his eyelashes stick together, eventually they eased apart.

He was still hanging from the ceiling, the shackles biting into his wrists, his arms and shoulders still throbbing in dull pain, but his insides, oh God his insides, what had she done to them? They felt all wrong, torn and open, he could feel hot liquid trickling inside him, gathering heavily in his stomach. His back burned, his skin shredded, tatters still hanging from him, brushing across where she'd whipped him raw. Was there any skin left intact? Had she ripped it all to shreds? His vision gradually cleared. Glory was standing in front of him.

"There you are," She smiled handing the small vial she'd been waving under his noise back to Jinx. "Nearly had me worried there."

Where was Xander? Why hadn't he come for him? He wanted to hold on, he'd tried so hard but he couldn't take any more of this, he couldn't. Xander hurry, hurry…

"No," he rolled forward again. "Not key." He couldn't open his mouth properly anymore. "Everything else though…" His vision turned grey and hazy as he swayed, hanging helplessly in front of her.

"Unlikely I think Beauteous thou, he has been in the Slayer's life for a long time. It is more likely the vampire is…attached to the human. He seemed very focused on the human when we found them together."

"Awww," Glory crooned. "The vampire's in love!" She turned back to Spike grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. "Shall I have him brought here precious? String him up next to you?"

Terror jolted him back into full alertness. "You stay away from…" His voice failed him, his throat hoarse from screaming there was nothing left in him, only a few croaks.

"Does that torture you precious?" Glory crooned. "That's nothing. Wait until I'm cutting into him."

/No! No, not Xander, don't hurt Xander./ He shook his head wildly, looking at her pleadingly through his slitted, bleeding eyes.

"But I won't hurt him if you help me. Just tell me who the key is." Glory breathed softly, as though she was scared speaking loudly would disturb the air, make him change his mind.

She looked so concerned. So ready to stop, maybe she didn't want to hurt him any more, and crazily he craved it – the feeling that someone cared about him, and right now she was all that was on offer. His eyes stung as he looked at her helplessly and her eyes blurred to a blue sheen. He hadn't cried yet but he was near to tears now. His mouth opened, the words she was aching for ready to fall from his mouth. He couldn't hold on to them anymore, there was nothing left in him to keep his grip tight on them, the only thing here was her.

And her minions. A slight movement caught his eye, making him glance away from Glory. Jinx was fidgeting uncomfortably, the scabby guy obviously didn't like the idea of grabbing Xander…

Of course they didn't, she wouldn't, she was bluffing. No way would she risk the Slayer bursting in after her friend, not while she had him all tied up and still a chance of getting the key without involving anyone else. She was trying to break him.

His jaw set as he met her eyes again, his vision clearing, properly this time. He loathed her in a way he'd never loathed anyone before. Stringing him up, powerless and beaten. But he wasn't powerless. He had something she needed and he was damned if she was going to get it. This repellent bitch wasn't going to touch his Little Bit. She wasn't going to make him break his word, he'd promised Xander only a few hours ago that he'd never let him down again, and he wouldn't, not for anything. Especially not for this vain, spoilt, prattling cow. Xander would come for him.

Glory read the look on his face and sighed. "Then I suppose its back to the old…"

Her nails flayed at his skin and Spike discovered he did have a scream left in him after all.

The sunrise came just as they got to Buffy's house, and the edgy terrified feeling inside Xander was getting worse. He had to stay calm, stay focused and rational, but there was nothing rational about how he felt, sickly scared and shaking, and he didn't even know what he was scared of anymore. It had been such a long time since Spike had been taken. Hours, when God knows what could be happening, for all he knew Spike had already told Glory and they were laughing together about how they were going to take Dawn…

His fists clenched, if Spike had done anything to put Dawn at risk, he had to die. But what if he hadn't? What were they doing to him?

"If we're going to stop Spike from blabbing about Dawn we're gonna need these." Xander said heading for the weapons cabinet. He couldn't think about the other stuff right now. Dawn's safety was the most important thing, not that his lover – ex lover could be in mortal danger. He had to hate Spike – it was the only way this was clear. After all Spike was scum, a user of people. He was bound to talk if it would save him. He burrowed through the cabinet passing out weapons.

"Ooh the big guns." Dawn said impressed. Willow shot her a stern glance as she removed a small axe from Dawn's hands.

Xander felt himself flinch and Tara took her aside. "Um…Dawn, I, I think Buffy has more weapons upstairs. Why don't you go get those?"

Dawn nodded. "I can do that. I'll be right back." She darted upstairs as the other three exchanged glances.

"Okay this has gone way too far – she thinks we're going to rescue Spike," Xander said bitterly. No rescue. Spike didn't deserve a rescue, they just had to stop him from talking. He didn't care what was happening to him, he didn't care, he didn't care…

He didn't know. He didn't know. Damnit would Spike ever stop screwing with his mind? There was too much damn stuff churning around inside him. His hate of Spike, of what he'd done, clashing with his worry for Dawn, but under that there was something else. Something had crawled inside him and was squeezing tighter with every passing second that went by and they weren't getting any closer to finding him.

And all the time Dawn kept wondering aloud if he was okay, asking what they were going to do to help, talking about him like he was friend, a person, not an evil creature. She had faith he wouldn't betray her. And that was the hardest thing of all to bear.

But he couldn't say that. He had to keep this clear for them. "Find him, stop him from talking whatever it takes."

"Woah – group hang time?" Buffy's voice dropped into the pause as she walked wearily into the house. For a moment they all stared at her, stunned into silence at her perfect timing.

"Didn't seem like it to me." Buffy said distractedly, her mind still obviously not fully with them. "'Death is my gift.'" She looked disgusted.

Buffy's eyes widened in alarm as she really took notice of them for the first time. "What's wrong – is Dawn okay?"

"Xander," Buffy stared at him in horror. "Omigod – you're having sex again with Spike?"

A loud clatter cut off Xander's angry protest as Dawn, who had entered the room unnoticed, dropped the sword she was carrying. "He's whating with who?"

Everyone froze, speechless, he could hear Willow's gasp of dismay and Xander felt himself pale, even while shame burnt two red slashes across his cheeks. Dawn stared at him, her eyes wide and horrified.

"I am not having sex with Spike!" Trying to blank out that moment in the crypt when Spike's hands had come up to cover his own. He was past all that now, it was over, did he have to keep paying and paying?

"Wait – there's blame now?" he snapped as anger boiled up inside him. Not only did they not believe him, but now it was apparently open to debate in front of a fourteen year old girl who may as well be his little sister.

"It's understandable," Buffy said desperately trying to be supportive. "You can't just switch off your feelings."

Xander narrowly restrained himself from screaming in frustration. "I'm not having sex with Spike but I'm starting to think you two might be!"

Willow and Tara exchanged a look. "But you were with him last night?" Willow questioned gently.

"Yeah we're forgetting the most important thing." Dawn said quietly. "Glory has Spike and she's going to hurt him."

"Yeah I was trying to bring that up." Xander glared at the others. "We were getting weapons."

There was a moment's silence where everyone looked at him to see how he was talking this, but his voice was calm as he spoke. "We don't even know where to look."

"I know where to start." Buffy replied. "Willow, call Giles. Tara will you stay here with Dawn?"

"No," Buffy said in a tone of voice that Dawn dared not argue with. They left the house, Buffy in the lead, Xander close behind.

Glory's earlier anger had changed now into something worse. A cold determination to keep him alive and tortured until she broke him apart and found what she wanted inside him. She could treat him with a god's casual contempt he was nothing. Just an object to rip and break and smash and painpainpain. /Don't care, don't care, cut into me, rip into my insides and squeeze until they burst I'll never tell you./

He wouldn't give up Dawn. Wouldn't let Xander down. But the pain, oh shit the pain. It consumed him, swallowed him, burnt through to his bones and he wasn't strong enough to take this much more. His determination was nothing, so weak compared to Glory playing his screams like an instrument with her manicured fingernails.

Breaking bones with a snapping sound that makes him sick. Throwing up in front of her, can't see anymore through blood in his eyes and nearly passing out again into blessed relief, but she kept waving some more of that foul smelling stuff under his nose that kept him awake oh fuck oh hell please make it stop.

His mouth wanted to open, to let the words fall out, it was so hard to keep it clamped shut. Just his bruised and battered body the only thing between Glory and Dawn.

He pulled pointlessly against the chains. Pointless because even if he got loose he was wrecked, could barely stand, and minions were swarming all over the place. How far could he go before they caught him? One step – two and then Glory would throw him through the wall. Throw him through the wall…

Glory's voice floated into his ears, "I have a riddle for you precious. How is a vampire that won't talk like an apple?" She forced his head back and pulled a knife across his chest. Sharp, his skin sliced open easily as she viciously drew it across.

"No more." He begged, was that his voice? Weak and rough from screaming. He couldn't take anymore. Xander wasn't coming for him. He had to look after himself.

Xander looked around the grassy verge where Giles had driven them too under Buffy's directions. It was very calm, peaceful with a slight breeze ruffling Buffy's golden hair and he tried to swallow the scream welling up as they looked around them, wasting even more time.

"Glory's key-sniffing snake was about here when I killed it." Buffy said. "It was heading back to her."

That was all she had? "It's not a lot to go on," Xander pointed out trying to keep the shade of blame from his voice. It was hardly Buffy's fault she didn't know where Glory lived.

Buffy shrugged. "It's all we got. We've got to find him so I can kill him." She flinched guiltily. "I'm sorry Xander – I can't begin to know how hard this is for you – but I gave him the chance to leave and he didn't, and now he's too big a risk – he knows who the key is and there's no way he's not telling Glory." She looked at him beseechingly as though trying to beg for forgiveness for preparing to kill his lover. Former lover.

And evil creatures didn't deserve mercy or forgiveness or love, they should die. And Spike was evil, don't think about how he'd hidden in the sewers for days, just to stay close to him, don't remember how he begged for forgiveness, he didn't care.

"Okay guys split up and spread out. Check out the priciest looking places first. Xander you come with me, Willow, Giles stick together."

Willow and Giles peeled off in the other direction as he and Buffy began to head towards the nearest building, a pretty swanky looking place. The knot in his stomach tightened further. Spike could be in there. He really could.

"Fine," he said willfully misunderstanding her. "The axe actually gets lighter the longer I carry it."

He nodded, without letting his speed drop. "I want to find him, I want to know. I want it done."

Water, cool, pure, it slid down his throat like silk. Spike swallowed, wondering if it was going to come out of the holes she'd torn in his skin with those dainty fingers.

"Is that better?" She asked, all concern. "Do you think you can try to talk again now?"

"Good. Because I'm tired of these games!" She smashed the glass against his face, tiny shards trapped in his skin. "'I need time, I need a drink' you're a very needy little bloodsucker and it's not very attractive!" She threw herself down on her couch and glared at him. "Just start talking."

She wasn't going to let him buy any more time. If he didn't do this now she'd just torture him again and any little strength he'd recovered would be torn away. He choked down his nerves and began.

"Yeah," he croaked as he glanced in the mirror at the wall behind him. "Okay the key. Here's the thing." He surreptitiously pulled against his chains. They gave a little, if he pulled hard enough he could get loose, but he was going to need one hell of a pull. Or a punch…

"That show, the price show? Where they guess what stuff costs?" Spike winced. Even though it was the only way out – well he wasn't looking forward to it.

"We will bring you Bob Barker – we will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Barker!"

Glory rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It is not Bob Barker you scabby morons!" Glory spat furiously.

"The key is new to this world, and Bob Barker is as old as grit." She turned to smile back at Spike. Fuck he was really beginning to hate that smile, but at least it meant this was working.

Spike giggled past his fear. Years spent pissing off Angelus, hiding his terror were finally paying off. "Yeah but it was fun. And guess what bitch? I'm not telling you jack. You're never going to get your sodding key because you may be strong but in our world…" he untwisted the chain as much as he could, trying to loosen them a little more, aligning his hands so his wrists hopefully wouldn't snap like twigs when the punch came, "you're an idiot."

"Shut up!" Glory's hands went to her hair and she looked at him uncertainly for the first time. She may be a Hellgod but she was a typical woman, more so in fact – with all these lackeys around her, she'd probably never been criticized in her life, he should have tried this hours ago. "I command you shut up!"

"Oh yeah okay. Sorry but I just had no idea that Gods were such prancing lightweights." Inside he was whimpering with fear that this mightn't work, but if he was going to get killed for it he may as well make it good, give the bitch a memory to make her flesh creep.

"Mark my words," he continued with conviction, "the Slayer is going to kick your skanky, lopsided ass…"

Glory anxiously checked out her behind, he tightened his grip on the chains, keeping up the pressure, waiting for it – come on bitch just get it over with!

"…back to whatever place would take a cheap…" he paused to size her up, and finished – not without some small satisfaction – "whorish, fashion victim, ex-god like you."

It all happened so fast, one second she was glaring at him and he was pulling like hell against the chains the next she'd spun around, her foot connecting squarely with his chest and pain exploded as ribs broke, organs were pushed out of place, but with a loud sudden snap the chain broke and he had a confused jerky impression of Glory receding as he flew backwards, smashing through the wall and skidding to a bone jarring stop.

"Good plan Spike," he muttered to himself, his voice sounded odd, the words mushed and rounded but he forced himself to his feet. Got to get out. But it hurt so bad, skin, insides and out, torn and grating. His body was screaming at him to lie down, please give up, just die please. He ignored it. He could die as soon as he got out, for now he staggered down the corridor so slow, every step jarred sending more pain sparking through him, they were coming, he had to move but it hurt oh fuck it hurt.

He could see the lift through the alarming black spots dancing in front of his eyes, as he looked the lift door was closing. He tried to hurry, his left leg was numb, dragging behind him. Biting his lip to stop from screaming he got there just as the door closed. He almost let the tears of frustration come. It was so tempting to just lie back down…

/Oh God/ he begged, /if you have any use left for a demon let me get away, I can't take any more torture, if you don't want me to talk let me get away/

He struggled against the lift doors and maybe his prayer was being answered, at least a little as he found a tiny measure of strength he didn't even know he had left, he gave all he had, pushing so hard he might just throw up again from the pain of straining his battered and beaten body still further, but the doors slowly, grudgingly eased open.

"Oh God," he groaned as he slid through and let himself drop to the lift below. He hit it hard and white lights flashed violently in front of his eyes replacing the black spots, as the pain rocketed through him, momentarily paralyzing him. He had to get into the lift, but he couldn't move, unable to bear setting off any more hurting. He could only lie there and wait for it to recede as the lift continued downwards. The white lights faded back into dark spots and beckoned to him. Beautiful, velvety darkness where he could put himself beyond pain.

In alarm he deliberately knocked his hand against one of his broken ribs. The darkness faded again, and the whiteness exploded back across his eyes, too bright, too painful, but it was safer than that darkness. His fumbling fingers opened the hatch and he let himself fall through into the lift just as it reached the ground floor and the doors opened. He could see the outside world from here, but he could already hear them clattering down the stairs after him, no time for escape – it was too late, it really was over.

But there was another way to keep them from getting him. He looked from the shadows of the lift at the sunshine streaming in through the windows and although he could hear them yelling, feel fear thudding at the edge of his mind, somehow it was easy to ignore. A bubble of quiet and clarity was spinning itself around him. Just a few steps and he could rest, he'd be done. /See Xander I did it. I didn't let you down again./

One of the minions was staring at him with open disgust as he ran down the stairs. "You do not insult Glory by escaping!"

/Oh yeah?/ Spike dragged himself to his feet, staring determinedly at the little shit through puffy eyes. /See how she takes me dying then mate. That'll really piss her off./ And if he was going he was gonna take as many of these little bastards with him as he could, but he'd never talk. Never, never, and he could swear even though he was still in the shadows he could already taste the sunshine and it tasted just the way he remembered. Warm, pure, fresh. He took the first step out.

As he and Buffy burst through the doors the first thing Xander saw was Glory's guys gathered on the stairs, looking at them with horror. He wondered why they were all gathered at the entrance before he caught sight of Spike, bloodied, battered, staring at him in amazement. They couldn't have looked at each other for more than a couple of seconds but Xander felt those feelings that he'd tried to push down until he pushed them away clench almost unbearably tight inside him, making a mockery of all his empty words and threats.

Spike closed his eyes in what looked like a burning relief before sinking into the shadows of the lift and collapsing to the floor.

Xander wondered afterwards if this was how Buffy must feel when she was fighting. So grounded he could feel the wood grain of the handle of the axe between his fingers, feel each tiny shiver that shot along it as he hit, hear the sounds as he smashed into them over and over, but at the same time it was all almost like being out of his body, fighting on autopilot because the only real thing was the pure burning fury that was coursing through his veins.

As he hacked his way through the demons, he was dimly aware of Willow and Giles yelling that they were here, joining the fray, but he didn't stop to look, to speak. The only thing that mattered was reaching Spike.

It was warm in the lift, quiet as the fight roared on outside. The axe still clenched in his hands, he stared at Spike's prone form. His eyes blurred and the axe hit the ground with a dull thump as he dropped to his knees next to him. The hate was still there, trapping words in his throat. Stilling his hands from reaching out to Spike. But under that. In spite of that. He didn't want to feel it, he hated feeling it, but he did.

/Oh God/ he thought helplessly. /I still love him. I can't help it. I love him./

Buffy's voice came quietly, breaking his concentration. He looked up, Glory's guys had gone, at least for now. Willow and Giles stood silently behind her, watching them. Buffy had a sword in her hand. He stared up at her and knew she would kill Spike to keep Dawn safe. And he could understand that. But if she wanted Spike dead she was going to have to come through him, and it wasn't right or fair or sensible but it was just the way it was.

His gaze met hers unflinchingly and after a long moment she slowly lowered the sword.

"Giles," she said, without taking her eyes from Xander. "Bring the car round. Hurry."

Xander looked at her questioningly. She shrugged. "We can't ask him what he told her if he's dust."

He stood back and she hoisted Spike up to his feet with more speed than care. Spike rocked, his eyes flickering open briefly, he muttered something incoherent and managed to steady himself, leaning heavily on Buffy.

Buffy gestured across the sunlit space where the sun came streaming into the windows. "How are we going to…"

Xander wordlessly shrugged off his coat and draped it over Spike. Spike's eyes were falling shut again, he was too far gone to notice what was happening. Buffy nodded to the entrance where Giles roared up with the car.

The others talked in low whispers as Xander stared blankly at the rows of murky looking potions behind the till in the magic shop. Giles had insisted on dropping himself and Buffy at the shop while he and Willow dealt with Spike and they had agreed. Buffy had been anxious to see Dawn and he'd been desperate to get away from Spike. Being around him made his feelings as murky as any of these potions. So angry, so sad, so protective. It was too hard to bear. Especially with Spike beaten and in so much pain and all he wanted was to take it away, and the next moment all he wanted was to make it worse. He wondered if any magic could make him stop feeling like this. Was there anything that could stop love once it had taken root inside you? If there was he'd take it in a second. He'd always been scared of falling in love and now he knew why. He hated this. Love shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't mingle in with hate until you didn't know what it was you felt. It shouldn't tear you apart inside. You shouldn't be so completely helpless against it.

He jumped as the shop bell rang out and Willow and Giles entered the shop looking tired.

"Dropped him back at his crypt." Willow replied, flicking a concerned glance at Xander.

Giles rubbed his eyes wearily. "We tried to find out if he'd told her anything but he was too badly beaten to make much sense."

"Well even if he told her he'd just lie to us about it anyway." Xander said dully.

"Count on it." Buffy agreed. "But I have to know – now. If he did give us up Dawn and I need to get out of town – I mean she could be on her way here right now."

"But not to worry I'm sure we'll all be perfectly safe" Giles said, trying to give Dawn a reassuring smile.

"Safe. Right, and Spike and Xander having sex is a euphemism for them playing checkers." Dawn said sarcastically. Xander felt a bitter smile tug at his mouth.

"I don't think he did." Willow said swiftly changing the subject. "Tell Glory I mean."

There was a long pause as Xander stared steadfastly at the ground. He knew what they wanted but he couldn't do it – he couldn't face Spike.

"No! No. Sorry Buff but if I'm around him I'll end up…" /Killing him, kissing him/ "…doing something I'll regret."

Silence fell again as he felt rather than saw the concerned looks they exchanged.

"I have something that could help there," Willow said stepping over to the array of bottles and jars on the shelf. She ran her finger along the bottles thoughtfully and picked out a couple. As she opened them she said tentatively; "You know, I feel kind of bad for him."

"I'm on your side Xander," she hurried to explain. "What he did to you was awful, a total travesty I'm completely on board. But…"

Spike lay motionless for a long time, afraid to move, to awaken the pain that was throbbing dully through his body. Far better to just lie here until he might feel better, whenever that might be. To just cling on to the thought that he'd survived. Never mind that survival seemed a pretty bleak prospect at the moment. Xander had come for him, but somehow he didn't think that meant everything was happy now. He only had to open his eyes and look around the crypt where he'd been dumped, alone and in pain to get that. At least if he'd stepped out into the light he'd be beyond all this, peaceful and finished. Maybe Xander would have believed him then, but fate apparently wasn't that kind. That would have been easier on him. He was doing to have to do this the hard way and live without him. Day by day, minute by minute.

The silence of the crypt swallowed him until he began to wonder if he was even really here. Nothing to anybody. He'd held on for so long, now it was over he felt curiously hollow, empty inside. Alone and drifting. No Xander, no determination not to give in, no Hellgod. In a twisted way at least Glory had needed him, wanted him, she'd seen him. Not that he wanted to go back there, Glory's attention was pretty hard to take. But the loneliness was hard to bear as well.

So it was with a queer sense of relief when he heard his door swing open and he recognized the scent of the Slayer.

She was a bugger for that 'hitting him while he was down ' thing, but at least someone was aware of him. Anything in this crypt now was an improvement.

"'S me." Spike agreed, he opened his eyes to see her looking down at him, and he painfully eased his protesting, screaming body up into a sitting position.

She flicked her fingers casually at him, the dust in the air hazily rose then settled with the movement. "Love those bruises on you."

"Yeah – you're not the only one that likes 'em, pretty near everyone wants to plant a few on me these days."

"Well there's our dose of painful awkwardness over with." Spike said at last. "If you want another round of beating me up though could you give me a couple of weeks? Cuts and bones need some time to heal."

Spike almost shrugged then thought better of it. "She wanted to know who the key was. You saying you wanted me to tell her?"

"No!" He coughed desperately as the force with which he'd spoken tore at his hoarse, hurting throat, then went white as the coughing sent jolts of pain through his body as muscles that had been grabbed, twisted into a different shape and shoved back in, clenched and pushed. Clasping his hands to his chest to still the movement he shook his head. "I wouldn't ever. Glory never finds out."

And suddenly he was too tired to tell anything but the truth, to tired to try and hide behind any of the faces he'd worn with the Slayer. "The Bit, she's a mate, maybe the only real one I've ever had, stuck her neck out for me, and…Xander. Although he's less pleasant these days." Spike shook his head self deprecatingly, trying to shrug aside his vulnerability. "I owed him that much. I promised I was never going to let him down again and I meant it. I love him, an' couldn't live with him being in any more pain. I'd let Glory kill me first." He looked down at himself and rolled his eyes at himself. Wrecked and ashamed, humiliatingly exposed in front of a girl he always tried – for one reason or another to look powerful in front of. "Nearly bloody did."

He kept his eyes averted from hers. Waiting for the mockery, the disbelief. The unexpected kiss brushing butterfly soft against his cut and swollen mouth flooded through him like a balm over his pain filled body.

He pulled away, staring at her with questioning, confused eyes, it had to be a trick – but she looked back at him gravely her green-blue eyes wide and clear and filled with things he'd never seen in there before, not for him anyway. Respect, trust. In that moment they ceased to be enemies. Not friends but maybe something more important. Allies.

She slowly turned away. He tried to bite his tongue but couldn't help himself blurting out.

"DON'T!" Buffy snapped, her voice still had a spark of anger, but he knew it wasn't for herself. It was for Xander. She turned back to look at him and must have seen his misery as she continued a little more softly. "These games, they're not even real."

Spike hung his head – the shame was too great to even look up. Then she spoke again.

Spike looked up. She paused, hovering over the next words, but her voice when it came was clear and firm as she threw him his reward.

For a moment they regarded each other gravely then she walked out, closing the door behind her, leaving him alone again. But not empty. Spike stared into the place she had stood for a very long time as a tiny spark of hope caught inside him.

Outside the crypt Buffy thoughtfully brushed her hands free of the truth powder she'd sprinkled Spike with before walking away.

It was mid morning and hot, sunlight streamed into the magic shop making even the darker, more powerful potions and powders that surrounded them look harmless. Xander sat, surrounded by a pile of books, helping Giles research and listening to Willow chatter about the World Culture Fair she and Tara were going to this afternoon. After all this time, she still glowed whenever she spoke of her girlfriend, of the plans they'd made together. He tried to smile, nod encouragingly, but the dust prickled at his nose – the sunlight and the incomprehensible books were making his head hurt, and he just couldn't make himself respond to her obvious happiness.

How hot was it in here? The air was stifling, pressing against him stickily, draining his energy, the tiniest of movements took the maximum of effort.

The musty smell of the books was swamping him – irritating and stale, and he wished fervently for a moment that Willow would shut up – just shut up about the wonderful couple things she and Tara had planned.

"Geez Giles," he snapped suddenly, interrupting Willow in mid flow, slamming a book shut in disgust, “do you ever dust these things?"

/Oh yeah sure,/ he thought with a wave of irrational anger. /Look at me like I'm the freak. Why not? I know I do whenever I look in the mirror./

"I mean its bad enough we gotta be stuck in here with these three thousand page sleeping pills – you gotta make it worse with the 'old book' smell?"

"Well I did consider bathing them in fragrant oils but decided the information inside them was slightly more important than any affront to your sense of smell," Giles said dryly.

"If you ask me anything would be an improvement," he snapped back. " But hey look who I'm talking to. You haven't been away from this crap for at least the last decade – do you even remember what it's like to have a life?"

Giles flinched ever so slightly and somewhere inside him, so did Xander, but he was unable to stop – something was gnawing painfully inside him, making him lash out with sour satisfaction.

"I don't know – maybe that you don't stop talking? Willow, you wanna talk about your great life, and girlfriend and the Culture Fair why don't you go talk to someone who gives a…"

Suddenly his voice broke, the edgy, snappish anger departing just as fast as it had come, and he gulped, covering his face with his hands.

"Xander?" Giles' voice floated into his ears, weirdly far away, yet way too close. "Are you all right?"

His mouth was twisting across his face in a scrawl, inside his brittle defenses were crumbling, he dug his fingers so tightly into his hair it hurt.

/Not again/ he berated himself frantically as panic streamed though him. /Haven't I humiliated myself enough?/ With an effort that left him shaking, he beat back the wail that was rising in his throat doing its damnedest to come out.

"Yeah." His voice came out a little shaky but he managed to choke back the lump in his throat, forcing away the danger of imminent collapse. He wiped his eyes and was dimly aware of Giles moving his chair closer to him, of Willow placing her hand on his shoulder. He let his hands drop from his face as crippling shame caught up to him.

"God, I'm sorry you guys, I didn't mean…it's just…Anya…Glory…Spike," he drew in a wavering breath. "Its been a rough couple of months."

Willow nodded, rubbing his shoulder soothingly, sympathy etched on her expressive face.

"It's understandable," Giles said gently. "You've been through a lot, it's bound to catch up to you."

"Xander…I'm not eager for you to make up with the guy that did this to you, but maybe you should talk to him," Willow said tentatively. "I know things are kind of…" She gestured vaguely with her hand to illustrate what she meant, "between you two right now."

Xander shook his head. "No, there's no…" he mirrored her gesture. "It's all very clear."

"Willow could have a point Xander," Giles said reluctantly. "As much as I would like Spike as far away from you as possible it may help you resolve your…uh…issues with him."

For some reason a picture flashed into Xander's mind of the endless sleepless nights he spent, where no matter how he arranged the pillows or how many glasses of warm milk he had, nothing worked. He had the feeling the only thing that could push him into sleep was a cool body pressed against him. Was that an issue?

"You know the thing that really sticks in me?" he continued bitterly. "The thing that really cranks it up that extra notch? It's…"

The door to the back room opened and Buffy came into the shop wiping her face with a towel. She paused as she felt their eyes on her, sensing the tension in the room.

"Yeah it was okay." She checked her watch and tutted in dismay. "I'd better get a move on. I have to drop out of classes, meet with Dawn's principle and I have…uh, some other stuff to do first."

"Taking blood to Spike?" Xander asked, staring fixedly down at the table. His voice came out stilted and strange.

Xander kept his eyes averted, and Buffy continued tentatively; "Um Xander would…you like to take it?"

"Xander I'm on your side, but I can't just leave him. You know the minute he can look after himself, I'm out of there."

Xander watched her as she walked across the shop, the empty aching place where his heart should be pulling at him, getting worse with every step she took, knowing that she was going to Spike. He bit his lip, trying to clamp down the surge of feeling building up inside him but as she reached the door…

He was trembling, his heart thudding painfully fast in his chest, as he felt himself draw close, hover right on the edge of letting go of the past.

He choked as a memory flashed through his mind of Spike. Spike laughing carelessly at him after the first time he had slept with him. The rush of forgiveness that only a moment ago had flooded him, seeming so possible, so real, receded. He looked at Buffy waiting by the door and felt his lip curl in bitterness as he drew back from the edge. "Nothing."

Buffy's slight smile faded, she paused for a moment longer, but he kept his mouth resolutely clamped shut. Nodding sadly she left, the shop bell tinkling as she did. He was safe again, back on the firm ground of hating Spike. Safe, and a little sick, feeling oddly let down.

"It's that," he finished angrily, going back to what he'd been saying before she had come out. "That's what really gets to me, those two suddenly bosom buddies."

"Xander they're not…" Giles began, when the phone peeled out. "Oh," He jumped to his feet then hovered indecisively by the table. "That will be the Council – they said they'd call with a report on their Glory research."

Giles nodded resignedly. "I'll take it in the back." He squeezed Xander's shoulder comfortingly as he passed him.

"Giles is right you know," Willow said as the back door closed and the phone stopped. "Buffy's not his friend. She's your friend."

"So how is it she's now delivering blood to the guy that wanted to tear me up into little bitty pieces? Besides he was obsessed with her. She should stay away from him."

"What and that makes it all okay?" he asked disbelievingly. "Besides its more than that – its so obvious she thinks…that she…how can she trust him after…"

Damnit! His voice was shaking again. Was he evergoing to get past this humiliating urge to fall apart every time this came up?

"Well maybe its easier for Buffy." Willow said gently. "He never broke her heart."

"Yeah – I guess I got the deluxe package huh?" He gave her a brief sad smile. "I know he did something good," he admitted. "It just makes it worse. If he was just a demon it would be…"

"Clearer. Before he was just a bastard, now all at once he's a hero. He's a heroic bastard. How am I meant to know what to do if everything is so messed up? I know he saved Dawn and that should make up for it but there's other stuff…" He looked down helplessly at his hands clasped tightly on the table. So much other stuff inside him, tearing him apart, why wouldn't it go away? Why couldn't life be easy?

Willow nodded. "The night she found out about you and Spike. She wasn't taking it so well and I hit her."

"Yeah – but the thing is, it happened so fast, I don't think anything could have stopped me, but that time in the Bronze when he almost…"

"Geez Willow are you in the 'Spike's a hero' camp as well as Dawn and Buffy?" He snapped, ignoring his heart that was thudding with fear, because maybe, just maybe she was making him think things he didn't want to think – dangerous things.

"No," Willow persisted, "I'm in your camp – totally. I just think that when it comes to you there is other stuff there with him, I mean stuff other than the bad stuff."

He struggled to close his mind against whatever the hell it was that her words were awakening inside him. Something like…yearning, sadness. He was past all that now – he had to be past it because that way lay painpainpain, and even if it was taking longer than he'd thought to get over Spike, hurting almost more than he could bear, well that was just something he had to deal with.

"Even if I did talk to him what am I gonna say? 'Hey thanks for nearly getting tortured to death but it doesn't change anything'?"

"Doesn't it?" she asked gently. "You know what Buffy said. He told her he did it for y…"

Willow's eyes followed him with concern. "Well you know he doesn't want Buffy right?"

"Yeah I know, but it doesn't suddenly make him a good guy! He's a monster – I already forgot that once and look how it turned out. He made this plan and okay – so he fell in…"

He stalled, unable to say those words and then began again, now he'd started to spill out words he had to finish – had to explain to Willow what was going on in his mind, his heart.

"So he got…attached to me and couldn't go through with it, what if he hadn't? He'd have carried on and left town singing a jaunty tune and left us to pick up the pieces. I can't forgive him Wills, I can't forget what he is, and I won't let myself…care about a demon that uses people like that!"

"No. I hate him. I hate him for what he did. I hate that everyone knows, I hate myself for not being able to stop what happened with him, but…I," he tried to stem the words but couldn't stop them flooding out; "I hate Glory for what she did to him." His fists clenched compulsively as the rage at Glory he tried to ignore pounded demandingly at the cold cage he'd built to contain it, screaming to be noticed, acted on. "Sometimes I just want to go and find her and…"

"Woah – Xander," Willow shot to her feet, standing in his path, until then he hadn't even realized he'd been pacing restlessly. "You know you can't right? She'd kill you before you got through the door."

Willows eyes were wide and he froze as he registered what he'd just said. " Sometimes I don't care." He amended swiftly. "Sometimes I just want to take my best shot, I don't care if she squashes me like a bug – then I remember what Spike did and I want to take a swing at him myself. It's like that rollercoaster we sneaked on when we were kids. Just as I'm tearing in one direction – wham! – just as fast the opposite way." His energy deserted him and he crumpled, exhausted into the chair.

"Was that the time I threw up?" Willow asked, frowning slightly as she tried to remember.

They gave each other small twisted smiles that faded almost immediately. "I'm losing it Wills," he said brokenly. "Everything is falling apart and there's nothing I can do to fix it." He looked up at her with eyes that were somehow angry yet pleading. "Why did this have to happen to me? I can't stand feeling like this."

"Oh Xander," Willow's eyes ached for him, she took hold of his hand tightly. "It'll get better," she reassured him passionately. "It has to get better."

"How?" He asked desperately, his voice rising with frustration. "How can it? It's all so wrong now – I just wish I could go back and make it different – I wish he'd never come here – I just wish he'd left me the hell alone!"

Spike's eyes flew open, a soundless scream trapped in his throat as he forcibly pulled himself out of his nightmare. His eyes darted frantically around him, peering fearfully into the darkness that surrounded him.

He was alone. After a long moment he sank back onto the pillow, trying to stem the panic that was racing in his veins. He clenched the bundle of dark material in his fingers, taking in the scent, concentrating on the inhale, exhale movement to calm him. Deep seated itching nagged at him, in his very bones. An uncomfortable burning warmth swallowed him from the inside out.

All that the itching and the burning meant was that he was healing. He must be – the forced breathing motion didn't hurt him inside the way it had done. Bones knitting together, skin healing, his insides less painful as they reverted back into their natural state. Soon he would be back to himself. Except for the memories. And the nightmares. Nightmares that Glory was waiting to grab him, nightmares he had never really gotten away, that he would regain consciousness still chained to Glory's ceiling, screaming out Dawn's name over and over as Glory changed into Xander looking at him in disgust. Not that he could ever tell anyone about these nightmares of course. Big Bads didn't have nightmares. If they had nightmares then they weren't Big Bads were they?

His eyes and ears were on red alert in case Glory or one of those scabby minion guys were coming to get him. Not that he could fight them off, at the moment it was all he could do to walk. He couldn't do anything except hang around this crypt that didn't feel safe anymore waiting for his body to heal. He'd had some tough fights in his time and had always hated this part the most after being injured. The weakness, the forced inaction, the boredom and frustration as he yearned impatiently for his strength to return, but this now, this was the worst yet. Worse even than the time Buffy had put him in that bloody wheelchair. Waiting in this half alive, dull pain, where he couldn't deal with outside right now – the lights were so bright and hurt his eyes and the air was too much to take. But the loneliness was also hard to take.

Eventually he stopped forcing his breath, allowing his tight grasp to ease up a little. He didn't think Glory was going to come after him again. She probably didn't think he was worth it now she knew he had the Slayers protection. Him with the Slayers protection, now there was irony for you. Never thought he'd rise so high, or sink so low, depending on your point of view. But still knowing in his mind that Glory wasn't coming for him, and feeling it were two different things. He knew the bitch. Being tortured by someone gave you a real good feel for them. She wasn't going to give up, unless Buffy did something sharpish Glory would be coming. It was just a question of when – and who.

He shuddered, and dragged himself out of bed, limping over to the blood Buffy had dropped off for him this morning, he carefully opened the bag and drank it down. He wistfully remembered draining the blood of a Slayer straight from her throat. The heat and power, it had flooded through him until surely he must have been glowing with it. He looked down at the empty bag and sighed. Still it was good of Buffy to bring it. She actually seemed to think he was okay these days. Not great or anything like that but she brought him blood and smokes, asked occasional polite questions about his health. Although he was grateful that she wasn't making this any harder on him sometimes he actually found himself missing the days when she had threatened him hourly, because at least them he'd had a little pride, some attitude. At least then he'd had Xander.

Xander. Who hadn't come, and despite all the healing his body was doing that little fact was ripping him apart inside and getting worse with every passing day. How could someone just not being here hurt so damn much? It wasn't that there was a Xander shaped hole in his heart, it was his whole heart, it ached, it breaked, and it never let up.

And stupid and pathetic as it may be, he'd been nourishing a tiny hope that Xander would come to him and they could be together again, and no, there was no big reconciliation scene planned, no wild sex, or pretty speeches. There'd be time for all that stuff later, right now he just wanted Xander. Wanted Xander to sit with him, hold him and talk – or just be quiet – without restraint and he could drop this silent, suffering thing, stop denying just how scared he felt and just…take some comfort.

But he hadn't come, and that really said a hell of a lot. Maybe it was time to face it. He wasn't going to come. Maybe now all that he could do was let go. What else could he do? Yes he'd done a terrible thing but he'd tried to stop it, apologized, begged, hung around at great risk just to be near him, tried to talk to him and let a hellgod tear him to shreds. He was all out of ideas, it was up to Xander now, and if he couldn't deal with the past…then that was his loss.

Yeah. Sure. The misery and loss and fucking pain that clawed at him suggested differently.

But it was time to move on, find a bit of fighting spirit, regain his pride, his attitude. Xander wasn't coming back, if he wanted to move on from being just as pathetic as the Ensouled One, he would have to face that. He'd be alright. He'd lived without Xander for over a hundred years and done pretty damn fine, he didn't need him, he didn't need anyone.

His eyes fell on the bundle of dark material he had been clinging onto. Xander's coat. He didn't know how it had arrived here. He guessed it had been draped over him to protect him from the sun after pulling him out of Glory's place. It was a true testimony to how pathetic he'd become, hanging on to this tiny remnant of Xander, he should get rid of the damn thing, burn it maybe. Soon.

He shivered, and lay back down on the bed, trying to close his mind against harsh reality. The painful past, the unbearable present, the bleak future. Right now he just needed to imagine for a moment…

He closed his eyes tightly and inhaled deeply, wrapping the empty arms of the coat around himself.

It was mid afternoon, the time where no vampire was at his best or brightest and Spike was dozing fitfully when he heard his name being called, footsteps clattering across the floor above him.

"Huh?" Spike jolted himself out of his half doze. It was Buffy, and she was sounding pretty damn stressed. He looked up to see her heading swiftly down his ladder into his underground cavern, he tensed, his nerves, already stretched taut, pulled a little tighter. She'd already done the blood run this morning and she never came twice in one day. This couldn't be good.

"What, what is it?" he asked as he swiftly hid Xander's coat that he'd had tangled around him under his pillow.

Buffy shook her head, barely even seeming to notice him, never mind the coat. Her eyes were overly bright, darting restlessly around his crypt as though she was hoping to find answers written on the walls. "Spike it's Glory."

"She's…" Buffy glanced above her where Dawn's legs were coming into view as she climbed down the ladder. "Its Tara."

"Tara?" Spike repeated, he'd been so sure she was going to say Xander, or that Glory was on her way here, it took a moment to sink into his baffled mind. "What's happened to her?"

"Glory seems to think that Tara is the key, she's going after her – I have to get out there – now I need you to look after Dawn."

His eyes widened in disbelief. Him? Protect the kid? He was a wreck! He opened his mouth to protest, but paused as she looked back at him with wordless pleading. She knew he was a wreck, and he was still the one with the best chance of keeping Dawn safe.

Dawn reached the bottom of the ladder and turned to him, her young face blotchy and scared.

Buffy nodded gratefully, gave Dawn a swift hug and scrambled back up the ladder. They listened in silence to her footsteps run across the crypt above and the door slamming behind her.

He and Dawn looked uncomfortably at each other. She shivered slightly, glancing around nervously at the gloom of his resting place. "Is it…are we safe here?"

"Sure we are," he said with a confidence he didn't really feel. Still it would have to be safe here now. She was relying on him to make it safe.

He stood, disentangling himself from the sheets and heard Dawn give a strangled gasp. "Oh Spike," she choked.

He looked up at her in confusion and realized he was only wearing his jeans, her wide eyes were staring at his bare chest. Not in a good way. The light from her torch jumped erratically over his body, as her hand shook violently, the beam ruthlessly spotlighting the mass of purple bruises and welts that covered him.

He looked down, seeing himself through her eyes, then back up at her. Her eyes were filling up as she stared, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away. He struggled into a T-shirt and his duster as quickly as he could manage, ignoring the pain shooting through him at the movement. The palpable guilt and concern from her made him feel edgy, embarrassed about the physical evidence that lingered on him of how much he'd suffered to keep her safe. Yeah he'd done something for her. No need for her to beat herself up over it. It wasn't her that had chained him to the damn ceiling and tortured him in all manner of interesting ways.

"C'mon kid," he offered tersely, without meeting her eyes. "I'll give you the tour."

Xander wandered back to the magic shop after a long walk he'd taken to try and clear his head. It was something of a relief to know he hadn't been totally paranoid earlier on, it really was one hell of a hot day. Sweat was trickling down his back making his T-shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. He wondered idly how Willow and Tara were getting on at the Fair thing they were going to this afternoon. Any sensible person would either be jumping into a swimming pool right now, or indoors with some ice water and air conditioning. Of course he was doing neither of those things himself. Instead he was planning an afternoon surrounded with old books and weird smelling herbs. No air conditioning in here, but he did have a couple of large cokes loaded with ice. He figured a cool drink and some extra research was the least he could do to make up for his short temper with Giles this morning. He pushed at the door to find it locked, pulling back slightly in confusion he noticed the 'Closed' sign.

A thud of sick worry hit in his stomach. However over the years he'd gotten so used to that feeling he only arched an eyebrow very slightly before digging out the spare keys Giles had given him. He unlocked the door, looking around him warily as he entered the shop. It was warm and silent and filling him with a very bad feeling. He locked the door behind him again. The ceiling fan turned lazily above him, it didn't seem to be cooling the place down – only rolling the waves of hot air around. The faint hum from it was the only sound he could hear.

He pushed the door to the back room, standing motionless in the doorway as it swung open to reveal Giles standing behind a chair, cleaning his glasses. Slumped in the chair, bound by twine was one of Glory's minions. He was quite dead.

"Hey Giles," Xander greeted him uncomfortably as he cautiously stepped into the room. "Re-decorating? Going for the Reservoir Dogs' kinda style?"

"I caught him sneaking around outside," Giles said grimly. "He was keeping an eye on us while Glory goes for the key."

"Tara?" he echoed. "Oh God." Sick helpless fear washed over him in a tide, but he ignored it, there would be time to freak out later. "What's happening?"

"Willow knows, she's checking at the Fair, I've already called Buffy, she's out looking for them. Now all we can do is wait."

Giles replaced his glasses, and Xander found himself slumped against the wall. He pulled listlessly at his T-shirt, peeling it away from where it was clinging damply to his skin, trying not to look at the dead demon in the chair, trying not to think about what could be happening to Tara. He remembered Willow this morning, bright and happy. The way she had glowed, and how he'd snapped at her. Because…he'd been so jealous.

It was hard, acknowledging that. He hadn't until this very moment. She'd found something with Tara that he'd wanted with Spike, something he'd come so close to, only to have it slip away, like water between his fingers. The jealousy had twisted inside him, ripping into him with its spiky, cruel edges, making him lash out, and now, oh now he'd give anything to go back to this morning, to shake the petty jealous bastard he'd been until his teeth rattled, to be happy for her, to have Tara safe and Willow happy, she must be frantic right now…

"Wait – Willow knows?" he questioned, trying to distract himself from ugly painful truths. "How? I thought they were going to the Fair together."

"They were supposed to but they had a fight. Willow came here and Tara went alone."

Giles shrugged tiredly. "It seems they picked a bad day to break with tradition."

"Oh God," he said again, whether as an examination of dismay or a plea for help he didn't know. Maybe both. But at this moment the only god that seemed to be around was the one hellbent on torturing, killing and tormenting them all.

Images of Spike, battered and bleeding floated before him and he had to squeeze his eyes closed tightly for a second to try to block them out. They didn't go away completely though, but danced just at the back of his mind. Spike, Tara, how many more people he loved were going to pay for protecting Dawn before they did something to stop Glory?

"She’ll be fine," he said aloud, needing to hear the words out loud. Giles remained silent. "She'll be fine. Willow and Buffy on the case? Glory won't know what's hit her…"

At that moment they both jumped as the phone peeled out. Crazily, he already knew it was bad news, the damn thing was almost pulsating with bad vibes. They looked at it for a moment as it rang out persistently, then Giles, looking like he was facing a firing squad, picked it up.

It was cool in the hospital. Too cool. The air conditioning was set too high and he couldn't stop shivering, even with his coat on. It should be a relief after the heat from outside, but instead it just made him feel cut off from the outside world, in a place that wasn't quite real. They'd spent a lot of time in this hospital lately. Too much. Memories of Joyce, pale and ill filled the place. Xander had a sudden powerful yearning to be on the beach, in the evening, with a cool breeze and the scent of sand and salt water, and away from all this. From the smell of antiseptic and despair, the artificial, too- bright lights that made everything in here look stark and ugly, the doctor with his patronizing false cheer, the x-rays on the wall, the incomprehensible charts, and all it really came down to was Tara's blank eyes and the tears streaking Willow's face.

"It is dreadful," Giles agreed sadly. Xander looked at Willow, who was staring at Tara, with such a look of gut-wrenching loss his heart was breaking. For her, for Tara. Silence fell between them all again. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do to make Willow feel better, except be here. His presence, silent and useless as it seemed to be was the most he could do for Willow right now, and if it was all he could do he'd damn well do it. He looked at her and loved her fiercely, trying to imagine his love was a blanket, wrapped around her, keeping her warm and sheltered.

They'd been here for hours, and he was still fearfully on edge, as though he was waiting for something, but what? The doctors had poked and prodded Tara every way they could think of before plastering her broken hand, and pronouncing themselves baffled. She had certainly succumbed to some kind of mental problem. Possibly the same that had been sweeping through Sunnydale lately. Gee thanks for the help guys, would never have noticed without you. They had said – in confidence of course – that plans were underway to investigate. Yeah, good luck. They should start with the swanky apartments on the other side of town. He wondered what they'd say if he told them the truth, that a hell god had shoved her fingers into Tara's brain, given them a good wriggle around and sucked all the sense out of there with as much delight as Dawn with a milkshake. They'd probably think he was crazy as well.

He looked up hopefully as Buffy – finally – came into the room. She looked pale and unhappy. Maybe this was what he was waiting for. She must have finally checked her answerphone to find the short sad message Giles had left for her before they had left the magic shop.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Will, I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around Willow, holding her tightly. Willow's eyes began to fill up again, and they pulled apart as Willow gestured helplessly at Tara.

"They kill mice," Tara said, smiling brightly. He bit his lip as Willow cried silently for Tara, destroyed and unaware. At least he hoped she was unaware.

"Tara," Buffy said softly, wrapping her arms around her. Tara looked ahead blankly.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Buffy said, turning back to Willow. "But Dawn's safe with Spike, so I can stay as long as you need."

His heart skipped a beat, then gave three in fast succession to make up for it, at the mention of Spike, but he stayed still, stoic, silent and concentrating on pushing every ounce of support he had to Willow.

"Nothin' to be worried about, kid," Spike said reassuringly as he led Dawn through his underground cavern. It was the part he rarely went in, hollow and cold. The light of her torch broke up the darkness, and he hid his winces of pain from her as the beam occasionally danced across his eyes. "No one's gonna hurt you."

Spike felt a wry smile tug as his mouth, that was his Little Bit. "What, these?" he mocked his sore and beaten body gently. "It's just a few bruises. Nothin' to write home about."

He turned to see her watching him, sadness and fear apparent in her expressive eyes, she wasn't going to buy the act. She was scared, scared bad, and he knew why. Glory was going to find her, if not today then soon. She knew it, he knew it, and Buffy probably knew it, and he was just a big walking preview of what was to come when she did.

"Hey, chin up, platelet," he said as kindly as he knew how. "Don't get scared. Maybe Glory doesn't wanna kill you, maybe it's something…"

"Worse?" Dawn finished. For a moment they looked at each other, then he turned away. He didn't know what he could say to help. Maybe there was nothing he could say.

Shit. To coin a Sunnydale phrase, he really sucked at this comforting thing. Beating up demons – yeah that he was good at, but the kid didn't need that now – she needed some hope, some love. And he wasn't much good at that. She should be out in the sunlight, not trapped in the dark with a demon and bad things coming for her from every direction.

For some reason a memory flashed through his head – false of course, the monks had done their work on him as well – of the first time he had seen Dawn. She'd been with Joyce at the parent/teacher night, and had gotten separated from everyone when the place went dark. He'd found her in a closet and grabbed her. She'd screamed in terror and he'd yelled at Buffy to come out or the kid would make a nice pre-appetizer. Buffy had come out to face him and he'd carelessly tossed Dawn aside. He wondered what the reality had been.

Whatever. They'd come a hell of a long way since then. He realized she was being pretty quiet, and glanced back over his shoulder to see her sitting on a rock, unable to look at him as she struggled to hold back the tears.

He felt his face soften, his heart swell up and ache for her. Poor Little Bit. His best friend. They sure had come a hell of a long way. He slowly walked toward her.

"Hey," he said softly, tentatively reaching a hand out to stroke her hair, still uncertain as to if he was doing this comfort thing right. She turned to him unexpectedly and he swiftly pulled his hand away in a sudden attack of nerves, pretending to be running it through his hair. Fortunately she didn't seem to notice.

/Glory, Glory, and oh lets say Glory?/ He thought, but he stayed silent. Waiting for her to say whatever it was she needed to get out.

His brow creased in confusion as she looked up at him, her face crumpling. Too much pain and sorrow, the poor kid had been through enough to last two lifetimes.

"Right now, Glory thinks Tara's the key," she continued, her voice trembling. "But I'm the key, Spike. I am. And anything that happens to Tara…is 'cause of me. Your bruises, your limp…that's all me too."

He would have shrugged, as if to say it didn't matter but it still hurt too much, all he could do was listen as she spilled out her hurt, let her get it all out.

"I'm like a lightning rod for pain and hurt." Tears began to trickle tiredly from her eyes. "And everyone around me suffers and dies. I…must be something so horrible…to cause so much pain…and evil."

The guy he'd been once would have enjoyed playing with her heartache, her fear that she was the bad thing, the thing that needed to be stopped. The guy he was now didn't hesitate for a second.

And he didn't give a damn if it meant he was soft, pathetic. It was the right fucking thing to do and it felt good.

"I'm a vampire," he said with emphasis. "I know somethin' about evil. You're not evil."

Dawn made a tiny gesture of acknowledgement. "Maybe…I'm not evil. But…I don't think I can be good." She looked up at him with misty hopeful eyes like he was some kind of hero that could put everything right with a couple of words. But he wasn't a hero, he didn't really know what he was anymore.

He sat down next to her. "You didn't ask for any of this kid, not one bit of it. Only have to look at you to know that. Why do you think everyone wants to protect you? You're just about the sweetest most innocent thing I've ever come across."

Dawn sniffed loudly, wiping her eyes with her hand, and he tactfully averted his eyes. After a few moments her snuffling subsided.

He started in shock. The instinctive movement hurt his unprepared body. Not as much as the memories her question had released though. She had her sisters knack for hitting where it hurt.

"I hear stuff, stuff I'm not supposed to. I know what you did, why it all started, but Buffy told me what you told her, after Glory…And I thought you wouldn't have looked like you did that night you asked for me to take him a message if you didn't love him."

He nodded as the ground blurred under his vision, maybe he would have let some tears of his own out, but they hurt as well. Prepared or not.

She gave him a sad smile. "I figured. You know you kinda suck at sticking to a plan."

"You noticed that huh?" He gave her a tiny, wry smile. His fingers were clasped painfully tight. "How is he?"

"You know Xander – he doesn't give much away, not by talking anyway. But…he looks like he's hurting."

Spike glanced away again as the pain that throbbed inside him gave a vicious twist, threatening to swallow him up.

After a long moment Dawn tentatively reached out, her dainty, warm fingers curling around his pale, cool hand, and they sat in silence for a while.

Buffy was slumped against the wall as though the effort of standing unaided was just too much, while he, Willow and Giles stood ramrod straight as though if they even buckled that little bit, they would break altogether. He still felt like a spring coiled up too tight, desperate to be released. What the hell was it that he was waiting to do? All of them were watching helplessly as the nurses tried to settle Tara into a wheelchair.

"Don't!" Tara cried out, upset, pushing the nurse away. "Please don't with that treachery! I told the cat and now I beg my mother sitting all alone."

"Bye Tara," Willow called after her, as she was wheeled away. "I'll see you tomorrow, I love you." She struggled to stay still for a moment, then made a sudden move to run after her.

"Willow no," he said strongly, darting in front of her and blocking her path. "It's just for one night."

"I know," Willow admitted unhappily. "But it's a whole night. I don't think I can sleep without her."

Buffy pushed herself away from the wall. "Will, you just have to rest." she said, sensibly and uselessly. "Okay? Right now there's nothing you can do."

Nothing you can do, nothing you can do…Buffy's words echoed weirdly in his head.

But she was wrong, there was something and finally he knew what he'd been moving inexorably towards, what he'd been waiting for, not just this afternoon, but ever since he had seen Spike, bruised, bloodied and broken after the torture he'd endured at Glory's hands. The roller coaster had finally decided which direction it was heading in. He looked at Willow, and knew she felt it too. It was like looking in a distorted mirror. Different face, same expression, burning, powerful, frustrated anger. Anger screaming to come out and have its way. Or to put it simply. Revenge.

"Yes there is." Willow turned away swiftly, and comprehension burst open on Buffy's face.

"No, no way!" She shot out into the corridor after Willow, and he followed, more slowly. His heart was thudding fast, but his surroundings were beginning to feel ever so slightly distorted around him. Like he was moving out of tandem with the world. He stood back, listening to the words they spoke crash through his ears.

Willow whipped around to face her, her eyes blind with pain. "You saw what she did to Tara!"

/I hate Glory for what she did to him/ His lips moved as he re- played his conversation with Willow from only this morning, but no sound came out, except in his head, where he could hear his voice, as strong and furious as Willow's.

"No!" Buffy argued back passionately. "You have to let her get away with it. Even I'm no match for her you know that."

"When Buffy?" Willow snapped tearfully. "When is? When you feel like it? When is someone you love as much as I love…"

"When we have a chance." Buffy insisted. "We'll fight her, when we have a chance. You wouldn't last five minutes with her Willow she's a god."

"Sure Buff," he said, staring after Willow, as the tension inside him coiled tighter and tighter. "Listen I'm gonna go after her – I'll talk to you later."

Spike and Dawn had been sitting together for a long time before the Slayer came back. He took one look at her, exhausted and drawn with grief and knew this time at least, that the good guys hadn't gotten there in time. He stood up and backed off a little to give them some space while she told Dawn what had happened to Tara. Brain sucked.

He was surprised at just how bad the news made him feel. He wasn't much for being affected by others pain, and Tara was someone he never thought about from one day to the next, but he remembered how fucking scared he'd been at Glory's mercy. Tara must have been petrified when Glory found her, and yet she obviously hadn't given Dawn up. He knew for a fact how much guts that took. He silently saluted Tara, feeling as much grief as though he'd lost a comrade in arms, realizing with a shock that he did have something to be thankful for. His wounds would heal, Tara was going to be lost forever.

"No," Buffy said strongly as she stroked Dawn's hair. "Sweetheart it is not your fault."

"She was looking to go all payback-y on Glory for a minute. But I cooled her down a little. Actually a lot."

Spike frowned slightly. He'd seen Red gettin' her vengeance on after she'd worked out what he'd been doing with Xander. He was pretty surprised there was anything Buffy could have done to cool her down, Red just worshipped that witch.

Spike didn't know what he'd been expecting, maybe that she'd had Red doped up on too many drugs to move, or maybe even that she'd chained her up, but he'd been expecting a hell of a lot more than that. Sometimes he wondered about Buffy – how could a smart girl be so fucking blind?

He struggled to find the words to explain feelings that had no rational explanation. They were just…felt. "You – so you're saying that a powerful, and mightily pissed off witch was plannin' on going and spillin' herself a few pints of god blood until you what…'explained'?"

"I'd do it." He glanced away, remembering a dark haired lad who had stared up at him, eyes all dark and hungry and oddly trusting, even early on, when he'd had no right to expect it. For that look he'd kept his mouth shut even as he screamed at Glory's hands. "Right person, person I loved, I'd do it."

Dawn nodded. "Think Buffy," she said gently yet desperately. "If Glory had done that to me."

Buffy froze. Loss, rage, and understanding whirled through her eyes, taking less than a second. Without another word she flew to her feet, racing out of the crypt as though the devil himself was on her heels.

Dawn bit her lip. "I hope she gets there before…Do you really think Willow will do it?"

The door rocked on its hinges as it burst open and Willow flew out of the magic shop. Literally. She was several inches above the ground carried by an invisible wind, and her eyes were dark, mists of dark magic gathering in the orbs. She was chanting something he couldn't make out the words to, but the hairs on his arms were all standing on end, he could feel the power gathering around her, feel her charging up, flicking all the switches. The magic was swirling around her in a dense dark cloud, with tiny blue sparks within it, crackling as they brushed close to her. She barely paused when she saw him in her path.

"I don't care!" Willow yelled. She wasn't crying anymore but tracks from her tears had left thin silver streaks on her cheeks. "She has to pay for what she did! Don't try to stop me…"

Xander lifted his hand, showing her the axe he held, swinging it experimentally, testing it in his hands.

"I don't want to stop you," he said, his voice emerging cracked with certainty and a terrible rage, his eyes darkening with his own need for vengeance. "I want to help you."

Xander's eyes met Buffy's, she looked back at him calmly, her face gave nothing away, all her attention was focused on dealing with his injuries. Grayness tinged his vision, and he bit his tongue, the sharp pain bringing the world back into focus. They didn't speak, her movements were swift and sure as she wiped the blood from his face and cut away his clothing, her hands cool and gentle.

~Willow's hands were pressed against his head, dry and hot, burning where they touched him, as the pressure built and built. She was chanting, words he couldn't understand. Her hands clamped painfully tight on him, then suddenly she wrenched them away. The heat where they had pressed remained grew hotter, almost unbearably so, it sank inside him and exploded. He screamed, a long roar as his body shuddered. The world splintered apart before his eyes as barriers burst open inside him, dense power released from it's pen flooded through him as though he'd been hit by bolt of lightening, channeling it somehow. Power that he could barely contain, he felt he could rock this building in it's very foundations with a touch of his finger and his power was still nothing compared to Willow's! Just enough to buy him a little time against Glory.

/God how can she stand it!/ his mind cried out in terror and exhilaration. The world flew back into shape. A world he normally only saw a pale shadow of. His senses were on overload, sight and sound exhilarating and alarming in their intensity, colors weirdly bright – Willow's hair was an amazing scarlet, her eyes a deep fathomless black and the heat was scorching him. ~

He shivered as Buffy eased his T-shirt away from his skin, the cool air in his apartment a delicious relief against his hurting overheated skin. Buffy's eyes widened slightly and the corners of her mouth turned down instinctively in a grimace. He would have turned his head to look but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

She swiftly fumbled with her belt, unfastening it and handing it to him. "Bite on this."

He nodded and she placed her hands on his swollen, misshapen shoulder. He flinched, biting on the belt and swallowing the urge to yell at her to take her hands away from there, it damn well hurt.

~…ready?" Willow asked, each word a clear thunderclap in his head. He nodded, and they turned. The axe felt weightless in his hands, Willow was floating above the ground, and he felt as though his own feet were barely touching it. The building began to shudder around them, cracks appearing, slithering up the walls; the lights flickered as they passed, struggling to stay alight against the heavy, thick force emanating from them. With one look from Willow the door to Glory's place flew open.

Willow was chanting as they advanced on her. He heard, yet he didn't. The colors and richness of the room rushed at him like a freight train, but he ignored the rush of scentcoloursound and it flew through and past him, as there, in the centre of it all stood Glory, a faint shadow of surprise on her face as she took in this new development.

He looked at her, and hated her so much he didn't know how he could bear it, he couldn't keep this inside him and stay sane, it burned in his veins like lava, and all he wanted in this moment – all they both wanted – was to make her pay, and pay and pay.

The minions fluttering around Glory took one hasty, terrified look at them and fled.

"Air like nectar, thick as onyx," Willow was still chanting. "Cassiel by your second star…"

"Oh it's the lovers!" Glory examined. "That's so cute." She looked amused. "Doesn't this town have any non gay people?"

Something he couldn't see, but could sense burst out from Willow. Thick and heavy, it charged towards Glory, and spread out, the air shimmered around her. She halted, pushed against it, unable to move forward. The amused look was wiped from her face, she looked at them in confusion. She'd had things her own way for so long this she couldn't quite grasp what she was up against. Time to find out.

His ears were humming a loud, harsh buzzing sound as his power surged up restlessly. He felt as though his slipping, weak fingers were trying to cling on to a wild horse. Part of him reveled in it, but part of him was terrified of it, of what was inside him, something he could barely understand and certainly couldn't control, that it was going to turn on him, burn him up from the inside out.

Blue bolts shot out from them, bolts fired by anguishpowerpainmagicloss. His body juddered helplessly, he tried to hold on but couldn't control it, couldn't stand it. His mouth tasted metallic, his teeth vibrating in his gums, his eyes dry and his skin smoking and /ohfuckhelpsomethingsgonewrong/. He was being electrocuted from the inside, but then Willow's hand clasped even more tightly on his, she drew the bolts, helped him channel them away from himself, and they flew across the room attacking the trapped Glory who let out a scream of pure ~

"Sorry!" Buffy hurriedly passed him the flask of brandy from the first aid box and he swallowed thankfully in a few long, hungry pulls until the blinding pain receded.

He rolled his shoulder, testing it gently, a dull ache spread out from it, but it was nothing like the agony it had been. He nodded gratefully. "I'm fine." He cast a concerned look at the bedroom door. "I hope I didn't wake Willow up."

There was a moment's silence as they both remembered Tara in the hospital all alone, confused and frightened.

He slumped back on the couch, relishing how easily he could move now his shoulder was back in place. He groaned, running his hands through his hair, weariness had settled deep into his bones, an aftermath from the spell he supposed.

"You know you guys were crazy," Buffy said frankly as she cleaned the deep gash on his forehead, tutting in sympathy as he flinched under the antiseptic sting.

He shook his head. "It was all Willow – if it wasn't for her giving me some power…" He trailed off, not liking the thought of where that sentence would take him, because even if she hadn't he doubted very much if it would have stopped him. "She was the one throwing the big stuff at Glory. I wouldn't have even slowed her down."

"So you had some extra power, it was still you in there. You used it, you fought a hellgod and lived to tell the tale. That's pretty incredible." She dabbed at the truly spectacular bruising that was coming up on his throat with something cool and soothing. "Is that…"

~ "…it, is that the best you can do?" Glory yelled, as in response to Willow's command, all the glass in the mirrors and windows shattered, flying towards her and tearing her dress to shreds, and yet she remained unharmed. For the first time he felt fear. They'd already hit with their best shot and she'd barely paused in her tracks. They really were like tiny flies to her that she could swat in a second.

"You think I care about all this, the apartment, the clothes?" She ripped off the tatters of her dress to prove her point, her black slip underneath unscathed. She backhanded Willow across her face and she flew back like a rag doll over a sofa, crashing on the floor.

"Now, sucking on your girlfriend's mind?" Glory taunted Willow. "That was something to treasure."

His heart was pounding way too fast, like an animal in a trap; the thudding was resounding in his ears, too much noise, too much sight. His eyes were recording images like a shutter speed camera, and she was moving towards Willow purposefully, close, too close. He hurled his axe in flight across the room, it was a perfect throw, cruel, hard and so fast he could barely track it with his eyes. Powered by magic, it was beyond anything he could have ever done on his own, and against anybody but a god it would have meant instant death. She turned a split second before it would have smashed into the back of her head, batting it aside with one hand, her eyes narrowing. Faster than he could blink she was on him, backing him helpless against the wall.

"Like cutting into your boyfriend," she remembered, her eyes alight with the joy of cruelty. "That was a fun day. He's not much with the silent suffering is he, lover? You should have heard the screams."

He furiously, and foolishly, threw a punch at her and as he did so with a 'whump' sound he could feel he was back to normal, colors drained back to their usual pale hue, sounds faded, oddly shallow and lacking and Glory didn't even flinch as his fist hit her mouth. Like throwing a punch at a mountain, she was unmoved and unharmed as the skin on his knuckles broke, began to bleed. She grabbed his throat in a crushing grip and effortlessly lifted him up, his feet dangling above the ground; he choked, a harsh wheezing sound coming from his throat.

/That would be me gasping for air,/ a part of his mind recorded with a kind of detached terror. Black spots skidded wildly across his vision, and beyond them he could still see Glory, laughing, her fingers tightening, when a movement caught his eye. His eyes drifted past her, and she turned following his gaze to where Willow was standing, fury on her face, a small trickle of blood running from her mouth. She looked eerie and half-mad, her fragile body shuddering with power, rushing from her in a furious tide. The movement he'd seen was the black bag she had brought with her sliding across the room towards her. It opened itself.

"What's this?" Glory mocked releasing her grip on his throat; he stumbled back, wheezing as the air rushed through his throat. "Bag of tricks?"

Daggers flew up out of the bag, their cruel points gleaming as they hovered eagerly, pointing straight at Glory.

They charged, airborne towards Glory, who batted them all aside. One, thrown off course by her came close, too close to him, and caught him on his forehead as it flew past, tearing into his skin before burying itself in the wall. Blood began to trickle down his face, his head was humming insistently loudly and his panting, harsh and hoarse was still shaking him.

Glory picked up a coffee-table and hurled it at Willow, she had no time to duck, it hit her hard and fast, she collapsed to the floor under its force, yet still managed to brace herself up on her hands and look back at Glory with pure hatred in her eyes, finishing the spell. "Hissing, writhing, striking near!"

A snake appeared out of the carpet Glory was standing on and wound itself around her leg.

Glory shook it off impatiently and the snake vanished, as she bore down on Willow. He launched himself at Glory, in a desperate attempt to slow her down and with an exasperated sound she whirled around.

"Now this is getting weak," Glory snapped, as with a casual swipe of her hand she sent him flying across the room. He crashed into the wall hitting it hard with his shoulder, it made a sick slick cracking sound, and pain exploded making him want to throw up, he had to move, but Glory was already on him.

"And so are you honey. Aren't ya?" She grabbed his arm, wrenching his injured shoulder and he screamed as it popped with a meaty slurp. Glory was back in step and she was right, he was powerless, weak and helpless.

She laughed down at him as she twisted his arm up his back, taking pleasure in his pain, the same pleasure she'd taken with Spike? If only thoughts could beat, hurt, kill. He burned, yet was immobile, thoughts flickering crazily, yet clearly through his mind.

"Well," Buffy said as she packed away the reminder of the first aid supplies, "I guess that's all I can do, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

She gave him a small smile. "Eight hours will do." She checked her watch. "I've got to go – I need to get back to Dawn. I'll be over tomorrow."

She fidgeted with her hair uncomfortably. "I wouldn't have, if it wasn't for Spike."

"He knew," Buffy said looking at him with a look on her face that he couldn't decipher. "He knew Willow was going to go after some payback, that she loved Tara so much she wouldn't care what it cost. He said he'd do it too. For the right person. Someone he loved."

She paused then continued carefully. "Of course…as much as you care about Tara, I don't think it was her that made you go in there."

She watched him, the silence stretched out, silence that he just couldn't begin to find the words to fill. Any denial would be pointless, every injury felt spotlighted, a silent, powerful testimony to the truth. He shrugged helplessly.

~ Her eyes widened in disbelief as she dropped him in disgust, then they darkened in fury. Fruitlessly he scrabbled back on his heels and his one good hand, the other dragging uselessly on the floor. Her hands raised, and whistled down towards him.

Willow's voice rang out from over the other side of the room, and Glory's hands hit an invisible barrier barely two inches from his face. He froze as she pounded on it in frustration and he could feel it tremble, beneath her strength, yet somehow it held.

"So I'm thinking you're the one with the power here sweetie. That's fine, I can deal with you first."

Stamping over to Willow she grabbed her arm and pulled her across the floor to where one of the daggers was lying. She scooped it up and continued dragging Willow.

"No!" Was it him or Willow that yelled that? Maybe it was both of them, he didn't know it didn't matter – he pushed frantically against the shield that was now his cage, sound draining from the room, he was moving in slow motion as Willow and Glory sped up – a film he was watching, incapable of participating in.

Glory pulled Willow up and shoved her against the wall, holding her by the throat.

Pushing, pushing, pushing, couldn't get out. Desperate sounds issued from his mouth.

"Know what they used to do to witches, lover?" Glory asked as she flashed the knife threateningly at Willow. "Crucify 'em."

"No! Willow!" He kicked desperately against the force field Willow had erected around him, feeling it shiver under his feet. Weakening as Willow's power weakened. Kicked harder, ignoring the pain, ignoring everything but feeling it give that tiny bit more.

"They used to bow down to gods." Buffy's voice said ironically. A sob of relief escaped his mouth as Buffy's hand stayed Glory's knife inches from Willow's face. Buffy kicked Glory in the stomach and Glory dropped Willow to the floor, just as the force field broke apart and he rushed forward.

Later, after he had soaked his weary aching body in a warm bath and slung on a pair of old jeans he wandered into his bedroom to check on Willow. She was still sleeping soundly, her face blotched with the tears she'd shed before dropping off. He felt oddly like crying himself. Exhausted, drained, the smallest of movements requiring monumental energy. He yearned for another power boost, yet at the same time knew it was something he could never do again. That much power had been frightening, addictive. Too addictive, to actually be able to command that power to come to you whenever you wanted it…

He pushed aside his nameless floating fear and aimlessly wandered back into the front room, restless and dissatisfied. His eyes landed on the flask of brandy Buffy had forgotten to pack away. He picked it up, weighing it thoughtfully in his hand, there was still plenty left. Taste still lingered in his mouth from before, the bitter warmth that could put him beyond everything…

Then, coming to a swift decision, he put it back in the box, closing the lid firmly.

He turned away from the box feeling a little sick and shaky. For the first time he could almost understand his dad. But he wasn't his dad. He was stronger than him. Even now, bruised and battered and feeling weaker than he ever had in his life, he was stronger. Buffy had said so herself, he had faced a hellgod. He had things in his life he wanted to hold on to, friends who needed him. Him, not a pathetic drunken shell. He'd seen up close exactly where that led, and he didn't need another night getting up close and personal with a piece of glass. He had to deal with things the hard way, one day at a time.

He needed to do something to distract himself from the drink he wasn't having. He began to make up the couch where he was going to sleep tonight, but half way through he dropped the pillow he was holding, drawn to the window, he looked out. Remembering what Glory had yelled as Buffy had pulled him and Willow out of there.

He looked out at Sunnydale at night. Spike was somewhere out there, unknowing of what he'd done tonight, and yes part of him – most of him – wanted to go to him, but he couldn't. He couldn't let Spike know how much he'd risked, how much he still cared despite how hard he'd tried to stop, despite everything Spike had done. That only led to grinding terrible heartbreak. Far better to hide his vulnerability, bury it deep under a brittle facade of hate and resentment and keep himself safe.

He rested his head against the glass, his head spinning unhappily he looked at the room reflected in the glass. Empty and lonely, it waited there so hollowly.

A tiny part of him whispered that all he had to do was forgive him – tell him he could forget the past, and Spike could be here – soon, now but he couldn't – he didn't feel it. He wanted to – but he just didn't. Love yes, all twisted up with resentment and hate, but forgiveness, trust…No. Never.

But he missed him. So much. He'd tried to block it out, to only think of the bad parts, but tonight all the good parts kept flashing through his mind. Opening the door to Spike as he picked him up for their first, and only date, and Spike looking so unusually endearingly nervous. Spike insisting awkwardly on buying him his beers. Spike's eyes almost black as they lay pressed against each other, Spike swearing brokenly that he loved him…

He shook his head, physically flinching as he tried to switch off from the memories. It felt as though his arms were tied to opposite poles and were being pulled for all they were worth and the more he was pulled the more empty and frantic he felt, and all he could do was hold on, try to keep himself together, and stay away from Spike. There was no way to fix what had passed, no way he could get back to the guy that had smiled up at Spike trustingly and believed him when he said he wouldn't harm him again. Things had gone so damn wrong no matter what they did there was never going to be a way they could be right again.

In the early – very early hours of the morning he woke to find Willow perched on the end of the couch, her unbrushed hair falling haphazardly over her face. She was wearing one of his old T-shirts that was way too big on her, hanging in loose folds to mid-thigh and was curled up hugging her knees in a gesture for reassurance that he recognized from their pre-school days.

"For what? With or without you I'd have still gone in there. You just kept me alive, if you think that's worth apologizing for…"

"Hey, you just gave me a little power Wills," he interrupted, trying to stop her guilt.

"Every person has power inside them, enough to light up the world if they wanted to. But there are barriers, stopping them from tapping it, I pushed down a few of your barriers. The power you used was already in you."

"Wow," he whispered, remembering the sensation of floodgates opening, power rushing through them – all that inside him? He wrenched his mind back to the moment where Willow was still huddled up unhappily. "But it was my power right?" he rationalized. "I mean…"

"You couldn't handle it. Hardly anyone can. That's why the barriers are there, I pushed them down, it could have killed you."

"You, uh, you'll probably have some withdrawal symptoms today," she said guiltily, picking at a thread hanging from her T-shirt.

"No – I used to though. Tara still does…did." She gulped and looked at the clock.

"You don't have to go just yet," he said, reading her mind. "Have something to eat, get ready…just…prepare yourself, okay?"

"Willow? Will you be able to deal with this? Because there are other options. You could maybe find her someplace to stay or call her family or…" He trailed off as he imagined Tara wailing in an asylum or being yelled at by her so-called family.

"No," he realized. "Of course we won't do that. We'll take care of her. It'll be fine."

Willow tried to smile gratefully, then her face crumpled and she began to cry, racking, heaving sobs and he gathered her to him, rocking her in his arms.

After Willow had left to pick up Tara, refusing his offer to come with her he dosed himself up on painkillers and fell back onto the couch. Willow was right, the exhaustion weighed on his limbs, in his very bones, he slept until the late afternoon, and he dreamt.

He dreamt he was running, running though rain drenched streets, the reflections of the weird orange streetlights bouncing off the wet pavement in front of him. He was tearing into his parents house, almost tripping as he ran down the stairs, back in the basement. It looked as though he'd never left, all his belongings scattered around the room, and he was turning helplessly, searching for something, as he turned to face…whatever it was.

A curtain was fluttering against the wall, it hadn't been there before. It wasn't really there he knew that, the curtain belonged back in Spike's crypt, but in his dream it waited for him here.

In his dream the words came out loudly, unknowing to him, he whispered them where he lay on the couch, in his apartment, his brow furrowed, tears trapped beneath the lids of his eyes.

Back in his dream in the basement his hand reached out and drew back the curtain.

And Glory was in there with him, pinning him to the floor, his hands grabbed at her, trying uselessly to fend her off as the knife in her hand stabbed down again and again, a scream welling up in his chest yet it wouldn't come out…

On the couch he croaked helplessly, struggling to wake up, to break through the layers of exhaustion and come back to reality but couldn't, they pressed down so heavily, trapping him, he fell back into his dream and…

He saw himself and Spike, wrapped around each other frantically, their mouths melded together, their bodies joined, unaware, uncaring of the pouring rain, the mud and cold. He saw them clinging on, Spike's back arching, mouths breaking apart to gasp…

But there was no gasp, no words, the thunder was rumbling ominously regularly, in a rhythmic thudding noise.

He jerked around to see Spike next to him, his duster dark with rain, his hair drenched.

"Listen to what?" He yelled over the thunder that was roaring louder and louder, raindrops falling into his mouth.

His eyes were ripped open and he was on his feet before he even registered that he was awake, staring wildly around his apartment in confusion. His chest heaving as he tried to snap back into reality the loud insistent thunder was still resounding through the room and his bewildered mind finally realized that it was someone pounding on his door. Before he could even begin to cross the room Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Tara all burst in. Tara was wailing in distress, as Willow tried fruitlessly to calm her. Buffy was holding onto Dawn's hand so tightly Dawn's face was pale with pain.

"Glory." Buffy answered, and he felt himself taking a swift step back at the look of sheer panic in her eyes. "She knows it's Dawn."

It still felt unreal. He was here – the sick worry in his stomach and the warmth of the day told him that, but he still felt as bewildered as when he'd first woken up. Too much to take in all at once and his brain was just refusing to process this latest development. He could hardly blame it, the shocks had been coming in thick and fast the past month or so. But still nothing had quite prepared him for this. This was insane – hellgods and keys notwithstanding they couldn't really be doing this! Yet somehow when Buffy had harshly asked for an alternative it had been impossible to think of anything.

Xander glanced around him. Willow was sitting on a bench with her arm around Tara, Giles was next to him silent and grim. Xander glanced down the street again as they waited for Buffy.

"Anybody else feel that?" he asked suddenly, needing to hear something, something other than the confused, clamoring thoughts in his head. Thoughts that screamed, what the hell was he doing? There were things, things that he needed to do here, he didn't know what, exactly, but there was unfinished business here in Sunnydale.

"No he's right," Xander agreed, trying to feel some kind of resolve, something other than sick dread. "We gotta be like Sergeant Rock. Cool and collected in the face of overwhelming odds."

"Yes," Giles added reassuringly. "Everything will be all right, we just need to stay here calmly. As soon as Buffy arrives…"

A large Winnebago motor home drove up and screeched to a halt in front of them. The windows were all covered with aluminum foil. For some reason that he couldn't quite put his finger on Xander felt a crawl of dread slither over him at the sight of that. The door swung open.

Xander agreed wholeheartedly. He really didn't want to get in there, leaving behind his home, his job, everything he'd worked so hard for. Without them, he felt as though he'd be diminished in a way the others, who carried their Slayer strength or witchy powers with them just couldn't understand. But his friends, his real family were on the line here, and without them nothing meant much anyway. He picked up his stuff and followed them in, but not before a last glance down the street, not knowing, or not wanting to know, what he was looking for, what he was saying goodbye to – but knowing whatever it was the loss of it was making him die inside.

He entered the van, glancing first to the table where Willow was trying to settle Tara next to Buffy who was studying maps with a frown of fierce concentration. His chest clenched, but he ignored it – hey at least now things couldn't get any worse…

Yet of course they could because he turned to look at the drivers seat, and there, looking straight at him, his face utterly unreadable, was Spike.

Xander felt his face drain of all color, his eyes widening as they tried to assimilate the evidence in front of them. His body was frozen with disbelief while inside he was reeling, rocked to his core, as a tidal wave of overpowering emotions threatened to drown him. Spike couldn't be here – he couldn't, his mind must have finally snapped under the pressure and served up in a bizarre twist the person that he held responsible. But he was here, he was right there…

Spike's eyes were hidden behind huge black shades – but more than his eyes were concealed, it was as though he was sheltering behind a massive barrier that was hiding…everything. No emotion, no response, this wasn't the battered wreck Glory had left in her wake, or the pale devastated vampire that had begged him for another chance. He looked taut, tough, collected. His mouth was set in a grim line.

Someone voiced his thoughts but it wasn't him, it was Giles, sounding cold, angry and slightly frightening.

"Just out for a jaunt," Spike replied ironically. Xander felt Spike's concealed eyes fix on him as he spoke, and oh that voice, that cigarette and whisky and honey voice, it was just the way he remembered. His skin broke out in gooseflesh, Spike's voice sounding the same as it always had somehow convinced him in a way nothing else could that this wasn't some illusion his overstrained mind had served up. "Thought I'd swing by and say howdy."

Xander turned to face Buffy – it was so much easier to look at her than Spike, and as he tore his eyes away his power of speech finally returned.

"The hell we do," he said quietly. She couldn't, she wouldn't do this to him. Would she?

Buffy's eyes flickered slightly yet her face remained set in determination and a cold realization swept over him. She would. She didn't care that Spike had used and wrecked him, how he'd drank and wept, how the sight of Spike brought back all his worst memories making him feel sick, filthy and degraded. Dawn's life was hanging in the balance, and nothing, not even a friendship that had endured as much as theirs had meant anything compared to that as far as Buffy was concerned.

Maybe Buffy read the anguish on his face because he could swear he saw a flash of guilt pass over her face, but her voice was resolved. "If Glory finds us, he's the only one besides me that has any chance of protecting Dawn."

Buffy leapt angrily to her feet as though unable to bear the pressure of his misery a second longer. "Look, this isn't a discussion! He stays." Her eyes met his fleetingly and then she pulled them away. "Get over it," she finished with a faint trace of self-disgust in her voice. She grabbed one of the maps, and stormed into the back room, slamming the door behind her.

There was a moment of awful silence. Xander could feel everyone's eyes fixed on him, even Tara's. Almost against his will his head turned back to Spike who was smiling slightly bitterly.

Spike slammed into gear and the RV screeched off accelerating violently. Xander lurched helplessly, almost falling to the floor, and it wasn't just because of Spike's driving.

Buffy leant against the door, closing her eyes briefly. Part of her wanted to cry, but mostly she didn't have the energy. She hated herself for what she was doing to Xander, wanted to go out and hug him, say sorry, but she couldn't, she'd made up her mind and being tough was the best way to handle it, the only way she could handle anything without breaking down, she couldn't stop and she couldn't soften – not for a second, but poor Xander…

/'Come on B!'/ Faith's voice spoke up coolly in her head. /'Don't wimp out now. Slayer's gotta do and all that'./

/Oh I do miss you Faith!/ She cried out silently, not to the unstable, cruel Faith, who'd scared them so much but to the other Faith. The wickedly funny, tough talking, vulnerable Slayer who'd burst into her life, who understood that slaying was a tough gig and you couldn't always be the kind, sensitive, good friend you wanted to be, sometimes you had to bruise people to keep them alive. /I miss you. Especially on days like this when everything is so hard and scary and everyone is looking to me for answers and I don't know what to do…/

If Faith had been here than maybe they would have had a shot against Glory, maybe they could have stood and fought rather than running away.

She opened her eyes and with a weary sigh sat down with her map. The Faith that had been was gone, swallowed up by her shadow side. Mom was dead. Riley and Angel had left. The responsibility lay squarely on her shoulders alone, and though it was such a burden, though it felt like it was crushing her she wouldn't put it down. Whatever it took, any sacrifice she had to make. Xander would deal. They all had to deal.

Spike tightened his trembling hands on the steering wheel as the R.V wandered dangerously over the road. His facade of calmness was paper thin and coming apart at the seams. His voice was steady, his demeanor calm and he deserved a fucking Emmy for this but the truth was his hands clenched so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles glowed white, his mouth dry with nerves and his already shredded nerves screaming like violins. His ears were on full alert for what was happening behind him. Apart from a whispered question from Willow to Xander as to whether he was alright – a question that Xander hadn't answered – nothing more about his being here had been said and the pressure was mounting steadily as everyone worked hard to pretend that this situation wasn't about a million miles south from being normal.

He took a corner way too fast and the tires screeched protestingly. He must be insane. He should have told Slayer to piss off the minute, the second she'd appeared in his crypt – yet somehow he'd found himself agreeing quietly to this crazy scheme of hers without even asking what was in it for him.

Oh who was he kidding? He knew what was in it for him. Even though the thought of facing Glory again was terrifying, even though seeing Xander was pulverizing him with guilt, even though it hurt more than he could bear to be so close to what he'd lost, he wasn't going to walk away from this. There were exactly two people in the world that he cared about, both of them were sitting behind him and he was damned if he was going to let them face the final battle without him fighting with full fists and fangs in their corner. He could die, he knew that. He just didn't care much, he had a chance here to make amends and he was damn well taking it. He thought of Xander who was sitting hunched up at the table, his back pointedly turned to him. Whether Xander liked it or not.

He was just lucky his healing powers had finally begun to kick in, his bruises had vanished, his scars fading, even though he wasn't at full strength yet. He wouldn't have even gotten this far if it hadn't been for Dawn. Against his will he remembered the cavern – the scrape as she'd caught her hand on the sharp edge of the rock, the scent of blood, rich and warm in the air and her uncertain question. "Will it help you heal?"

With an unfamiliar feeling of guilt he pulled his mind away from the memory with distaste. He'd only had a few drops, he justified angrily and he hadn't taken anything that hadn't been freely offered. It wasn't like he'd sliced the Bit, it was an accident. Like Xander finding that bloody Buffy closet that he hadn't had the brains to burn long ago.

He slammed his foot to the floor, and the engine roared in protest at his rough handling as they shot forward again and the road fell away behind them. He only wished he could leave the past behind as easily.

"Spike." Giles was standing next to him. Talk about the iron hand in a velvet glove. Before Giles Spike would never have believed a middle- aged English ex-librarian could have made his insides turn to water with fear. "For the love of God pull over and let me drive."

"The tire marks you burnt into the road back there beg to differ. Pull the hell over." Giles voice was tempered with steel and with resignation Spike sharply pulled over and slid out from the driver's seat to let Giles take the wheel.

As they pulled away again, somewhat slower and a good deal more steadily he turned to where Xander was sitting with the two witches and Dawn. He hesitated. Although there was a seat spare there was no place for him at that table. Dawn looked up at him anxiously but before she could speak Xander rose to his feet and came towards him.

Xander's face was pale but his mouth was set in a tough line, and he didn't need to hear what Xander was going to say to know it wasn't going to be a tender speech suggesting they be friends and make the best of this. Xander's fingers bit into his arm as he pulled him so they were facing away from the girls. They were all studiously keeping their eyes averted, pretending they didn't notice anything going on. Xander released his arm and Spike slowly took off his sunglasses. He felt as though he was taking off a suit of armor, baring his heart. Naked and vulnerable, and oh so ashamed, however much he tried to be calm, to be on his best behavior he knew his mere presence here was ripping them both apart, but never mind him, he didn't matter, it was Xander's pain that was killing him.

"What are you doing here?" Xander asked in such a low voice that it was barely audible even to his keen vampire hearing. "More games?"

"Do you expect me to believe that you are actually being noble? Come on Spike – why don't you tell me what the real reason is? Planning to hand Dawn over to Glory so you can get a hellhole with a view when she takes over?"

Spike tensed, his determination not to snap back shattered under the brutal attack. Yeah, he knew anything Xander had to say against him he deserved, but he had no right to use Dawn to get back at him, no right to suggest that he'd ever do anything to hurt that girl. Before he could stop himself he found himself hitting back.

"Harris I know you don't think much but try and get what passes for your brain around this; Slayer asked. I agreed. I'm gonna protect the Bit until I'm dust in the wind, and if you don't like it see how far you get taking me and Slayer on, 'cos the way I see it out of the two of us, you're the expendable one here."

No sooner had the words dropped into the space between them then he wished with all his heart that he could take them back. What a great way to make amends, lashing out at him, trying to hurt him as much as he could, but the pressure, the pain of Xander's loathing was unbearable, his defenses splitting under it, and patience wasn't his thing. When he had his back against the wall attack was the best form of defense.

Xander's eyes looked very dark. His extreme stillness spoke of his struggle to batten down on a tide of violent emotions and Spike felt himself tense. It was only when Xander spoke again that he realized he'd been waiting for the blow.

"Fine." Xander said at last. "But one foot out of line and I'll see exactly how far a vampire can bounce along the ground after being thrown from a moving vehicle before bursting into flames. Buffy or no Buffy."

"Oh didn't you hear?" Xander shot back with fake surprise that failed to mask the biting anger in his voice. "A heartless bastard used, abused and lied to me. It kind of changed me. Great plan by the way. Really worked well."

Words. Who was it that said words couldn't hurt? What bullshit. Words were the most vicious, heartbreaking weapon in the world, especially from someone you loved with your whole heart, would die for if it would only make them think of you kindly. Words could kill you over and over, make you wake in the night and weep time and time again under the sting that never faded.

The pause that dropped between them after Xander's speech was pain streaked, harsh, and terrible to listen to. Much like Xander's voice had been. Unable to bear looking at the devastation he had wrought anymore Spike dropped his eyes from Xander's. Xander turned away in a swift jerky movement, sitting next to Willow and Tara.

As Giles drove Xander tried to fight back the nausea welling up relentlessly inside him while keeping his eyes averted from Spike who was sitting on the floor beside Dawn's seat. He hated that, seeing those two so friendly, he itched to drag her away from him but he had no real reason to. After their confrontation Spike had been quiet, and yeah, maybe he shouldn't have said what he'd said to Spike. If nothing else then Spike had proved he'd do a lot for Dawn but everything was still so hard and hurt so much. Sad and furious, sick and filled with hate, for himself, Spike and Buffy, he felt like someone was taking a huge wooden spoon to his emotions and giving them a vicious stir. He wanted to scream, yell, smash everything in sight and burst into helpless tears, but he couldn't. All he could do was sit still and endure as the R.V roared on down the highway, feeling that if Spike so much as brushed past him he thought he'd scream from sheer nervous tension.

"Spike?" Dawn asked tentatively as the silence became unbearably tense, "did you bring some cards? We could play a game."

"I wouldn't play with him Dawn," Xander was unable to stop himself from remarking bitterly. "One way or another he'll bleed you dry."

"What? All I'm saying is Spike here is a master at bluffing, gets you to lay all your cards on the table then hits you with his best shot. Right Spike? Isn't that how you play?"

His voice was shaking, he felt sick but driven, appalled at what he saying, and yet reveling in it. The contrast between Spike's apparent acceptance of the situation and his own neurotic terrors was just too much to bear. If he couldn't imitate Spike's cool manner – which he couldn't – then he wanted to wreck it any way he could.

Spike still didn't reply but his jaw was clenching, as his body vibrated minutely with the pressure.

"Oh c'mon Spike!" he pressed. "Admit it, you're the best at your games, we all have such fun playing your games. Just a problem though, nobody but you knows the rules!" He was almost snarling as he spoke, Dawn was looking close to tears.

"Don't recall you making that bluff very convincing though," Spike said angrily, finally abandoning his silence and under his initial flinch of pain Xander felt bitterly triumphant. He could cope with Spike snapping, it was Spike being heroic that was so impossible.

"Do we know where we're going yet?" Dawn called to Giles desperately as he opened his mouth for a stinging response.

"We'd already be somewhere if Captain Slowpoke would give up the wheel." Spike muttered, leaping on the change of subject with relief. "Hey Gramps! Bloody step on it!"

The vehicle lurched and Xander groaned, the nausea wasn't going, it was getting worse. He felt seriously ill, in fact he'd never felt worse in his life, he flashed hot and cold uncomfortably, his head was pounding and his mouth kept rushing frighteningly with saliva which was strange since he never usually got travel sick. Why did he have to start now – in front of Spike?

"Is anybody else queasy?" he asked in confusion. Willow looked at him with an expression of guilt and warning that confused him. He frowned, then remembered. She had warned him about this, exhaustion and nausea, the aftermath from the spell they had done so he could face Glory. Oh yeah that spell, the spell Spike must never know about, because then Spike would know that some part of him still cared and he had to shut that out, keep it away, it was the only way to survive.

For a moment he glimpsed another reality, one co-existing alongside all his anger, a reality where he couldn't hide behind a safe wall of hate. He rubbed his eyes frantically. He must be going mad. The feeling he'd had last night that his arms were tied to opposite poles and were being pulled was getting stronger and stronger, he could swear he could almost feel himself being ripped in two.

"He doesn't travel well. He's like fine shrimp." Willow hurried to cover for him.

"I shoulda nicked that Porsche I had my eye on," he heard Spike's voice say to Dawn, but he knew that Spike was trying to lash out at him. "There's just enough room for me, you, and big sis."

The other reality vanished, the wall flew back up and Xander dropped his hand form his eyes to fix Spike with a look of utter loathing.

"Or what, you're gonna toss your cookies on my shoes?" Spike raised an eyebrow, but although his voice was coolly unimpressed Xander knew he was trying to remind him of their confrontation and his earlier slam about how useless he was. Two could play at that game.

"Or you can be undead man walking," he glared, reminding Spike of his earlier threat. "See how fast you can hitch a ride with a flaming…" Xander balked but somehow managed to finish the sentence, "…thumb."

Xander stood up suddenly, as to his horror he unexpectedly felt a humiliating need to cry. He had to get away from Spike before he betrayed a hint of weakness. He stumbled away, and fell with relief into the passenger seat beside Giles.

"That guy is bloodsuckin' the last nerve right outta me," he said, barely knowing what he was saying just knowing he had to speak, to somehow regain his composure and reduce this nightmare to manageable proportions.

"Well, Buffy has a point," Giles said reluctantly. "In a confrontation, Spike may prove…" he paused as Xander visibly winced. "…useful."

"I don't know if Buffy's thinkin' too clear on that one, or anything else right now. I've never seen her so…"

"She's…been through more than her fair share of late," Giles reminded him gently, his loyalty to Buffy indestructible. "She just needs a chance to catch her breath, regroup. She'll be all right."

"Yeah. She'll…Yeah." Xander ran out of words, ran out of breath, struck dumb by his need to catch his breath and regroup, something he wasn't going to get while Spike was within spitting distance.

Xander felt a hysterical laugh well up, but managed to swallow it down, and say almost calmly; "Been better, Giles. Been better."

"I know it's hard," Giles said, genuinely sympathetic but mercifully unemotional. His calmness helped Xander to recover a little. He remained in the seat beside Giles, staring blindly at the road stretching ahead.

They left the city and roared down the highway. Willow still studied her book. Dawn peered curiously over her shoulder. Spike sat opposite Dawn, sad it may be that a master vampire needed to be close to a fourteen-year-old girl but he needed to know that someone was on his side and Dawn's light brushes and soft inquires as to if he was okay were balm on his stinging and raw emotions. He wasn't proud of the way he'd snapped back at Xander earlier, even though Xander had obviously wanted it, gone out of his way to provoke it. What else could he have done? /Yeah/ he thought with disgust, /I'm a real prince./ Shit. What a bloody awful mess this all was. A mess he had made.

"Any luck?" Dawn asked Willow and with relief he turned away from torturing himself to listen to them.

"Uh, if you define luck as the absence of success, plenty," Willow replied glumly. "There's a couple barrier spells, but they only work on a fixed locus. Haven't found anything that'll work while we're still moving."

Tara reached out her hands across Willow, towards Dawn. "So pretty, can I have one?"

"Anyone hungry?" Dawn asked swiftly. Spike grimaced at the fake brightness in her voice; the poor kid was still eating herself up with guilt over Tara.

"Snacks are the secret to any successful migration." Dawn continued reaching into her backpack. He was watching her with concern when suddenly unexpected pain flared up, heat searing his hand – thanks to Tara, who had lifted the blind to look curiously outside.

He bolted in a panic into the shadows as a horrified Willow realized what had happened. "Tara, no! What did I tell you?"

The sunlight vanished as Willow pulled Tara back from the window, shoving the blind back down. Tara wailed loudly at the harshness in Willow's voice. The stench of burnt skin hung acridly in the air.

"Shh." Willow crooned repentantly pulling the weeping Tara's head to her chest to comfort her. She glanced up at Spike, misery in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. She, she didn't mean to." Willow apologized tearfully. "She doesn't know what she's doing."

His sharp expletive died on his lips as the sight of them brought back an onslaught of memories. How often had he soothed Dru, just like that as he tried to protect her from all the bad things in her mind? Instead he nodded, trying to signal to Willow that he understood.

"No biggie," he said to Willow, then awkwardly to Tara, who was still crying; "Look, the skin's already stopped smoking. You go ahead and play peek-a-boo with Mister Sunshine all you like. It keeps the ride from getting boring."

Willow gave him a grateful look, then turned back to soothing Tara who was wailing about the lack of light. He winced with pain as he tried to flex his injured hand, then glanced up to see Xander on his feet, staring at the angry red that had slashed across his pale skin. Spike's heart leapt into his mouth with a wild surge of hope. The look on Xander's face…

Xander met Spike's eyes and for a moment Spike could read all kinds of conflicting emotions on his face, compulsively he took a small useless step forward then stopped. Xander's eyes were unreadable again, his face stony. He turned away pointedly, sinking back in his seat next to Giles. Spike's heart plummeted back down so quickly he felt sick.

Dawn caught his eye. "Okay?" she mouthed concerned. Was he? He didn't know – but he knew his hand wasn't what was hurting him. He gave her a quick nod and Dawn gave Tara a last unhappy look before slipping away into the back bedroom where Buffy was still ensconced, closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," Red said again, she was looking close to tears herself as Tara whimpered into her breast.

"'S'alright." He stared blindly at his hand, had to – it was easier than looking at Xander. "Compared to some stuff, this is nothing." He turned to Willow. "Don't beat yourself up over it Red. I remember it's no picnic havin' a girl who's out of her mind."

Willow stroked Tara's hair in a gesture of wordless tenderness as her lip trembled. "How did you bear it?"

A deep pang of empathy so strong it hurt resounded throughout him as she looked at him, struggling under a burden he remembered only too well. "Had to. No choice. I loved her. Maybe it was easier for me though. I never knew her any other way."

Willow nodded silently and for a moment their eyes met in a wordless understanding.

There had been a faint thundering sound faintly gaining on them for a minute or so, but with all the hand scorching he hadn't really noticed it – however now it was getting very loud. Just as he began to wonder in irritation what the hell the noise was, the bedroom door opened.

"See who?" Spike asked, confused, as the thundering sound became easily distinguishable as horse's hoofs. He leapt back in shock as an arrow flew into the wall next to him, then the next moment dozens of them began to shoot into the R.V as the yells outside – war cries of dozens of men – streamed in.

Oh right, the crusade. Didn't look like he'd need Tara to keep the ride from getting boring after all.

Xander peered out through a gap in the wooden slats that had been haphazardly nailed over the windows of the ramshackle abandoned gas station. The great 'run away' plan had failed, utterly and completely. The knights outside surrounded the building, pacing restlessly, held back by the magic barrier Willow had erected, while they were inside, cornered like rats in a trap with no transport, no weapons and no plan. Although his sickness had faded his stomach was still tensed in a huge tight knot. It had been one disaster after another, first the attack which had led to them losing the R.V, then the frantic fight they'd had in here before Willow had got the barrier up, followed by Buffy's cold, tense confrontation with the General they had captured. The General wasn't going to stop his knights from attacking them until Dawn was dead. Pretty ironic that although both groups were desperate to keep Dawn from Glory they had still ended up on opposite sides.

Although they now had a moment to re-group none of them could relax. He was charged with nerves but had no outlet for his energy, there was nothing they could do but wait for the barrier to break or fade away, and for the knights to come charging in. Not to mention Glory would be searching for them by now. He almost wished the battle was happening, it would be better than it looming over them like this. He wondered vaguely if he was a candidate for a nervous breakdown. Probably, but he couldn't flake out now, they had more important things to worry about.

He turned away from the window, to look at Giles. Giles had been impaled with a spear during the attack on the R.V and was bleeding heavily, and although Xander tried to stay calm – freaking out wasn't going to help anyone – dread kept clutching at him, paralyzing him with agonizing worry. Giles looked pretty bad. At least the knights had allowed them to send for help for him, he just wished help would hurry up and get here.

Xander tore his eyes away from Giles to check on the others. Buffy was pacing anxiously, biting her lip so hard tiny drops of blood formed under the pressure, the angry red standing out garishly against her pale strained face. Willow had her arms wrapped around Tara who stared ahead blankly, oblivious to Willow's embrace. Dawn was huddled in the corner next to Spike. Xander's eyes flickered as they lingered on Spike. Spike had also been injured in the attack, his hands had been badly cut when he had grabbed hold of a sword to stop it from impaling Buffy in her head. Plus despite the knights being human he had thrown a punch at one, which must have given him one hell of a headache.

/That was very brave of him./ A small voice in his head whispered. That voice had been whispering a lot of things like that the past few hours. Ever since he'd first stepped into the R.V and been brought face to face with all the feelings he'd so stubbornly refused to acknowledge. He forced himself to look away before Spike became aware of his gaze, he didn't have time to think about this now – not while Giles lay bleeding silently and ominously.

He turned again to look back out of the small gap and to his immense relief he saw the brightness of headlights cut through the dark.

The girls slipped outside to open up a door in the barrier as Ben, looking around him nervously at the gathering of the knights around the building, climbed out of his car.

Thankfully Ben seemed to take all this weirdness in his stride with impressive calmness, working away, stemming the bleeding, bandaging Giles up and injecting him with something to numb the pain, while all the time laying on the charm with the Buffster. Pretty smooth of Ben. Xander felt a tiny smile touch his mouth as his gripping anxiety about Giles eased. Ben seemed like a good guy, and having a doctor around was always handy. Buffy obviously liked him, maybe this time she'd hit the jackpot. It was kind of nice that in the midst of all this hellish uncertainty something good was beginning. Buffy was smiling at Ben, her eyes filled with gratitude and warmth, and a spark that could so easily become something more, while Ben was looking at Buffy as though he was just falling into her. In an effort to give them a little more privacy Xander let his eyes slide away from them. It felt almost like trespassing to watch them when they were looking at each other like that.

With a mighty effort he managed to stop himself from looking across the room to where Spike's tense, black leather clad form was. Instead he found himself watching Dawn. Sometimes it was impossible to believe that this fragile-looking young girl was the cause of all this, that she was made from mystic energy so precious that the monks had believed she could be a powerful force for good and so dangerous that the knights would fight and die to stop her from falling into Glory's hands. He loved her dearly, as though she were his own sister, but how much of that was real and how much was false memories? Whatever – it didn't matter. The General said she was the Key no matter what form she had been pressed into – well as far as he was concerned she was Dawn, no matter what she was made from.

She must have sensed his eyes on her, because she turned to face him and as he flashed her a small reassuring smile she came over to him.

Spike slumped moodily against the wall and made a renewed effort to stay calm as the pressure inside him to roar, break something, fight someone, mounted steadily. This waiting was hard on everyone, all charged up with nowhere to go, but he felt like for him it had an extra dimension of frustration. His demon was rattling in its cage angrily – desperate to be out and free and tearing through the bastards who had them trapped. Starting with the wanker General in the next room who spoke about Dawn so coldly and emptily. If only he didn't have this fucking chip, he'd slash a bloody swath through those knights, steal the doc's car – get Dawn and Xander to safety…

His fists tried to clench and the stab of pain from his injured hands brought him back to the reality of the situation. He was totally helpless against the knights, trapped in here with his back against the wall and Xander everywhere he looked, and as the knights outside worked out a way to kick the door down, and slaughter them all, Slayer refused to move, plan, do anything but wait and make googly eyes at the idiot doc! Did she think that the knights were going to go away if she waited long enough? Not bloody likely, the only thing on their mind was destroying the Key.

He instinctively looked up for Dawn to reassure himself she was still safe and saw her over the other side of the room, heading towards Xander. Despite a small twinge of guilt, knowing that Dawn wouldn't like it, he couldn't stop himself from tuning into their conversation.

Dawn gave a slight shiver as she avoided the question. "I think Giles is looking better."

"Sure he is – Giles is pretty tough for a member of the tea and scones brigade." Xander spoke lightly, but Dawn didn't respond to his cheer. Spike glanced up surreptitiously, Dawn had a look on her face that broke his heart, weary and guilty and frightened. For a moment she looked old.

/C'mon Xander/ Spike silently pleaded. /Stop the jokes, open your eyes and help the girl will you?/

"Hey," Xander said seriously as he realized the depth of Dawn's distress. "Don't worry, everything is gonna be okay."

"We'll find a way," Xander replied determinedly, sounding indestructibly positive. "No way will we let anything happen to you. We're not going to let you go."

Dawn gave Xander a small, grateful smile. Spike felt a surge of bittersweet relief as she looked comforted. Of course they hadn't needed him over there. They were doing just fine without him.

Spike started with shock, his eyes widening. He couldn't believe that Dawn had just said that! Part of him was embarrassed and a little annoyed at her interference, another part was deeply touched that she cared enough about him to speak up for him, and more than either of them was the overwhelming, powerful surge of hope as he listened, transfixed, for Xander's reply.

Spike flinched as the words slashed into him, even as he rolled his eyes in bitter mockery at his own stupidity. What else had he expected? Unable to bear listening to anymore, he stumbled blindly away.

As he spoke, out of the corner of his eye Xander saw Spike flinch, and knew, as he'd suspected all along, that Spike had been listening to their conversation. Damn vampire hearing. But he didn't have to worry about that anymore as Spike blundered from the room.

/Serves him right for listening/ Xander thought defensively, but it was an empty consolation. Spike was hurting. The thought didn't give him any savage pleasure anymore and a cold touch of fear ran down his spine. He'd built these walls of hate thick and high around him to keep him safe, and now they were shaking around him.

"Please make up with him." Dawn said quietly. "He's really sorry and he's trying so hard to make it right. Don't hate him anymore."

"What else am I gonna do? I think we all saw how well the other thing worked out."

Xander closed his eyes briefly in despair. He knew she meant well, but offering sugar-sweet suggestions that couldn't even begin to deal with utter, devastating, raging heartbreak wasn't helping. For a moment he was barely even aware of Dawn next to him, in his head he was seeing himself, drunk and drowning, so much hurt, blood pouring from his arm, the pain where he had sliced his arm, nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

"Well okay maybe not friends," Dawn said, frowning a little as she struggled to explain what she meant. "But…forgive him. All he wants is to make things right with you."

And her words weren't sugar or useless anymore, as she spoke the walls shook around him, as though each word was a bash against them.

"If it's revenge you want – then you've got it." Dawn continued. "You're really hurting him, but things are really bad and scary right now, and we don't know how it's going to end. You don't have to…you know…with him again, but if you can let him know that he hasn't been trying for nothing…well I wouldn't waste your chance, because…I think you want to take it."

His defenses were crumbling, memories crowded in of all the things he'd tried to block out but just kept pressing against him, demanding to be acknowledged. Spike who had loved him, Spike who had admitted he'd been a real bastard but apologized and swore to make it up to him. Spike who had grabbed onto a sword to save Buffy and been tortured by Glory for Dawn and for him and all this good, all this courage had stemmed from Spike's 'plan'. It didn't make the pain Spike had caused him any less heart-rending, but it made it less meaningless. Even now Spike was trying so hard, suffering along with him as he tried to put things right and Xander couldn't bear to think of him hurting. He couldn't go back – the relationship was dead, and he would never be able to bear to be so vulnerable with Spike again, but he didn't want Spike to hurt anymore because of him, and even as he articulated these feelings in his head forgiveness finally streamed though him as the walls crashed down.

His hands that had been tightened into fists relaxed, his shoulders loosened, and the relentless, unbearable tension that had been relentlessly gnawing inside him, making him frustrated and furious, vanished. Folded up and flew away with a whisper.

It felt very strange to be out from his protective barrier. It was quiet without the relentless roar of his anger and hurt, he felt exposed, raw and shaky, but somehow more himself than he had been for a long time. Dawn smiled supportively at him, sensing his change of heart and he felt a little stronger. How strange it was that Dawn of all people was able to help him let go. Not Buffy, or Willow or Giles, in the end help came from where he had least expected to find it. Xander looked at her for a moment. "Y'know what? I am really glad the monks sent you to us."

Dawn's eyes glowed with surprise and pleasure as he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Spike stood in the dark, chilly back room, ignoring the General who was tied up in here, as he fiercely willed himself to regain his composure although it felt like his rack was being tightened an extra couple of hundred notches. Of course he could handle this – he could handle anything, but right now he needed a moment to give his poor aching heart a chance to patch itself up, to regain his customary assurance. His hands hurt. He was tired and lonely, heartsick and sad. He'd tried so hard but it was all for nothing and it hurt. It hurt.

The moment stretched on and his composure remained just out of reach. After a while he tried to light a smoke, anything to stop himself from breaking down but his hands hurt so badly he couldn't get the grip necessary on the lighter to spark it up.

"Ow," he whispered, despising himself for such pitiful weakness, when Xander entered the room, standing in the doorway, his eyes glancing briefly at the General before coming to rest thoughtfully on him. Spike furiously refused to look up. If he had come in here to unleash more vitriolic abuse he didn't want it.

Xander didn't say anything, but he moved. He stepped up to him, taking the lighter from him gently, but firmly. Spike finally managed to look up at him warily. Xander remained beside him, looking at him without the crackling loathing that had been emanating from him for so long.

Spike looked at the lighter still nestled in Xander's hand. "Thanks," he said, his voice coming out almost casually.

The lighter sparked under Xander's fingers and Spike leaned in briefly, guiding his cigarette to the flame. Couldn't look Xander in the eyes. Couldn't or else he'd end up doing something stupid. The tip of the cigarette glowed in the darkness of the room and Xander snapped the lighter closed as Spike took a drag, waiting.

"You know, those things'll kill you," Xander said, breaking the silence with reassuring awkwardness as he nodded to the cigarette.

Fortunately, since words were beyond him, Spike didn't have to reply to that, he merely arched an eyebrow. /Keep cool. Keep unemotional. Keep safe./

"Oh. Right," Xander said as he thought processed that sentence, then nothing more. The abuse didn't come – and cautiously Spike acknowledged that it didn't feel like it was going to come. There was no bitterness or searing tension polluting the air, and somehow it was deeply comforting that Xander was being…well Xander with him again.

They stood side by side, leaning against the wall, as Spike inhaled. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, and suddenly he felt a little better, though maybe it didn't really have anything to do with smoking.

"I mention today how much I don't like you?" Xander said as he stared into the middle distance.

Spike felt a small smile touch his mouth. "You mighta let it slip in…" He looked at Xander. "Once or twice."

Xander looked at him and smiled back. A real smile – the kind he hadn't seen from Xander for a long time, and suddenly he wanted to laugh, howl with relief, and weep because with that tiny, wordless exchange he heard everything Xander couldn't find the words to say.

He wanted to babble out his thanks, his feelings, try to explain what was in his heart but there were no words that could begin to cover it and he was afraid of saying something stupid, making some passionate proclamation that would only upset Xander, so he stayed silent, still, and despite all the overwhelming relief, sadness welled up as well. Sadness that he already knew would never really leave him. He may have been forgiven, but Xander wasn't going to come back. An aching loss for what might have been wrenched inside him, as they stood, without touching, beside each other, behaving so politely, when once this dark boy had loved him so much, had laid in his arms, exhausted, sated and glowing.

Spike tensed again as his thoughts were drawn back to the danger they were all in right now. "Nothing compared to the little bits we're gonna get chopped into when the Renaissance Faire kicks the door in. And here we bloody sit."

"Could make a break for it!" Spike said desperately, all the emotion he dared not reveal to Xander firing him up as he let off steam by lashing out against their situation. He gestured to their captive. "Use General Armor-All as a shield, get to the doc's car, and…"

"Great plan," Xander interrupted. "And while all the hacking and slashing's going on, what are you gonna be doing, huh? Throwing migraines at 'em?"

"Look, we stay here, we all die!" /You'll die you idiot and d'you think I could stand it?/ "At least this way, some of us /you/ might get…"

Buffy's voice cut into their exchange and they both jumped as guiltily as if she'd caught them plotting to hand Dawn over to the knights for a little slice and dice while they snuck out the back way. They spun around to see her standing in the doorway.

Spike sighed. When it came to sheer bloody determination you couldn't beat the Slayer – but still…

They exchanged a glance, but walked out of the room without attempting to argue with her. However before they reached the next room. Spike grabbed Xander's arm, pulling into a small unlit cubby away from the others.

Spike quickly let go of his arm, /not gonna fuck it up – not gonna upset him/ forcing himself to keep calm, determined not to scare Xander off the second they'd begun to make peace, but still blocked his way out, speaking rapidly.

"Listen we could get out Xander, you and me, the knights out there don't care about us, we could get past 'em…"

"What?" Xander exclaimed in confusion. "What are you talking about? What about Dawn?"

"Loyalty?" Spike repeated incredulously. "You know I'd protect her until the end of the world."

"So why do you want to run out on her now?" Xander questioned grimly, folding his arms.

"I'm not running out on her," Spike spelled out. "I'm trying to save you." Despite his determination to stay cool and unemotional in order not to disturb this delicate balance they had just reached he couldn't stop the passionate words from flowing, the situation was too desperate. "Do you think I could stand it if anything happened to you? I'll come back to help the others when you're safe!"

For a long moment their eyes locked on to each others, and something swelled up in Spike's heart, something hot and tight and full of longing, then Xander uncomfortably broke the gaze. "But no way. I'm not leaving my friends."

Spike rolled his eyes in furious exasperation as his frustration reached boiling point. "Look it's not like you can do anything! What good is you getting killed gonna do them?"

"Thanks Spike," Xander said, annoyance masking his hurt. "But I can do more than you against these guys, and useless or not I'm staying – and if you can't get that then I guess you really don't understand loyalty."

"You're a bloody fine one to talk about loyalty!" Spike snapped before he could stop himself, and shit here he was fucking things up again but he couldn't help it. The past weeks had been hell for him as well, and the words he'd repressed for so long were hurtling out of his mouth like lemmings off a cliff.

"Yeah I think that was before I found your stalker closet of my best friend!" Xander snarled.

"I burnt it!" Spike hissed furiously. "Y'know you're not the only one that's been through hell. Do you know what it's been like while you've been so busy hatin' me? It's not been a bloody joy to behold, I've taken a beating from a Slayer, abuse from the witch, threats from the watcher, a punching from you, and, oh yeah, torture from Glory, all for you – you want to see the scars?"

"You want to see mine?" Xander burst out furiously, and his dark eyes weren't polite or cold or empty anymore but brilliant, burning with passion.

"You're not the only one that's faced up to Glory okay? I went after her for you!"

"How do you think I got these?" Xander viciously pulled his shirt away to show bruises coming up on his throat as his voice flowed on in an unstoppable tide. "Or had a dislocated shoulder, or a knife nearly embedded in my head? I went after her for you – after everything you've done to me, so don't tell me about loyalty or love or…"

Spike was motionless, so was Xander, as though they were standing on a precipice and the slightest movement would have them tumbling down. Spike stared at Xander, he stared back. His too-long dark hair was falling into his eyes, which were just full of that confused look he'd missed so much as Xander tried to work out what had just happened between them. Always trying to make sense of stuff, that was Xander, but he was beyond making sense of it, there was no sense in any of this, all he knew was that Xander had risked his life for him. For loyalty, for love, and he wanted to touch him so badly he ached inside.

"Let me see," he said quietly, reaching his hand out, stopping just before his hand brushed against the bruised skin on Xander's neck.

Xander stared at him blankly as though he'd just spoken in a different language he didn't understand, then he shook his head as he fumbled with his shirt to try and hide his injuries again. "No – it's not – it doesn't matter. I should…"

Xander swallowed hard. " A-alright." He glanced away, looking at the floor as though the words were just too difficult to get out while he was looking at him. "But let me look at your hands."

Xander didn't know what he was doing. Why he had told Spike about him going after Glory, why he was letting this happen. This wasn't something that should be happening if the relationship was dead, but his mind, which should have been screaming at him to stop this, was silent.

The light was dim in here and outside this small private space he could sense the others moving, talking, but they felt a million miles away, as though he and Spike had slipped sideways into another dimension. Wordlessly Spike let him untie his bandaging on his hands. Xander traced over the deep, angry welts gently with his fingers, those physical marks of how hard he'd tried to make things right. He wanted to press a kiss into his palm but didn't. He re-tied the bandages tighter, more carefully.

He didn't dare look up. He could sense Spike's eyes on him. Watching him with a kind of helpless aching want and it made him feel scared, weak and powerful at the same time, and more than that – it made him aware of feelings that he'd really hoped he'd pushed down until he'd pushed them away and he couldn't face them – he was too frightened to face them. Instead he looked at his hands still gently clasping Spike's. Unable to stop himself he slowly ran his hands up over Spike's leather clad arms, across his shoulders, down his chest to his stomach. Spike was silent, perfectly still as they both watched his hands move, running over this body that he'd known so well, and he wanted to feel the skin under these clothes so badly it hurt, and he was tired of thinking, thinking he should stop, thinking of all the bad things this could lead to. He lifted Spike's T-shirt, and this definitely shouldn't be happening, yet it was. He was making it happen. His breath was short as he reached out his free hand, tentatively letting his fingers brush over Spike's stomach. Spike inhaled slowly, raggedly as he touched him, as though his hand tracing over Spike's skin brought relief from all the pain. Spike's skin was still cool, but not the flowing tactile sensation of satin he remembered, now it was broken up with rough scarring.

"Been through a lot," Xander said through the lump in his throat as his fingers skimmed over the healing wounds gently.

"Yeah," Spike replied quietly. "Ripped apart inside I was. Crying into my pillow."

"You'll heal." Xander said as his eyes blurred, his shaking hand still sliding over Spike's stomach.

"Don't know." The words came out haltingly, as though Spike was finding talking just as difficult as he was. "Don't think I'll ever really get over this one."

"You really hurt?" he asked, managing to somehow get the words out even as his voice emerged cracked and wavering.

He still didn't look up – too afraid that once he looked up he would be lost forever.

Spike's hands reached out to his, halting his movements, tracing over his wrists, brushing over the scar that remained from the night with the glass.

Spike's hand cupped his cheek, gently lifting his face up, brushing back his hair to look at the healing gash where the knife had torn a path, tilting his face slightly to examine the bruising on his throat. Spike, gentle and slow, stroked along the line of his bruised neck and shoulder. Xander swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It was all too much, the dark and the warmth, the silence and stillness after so many sleepless nights, and too much to drink and too many hangovers and too much frantic activity. He wanted to speak but didn't dare. He couldn't let it out – if he did he'd never stop. The too-tight spring that had been coiled up inside him was unwinding, but too far, soon he was just going to collapse. Spike's thumb gently rubbed at his collarbone and he opened his eyes.

"I am sorry Xander." Spike said, and he knew Spike had seen further then he wanted him to as his eyes, his voice radiated with painful, heartbreaking sincerity. "I'm sorry for everything."

He looked up. Blue eyes locked onto brown as memories blasted between them, longing, desire, want and the gentle looks Ben and Buffy had been exchanging were nothing compared to this. That was a spark – this was a blaze, it slammed into him with such force the outside world spun away and disappeared, and he wasn't half dead and cold anymore, couldn't be – not when this, whatever the hell it was between them triumphantly surged up – not dead, never dead but powerfully, vibrantly, spectacularly alive. Spike's eyes were scorching blue beams, his hands holding on to him tighter than ever and although he knew Spike's hands should feel cool they felt hot – incredibly hot, searing heat pressing through his clothes, branding his skin and he was falling, falling into the heat, the dark, and those passionate fiery eyes.

Spike spoke, then stopped suddenly, struggling to keep the words back, but he didn't want Spike to hold the words back, he wanted to fall and fall and never come back out, because right now he was vulnerable and floating and maybe he was losing it, and that was fine with him…

"Spike," he managed to form the word, his speech clumsy, his mouth dry, his heart thudding double time. "I…"

The voice, panic stricken and loud burst in between them and they snapped away from each other as though an unseen force had yanked them apart. Propelled back to reality the chill of the room flooded over Xander again and the sounds from the next room no longer seemed a million miles away, they were damn close and damn loud.

Spike shot out of the cubby and he followed a step after to see Ben, no longer calm and efficient but pale and sweating, desperately whipping his head around the room, trying to find an escape route. Spike flew over to Dawn's side with Buffy. Xander couldn't quite get his feet to work, still shell shocked and stunned from whatever it was in there that had happened, he watched anxiously from the doorway.

But before Willow could even draw breath, before Xander could move from his stunned state, before anyone could try to calm Ben down, he cried out desperately in denial, putting his hands to his head, as though trying to cram something back in and suddenly…suddenly…

Xander froze as the ice cold panic flew over his body, and no, no this wasn't real it was some awful, awful hallucination because this couldn't be happening they couldn't be trapped here with the thing they were running from…

Glory stretched easily, gazing around herself, taking in her surroundings. As her eyes fell on Dawn a smile began to creep across her face. "Well, what do you know. Little Ben finally did something right."

Glory glanced over at him. "Hey, it's Gregor!" She grabbed a hubcap that was hanging on the wall nearby and threw it like a Frisbee. Xander's shocked stare could do no more than track it as it flew at the General. There was a sick, wet, crunch.

/No, Spike!/ Xander reacted a split second later, throwing himself after him, no way was he letting Spike die after all this! Glory swatted Spike aside casually and he crashed backward into Xander.

Under Spike's force he smacked into the wall, sharply rapping his head. For a second he lay disorientated, unsure of where he was, all he could see was the dark, Spike's body on top of him…He could almost believe he'd dreamt the last couple of weeks, that they were back in Spike's crypt the night before everything had descended into hell.

Spike swiftly rolled up to his feet, extending his hand to Xander. He shook off his fog, ashamed of his momentary confusion, and pathetic wish. Unfortunately this was all too real. He grasped Spike's hand firmly as Spike pulled him up. Sounds of shrieks and fighting came in from outside. Dawn, Glory and Buffy had all gone, he was about to race outside to help when Buffy burst back in: "Willow! Get it down, now!"

Willow raised her head and Xander took an instinctive step back as the magic crackled around her, her eyes black and dense with power. "Hear, hear my plea. Circling arm protecting me."

Glory and Dawn had vanished. Buffy was picking her way slowly through the bodies of the knights. Dead. All dead.

"The car," Spike was standing beside him, and he could sense Spike shoving aside his shock to concentrate on the basics, getting Dawn back. Spike impatiently shook him to get him to snap back to reality. "Get the keys!"

Automatically he obeyed, shoving aside his horror as he and Spike pelted over to the car. His heart, which was still trying to catch up with the shocks, thudded heavily in his chest. He tried the car door fruitlessly.

"Fuck." Spike swore articulately, slamming his hands against the car in frustration. "Fuck" he swore again as the jolt jarred his injuries. "Get back to the Slayer – see what she thinks we should do now."

They ran back, his breath was sounding in harsh gasps. All this pointless running back and forth was more terrifying than anything. It only underlined that every second was taking Dawn further away from them and they were at an utter loss to know what to do now. They were cast adrift with no plan, no guidance, no clue, but Buffy would know what they should do.

They shot back over to Buffy then stopped. Willow was pleading helplessly with her as she sat on the ground amid all the corpses, her eyes wide and empty as tears trickled down her face.

Xander paced about the dimly lit shack restlessly. The feverish useless activity had ceased now. They had to keep cool, think clearly. They weren't going to Dawn back, not right now, and certainly not with Buffy like this. She had allowed them to lead her into the gas station, but remained in her zombie-like state. They had yelled and pleaded, shaken her and embraced her tightly. Hard, frightened hugs with no comfort in them, only desperation. Not so much as a flicker of response had come from her. He was trying to avoid touching her now, it was a skin crawling sensation to feel her warmth, her breath yet know if he jabbed a pin in her she wouldn't flinch. The mind, the spirit that dwelled inside this body had retreated into some far away place inside herself and all that was left out here was her shell and her tortured eyes.

Panic rose in him again but he forced it down. Panicking wasn't going to help, he had to stay calm, cool, collected, but it was hard when the toxic fear was seeping through his body, when he felt trapped and smothered enough to scream and every second ticking by cranked it up another unbearable notch. Glory had Dawn and they were doing nothing.

"Better part of a century spent in delinquency just paid off," Spike said, breaking the tense silence as he re-entered the gas station. "Hot-wired Ben's auto. Who's for gettin' the hell out of here?"

"All in favor, let's do it," Xander agreed fervently. He loathed this place so much he could hardly stand still. They had been trapped in here way too long, now the doors were open he could barely restrain himself from leaping into the car. He glanced at Giles who was looking like hell. He was seriously worried about Giles, he could barely move and kept drifting in and out of consciousness. "You good to go?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," Giles said painfully as with a palpable effort he tried to regain focus. "How's Buffy?"

"The Slayer's gonna be all right, won't she?" Spike asked with concern. Xander was amazed, then disgusted with himself as an unforgivable pang of jealousy shot through him.

"You should try it again, Will," he said quickly, trying to distract himself from his chaotic emotions. What the hell was the matter with him?

"All right," Willow sighed, "but…I'm not even sure she's, you know…really in there."

"Try," Xander asked quietly. Willow sighed and stepped forward, kneeling on the ground in front of Buffy.

Spike circled them helplessly, totally at a loss. "She can't just be brain-dead. I mean…she's still Buffy, somewhere in there, right?"

"Spike, come on," Xander said tersely. "We're not gonna get Dawn back by sittin' around here."

"You're not gonna get Dawn back any way you slice it, Harris," Spike snapped. "It's for Buffy to decide."

"Good, panic. That oughta help!" he shot back, hiding the hurt as Spike's sharp tone lashed like a whip across his heart. If he'd been thinking clearly he might have remembered his own waspish behavior in the R.V as Spike's apparent composure had driven him wild, but right now the only thing he was really thinking about was holding his shredding nerves together long enough to help Dawn, and how Spike was not helping.

Spike continued to pace restlessly about the room, Xander tried to ignore him but he was hyper aware of Spike's every movement. Each step Spike took set his teeth a little further on edge, stretching his too- thin veneer of self control to breaking point. Irrationally he resented that Spike could show his edginess so easily while he had to stay calm and helpful like a good Scooby should. In fact right now he was resenting a hell of a lot to do with Spike. What the hell was going on in Spike's head? Jumping down his throat now when less than an hour ago he'd been saying…saying…

Xander's mind shut down protectively. Nothing had been said. Nothing, nothing and less than nothing, and even if something had been said it was over, a moments madness never to be repeated.

"We should move her. Unless we shouldn't. Should we?" Willow asked, ignoring the sharply rising tension between the ex-lovers.

Xander shrugged with weary frustration. "I am so large with not knowing." Yeah, God forbid he might actually be able to suggest something helpful. He cast another desperate look to the moonlight and fresh air outside. If they stayed in this dark, cramped shack a second longer he was going to kick down every derelict wall in the place.

"It's impossible to know for sure," Giles said, struggling for breath. He had managed to pull himself into a sitting position. Deep pain lines were etched on his face but they were overshadowed with worry for Buffy. "Losing Dawn, after all that Buffy's been through…I think it's pushed her too far into some sort of catatonia."

Spike rolled his eyes impatiently. "You don't need a diploma to see that. Snap her out of it." He grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, vigorously shaking her.

Buffy flopped back and forth under his rough grip like a doll. With every shake the anger inside Xander bubbled a little hotter, a little higher.

"Come on, people," Spike snapped angrily. "Girl's endowed with Slayer strength. It's hardly the time to get dainty! Buffy!" He shook her harder.

Spike ignored him, his hand shot out. The loud crack sounded like a gunshot as he slapped Buffy hard across the face, almost simultaneously yelling with pain as his chip activated. Xander's control shattered as the pent up fury erupted, it propelled him over to Spike with a speed that was almost vampiric. He grabbed Spike, hauling him away from Buffy's vacant form so viciously he flew back a few steps. He was shaking with anger and wasn't even sure what he was so angry with Spike for – if it was really about him hitting Buffy, or about him stupidly hurting himself for setting the chip off, or maybe it was really about what had happened between them earlier.

Because as hard as he tried not to think about it his mind kept flashing back. Back to his hand sliding over Spike's skin, that had been just as cool as he remembered. Back to the soft words that said one thing and meant another and he hated it, had to do something to make stop.

"Are you insane?" he raged, yelling in Spike's pale, perfect face as though his burning anger would somehow melt the memories of cool skin. "We could be dealing with neurological damage here. You want to kill her?"

"We have to do something, I can't just sit here watching!" Spike yelled back, his voice shaking, his eyes burning like two blue flames. "You waste time with kid gloves. I'm willing to wager, when all is said and done, Buffy likes it rough!"

And he knew it was coming, knew that look on Spike's face, he waited for it, every muscle in his body tensed, wanting to hear it, wanting to rain blows on him until all these feelings went away and maybe then he would be at peace…

Spike's head snapped back under the blow as Xander's fist smashed into his face, and crazily, he welcomed the blast of pain, hell he'd practically been begging for it. It felt like anger. It felt like passion. It felt, and right now he needed that, needed to feel something other than terrified, crazy with worry about Dawn, no sodding clue what to do next, inside out and upside down and everywhere he turned Xander was there, torturing him, taunting him.

He flew back at Xander and they grappled furiously, rough and despairing as he tried wordlessly to pour out all the feelings he couldn't begin to explain, but he never made a move to hit him back. He didn't want to hurt him ever again. He didn't even know why he'd lashed out at Xander, just that he'd had to, because he couldn't take another second of this. Xander acting so bloody calm, brushing off what had happened between them in the dark enclosure like it was nothing, the knowledge that Xander had been so fucking stupid as to risk his life and take on Glory for him, and most of all he couldn't take that scar on Xander's wrist, yet it was seared into his mind, a scar that somehow he was totally responsible for. Sick with guilt, remorse and anger, he deserved every punch Xander threw at him, he wanted to be hit, and most of all he just wanted to feel him close, even if it was like this. Xander's body was burning hot – pressed against him without restraint as they lurched against each other and he felt like crying and felt like screaming, and wanted to hold Xander so tight he'd never get away again…

At Red's icy command a powerful, invisible force came between them driving them apart. It propelled them swiftly and suddenly away from each other, throwing them to opposite sides of the room. Suddenly bereft, alone, the cold snapped forward to meet him as Xander was wrenched from him. They both turned to stare at Willow. She looked at them grimly.

"Buffy's out," Willow summed up coldly. “Glory has Dawn. Sometime real soon, she's gonna use Dawn to tear down the barrier between every dimension there is. So if you two wanna fight, do it after the world ends, okay?"

Spike dropped his eyes from hers. He was not loving this. Shame, a feeling he hadn't had much to do with until he'd fallen in love Xander- bloody-Harris, had him writhing in it's grip yet again. Willow was right, later, when they had Nibblet back, then he could pick fights, wail, and wallow in emotion. Right now he had to ignore his broken heart and think with his head. He owed Dawn that much.

Xander defensively re-adjusted his clothes, shooting furious glares over at him, but some clarity had returned to both of them. They remained apart.

"All right," Willow continued after a moment. "First we head back to Sunnydale. Xander'll take Giles to a hospital, Spike, you find Glory. Check her apartment, see if she's still there."

Oh shit. Out of all the places in the world she had to send him there? He never wanted to see Glory's place again. He saw it often enough in his nightmares.

/Oh come on!/ he frantically tried to fire up his fighting spirit. /Stop acting like a bloody nancyboy. This is nothing, I can handle Glory. Maybe even I'll be able to get a little payback. Show the bitch that when she messes with my Dawn, with my Xander then she's got me to deal with/.

"Try anything stupid, like payback," Willow continued as if she was reading his mind, "and I will get Very Cranky."

His eyebrows rose nervously. The last time he had heard that particular tone in Willow's voice she had been threatening to rip out his heart and set it on fire. All right then. No payback. Part of him, a small, sore, afraid part, the part that still had nightmares, the part that had never really managed to break through the chains Glory had bound him with, was incredibly relieved.

"Okay then," Xander said, with the air of a man who knows not to push his luck any further.

"The world is spinning," Tara cried out unexpectedly, distressed. They all jumped slightly. "Straight to a new day! Big day. Big, big day."

Willow instantly dropped her grim persona, moving swiftly to reassure her. Stroking her hair and face she shushed her gently.

"Uh…Will?" Spike began warily as he moved forward. "Now don't turn me into a horned toad for asking, but what if we come across Ben?"

"I don't think a doctor's what Buffy needs right now," Willow said distractedly.

"Well, yeah," he agreed ironically. "Especially not one who also happens to be Glory."

Spike rolled his eyes. Giles was losing it, probably the shock of his injury was catching up with him. "You know," he reminded Giles impatiently. "Ben is Glory." He really hoped Giles would pull it together, the last thing they needed was for him to flake out as well, thinning their already depleted ranks. It was only as he looked around he noticed the bewilderment on all their faces.

"No. No." Spike said, spelling it out slowly as he looked at them warily. Was this some sort of joke? "Ben is Glory. Glory's Ben. They're one and the same."

There was a moments pause as they all looked around, wordlessly asking each other what the hell he was talking about. Not receiving any answers they turned back to him, all with identical, utterly mystified expressions.

"Not one hour ago!" Spike said his voice rising as he began to feel slightly freaked. If this was a joke he didn't think it was very funny. They must have noticed! "Right here, before your very eyes! Ben came, turned into Glory, snatched the kid, and pfft! Vanished, remember? You do remember…?" Spike trailed off as everyone continued to gaze at him blankly. He stared at them in utter confusion. How could they possibly have forgotten? "Is everyone here very stoned?"

Still no enlightenment was forthcoming from them, and now they were looking at him as though he was the one who was crazy. Spike's patience snapped. "Ben! Glory!" he thumped one hand into the other as he shouted, as though the physical movement would permeate their brains. "He's a doctor, she's the beast. Two entirely separate entities sharing one body. Like a bloody sitcom, surely you remember."

For a moment Spike gaped. What the hell was going on? How could he be the only one that remembered? More than that, why did it feel like his words were hitting a brick wall? Like something – or someone – was blocking their memories.

"Oh, I get it," Spike shook his head with reluctant respect as the penny dropped. "That's very crafty. Glory's worked the kind of mojo where anyone who sees her little presto-change-o instantly forgets. And yours truly, being somewhat other than human stands immune."

"Glory can turn into Ben, and Ben turns back into Glory." Xander pieced it together carefully as though he was groping around in the dark.

Spike sighed in relief. Now they were getting somewhere! If they could just hold in to that…

"Excellent," Giles said nodding in satisfaction as he looked around at everyone. "Now. Do we suspect there may be some kind of connection between Ben and Glory?"

"Glory is…" he began, then shook his head, running his fingers through his hair in furious frustration. Bloody hell and fuck as if they'd needed this to get any harder! "Look lets just forget this for now."

Spike heard a noise that sounded something like; "Arrrrrrrggggggghhh!" issue from his mouth. The others all took a nervous step back, bewildered at his anger, which as far as they could tell had sprung up for no reason. "Let's just get going."

"Yeah," Xander was practically out the door before he'd finished speaking. "I'll drive."

As Xander almost carried Giles to the car, he tried avoid Spike's eyes, staying as far away from him as he could, he burned in mortification. What had happened to his new, lets-just-get-along-and- let-the-past-go attitude? He'd thought he'd be calm now, dignified, maybe a little sad, but not furious, not passionate, not overreacting and certainly not taking a swing at Spike. He should have known better. Spike never adhered to any plan. Even a plan of his own making.

He carefully deposited Giles on the back seat as Willow and Spike led Tara and Buffy to the car and guided them into the back with Giles. Tara whimpered anxiously as she was crammed in so close to the others.

"You want shotgun Will?" Xander asked hopefully, acutely aware of Spike's hovering presence behind him, waiting to find out where his seat would be. Not in the front next to him – please God – wasn't this hard enough?

"No," Willow said, dashing his hopes. "She'll, I'll feel better if I'm next to her." She looked at Tara sadly and he ached for her, a deep pang of shame shooting through him. He really was a selfish bastard, how could he be so wrapped up in his own feelings when people he loved were in so much pain? He gave her a comforting pat, waiting until she crammed into the back, squeezing the door shut before moving to take his seat.

"Wait," Spike, who had taken the front passenger seat, brushed the remains of the broken glass which spoke of his illegal entrance into the car, off the drivers seat. The black tips of Spike's fingers flashed before Xander's eyes. He flinched. He'd noticed in the RV that Spike was still painting his nails. He'd been trying not to look at them. It was a tiny thing, a huge thing. They were the same as they had been the last time they had slept together. He remembered how the black varnish had reflected the flame of the candles.

"Thanks," Xander muttered without looking at him as he slid behind the wheel. He slammed the door closed with unnecessary force and they pulled away, leaving the gas station behind them.

Crazy. Crazy that the sight of black painted nails would hurt. Yet they did. Every time.

They drove in silence for a long time, speeding back to Sunnydale along the roads that only a few hours ago they'd been pelting down in the opposite direction. Giles fell asleep – or passed out. Willow had her eyes closed, but she didn't look like she was sleeping, more like she was concentrating. Powering up, preparing for whatever it was she was going to do to help Buffy. Tara was huddled up against Willow, dozing. Willow had given her a pill to knock her out so she could be restrained safely without getting too upset while Willow would be busy helping Buffy. Buffy herself was still staring blankly ahead. Which only left himself, and Spike.

Though he didn't want to, Xander found himself surreptitiously glancing at Spike slouched in the seat beside him. He couldn't seem to stop, as though Spike was a magnet, drawing his eyes. He now knew why he'd been so reluctant to move out from behind his hate. Without it Spike was a force he had no shield from. He still loved Spike, totally, helplessly, he'd always known that. No matter what his head said, his heart ached with the loss of him, and to be so close to him…it was torture. Spike was under his skin and was pushing every button he had, and he didn't even have to try – he just did. His every movement, his voice, the way the very air was charged with his presence all worked the old trick Spike had of stripping his defenses bare, making him do, say what he most wanted to keep locked away inside him. He had lost control for a moment back there in that dark room, and when sanity had returned, it had terrified him. His heart may ache without him, the longing may tear him apart, but to be with him, when he loved him so much that Spike could break his heart with a look…

He recoiled in fear. No way would he ever let that happen again. As much as his poor grieving heart hurt, he had to stay strong, keep his distance, but an unpleasant feeling was insidiously creeping over him. Much as he hated to admit it, it was shame. He had let things get out of hand back there, and taken his fear out on Spike, pounding on a guy who couldn't hit back because he couldn't deal.

"Spike," he began awkwardly, breaking the long silence, casting an embarrassed glance into the mirror to check the others weren't listening. Strange how intimate just saying his name could be. Unnerving. "About hitting you back there – I'm…uh, I'm sorry."

He stopped, frustrated with his lack of articulacy. Too scared to display any emotion for fear it would all come spilling out he'd sounded expressionless and stupidly formal. Spike looked at him and Xander took his eyes briefly off the road to look back at him. The orange streetlights flashed past, highlighting Spike's face, the slash of his cheekbones.

There was a pause, and Spike must have read his face because the next moment he'd dropped the irony. "Forget it," Spike said gently. "You were pissed off – I'd pissed you off." He turned away to stare out of the window and muttered quietly, almost to himself. "I deserved it."

"Hey don't go gettin' all guilty on me." Spike said, his voice an odd mix of roughness and tenderness that made him want to lay his head down on Spike's shoulder. "It's not like I wasn't fighting you back."

He darted another look at Spike, surprise was written on his face. Spike hadn't thought he'd noticed. As if he could have missed it, and what he really wanted to ask was why? Why had Spike pushed until he snapped, and not even tried to fight back? But the look in Spike's eyes right now made him afraid to ask. They were full of heat, emotion, it was wonderful. And scary. And painful. The car began to wander dangerously. He snapped his eyes away, his hands trembling as he steered the car back on track, concentrating on the road.

After a moment Spike began to untie the bandages on his hands. Xander glanced over with a strange tight feeling in his chest. Only earlier he had untied them to see deep welts, now the skin was almost completely healed, just faint white lines snaking across the palms. But despite vampire powers he knew Spike had some scars that wouldn't heal, and maybe – one day – that would be a kind of comfort to him. Spike had loved him after all.

Spike reached into his pocket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth he began to pat his pockets, looking for his lighter. With a sudden flame to his cheeks that he fervently hoped Spike couldn't see in the dark, Xander remembered earlier – when he taken Spike's lighter from his bleeding hands, helping him to light his cigarette and – for some reason he didn't want to go into – he hadn't given it back.

Should he say something? No. He didn't want Spike to get the wrong idea – whatever the wrong idea was, he was just going to keep quiet…

Spike was beginning to look irritated, searching his duster in earnest, Xander could feel the weight of the lighter growing heavier and heavier in his pocket.

"It's in my coat pocket," he blurted out. "I forgot to…I didn't…Uh, just sec…" He was negotiating a tricky stretch of road and needed both hands on the wheel.

But Spike had already leaned over close to him, reaching his hand into his coat pocket. He caught a breath of Spike's scent. The faint pressure of Spike's hand brushed against his hip. Even through the layers of clothing, that slight touch felt unbearably intimate. His fingers tightened on the wheel. He wanted to jerk away, yet was frozen. To his horror, desire, long repressed, almost forgotten stirred, sending it's demanding ache through his body.

Neither of them said anymore as they flashed past the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign.

Spike fidgeted nervously with his lighter as they pulled up outside Xander's apartment to drop off the girls and change cars. Xander gently woke Giles. Giles was looking exhausted and confused, worry was written all over Xander's face.

"Spike," Xander said without quite managing to look at him, "get Giles into my car, I'm gonna help Will get set up."

He nodded and easily caught the car keys Xander tossed to him. Xander gathered the sleeping Tara to him, picking her up and carrying her into his apartment, as Willow followed, leading the docile Buffy.

When Giles was safely ensconced in his new seat Spike leant against the car, taking a much needed moment to steel himself to face the next torturous encounter with Xander. His lip curled bitterly, he hated this – being so utterly defenseless, playing the love-sick puppy, radiating need and love, begging wordlessly for approval, but he couldn't stop. Crazy that a perfectly ordinary young man would make him weak, make him ache, make him burn, but Xander wasn't ordinary. Not to him. He was warm and kind, he had guts and smarts, he was wickedly funny and oh yeah. He was amazingly, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Other people didn't really seem to notice it, and somehow he liked that, it made him feel amazingly good about himself, like he'd discovered an incredible secret, and he loved him. He loved him.

He couldn't stop. It wasn't in his nature to stop, and he couldn't give up hope. Not until all hope was utterly gone, completely smashed, and no matter how much Xander tried to run from it, despite Xander sending 'Stay Away' vibes so clearly he could almost feel a force-field around the boy that would fry him if he tried to break through, he still hoped. Something was there, still simmering between them. Tenderness had been almost tangible in the air between them when Xander had been looking at his wounds, in the car Xander had trembled under his hand. Xander had risked his life to go after Glory for him, and that had to mean something didn't it? He must still love him, at least a little, and that meant there was still a chance. Or at least so he hoped.

Xander came out of his apartment, walking over to them. "We good to go?" Xander asked him awkwardly as he reached him, still doing that bloody, flicking glances, no-eye-contact thing. Spike steeled his nerves. He wouldn't exactly impress Xander by collapsing into a quivering heap. He was trembling with fear, sick with dread but he didn't falter.

"You two are," he replied cooly, determined not to let even the smallest chink of fear out, he so dearly wanted Xander to admire him. "Catch you later." Without any more ado he began to walk away.

Spike turned back to face him, Xander was watching him, a slightly confused look on his face.

"Tell me something I don't know," Spike agreed. The words were flippant but his tone was deadly serious.

He shook his head. "No – Giles needs help now. Go, get him patched up, I'll find you later." This wasn't quite as altruistic as it sounded, if Giles worsened thanks to any delay of his causing, Xander would never forgive him.

He turned back, Xander froze, as though the words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite get a grip on them. Spike took a small, hopeful step forward, suddenly desperate to hear what Xander wanted to say.

"Just…just don't do anything stupid okay?" Xander said in a rush. "If you do we'll all pay for it."

Spike couldn't even bring himself to muster up a bitter smile. "Got you. No stupidness." He turned away again.

Now it was Xander who turned his back. He opened the car door, he paused before climbing in.

"Be careful," he said quietly. Without waiting for a reply he climbed into the car, slamming the door shut and roared off.

Spike watched the taillights of the car vanish down the road as he stood there, hurting and hoping at the same time.

Spike stared at the door to Glory's apartment and fought down his fear. The problem was that his fear was putting up a hell of a good fight. It might be irrational but it was all consuming. He knew Glory wasn't in there, vampire ears didn't miss much, the place was deserted but he still couldn't take the final step through the door. What if she was there?

Stupid to be scared. He'd survived hadn't he? There weren't many guys around that could take all the torture Glory had to throw, escape and live to tell the tale.

He reached out his badly trembling hand, and silently began to turn the handle, then he pulled back again. He had to get over this, he wasn't going to be any help if he kept quivering with fear every time he saw Glory, sneaking around her like a whipped dog. She could beat him, he got that. The important thing was not to beat himself.

Xander – just a mortal, no Slayer power or vampire stamina had still burst in here, faced up to Glory for him. That had taken guts, and he had guts too damnit. He was gonna do this his way, snap the last chain Glory held him in. He waited until his hands were rock steady, then with a swift sharp kick, he burst through the door.

While the doctors were poking and prodding Giles about Xander wandered to the candy machine. He stared at it blankly before realizing he didn't want any candy. Or coffee which pretty much encompassed the hospitals entire choice of beverages and food on offer. After a moment he realized his mind wasn't blank at all, it was worried about Spike. More than worried, agonizing about him. If Glory was in her apartment, if Spike was caught…And now she'd be even more pissed with him wouldn't she? She'd be wanting a little payback for his escape, and now she had Dawn there wouldn't be a single reason for her to keep him alive – he could be dust – right now. Unless of course she decided to torture him for a while first.

His heart twisted like wet rag, as waves of terror vibrated through him. Why the hell had he let Spike go alone? He thrust his hand into his pocket, scrabbling for the lighter…but of course Spike had taken it back. Spike could be dead and he didn't even have one tangible thing of him to hold on to.

He turned away from the vending machines, and began to stride blindly down the corridors, trying to leave his fear behind, but it traveled with him, clinging to him tightly, whispering the terrible possibilities into his ear. Memories assailed him, flashing before his eyes, Spike, bleeding, tortured…

He couldn't leave them behind. He began to pick up speed, jogging, running sprinting, and there wasn't enough room in this hospital to leave them behind. His feet thudded on the floor, his legs moving fast, beginning to ache, yet never taking him far enough. The sound of his breath filled his ears, harsh and fast. He shot past nurses, blurs in white, and pelted down the corridor where he had made his decision to help Willow get revenge. He sprinted faster, but there was no escape, nothing could stop the scenes of Spike's hellish torture playing before his eyes.

An agonizing stitch struck him in his side and he slammed to a halt, doubling up in pain, gasping for breath. His legs were shaking, he was sweating, a cold, sickly, frightened sweat. Panting heavily he leaned against the wall, his hand clasping his side protectively. As he raised his head he focused on the sign opposite him. He was right outside the psychiatric ward.

Maybe Glory's victims could help? Maybe in the same way Tara had gotten a flash of clarity about Dawn being the Key, these guys could tell him about Glory, tell him if Spike was with her.

It was a stupid, insane, impossible hope, but right now it was the best he had. He reached out and pushed open the swing door.

Rows of rumpled empty beds looked back at him. He slowly advanced into the silent, deserted room taking in the unmade beds, the broken restraints. This obviously wasn't the work of the nurses, all the crazies had picked themselves up and left under their own power. Or maybe someone else's had been calling to them? He didn't know, but what he did know that there was nothing and no one here that could tell him if Spike was alive.

He turned away, as terror wrapped him tight in it's cold insidious grasp, draining him. He walked at a slow cautious pace back to Giles as though in an effort to make up for his earlier frantic race through the hospital.

Giles was waiting for him, sitting on the bed, color in his cheeks and his eyes considerably brighter, looking so normal relief shot through him. He hadn't realized until now just how worried he'd been about Giles.

"Ah Xander," Giles said, pleased. He rose to his feet slowly, clasping his hand briefly over where he'd been impaled and walked over to him, struggling into his coat. "Can you uh…" Giles asked, gesturing at his coat, flapping around him.

"There." Xander said as he carefully draped Giles's coat over his injured side without trying to get his arm in the sleeve. "How you doing?" Xander asked as they walked down the corridor.

"It only hurts while I answer pointless questions." Giles said snappishly, Xander raised his eyebrows. Yup, Giles was totally back to normal. "Where's Buffy?" Giles questioned, trying to bring himself back up to speed.

"Willow's on it. Or…in it. She's workin' some spell, trying to reach Buffy psychically."

"Pretty trippy stuff," Xander agreed, he'd been worried himself when Willow had told him what she had planned. He believed she could do it – he just wasn't sure she should do it.

Xander's eyes flickered uncomfortably – he didn't want Giles to know just how advanced Willow was, like giving him superpower advanced. Thankfully Giles was already thinking of something else as his brain charged up. "I was thinking we should check on Glory's victims while we're here."

"Hmm?" Xander said distractedly as his heart gave a huge leap at the sight of a distinctive blond head. Spike! It was Spike! Here! Safe! He briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them Spike was still there. He bit his lip to hold back a sob of relief. Flooded with gratitude he felt suddenly lighter, like he could bounce down the corridor. Spike hadn't noticed them yet, he was stealing a bag of blood from a hospital trolly, giving him a much needed chance to regain his composure, thank heavens, otherwise he might have said something stupid.

"Oh, the mental ward?" Xander replied to Giles hurriedly, so he was talking unconcernedly as Spike noticed them and walked to meet them. "I've already been," he said, glossing over his frantic race through the hospital. "The vegetable section's closed. Nobody there. It's like they all just got up and walked away."

He greeted Spike with nothing more than an eyebrow raise and a pointed look at the blood bag in his hand. Certainly no endearments, no frantic questioning to if he was okay. Too afraid that if he started his overwhelming concern would be all too apparent. Maybe Spike was a little hurt because he launched straight into his report without wasting time with greetings.

Relief and worry clashed inside him with equal power. He was painfully glad Spike was safe, but Dawn was still missing, they still had the end of the world racing towards them and no leads – what the hell were they going to do now?

"Gone to perform her ritual with Dawn and leaving us entirely clueless," Giles said with weary resignation.

"I know this bloke," Spike said resignedly, Xander guessed whoever this bloke was Spike really didn't want to see him, but hey, backs against the wall here.

"Well, not so much a bloke so much as a demon," Spike amended. "But still, bookish. All tuned in to the nastier corners of this our magic world." He took out another cigarette, looking as though it was less for the enjoyment, and more of an effort to take the edge off his nerves. "It's a bit of a last resort really, but still, we might persuade him to suss out Glory's game plan."

He lit up in total disregard of the 'No Smoking' sign on the wall beside him. It occurred to Xander that this summed up Spike's attitude to rules perfectly. Spike looked up at them questioningly. "Sound worthy?"

It sure did to him – he looked at Giles in a wordless question and Giles nodded in agreement.

"Off we go then," Spike said without meeting his eyes, then to Giles; "Meet back at the shop?"

Giles nodded again and Xander gave him a comforting pat on the arm before falling into step beside Spike just in time to receive a huge blast of smoke, from Spike's direction. He coughed, waving it away. It had been so long since he'd spent time with Spike he wasn't used to the accidental inhale anymore. Well he'd never really got used to it. With painful clarity he had a flashback to the night they'd spent together in Spike's crypt. After the second, or maybe the third time they had made love Spike had lit up, he'd coughed and Spike had blown more smoke teasingly at him. He'd hit Spike with the pillow, Spike had hit him back with his own pillow and they'd grappled playfully, he'd managed to roll on top of Spike, pinning him down and straddling his hips. They had paused, the lightheartedness fading. Spike had looked up at him and that look – it was so fucking hot, his body had stirred restlessly, aching and unsated, again as though they'd been apart months instead of a few breathless moments. Then he had leaned closer, as Spike slowly put the cigarette down.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said in astonishment as his attention was truly grabbed, wrenching him back to the present. Surely he couldn't have heard that right? "Ben? At Glory's? You're saying all this time he's been subletting from her?"

"This…is gonna be worth it," Spike said, sounding amazingly pissed off. He turned to him with a frustrated glare and gave him a hard, sharp slap on the back of his head.

They both yelled in unison, clutching at their heads. They stumbled, and Xander only noticed too late that they had both reached out instinctively, using each other for balance. Spike's hand lingered, just a second too long against his arm giving him a fish leap of fear before Spike hurriedly turned it into a mild cuff on his back. They fell back into step, and Spike said wearily; "Last time. From the top."

Fortunately it was only a very brief journey to the Doc's by car. It was still an uncomfortable, mostly silent journey broken only by Spike's directions. There was so much stuff between them the very air felt heavy. With some relief Xander pulled up where Spike told him to, looking about himself curiously as he followed Spike to the Doc's door. Because of Spike's obvious reluctance to involve this guy he'd been a little worried, but this place didn't look particularly dangerous, just a small, snug building, at least it wasn't the sewers or a creepy mansion. Of course he had learnt not to rely too heavily on appearances. Spike knocked loudly on the door.

The appearance of safety continued as they entered. It looked cozy in here – warm and bright, the guy who had called out to them was sitting at a desk studying huge volumes. He looked oldish, friendly, his absorption in the volumes surrounding him reminded Xander strongly of Giles.

So all in all it was surprising that a cold chill of fear was very lightly running down his spine.

"Ben's Glory!" Xander burst out as comprehension, memories suddenly, swiftly burst open in his mind, falling into their rightful place. Ben changing, Spike explaining, then yelling, then slapping him across the head, everything, he remembered it all.

"Yeah. I do!" Xander said, too excited to be insulted. "Ben's Glory and Glory's Ben! It's like this fog's lifting," he waved his hands around his head in explanation.

"Wonderful. But not why we're here." Spike turned back to the Doc. "Hell-god type. Name of Glory-"

"…has gone missing. She's brewing up some major-league bad, and she's nicked the Slayer's kid sister in the bargain. You got any idea where Glory would take her?"

"Glory…Glory." Doc seemed to be playing the name over in his mind, so why did Xander have the feeling he knew exactly who they were talking about? Despite his fleeting excitement about getting his memories back something in here was seriously spooking him out. 'Something' probably being the Doc. All of his hackles – pretty well developed after all this time on the Hellmouth were standing on end, and getting worse as Doc closed his book and slowly walked over to them.

"Oh! You don't mean Glorificus?" He was in front of them now, and Xander had to force himself not to step back. "Gosh," he continued. "What do you wanna get mixed up with her for? That's a sure way to get yourselves killed. I hear she's awfully unpleasant."

/Yeah, don't have to tell either of us that/ Xander thought uncomfortably. From the look on Spike's face he was thinking the same thing. /And how's about backing up a couple of paces there fella?/

To Xander's relief he turned away, replacing his book on a nearby table. "When it comes to hellgods, my best advice is get out of the way and stay there."

"Well, uh, other than that," the Doc was fluttering round in a drawer now with his back to them, Xander tensed. When he turned back to them empty handed he felt sick with relief.

"I'd like to help…but I'm a small-town guy. This Glorificus, if it is her…she's big city."

How modest. Why was he now thinking of the witch in the story who lured children into her gingerbread house before eating them?

"Right." He looked thoughtful. "Well, I may know a fella…you know, who knows a fella in…in China. He might…"

"You know," he continued a little nervously, "if you're in that much of a hurry. Wish you luck."

"You're lying." Spike said coldly, Xander looked at him uncertainly, although he had an intuition that Spike was right the last thing he wanted to do was piss this creepy guy off – at least not without a damn good reason. Doc took off his glasses.

Funny, without them he didn't remind Xander of Giles at all, now he reminded him of a snake.

"And what's more," Spike continued calmly "I believe you're standing right in front of the very thing we need."

Doc smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile the witch would give just as she slammed the oven door shut on the helpless little children…

Suddenly he leapt, was behind them, they whirled around, but it was too late. Xander froze in horror. Doc had a sword, the point was hovering less than an inch away from Spike's throat. With the clarity that came when every sense was completely focused on what was in front of him Xander could even see the razor sharp sword reflecting the light on Spike's face.

His body was thrumming, fired up, desperate to move, but he forced himself to stay completely still, not to do anything to make Doc use that sword on Spike, waiting for the chance to make his move, as his thoughts ran in a panicked loop.

Doc lunged forward but Spike smacked the blade aside, throwing himself to the floor. "Get him!"

With the blade away from Spike's throat Xander flew forward, but a tongue, long and lizard like shot out of the Doc's mouth across the room. It pressed hard against his chest, pinning him against the wall. For a moment everything, even the danger vanished as every part of him crawled in utter revulsion and horror, as he pushed against it, then thankfully the tongue retreated, but with it's pressure gone he toppled forward, crashing to the floor.

Doc towered over Spike's prone form. "You think only underworld bottom-feeders worship the beast?" With a vicious kick to Spike's face he turned grabbing the box he'd been hiding, throwing it into the fire.

"Her day is coming, boys!" He shouted jubilantly as he stalked back, grabbing Spike by the front of his shirt. "And when she returns, then you're gonna see something!"

A red mist of panic and rage fell over Xander's eyes. He rolled up to his feet, kneeing Doc in the chest, knocking him away from Spike, all in a swift, Slayer-like movement. He fell on top of the Doc, wrestling with him furiously, Doc struggled frantically under him, it was repellent, revolting. He reached out and grabbed the sword that had landed nearby, slamming it down into the Doc's chest. The struggles ceased as blue slimy blood spurted up over him. Panting heavily he turned away from the body to look at Spike.

Spike was kneeling by the fireplace with the box in his slightly singed hands, staring up at him an expression of amazement, exhilaration and cocky pleasure on his face. For a moment they didn't speak. Xander staggered up to his feet, wiping the repellent blood from his face.

"What do we got?" he asked, trying to distract him. Whatever emotional scene Spike had planned right now he just wanted to skip it. It worked, Spike looked back at the box.

"Something worth dying for." Spike said seriously. They stumbled out of the room, into the fresh night air.

Spike closed the door behind them and paused before they carried on, opening the box. Xander leant over him to see, it was full of papers, carefully tied, covered in obscure markings, some language he couldn't even begin to translate.

"Looks like the ritual rights," Spike said, his eyes darting swiftly over the markings.

His eyes were caught by Spike's fingers, skimming lightly over the weird writing on the papers, and his damn fingernails were still black. Suddenly he felt empty, exhausted and so close to tears he didn't know how he could begin to hide it.

"This is going to be very helpful," Spike was saying, unaware of his distress. "We need to get it to Giles."

"I'm not happy!" he snapped suddenly, unable to stop himself as the shock, the fear and the stress finally broke through. Spike's eyebrows shot up with surprise at the unexpected force in his voice. "Why the hell would I be happy? Great plan Spike – just take us straight to the guy that worships her!"

"Worked out?" he repeated incredulously. "You could have been killed in there!"

"Not with you fighting on my side," Spike smiled meaningfully, satisfaction warming his voice as his eyes lit up.

"Shut up!" Xander yelled, his voice shaking. "Stop looking so pleased about it! I hate this – I hate how you make me feel!"

"Oh really?" Spike snapped as the glow of pleasure vanished from around him. "You're not the only one this is hard for okay? I'm not bloody singing for joy about the way you make me feel."

"Right Spike and how's that?" he questioned angrily, and he didn't know why he was doing this – he was playing with fire, and he knew it, but he was driven, desperate to hear what the hell was going on in Spike's head, once and for all.

"Don't, all right?" Spike said, his voice shaking. "Don't do that. You know exactly how I feel!" His voice was raising with each word, his slender form trembling. Xander was transfixed, dry mouthed with sudden fright at the release of emotion from Spike that up to now he had kept penned up so well. "You can tear me apart with just a bloody look! I have tried so hard to stop loving you, but I can't so just stop torturing me, will you?"

"Oh yes you are!" Spike shouted. "Everything you do, everything you say – you breath and it hurts me, cos the soddin' air is closer to you than I am. Bein' so close to you – so close to somethin' I want so bad…" Spike's voice broke, raking his eyes hungrily, desperately over him, Xander felt himself flush under that gaze, as Spike carried on. "But if you don't want me then stop looking at me with those bloody hot eyes of yours and stop trembling when I get close to you. Make a bloody choice and stick to it!"

He stopped, his anger draining away at the raw pain that flashed in Spike's eyes. Oh God. Why did this have to hurt so much? It felt like every part of him was bleeding. "Spike," he tried to say it gently. "It's easier this way."

"It's not real," Spike struggled for the words, "it's not right. We're not supposed to be apart. You and me are meant to be together," Spike tried to smile lightly, but couldn't do it. "We're soulmates, pet."

"Maybe not the soul I used to have, but I've got something, I couldn't feel like this if I was empty. Whatever it is I love you with every bit of it. My heart, my head, my gut, my body…" Xander shook his head trying to blot out the incredible, terrifying words, Spike raised his voice. "You think you're being so bloody strong shutting me out – the truth is you're too gutless to let me in!"

Something broke inside Xander, his deepest most dreadful pain roared up from the place where it had made it's home inside his heart, out of his mouth. "You broke my heart!"

He didn't know how those words came out of him, he had never before displayed a painful, private wound for someone else to look at – especially not the one who had wounded him. Nauseated and ashamed he felt like he'd had all his clothes torn off him in public.

He and Spike stared at each other, terrible, disfiguring pain written on their faces, and he knew they were both in hell. Impaled here by their love for each other, there was no way out. He clawed for breath.

"I know," Spike said brokenly. "But…I can make it right, if you'll just let me. Let me in. Please Xander, I mean you do still love me a little…don't you?"

The moment that followed seemed to go on forever as the pause stretched out. He looked at Spike, Spike was looking back at him, eyes burning, straining towards him, desperate for his answer. All desire and love and tension radiating from him, it was all in front of him, begging for another chance. All he had to do was reach out and take it, and he wanted Spike. Wanted him so bad. Wanted him right now. But he couldn't take the risk. He couldn't.

"No," he repeated again distinctly, the terrible word vibrating between them. "I don't." As he spoke something died inside him, inside Spike – he could see the death in Spike's eyes. The light in them vanished, something else began to fill them, a pain he could hardly bear to look at.

"Right," Spike said eventually, his voice hitching roughly, Xander flinched to hear it. "Right."

The shock began to shake through Xander at the enormity of the lie he had told. He was cold all over, he wanted to staunch the wounds he'd just inflicted but couldn't move his body, his tongue wouldn't work. He looked away, at his feet, at the car, anywhere but at Spike.

"We – we'd better get back to the shop," Spike cut him off as though he just couldn't stand to hear his voice.

Spike got into the car, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as though one of his limbs had been hacked off. Xander closed his eyes briefly, shuddering. Searing pain, self-reproach and misery shredded him inside but what else could he have done? He knew what Spike wanted from him, it was in his heated eyes, his vicious gestures, the frustration in every line of his tense frame and he'd had to make it stop before he weakened enough to give in to it. He hadn't wanted to hurt him but Spike would never have really given up unless he'd destroyed all hope finally and forever.

Tears of loss stung his eyes but he forced them away. He'd done what he had to. He wasn't open like Willow, or fearless like Buffy, he had never been good at letting his barriers down, opening up his heart. The only person he'd ever let in heart and soul, had been Spike himself and that was a lesson he didn't need a repeat of, he had learnt it well. Taught by tears and heartbreak and drinking so much he passed out and hacking at his arm with a piece of glass. The barriers were back up and treble locked. He had forgiven, but he could never forget. He could never let Spike back in. Spike had so much power and he was so vulnerable, Spike would get bored, leave him, and he'd be destroyed all over again.

He stumbled blindly into the car, feeling half dead and hurting all over, like his body didn't belong to him. They didn't exchange another word as he drove erratically to the Magic Box.

It was doing it very quietly because there wasn't a sound in this room but he could feel it inside. He was being ripped apart.

Giles stood, he offered them some tea, as though he couldn't see what was happening to him. Of course he couldn't. Spike shook his head in a wordless answer. Xander's eyes kept passing over him, concerned looks he could feel lingering on his bent head. He couldn't look up. Couldn't stomach the pity that he knew must be lurking in the depths of Xander's eyes. Poor, pathetic, loves bitch Spike who just kept coming back for more. Refusing to accept what was painfully obvious, clinging on to false hope until Xander had finally been driven to disillusion him.

He had barely spoken since it had happened. He couldn't fight his way past the shredding to form words. He had just kept quietly sitting opposite Xander as though he hadn't reached in his chest and torn his heart in two, listening to Giles translate the terrifying words within the texts and Xander's muted responses. Xander was being so quiet, like speaking too loud would hurt him somehow.

/Bit late for that luv,/ he thought dully. /No point handling the body gently once you've killed it./

He bit his lip to fight off the crazy urge to giggle hysterically. Not out of any urge to make it easier on Xander or Giles, he just didn't want to hear himself laugh like that; making a sound that he knew would be dreadful. He tried to keep his mind fixed on ways to help Dawn, but like self mutilation, he couldn't stop himself from returning, over and over, back to the moment where it had all ended.

~ "I mean you do still love me a little…don't you?" He'd sounded so lost, so pleading, but he hadn't cared. The whole world had gone away, all that was left was this. A dark street, a dark haired lad and himself. Suspended in this endless moment, waiting for his answer, for his future.

There was a long, long silence, and Xander's eyes suddenly looked flat and empty, his voice, when it finally emerged, was cracked. "No. No. I don't."~

Every time the knowledge spiked him again was as fresh and horrifying as when they'd been standing on that dark deserted street. It was just too much to take in, his mind kept trying to dole it out a bearable fraction at a time but every time – whump – it was like running into a brick wall. His emotions had him by the scruff of the neck, shaking him like a dog with a toy. He swung from denial, to fury, to humiliation within seconds and all the time he was shredding, shredding, shredding inside.

She wouldn't say much, but her small hand would take his and he'd feel, maybe not better, but not totally alone in this. She was the only reason he was still here, keeping his jaw clamped shut, bearing the humiliation, the pain, otherwise he would have let the whole world swirl into hell, taking himself with it.

Xander and Giles jumped slightly as the bell rang out, slicing through the silence as the door to the shop flew open.

Spike looked up indifferently as the Slayer strode in, followed by Willow and Tara. Back in the game, totally in charge. In a faint way he was impressed. Well done to Red, if nothing else could go right at least now that Buffy was back they had a chance at saving Dawn.

"So I'm told," Buffy nodded without a flicker of regret for her romance that wasn't. He remembered once – long ago, when he'd been in the throes of his crush on Buffy how the news that Ben was now unequivocally out of the running would have delighted him. So strange to think a violent, yet shallow crush on this girl had led him down such a bizarre, twisting path. What a long way he'd come to end up here.

"What do we know?" Buffy asked Giles. She was fired up and ready to go. He could barely stand to watch, but was unable to look away. God alone knew how she was going react when Giles told her what he'd found out from the texts.

Giles obviously had the same worry, even by his standards he was circling the issue. "Um…well…according to these scrolls, it's possible for Glory to be stopped. I-I'm afraid it's,…well, Buffy, I've read these things very carefully and there's not much margin for error. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Might help if you actually said it." Buffy said patiently. Giles gave her a small smile, he sat down, removing his glasses.

"Um…Glory…plans to open a…dimensional portal…by way of a ritual bloodletting."

"Yes. Once the blood is shed at a certain time and place the fabric which separates all realities will be ripped apart. Dimensions will pour into one another with no barriers to stop them. Reality as we know it will be destroyed, and chaos will reign on earth."

"The portal will only close once the blood is stopped…and the only way for that to happen is, um…" Giles took a deep breath and looked up at Buffy as he dropped the bomb. "Buffy, the only way is to kill Dawn."

Silence. Buffy stared at Giles with horrified eyes as the realization of what he had said exploded. In that moment Spike could read her thoughts effortlessly, because they were his own. If thinking logically and keeping cool wasn't going to help Dawn, then they were no longer interested in thinking logically and keeping cool.

It seemed odd that he was watching Buffy so intently. It was only later he realized; it was just too painful to look at Xander.

The chant went on and on in Xander's head, even as they talked and time moved relentlessly on. Nothing, not even the possibility of end of the world or Dawn's death seemed able to stop it, even momentarily. Not that he wasn't agonizing with worry about Dawn or terrified about the impending battle, he was. The horror of the situation kept walloping him like a sandbag, but throughout it all, the chant went on and on. Was this what happened to people driven mad by their actions? Did they just have this mantra in their head that couldn't be blotted out no matter what, until eventually every defense was eroded? Spike was being so quiet, not once looking at him and each non-glance, each unspoken word played his screeching guilt like a bow on a violin. But hey, it was just great to know that when the pressure was on he'd lie his ass off to stay safe. A fresh wave of self-loathing choked him.

/WHAT ELSE COULD I HAVE DONE?/ he screamed in his head, trying to get the chant to shut up – just shut up. Yes, he'd been a shit, but if he'd told the truth Spike would have talked him into giving in, and being with Spike equaled pain. He had to think of himself for once, he'd done the right thing! In the long run he would be grateful for this.

He looked around at the others. Spike had moved and now sat behind him on the ladder leading up to the loft, chain smoking. Willow was next to him sneaking looks over at Tara, who was slumped in a chair. Looks that made your heart break. Looks of longing and loss. The way Spike had been looking at him back at the gas station. Now though Spike wasn't looking at him at all. Giles, on the other side of the table was explaining the ritual again to Buffy.

"The key was living energy," Giles was saying. "It needed to be channeled, poured into a specific place at a specific time. The energy would flow into that spot, the walls between the dimensions break down. It stops, the energy's used up, the walls come back up. Glory uses that time to get back into her own dimension, not caring that all manner of hell will be unleashed on earth in the meantime."

Giles sounded so calm, Xander had to remind himself that this was Dawn that Giles was talking so emotionlessly about. Buffy looked grimmer than ever.

"Um, but only for a little while, right?" Xander said nervously, attempting to break the impasse. "The walls come back up, and no more hell?"

"That's only if the energy is stopped," Willow said reluctantly. "And now the key is human…" she looked nervously over at Buffy "…is Dawn."

Giles read aloud from the book he held. "The blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more." He sighed unhappily as he wearily pulled off his glasses. "When Dawn is dead."

"I have places to be!" Tara shouted suddenly, making them all start. After a moment she settled down again.

"Why blood?" Xander said with frustration. "Why Dawn's blood? I mean, why couldn't it be like a lymph ritual?"

"'Cause it's always got to be blood," Spike said quietly. Xander's heart started violently in his chest at the sound of his voice.

"We're not actually discussing dinner right now," Xander said – a shade more edgily than he would have if the guilt hadn't been driving him crazy. Besides he had to keep Spike talking – anything was better than the unbroken silence. Spike's obvious misery was even more unbearable than his own. He looked over at Spike, whose blue eyes suddenly seemed fathoms deep. For the first time in a very long while Xander felt a prickle of realization of how truly far from human Spike was.

"Blood is life, lackbrain," Spike said, but the insult had no sting. There was a rough, almost seductive tone to Spike's voice made him feel edgy, fidgety. It was so…hot. God, what was wrong with him?

"Why do you think we eat it?" Spike continued almost to himself. "It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm, makes you hard…"

Xander shivered slightly as Spike's tone slid over him, warming him in the very pit of his belly. For a moment a picture flashed in his imagination. Him and Spike wrapped in each others arms, skin to skin, limbs entangled and Spike was biting him, his fangs penetrating his neck, swallowing his life blood, not to kill him, but feeding off him, marking him. He was making Spike warm, hard. He pulled his eyes away from Spike, his cheeks flooding with color as his insides squirmed with hot, strange, guilty desire.

"…makes you other than dead." Spike's eyes flickered, as he seemed to recall whose blood they were talking about, finishing quietly, "Course it's her blood."

"Pretty simple math here," Buffy was saying anxiously, her voice filtering into Xander's head as though from a long way off. "We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"

Buffy whirled back to face him, "No! No, you don't understand. We are not talking about this."

For a moment Xander was so shocked he forgot to breathe. He had never seen Giles yell like that before. He could go a good long while without seeing it again. The tension between Buffy and Giles as they stared at each other was so electric all the hairs on the nape of his neck were standing on end. Giles said more quietly; "If Glory begins the ritual…if we can't stop her…"

Buffy glared at him, "Come on. Say it," she said furiously. "We're 'bloody well' talking about this. Tell me to kill my sister."

On the ladder Spike sat up, his eyes fixed on Watcher and Slayer. Despite his detachment, despite his shredding inside and his indifference to whether the world survived or not there was still a flame of passion, of protectiveness burning within him, all the brighter because he had so little left. He was with Buffy a hundred percent on this. No one was going to hurt Dawn, not while he was around.

"No. She's not," Buffy suddenly looked close to tears. "She's more than that. She's me. The monks made her out of me. I hold her and I feel closer to her than…It's not just the memories they built. It's physical. Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I…" She stopped, choking on the threatening tears.

Spike looked down. It was different for him, yet in a way it was the same. Her the Slayer, him a vampire, yet in Dawn both of them had a little sister, someone pure, full of the innocence that their lives had knocked out of them. In Dawn they saw a future they would never have, but she could, and she was damn well going to have it.

"We'll solve this," Willow said hurriedly. "We will. Don't have another coma, okay?"

Giles tried again, in a way Spike had to admire his determination, it was bordering on suicidal at this rate. "If the ritual starts, then every living creature in this and every other dimension imaginable will suffer unbearable torment and death including Dawn."

"Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her." Steel ran in an implacable thread through Buffy's voice.

"Okay!" Xander said loudly, as if he could wipe the tension by sheer effort of will. "All in favor of stopping Glory before the ritual. Suggestions, ideas? Time's a-wastin'." The room remained silent, but to his credit Xander ploughed on. "Willow, I bet you've got some dark spell a-brewin'. Uh, make her a toad? Little hoppy toad, we can hit her with a hammer?"

Duly encouraged, another thought struck Xander. "What about Ben? He can be killed, right?"

Spike looked up, finally a bit of sense. Hell, if he didn't have this chip he'd do it himself. Flat choice Ben or Dawn, Dawn would win every time, even without the end of the world hanging in the balance.

"I mean, I know he's an innocent, but, you know, not like Dawn innocent," Xander continued, trying to justify his reasoning. "We could kill a…a regular guy." The small hesitation in Xander's voice suddenly had Spike biting his lip so hard it might bleed. He cursed himself for his protectiveness but couldn't help it. Xander's innate goodness was grimed somehow by those words and he didn't want Xander to have to make that choice, to live with the consequences. He shouldn't have to. Him, yeah, he could handle it, so could Giles, but not Xander. Suddenly Spike felt every one of his hundred and twenty years and more. Tarnished and jaded and so very, very old. No wonder Xander didn't love him.

"God." Xander said in helpless self-disgust as he realized what he had suggested.

Everyone was silent, maybe for the first time they were realizing for the first time that if they killed Glory it'd be curtains for Ben. Although it didn't mean much to him, Ben wasn't a bad guy. He had helped Giles, crushed on the Slayer. Despite himself Spike remembered the shock he'd felt as he'd stumbled on Ben's bolthole amid Glory's suffocating presence. He hadn't been expecting to find it there, but in a way it had made awful sense. Where else would he go? In that moment he had identified with Ben so strongly it felt like he'd been slammed in the stomach. Both of them had an intruder in their body. In his case a chip, in Ben's a Hellgod. Both trapped by events out of their power, and both unable to connect with anyone for more than a few fleeting moments.

After a moment Giles spoke up. "It's doubtful he'll surface again this close to the ritual. We can expect its Glory we're dealing with."

"We don't have to kill her," Willow said as the idea occurred. "We just have to stop her from doing the ritual. I mean, there's only the one time that she can do it, right?"

"Yeah!" Spike agreed, Red had a damn good point, and anything that stopped Xander having that sick look on his face was gonna get his 'yay' vote. "We get her on the ropes, we just gotta keep her occupied till it's too late."

"When Buffy first met Glory, she found that magical…" he waved his hand "glowy sphere that was meant to repel Glory. It's at my place remember? It might drive her away or hurt her."

"Ooh!" Willow bounced in her seat impatiently as she pointed to the display case. "And Olaf the troll god's enchanted hammer. You wanna fight a god, use the weapon of a god."

"Nah," Spike said disparagingly, remembering how he had buckled under its weight. "That thing's too heavy to…" He stopped as Buffy picked it up easily, swinging it experimentally. "Yeah. Good."

"Well," said Giles, "we have some ideas, if we could actually get Glory on the run, but…"

/Calls her?/ Spike looked at Tara, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Poor, confused Tara, who could turn out to be their biggest lead to Glory. The connections finally snapped together. He remembered back at the hospital Xander had said that all the loonies had just picked themselves up and gone…

/Glory is calling her!/ He opened his mouth, then stopped, he could see the same connections, the same idea forming in everyone's mind as they looked at her.

/Just like Dru,/ he thought ironically. /Madness leading the way./ His eye accidentally fell on Xander again and suddenly the hand he was holding his cigarette in began to shake. The horror he'd momentarily managed to ignore slammed into him again, two-fold as he remembered Dru – the other love of his life. He'd lost both of them, and now there was a very good chance he could lose Dawn. For all his big talk he was useless. Always had been. Unable to hold on to anything he truly loved, anything that really mattered. In the end he was always alone.

He bolted from his perch on the ladder. Ignoring the startled looks in his wake, he stumbled outside.

Xander flicked aimlessly through a book Giles had left on the table. He didn't know why. He wasn't even sure it was written in a human language. Buffy and Giles had gone into the back room. He hoped they were making up after their row, time was too short now to fight. he thought ironically, and shuddered in disgust. He cast another desperate glance at the door, but there was still no sign of Spike after his swift exit.

Shame swept over him, what the hell was he doing? Dawn could die, Glory was about to end the world as they knew it and he was taking time out to worry about his love life. Then again he may as well worry about it now, if the world ended he'd never get another chance. Of course if the world didn't end then he'd have forty years or so to worry about it.

Forty years. A wallop of fear hit him. All that time – a lifetime – without Spike. The fear sent tremors through him, shaking the foundations of his conviction that he had made the right choice, like the world shifting before an earthquake. He tensed. He wouldn't let himself be shaken now. He had done the right thing. He had.

He shook his head, briefly considered a lie then changed his mind. "Just, y'know…Spike stuff."

"Oh." She didn't make a physical move to hold his hand or hug him, but he still felt a little comforted. Maybe it was a magic thing, maybe it was just a Willow thing. "I know this must have been so hard for you, seeing him again, you've been real brave."

"No Wills, you're the brave one. You held us all together today when we would have fallen apart, getting Buffy back, organizing us all…"

Willow shook her head. "I was scared, all the way through, but I knew it was the right thing to do." She cast a sad look over at Tara. "Kind of like when I first got together with Tara."

"Really? I thought it just kinda happened for you two." As he spoke he realized he'd never had this conversation with Willow. When everything had come out – ha, ha – about her and Tara, he'd been so caught up in trying to come to terms with it, with checking that Willow was happy with her, he'd never asked how she had felt when they had first fallen in love.

She nodded. "It wasn't as easy as you guys think. When I realized I was gay, it wasn't like I had time to get used to the idea, I fell in love. It was so scary. Sometimes I'd try to avoid her, then I'd lie awake at night hurting not to have her there, but couldn't make myself call her."

She sighed. "I don't know – I guess it just felt easier to run away. I knew coming out wouldn't be easy, and after…Oz, I was so scared of feeling like that again about someone in case I lost them. I thought if I didn't let her in then it wouldn't hurt later."

"Right." Xander looked down at his white knuckles. "And you had a point, because it does hurt now doesn't it?" He spoke rapidly, a hard edge to his voice.

Willow paused, he looked up at her and for a moment he had the spooky feeling she was looking right into his soul. "Yeah," Willow agreed, her eyes full of sadness. "It hurts. I love her so much and to see her like this…it tears me apart, but I'm still glad I took the chance. Without her…I feel like I'd be empty. Even now – I'd rather be miserable with her than without her."

Willow spoke quietly but each word hammered home with such force it felt like she'd blasted it on a trumpet. It was an attack, hammering away at him; every syllable was another tremor shaking him violently. So hard to keep his balance but he couldn't give in. He tightened his grip on his conviction and held on for dear life. He'd done the right thing. He had.

Willow was looking at Tara, pain and love mingled in her gaze and in that moment she was someplace else. "She's my always," she said quietly, then she seemed to snap back. She stood and gave him a pat. "I'd better go see if she's okay."

He nodded and she moved over to Tara. For a moment, just a moment he thought of Spike. Longing wrenched at him, so much longing he thought he'd die from it. Could Spike be his always?

No, no, he had to stop thinking like this. There was no such thing as an always. Not for him, and even if there was, it wasn't Spike. Spike and him together were wrong. In time he'd meet a nice girl – or maybe a nice guy…No. He recoiled from that thought. Another guy, doing all the things that Spike had done to him was just wrong. He couldn't let someone else touch him inside, find that magic spot, when all he would remember would be Spike's eyes watching him hungrily as he writhed under his cool, skilful fingers, Spike crooning to him as he arched up and cried out, Spike coaxing out of him just where to press…

No – if he couldn't have Spike he didn't want anyone else to touch him like that.

He'd find a nice girl, with dark hair, and brown eyes, green eyes, red eyes for all he cared as long as they weren't blue and it would be calm and well ordered with no mess or heartache and suddenly he could have cried. Right now he was too worn down and exhausted to lie to himself. He wanted Spike. He wanted to listen to him tell hair-raising tales of his past and bitch about people who'd pissed him off. He wanted to have Spike nicking his favorite chocolates to dunk in his mug of blood and for them to watch T.V together and fight together and make love together all night and all day, and he wanted the other nights as well when they were too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed and pass out but that was alright too because they were still doing it together.

The tremors were shaking him to his core now – but he still fought against them. He had done the right thing! He'd get over this, he just needed a little time. Eventually he would stop feeling hollow and hurting. Eventually he'd stop hating himself.

Anyway it was too late now. He wasn't as brave as Willow, his chance had been there on that street and he had let it go. Sometimes you only got one shot at something, then the moment slipped away and it never came again. So that was it, mission accomplished. They were finally over. Ex's. Good.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He needed to get out of here, he needed some fresh air. He stood and walked wearily to the back door, then slammed to a stop.

The door was open and Spike stood in the alley, lost in thought, wreathed in smoke. A lump rose in Xander's throat. At this moment in the dim light with smoke drifting about him Spike looked otherworldly, enigmatic, and incredibly beautiful. Hunger, deep, aching hunger rose up inside him. He wanted Spike so badly, wanted to drown in him and never come up for air again. He remained motionless, paralyzed by his love, his eyes searing Spike into his mind, the slash of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the narrow blue eyes. And he burned. He burned. And for a moment he wished like he had never wished for anything before that he had never pulled aside that curtain in Spike's crypt. That he had never seen that stalker closet. If only their timing had been a little different, if only Spike had already burnt it…

He shook himself, that was crazy. Anyone would know that was rubbish. It was no good building a house on shifting sands, it was doomed to collapse. And it was no good standing here, watching and wishing. On the street outside the Doc's place he had banged the final nail into the coffin.

All the air was sucked out of Xander's lungs as he lurched in shock, clumsily turning back to Spike, who was still staring away from him into the distance. "What?"

"Not right now," Spike said dully, "but when this is over I'm taking off, if the world is still turning of course. Get out of your hair forever."

Despite himself Xander weakened a little. Enough to step outside to stand beside Spike and wait.

"Since when have you ever done the right thing?" Xander questioned. It was meant to come out as a light-hearted comment, but the words caught in his tight throat and came out harsh.

Spike examined the glowing tip of his cigarette as though he'd never seen anything quite like it before. "Since…well you."

"But…" Xander trailed off. Wasn't this just what he wanted? With Spike gone he'd be totally safe, and if safe suddenly seemed like a very grey, empty, lonely sort of a place then it was a small price to pay. Maybe eventually him and Spike would become distant, like a dream, something that happened to another person in another life. He had a sudden surge of anger. He wouldn't forget. He didn't have enough of Spike to forget anything. Every kiss, every touch, every fight, every smile, he didn't want to lose a single one.

"We were only really together for one night," he said sadly, his voice speaking out as though on it's own accord. "I mean like a couple."

"Yeah." A ghost of a smile touched the corners of Spike's mouth. "Longer than anyone else thought we'd last."

"We had a good run," Xander agreed. They glanced carefully at each other and shared a tentative, twisted smile, but as they looked at each other the smiles faded.

"I know you don't love me anymore," Spike said suddenly. "I know I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man and that's…" He paused, rolling his eyes self deprecatingly at his obvious trembling before continuing rapidly; "I had a night with you, a perfect night. More than I deserved, and…I'll remember that night until the end of the world. Even if it's tonight."

Xander stared at him numbly, Spike's honesty, his courage was shining from him like a beacon, and he felt so dirty, so polluted in comparison, his stomach churning sourly as though the lie was poison, slowly killing him. Words were frozen at the back of his throat, but he couldn't force them out. Spike reached out his hand touching his arm, Xander glanced down, then up again in confusion as Spike suddenly threw his arm around him, embracing him in a swift, one-armed, chokingly tight, hug. Spike's body banged against his and he froze in fright, his defenses almost broken. He held himself stiffly, his arms by his sides, too scared to relax even the smallest bit, for fear he would break apart in Spike's embrace. He briefly closed his eyes, somehow holding back the tears as he inhaled deeply, trying to store Spike's scent in his memory forever, yet already knowing it would eventually fade. What else could it do?

Spike waited until Xander had stumbled back into the shop. He glanced in and saw Xander was talking to Giles and Buffy, then fell into the small bathroom in the back of the shop, slamming the door and bolting it. He couldn't hold back anymore – Xander, repulsed and unresponsive as he had held him, just one last time, had burst open the floodgates. He turned the taps on full to cover any sound, crumpled on the floor, clasped his hands over his mouth and wailed. For everything he'd had – for everything he'd lost.

It didn't last long, the violence of emotion was released within a few wrenching, agonizing sobs, over almost as soon as it had begun. He spent a few more moments on the floor, trying to regain his composure then gave a watery, shivering sigh. That was it. No more tears, he was tired of this. Bored with moping and brooding and wailing. Pulling himself to his feet on trembling legs he leant heavily on the sink and splashed his face with cold water.

~"I can make it right, if you'll just let me. Let me in. Please Xander, I mean you do still love me a little…don't you?"

He closed his eyes. /Alright./ He thought wearily. /I was there, I heard it the first time./

He still felt a wreck, trembling and hurting all over but the shredding had stopped, released at last. So it was over. At least now he didn't have to dread the worst, the worst had happened. Now he had to survive and as if his heart had decided to help him he felt a hardness, a stillness begin to build up around it like a protective shield. He stared into the void in the mirror, and although he couldn't see it, he could feel his jaw setting grimly, a new coldness begin to seep into his eyes. People couldn't be trusted with his feelings. Xander couldn't be trusted with his feelings and he was through with begging for scraps of affection like a kicked puppy. There was one person left he cared about and when she was safe he was going to get the hell away from this place, and never come back.

He gave his eyes one last angry wipe, and adjusted his duster, drawing some reassurance from it. The memory of how he'd got it had always given him swagger, and now he gratefully returned to that feeling, as though it could protect him like a suit of armor. He might be trapped behind this suit of armor, he might be bleeding underneath it, but anything was better than the flood of agony and misery that had been drowning him. Anything was better than being a broken, pathetic shadow of himself.

Powered by cold pride, he walked out with a semblance of his old attitude. So Xander had dumped him. No need to behave like a tortured, fucking wanker and advertise it by moping around like a wet ponce was there? He would get through this. He would.

As he stepped out he was just in time to hear Xander speaking to Buffy and Giles. "…got a few hours yet, haven't we? I'd better go get the sphere."

"Yeah," Buffy said thoughtfully. "That could be pivotal. Thank you. But don't go alone. I don't want Glory's guys grabbing you as well. Take Spike."

It was only later, much later, Spike realized that it hadn't sounded like an order, her voice had been too warm, too kind. It sounded almost like she was encouraging him. However at the time he was too busy feeling bitter at Xander's less than enthusiastic response to analyze Buffy's tone.

"Okay," Xander said unhappily. "I've started keeping some weapons there as well, I'll grab some. I'm looking for something in a broadsword."

"Don't be swingin' that thing near me." Spike said sarcastically as he came up behind them.

"A glorified brick layer?" Spike finished coolly. Hurt and surprise flashed momentarily in Xander's eyes.

The short drive to his place didn't take long, but Xander was trying so hard to hold onto himself, to his convictions that he didn't dare say one single word to break the silence between them. Plus Spike's mood seemed to have changed yet again. Cold, angry vibrations radiated out from him making him tremble, an anxious knot forming in his stomach. It was a relief when they reached his place and he could get out of the enclosed space with Spike, and think about more pleasant things, like weapons and the end of the world. He hurried into his apartment ahead of Spike, desperate to put a little space between them.

"The weapons are in the chest by the TV," he said as he walked in without looking at Spike, only half paying attention to what he was saying, as he tried to recall whereabouts in his bedroom he'd put the sphere for safe keeping. "I'll grab the sphere."

Xander turned back to him, and frowned. Spike was still outside. What the hell was he waiting for? Spike reluctantly gave him a small, embarrassed wave as he reached out, lightly touching the barrier of his revoked invitation.

He'd been wrong. He'd been WRONG. The truth streamed though him, blasting his convictions apart as the feelings he had forced into a grinding, exhausting, completely wrong pattern swirled up and rocketed out triumphantly, unstoppably into the right one. Love streamed though him, a burning tide, healing, yet hurting in a wonderful way that he could never get enough of, revealing a new world before his stunned eyes. A completely new, chaotic, exciting, incredible world. He now knew exactly how Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz must have felt when she had been thrown out of her world of black and white into a land filled with vibrant color.

He looked at Spike on the threshold, just as vulnerable and sad as he was, his trying-to-be-cool, slightly bitter smile belying the hurt in his eyes as he touched the barrier between them and he knew. Spike was his always. If they were together or not, Spike would always be the only one he wanted. The one he wanted to sleep beside and wake up next to. The one he wanted to talk to, make love with, laugh and cry, and even argue with. This was the face he still wanted to be looking at in forty years time, and it was too late to run. Forcing himself away from Spike didn't mean no pain, it just meant every day that Spike wasn't with him would kill him a little at a time. Worse, it would mean that for the rest of his life he would bitterly regret not even trying to hold on to him, and he didn't want that grey, miserable 'safety'. He wanted Spike – whatever that may bring, the color, the chaos, the fear, the love, and fireworks, even the pain and the tears that could be waiting. He could take that chance, and yeah, of course he was scared, he was petrified, his heart was thudding shallowly in his chest so fast he could hear it roaring in his ears but here, now, this was his chance to speak out, and no way was he going to let it pass him by, because this vampire standing at his door was the one he loved so much he couldn't contain it, his eyes were welling up and glowing, his heart aching, filled to bursting and he loved him, loved him, loved him.

Spike, unaware of the earthquake taking place in him was still talking, trying to cover up for his flash of vulnerability as he stood at the door;

His mind was finally – completely clear. There was so much he could have said, so many pretty speeches he could have made but all he said as he took the leap that would change his life, was; "Come in, Spike."

Spike smiled with surprise and pleasure, as he stepped over the threshold. "Presto," he said softly. "No barrier."

He looked at Xander, who was watching him, his dark eyes glowing – like rich, utterly sinful, delicious chocolate. The warm scent of Xander's skin teased at his senses. He'd stepped in a little too close to Xander – and amazingly, Xander hadn't backed away. For a moment Spike didn't move, yearning wrenched inside him, so deeply it hurt, then…

Xander staring back at him, sad, grim and utterly resolute. "No. No. I don't." Each word shattering his heart into a thousand tiny fragments. ~

In Xander's apartment the warm feelings beginning in Spike were doused as swiftly as if he'd been drenched with a bucket of ice water, and his heart that had momentarily softened at the unexpected invite, hardened again. He stepped away.

"Won't bother with the small stuff," he said, heading over to the weapons chest. "Couple of good axes should hold off Glory's mates while Slayer takes on the lady herself." He opened the weapons chest, poking through the arsenal within it, but he could feel the tension radiating from Xander – his wild desire to say something. He could hear the tiny sounds as Xander opened his mouth, closed it again as he tried to find the words. Oh no – he couldn't handle another scene. They both knew the score – did they have to go over it in excruciating detail? Xander's eyes were still on him. /Don't say it./ He willed fiercely. /Whatever it is don't say it./

"Spike," Xander began, his voice was shaking with nerves or suppressed excitement, or both. "I want to tell you…"

"No – it's alright, lets just get the stuff and go," he snapped, staring blindly into the chest. In the periphery of his vision he could see Xander moving closer to him. He tensed himself up tightly. He wouldn't let Xander do this to him! Not again.

"No, don't stop me – you might not want to hear this after everything but I have to say it." Xander was right next to him. Xander reached out to touch his arm and Spike jerked away from his touch. Xander didn't get to do this – if he wanted to stand like a lump of stone when he tried to hug him goodbye, then he didn't get to decide touching was okay! He stared down at the floor, fury and bitterness clashing violently inside him. He didn't want this. He didn't want Xander to be kind, he didn't want awkward clichés and pity – it was unbearable, how dare Xander make him go through this again?

"Look I've got the message," he said angrily. "I understand. You don't have to say anything else."

"Oh yes I do." Xander's voice still sounded shaky, awkward, full of emotion – good emotion and it was so familiar, it pulled at him. Despite desperately wanting to keep his eyes averted, his head lifted as though it had been tugged on a wire. Xander was staring at him, his face pale, his eyes burning with all the passion he'd thought he'd never see in those dark depths again. "I love you."

It had to be a dream, a joke, some cruel trick. Spike heard the words but they made no sense to him. Like he'd stumbled into someone else's life and he had no idea what to say, how to act. The seconds ticked by and Xander's eyes remained fixed on him. Watching him, waiting to see what his reaction would be and Spike couldn't help him out there. His feelings seemed to have been disconnected, leaving him with nothing but a frozen disbelief.

"I love you," Xander repeated, wishing his voice didn't shake so as hope and terror squeezed his chest tightly and his heart beat with a rapid, shallow rhythm. This was the single scariest thing he'd ever had to live through in his life. He hadn't imagined what would happen after he told Spike – that had been left hazy in his mind, the big 'afterwards' that he hadn't dared to think about, but now he was living that moment, and it wasn't exactly the stuff romance was made of. Nausea twisted relentlessly in his stomach, and the feelings that were overwhelming in his heart sounded so dry as he tried to put them into words. It had taken him so long to get here – so many tears and angry words building a wall between them, that just saying 'I love you', didn't quite seem enough to break it down. He suddenly wished he'd had time to plan this – make some dramatic gesture to prove to Spike how much he loved him, because right now, talking didn't seem to be working. Still – at least he'd made a start. He only hoped, so fiercely it hurt, that he hadn't left it too late.

Spike stared blankly at Xander, searching blindly for answers on his face. Xander looked back pleadingly, hopefully. The same look Spike had felt a lot on his face lately as he'd gazed at Xander, and all Xander had given him in return was loathing and disgust etched in every line of his face. Now with three little words the game had been switched, everything had changed and it was all far too much to take in. He couldn't grasp it, understanding kept slithering away from him, leaving him struggling frantically for something to hold on to.

"But…" Spike faltered, his voice sounding oddly lost in his own ears, "you said you didn't."

Xander's face clouded over with shame, guilt, and all manner of other ambiguous feelings that Spike didn't have the ability, or the inclination to try and read. "I lied," Xander said tremblingly. "I'm sorry," he added in a rush, "I'm so so sorry, I was just, I was so scared and stupid and…" Xander began to babble desperately, words Spike couldn't hear properly through the shock roaring through his ears. Laughter, hysterical and misplaced, bubbled up inside him. He couldn't hold it in, letting out a sharp edged giggle that died quickly on his lips as he realized he'd never felt less like laughing in his life, there was nothing remotely amusing about this.

Xander's words dried up as Spike let out a burst of hysterical laughter, then just as suddenly stopped. Spike looked at him, then snapped his eyes away, seemingly unable to look at him, listen to him. He took half a pace away, then turned back. He literally didn't seem to know which way to jump, how to react and Xander had the eerie feeling that he was watching Spike recede away from him, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. Cold dread seeped through him. He couldn't lose Spike again, not now he'd finally seen the light – he couldn't.

/Please Spike/ he prayed, as his nails dug half-moons in the palms of his hands./Please sweetheart, come back to me. I'll make it up to you, I swear./

Spike began to pace about the room. He could feel Xander's eyes fixed on him but he couldn't look at Xander right now – he couldn't stand it. Xander on the other hand was seemingly unable to pull his eyes away from him, swiveling to watch him pace edgily about the room, and this didn't make sense, none of this did.

"Spike, I know it doesn't make it right," Xander said with a hint of desperation in his voice, "but after everything that's happened, I didn't – I couldn't risk it again, being hurt…"

"So you just hurt me?" And although his feelings were still on hold something was sure simmering up inside him because his voice came out harsh and bitter – he barely recognized it as his own.

Xander shrugged helplessly, giving him a tentative smile that vanished as Spike didn't return it. "Nobody said logic got a look in."

Right. And maybe Xander had a point – God knows he hadn't always been logical when it came to love. Like right now; this was everything he wanted just handed to him. Everything he'd yearned and ached for in the pain-streaked endless days since Xander had left him. He'd imagined Xander confessing he still loved him so many times in so many different scenarios and now it had happened it was nothing like he thought it would be. All he felt was numb, hurt, totally disbelieving, and…pissed off. All he could think was; Xander had lied to him. He'd trusted Xander to tell him the truth and he'd ripped him apart with a cruel lie just to stay 'safe'. He'd gone through all that pain, the final hug, the hidden tears, just because Xander didn't have the stones to deal with his feelings – never mind what it did to him, and now he was just supposed to fall gratefully back into his arms like nothing had happened?

Through his disbelief, anger mingled with humiliation began to rise as he remembered how he'd behaved. He'd been so stupid, so pathetic. Humbly glad for any scrap of affection, so sickeningly grateful as he'd gathered up crumbs of forgiveness like some kicked dog hoping to be petted again. A picture swam before his eyes, superimposed over Xander's stricken face. A picture of himself, hiding in the bathroom, choking on tears as he wailed into his hands, and every bit of anger, of hurt, was centered around that picture, what he had been broken down to thanks to this boy and his fear of being 'hurt'.

Fear thudded behind Xander's eyes, something here was very wrong, anger was etched into every line of Spike's face. A lump rose in his throat. He didn't care, he just wanted to go to him, put his arms around him and make that anger melt away. Do anything Spike wanted to put this right, because he loved him and nothing else mattered, but he was so scared of doing the wrong thing. He looked at the gap between them. So much love inside him, he was burning to show it, frantic to make amends, yet his arms were rigid by his sides, his legs unmoving. Why was he so bad at this? Now he had put his heart out there why couldn't he follow it up with something more than words? But he couldn't take that step closer. He tried talking again, even though the more he spoke the less Spike seemed to hear.

"Spike, I really am sorry," he repeated desperately. "I mean the way I've shut you out when you've been trying so hard to make things right, I'm so ashamed, but I'll make it up to you Spike, I swear…"

"You said you didn't love me," Spike said again, and the bald, harsh statement of fact somehow cut through his useless words in a way no explosion of rage could have done. Horror slammed into Xander, knocking him momentarily speechless as he realized how their roles had been reversed. Spike was too hurt, too angry for apologies and for the first time he truly understood how Spike had been feeling these past weeks. Crushed with remorse, desperate to put things right, just hoping against hope for that undeserved chance to make it right. He stared into the face of his recent unforgiving attitude towards Spike, exactly the way Spike was treating him now, and shivered to his very bones with the ice-coldness of it.

"I had to keep you away," Xander stumbled to explain. "It was the only way…I haven't lasted this long on the Hellmouth by being a fair fighter, I can't believe I did it to you…"

"But you did." Spike said, his voice rising with anger, Xander's eyes widened in fright. "And you saw what it was doing to me but you just let me take it! And now you've just decided to change the game and I'm supposed to be glad?"

"I've said I'm sorry, what else do you want me to do Spike?" Xander asked desperately.

"I don't know!" Spike almost shouted. "Maybe there's nothing you can do!" And somewhere, deep, deep inside Spike was screaming to say the words that would have Xander in his arms right now; Of course it's not too late, yes I want you back, yes I love you, yes I've missed you so bloody much…

But he couldn't reach that part of himself. He couldn't release those words and he didn't even understand it himself. All he knew was he was hurting like hell, choking with anger and Xander had caused it, so Xander could damn well make it stop, but right now he didn't even want to look at Xander, and yeah – it didn't make sense but it was just the way he was feeling. Xander was right, logic didn't get a look in here. Logic was pretty fucking far from his head right now, confusion, pain, resentment and anger had taken up all the space, no room for logic.

"You can't just drop me when it gets messy and pick me up again when you want to!"

Xander opened his mouth to speak but Spike steamrolled over him. "Why now?" he questioned angrily. "Why did you tell me this this now?" He cast a pointed glance at the clock ticking away in the corner, moving steadily closer to the time they had to take on Glory and the sharp edge of panic made his voice sound even angrier. "Because the worlds about to end and you know you won't have to put up with me?"

"I said this now because I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life, however long or short it's gonna be!"

/No. Oh no./ Spike screamed silently. /Not too late, don't you say that – don't you dare!/

"Yeah." The word tasted wrong in his mouth, bitter like bile, and what the hell was he doing? But he felt driven, desperate to lash out and see how Xander liked being torn apart by a lie. "Maybe it is."

"But…" Xander struggled for words, somewhat like the way he had on the street outside the Doc's place after Xander had torn him apart. "But…you said you still loved me."

"And you said you didn't love me. I guess neither of us can both be trusted," he bit out. There was a sour ball of pain inside him, growing and growing and when it shattered he would break with it, but right now he didn't care, he was reveling in the pain he was causing, the pain he was feeling, because hate kept him going, kept him strong – it was love that killed him.

Xander stared at him appalled, barely able to form words. "Oh," he said in a choked voice. "I…understand. I…I…" He trailed off, his face white, his eyes a window to an agony he couldn't articulate, and suddenly Spike's manic euphoria drained away. Oh it hurt to see Xander look like that, it hurt to cause – he had to get out of here right now before he shattered.

"Just . go. Get the Sphere," Spike managed to say. "I'll wait outside." He turned away, reaching his hand out to the door handle, and all this was moving so fast, it felt like it was overlapping chaotically in his head. He opened the door and the cold touched him lightly, as he opened the door wider.

Suddenly the door flew away from his hand, slamming shut. He caught a fleeting impression of Xander's hand, firmly on the door, the heat of Xander's body close behind him as he whirled around to stare into Xander's determined eyes.

Xander's hand was still on the door next to his shoulder, he placed his other hand on the door, penning Spike in as he stepped closer.

"I do trust you. You said you loved me and you meant it. And I love you, and I'm not gonna let you leave," Xander said strongly. Still shaking, still terrified but determined. If he was being honest he really didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing, he couldn't exactly lock Spike up, all he knew with the kind of rare certainty that comes straight from the heart, was that he couldn't watch Spike walk away without doing something to stop him. He knew – just knew that Spike didn't want to leave either. Knew it because he couldn't love Spike this much without Spike still loving him at least a little in return.

Fury ripped through Spike in a vast, burning tide, and if there was relief in there too it was buried under his rage. How dare he? Anger roared up, boiling in his veins, spilling out in a flood of seething words. "You don't have a bloody choice! You don't get to decide this stuff anymore!" He advanced on Xander, and it spoke volumes for the look on his face that, despite Xander's determination, with every step he took Xander stumbled back, his eyes shocked and scared. He didn't let Xander create a gap, he was on him again, spitting words into his face. "All this time you've been looking at me like I'm dirt under your boots not even lettin' me apologize!" Xander hit the wall and Spike followed, way into his personal space, pinning him down with his furious eyes, not letting up for a second. "Who the HELL do you think you ARE? Do you even know how it's felt, loving you so much it hurts and you with your bloody 'stay away Spike' shit like you didn't care, like I was nothing to you? Torture, that's how it felt, only worse – at least torture only rips up your body! You tore me apart, you lied to me and now you think yeah, maybe you do want me, and I'm supposed to just fall into step? Fuck you Xander, just FUCK YOU!"

His voice was hoarse with his scream and in that moment he wanted to hit Xander so badly his fists twitched reflexively, but he wouldn't even make contact before the sizzling electric blue pain would shoot through his brain, his teeth and bones. Worse, the pity would be written on Xander's face. Poor pathetic Spike who couldn't even hit back, could just take what they guy who – supposedly – loved him would dish out, and right now he didn't know which of them he hated more.

"Spike," Xander whispered brokenly, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. Spike jerked in shock but Xander didn't pull away. Laying his hand on his face tenderly, like Xander understood all the rage and was transforming it from a rejection into a plea for help, a cry to be rescued. Like he was trying to make all the pain go away with a touch. Xander didn't look like he was pitying him. Xander was looking at him with a mixture of hope and empathy, remorse and desire. Looking at him with dark, hungry eyes, eyes that still made him ache, made him want to fuck him hard and hold him gently. Eyes that always, always made him feel out of control, like he was lost and falling into those eyes…

"Don't." He wrenched himself away, backing away a couple of steps, his cheek still burning where Xander's hand had been, cursing his hands that were suddenly shaking. He wasn't going to do this! Wasn't going to just let Xander walk back into his heart like all the lies and pain meant nothing. He was hurt and mad, and if Xander really wanted him he was going to have to make him believe it…

He turned away blindly, trying to clear his head from Xander's pull on him fogging his thoughts. Xander must have mistaken his confusion for anger because he called out after him rapidly.

"Wait! Don't go, just wait a minute, okay? I'm sorry – that was a stupid thing to do, I didn't mean to make you mad, look, we still need to talk."

Spike turned to look at Xander, yet he couldn't quite meet his eyes. "What about?" he asked bleakly, folding his arms defensively. "If it's another apology find something else to say, that tune is gettin' old."

"Damn right." Spike agreed, turning away again, but before he could take another step Xander's voice stopped him, suddenly ringing out strongly.

"And do you know how I know? Because I've been there – I know how it feels to be so hurt you can hardly breathe and you did that to me Spike – you did! We've both messed up here okay? Messed up badly. So just listen, you owe me that much right?"

Spike's eyes darkened angrily. "I don't owe you anything! I know I messed up but I've done everything I can to try to fix it – an' at least when I tried to break your heart I wasn't in love with you – what's your excuse?"

"Because I loved you!" Xander yelled. Spike snorted disbelievingly but Xander continued to speak rapidly. "I loved you Spike, so much, I'd have given up everything for you, and yeah, I was scared!" Xander's voice was shaking, but he somehow kept on talking, as though his life depended on it, and despite his anger, despite his hurt, Spike couldn't make himself walk away as Xander spoke so passionately. "You can get that right? I fell for you so hard I felt like I'd been knocked to my knees and I couldn't get back up. I've never felt like that before, and then when I found out about Buffy…it was like…it was like…" He stumbled to a halt, the memory still visibly hurting him.

"Xander…" Spike began, not knowing what he wanted to say – just knowing that it was hard, and getting harder with every passing second to watch Xander upset himself so much. To see him trying so hard to reach him. For the first time the words almost touched him; almost reaching that place inside him, beyond the anger. Xander loved him, and then

"No, let me say this," Xander insisted, feeling sick, dizzy as the words flew out of his mouth, he couldn't stop them, and hell he'd already put his heart out there and got nothing, what did he have to lose now? "It was like dying, except I didn't get to die. I had to live everyday, carrying this dead thing around inside me and that dead thing was me, and if I hadn't loved you so much and it hadn't hurt so much, maybe I could have dealt with it a little better, but I did – love you I mean, and I couldn't let you do that to me again so I screwed up and tried to shut you out and I lied, and I know it doesn't mean much now, but I am sorry."

For a long moment Spike stared at Xander. His dark eyes were suspiciously bright, and suddenly Spike didn't feel angry anymore, it all drained out of him. All that was left was the hurt.

He looked away from Xander, staring unseeingly down at the floor. "I waited for you," his voice said painfully, dragging the words out of his heart like pieces of glass. "I waited and waited. After what Glory did to me, I thought you'd come. But you didn't. I waited and you didn't come." He rubbed his forehead in a quick compulsive movement like the source of his pain was located there.

For a moment there was silence and then; "I wanted to," Xander whispered, his voice had the edge of tears. "I thought about you every minute. But…all the time I loved you, I hated you as well and I just couldn't see you right then, I wasn't ready. I wish I had been Spike, I wish it hadn't taken me so long to get here…but I'm here now, and not because I think the worlds gonna end. Just because I want to be. I love you."

Spike didn't look up, but he didn't make any move to leave again and Xander cautiously moved closer. "I knew, just now, when you were at the door, and couldn't get in without an invite. Everything just suddenly got so clear. I could keep on shutting you out – or I could let you in." Closer. Touching close now. Still talking softly – like Spike was a nervous animal that could bolt any second. "And the thing is Spike – you're already in – here I mean." He briefly touched his chest where his heart thudded swiftly. "I've tried so hard to stop loving you – but I can't, and I don't want to run away from it ever again."

"'Cos now you know I won't hurt you?" Spike suggested dully. He'd meant to sound sarcastic, but he just sounded sad. He wanted to believe Xander, he wanted to believe him so much, but he didn't. How could he when Xander was trying to ask for guarantees of safety and painlessness? There were no guarantees – the only promise he could make was that he loved this boy – loved him so much sometimes he thought he would die of it, but Xander would never settle for that.

"No," Xander said surprisingly. "I don't know you won't hurt me. But I believe you won't, and I can take the chance. Yeah it's scary, but it's okay, everything's okay if I'm with you."

Spike rolled his eyes ironically to hide that his throat suddenly felt tight. "Even being knocked to your knees?"

"See?" Xander said lightly. "This isn't so bad. I mean we might get some strange looks but…" Spike almost smiled, then felt all levity fade away as he looked at Xander who was watching him, his dark eyes burning with intensity. "Still love you Spike," Xander said without a hint of laughter in his voice. "Still on my knees loving you. I know I'll never get back up, and that's okay. I forgave you. Forgive me now. Please come back to me."

Xander rested his head lightly against his belly and Spike felt his hand twitch, just a little, towards Xander's dark hair before it stilled again. He bit his lip, closing his eyes. He couldn't look at Xander, so bravely using more than words to try to reach him. He wanted to respond so badly, to tell him he did still love him, of course he did, he'd never stop loving him but he couldn't force out the words, couldn't send the command to his hand to move. It was like being paralyzed in an abyss, unable to grasp the hand outstretched to rescue him. Here he was with Xander, who was begging him to take him back, and yet he wasn't saying yes. He wanted to say it – the word was a bubble just waiting to pop out of his mouth, yet it wouldn't come out.

"So what do you…want Xander?" /Me. Say you want me. Just me./ He silently begged.

"Maybe…if we don't all die horribly tonight, we could go for a coffee. Watch a movie. Y'know, take it real slow, get it right this time."

Slow. Tentative. Halfhearted. Spike beat back a lump in his throat. It wasn't enough. Despite Xander begging so prettily, nothing had changed. Even assuming that they didn't all die tonight Xander would never really trust him again, he'd always be hedging around having an actual relationship, keeping him at arms length, and Spike couldn't live like that. He'd always be on edge, scared of doing anything to rock the boat – having to back down from the fights that would inevitably rise up about important stuff for fear Xander would get scared and leave him.

He jerked slightly with shock as Xander's hand slid up his leg in a motion that was undeniably a caress. A caress that was neither tentative, or half-hearted. Spike's eyes snapped open, looking down at Xander. Xander looked back up at him. A stillness settled around them, their eyes locked on each others. The air seemed to thicken, to pulse as slow waves of sexual heat began to emanate between them, sending fizzles of sensation right to his groin. Xander's hands moved up to his belt, shaking slightly he unfastened it, the slap of the leather loud in the quiet of the room.

"What, what are you doing?" Spike stammered, as Xander popped open the buttons on his jeans, one at a time, easing his jeans down. Delicious freedom as his cock was released from it's constraints, Xander's warm hands stroking his thighs, and though he didn't mean too, he shifted impatiently, trying to make Xander's hands brush over his cock, as though he just can't wait. Like he's begging to be touched because as confusing as all this is his cock isn't confused – not one bit. It's hardening, arching towards Xander's mouth like it knows just where it want to be.

"Obvious innit?" Xander said, looking up at him briefly with a twisted smile as he quoted what Spike had said to him so long ago when this had all began. "I'm trying to seduce you."

His voice was harsh, escaping from his tight throat. His legs buckled but Xander held him up, his hands tight on Spike's hips, his mouth moving over him, taking him in deep, and oh hell.

This was impossible, but it was happening. Xander was making love to him with his mouth, his hands and in all his life he'd never felt so confused. And hot. And shaking. And it's so good, it's Xander kneeling in front of him, making those sweet, wet, sucking sounds. How the hell has this happened? His mind is something that keeps slipping away from him as Xander's tongue traces a hard line from the base of his cock, up his shaft before lapping at the head again. So bittersweet, and filling him with a hot painful ache, and he wants – oh, yes he does want, he just doesn't know what to do about it…

Spike's legs were trembling, his harsh gasps and muttered curses filling the air and Xander wanted to stop for a second. Wanted to ask if he was okay – wanted to see the look that was in Spike's eyes right now, but he couldn't stop – not while this was happening. Not while Spike was letting him touch him and liking it – and he loves Spike, loves him, loves him, loves him. But he can't say that, not right now, not with words, but he can still use his mouth to show him, can try to make this feel so good for Spike he'll somehow just know and never try to walk away again…

And making love to Spike again, surrounded by his scent – the incredible taste of sex and skin, of pure Spike that he's missed so fucking much – being this close to Spike has got him so hard. It's been so long and if he thought he'd ever get a chance to do this again he'd wait of course he would, but he doesn't know if he'll ever be this close to Spike again and he can't stop himself. Keeping one hand on Spike's hip he slides his other hand down, clumsily opening his jeans. Feeling a twinge of guilt 'cos it almost feels like he's molesting Spike here, but oh, he tastes so good and smells so good and feels so good and he wants him so bad, wants them to connect together just once more…

He reaches in freeing himself and oh. Yes. He takes a moment to wish it was Spike's hand moving on him, and he's moaning around Spike's cock as he begins to…

Holy fuck, was Xander really…? Spike couldn't help it – he moaned as the scent of Xander began to swim into the air, listening to the soft, slick sounds of Xander moving his hand on himself and oh he wishes he could see, could watch what Xander's doing to himself, but that would mean making Xander move his mouth away and that would be bad, because Xander's mouth was so hot, and wet, and every touch, every movement has an edge of hungry desperation, like Xander is scared this is never going to happen again, and he has to do all he can before its over…

"Xander – oh hell Xander," his voice choked out again, but it wasn't hell. It was heaven. Xander sucking, knowing just where to probe with his tongue to make him gasp, make him close, make his balls tighten, and somehow the wet, scorching heat of Xander's mouth enveloping him meant more than words – and more – so much more than just a blowjob. It was Xander reaching out to him, hauling him out of the abyss and beyond it was heat and home and Xander who loved him, and suddenly the distrust holding him back dissolved, melted away be the fire of Xander's love, and he believed him, he was free, he was there. He reached out, twining his fingers in Xander's hair holding him where he most wanted him, as the words finally came tumbling out of his mouth;

"Oh…oh so good Xander! Oh God, Xander I love you, I do, I love you so much…"

And they should stop now and discuss what this meant, but the room was spinning around him and he was shaking and those hot flashes were coming faster, faster, and his hands weren't loosening their hold on Xander's hair. He must be the only guy in the world to get an epiphany when having a blowjob, and Xander just kept sucking. Making him tremble, making him yell and he couldn't help it…He rocked forward frantically, his hips beginning to pump, driving himself closer and closer to the edge as Xander pulled him in tighter, his mouth opening wide around him, swallowing him down, working on him relentlessly. The sounds of Xander moving his hand on himself sped up – became a blur. Everything was a blur and the only thing he knew was he never, never wanted this to stop but shit, shit he was nearly there…

His sharp gasp cut off the words, his body tensing as his hips jerked forward uncontrollably and he shot into Xander's mouth and with the fast, hot rush he felt himself let go, falling into Xander as the knot of anger inside him loosened and vanished, the hurt dissolved and the only thing that remained, that mattered was just how much he loved him, and that by some miracle, Xander loved him back. A moment later Xander tensed, then shuddered, giving a long moan around his cock, that might have been a wail had his mouth been free.

For a long moment neither moved. Xander let Spike slip from his mouth and rested his head against Spike's belly. He could taste Spike's essence in his throat. His hand was sticky with his own spendings. What the hell had he just done? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now with the fever momentarily sated he was scared and oddly ashamed. He had pretty much molested Spike's stunned, immobile body, and got off on it! What must Spike think of him? He'd thought he'd heard, through the roaring in his ears and the moans and gasps, words fall from Spike's lips, words of love – but now he wasn't sure. Maybe his mind had been playing tricks on him because Spike wasn't saying a word. Xander squeezed his eyes tightly closed and wished passionately that he'd never have to move. Never have to let this moment end, because right now he could pretend they were lovers again.

Slowly the tremors running through their bodies died down and ceased, and there was still silence between them. He couldn't delay any longer. Reluctantly, he moved, fastening Spike's jeans, and then his own with trembling fingers, as though that would cover up what had just happened. Then he stood.

Spike looked at Xander – his precious, incredible Xander as he slowly got to his feet, and right now he looked so damn young, so vulnerable, and he forgave him. Because Xander wasn't cruel or pathetic. He was just like him, someone who messed up. Someone who could be short-sighted and angry and imperfect, but somehow still loving him enough to find his way back to a place where they could begin again and get it right this time, and he had no right to be pissed it had taken Xander so long to get here, because looking back on their tortured relationship, it was a miracle either of them had got here at all.

Xander, unaware of his epiphany, seemed barely able to look at him, his cheeks were flaming with embarrassment.

Xander managed to look at him, his dark eyes confused and scared, like Spike could break him with a single word. Maybe he could. But he didn't want too. Never again. Spike reached out his arms, they opened out easily, like a bird spreading it's wings. Xander gulped and bit his lip, as tears of burning relief and deep, overwhelming thankfulness sprung to his eyes.

And as Xander flew into his arms they finally emerged from their vast, dreadful estrangement, but he didn't waste any more time agonizing over the past because he was kissing him and Xander was kissing him back. Kissing long and slow and deep, crawling in from out of the cold into each others arms, a place that was warm and precious and home. Kissing like they had been dying of thirst and finally had been allowed to drink. Mouth moving against mouth, tender yet searingly hot, like a dazzling dream after the weeks of misery, but this was real, it wasn't going to fade away leaving him cold and alone, he knew it because he could feel it – the heat of Xander's body, the slickness of his tongue, the weight wrapped in his arms and how has he got so lucky?

"I love you," Spike managed to say hoarsely before Xander caught his lips in another kiss, as though he just couldn't bear to be parted from him.

"I love you too Spike," Xander breathed into his mouth between kisses and he could taste salt. Xander was crying.

"Xander," he whispered, tenderly wiping away the tears. "Don't cry…please don't cry."

Xander nodded but disobeyed as more tears rolled down his cheeks and he reached out to touch Spike's wet cheek. "You're crying too."

Xander opened his mouth to say something – maybe to disagree, but never got the chance to speak as Spike kissed him again, stopping the words and hiding the tears he denied. Tears of pure relief and joy that at last they'd found their way back, and as insane as it sounded in this moment he wouldn't change a thing because if he hadn't lived through the agony of losing him then he would never have felt the burning joy of being next to him again. Joy so intense that right now it hurts. Xander's kisses were dropping over his neck, chin, eyes, lips, licking away his tears and it's such a sweet pain, and words are so hard to speak when he feels so much, all he can gasp out is; "Love you, Xander," over and over, and every time he says it Xander whispers that he loves him too. Maybe it's greedy but right now he needs Xander to keep saying it, he needs to hear it to believe it, to convince himself that this is really happening and Xander must be feeling exactly the same. Holding onto each other, and they keep saying it until the words feel like they surround them, submerging them in warmth, the outside world vanishing, and it's just them in a bubble of bittersweet loving reunion.

Eventually Xander pulled back – his cheeks were tearstained, but his eyes were glowing with feeling Spike had never seen in anyone's eyes before. Love. Not Dru's affection, or Angelus's dislike tinged with desire but love. Indestructible, powerful love, straight from the heart. Xander was looking at him like he was special, like he was incredible, and right now he's feeling so much that he had to gather Xander to him tightly and hold on. Just hold on.

"Xander," Spike breathed into his hair. "I thought you were never coming back…I thought you didn't want me…"

"Xander," Spike said painfully, glad that right now his face is buried in Xander's shoulder and he doesn't have to try to hide his expression. "I know I've already told you this, but I'm sorry too – so sorry, you know about…"

"No," Xander interrupted, his voice surprisingly strong considering it was so shaky. "You're forgiven. I'm forgiven, and nothing matters anymore, as long as you…"

Spike nodded, smiling with relief, a smile that came from his heart, and it felt so good to smile again, a real heartfelt smile with no sharp pull of misery lurking beneath it. He felt a little stronger then, able to look at Xander's face, into those expressive eyes. He reached a hand out to cup Xander's cheek.

"I just wanna say – you know how you're knocked to your knees? You're not alone down there pet."

"Can't wait." But although the smiles remained their eyes were serious, and Xander reached up, covering Spike's hand on his cheek with his own as they stayed still, gazing into each other's eyes, wordlessly saying everything in their hearts that they couldn't put into words.

Xander had a fleeting impression of Spike's eyes flashing as they flicked up and down his body, then they cannoned into each other, their mouths seeking each other's out. Spike slammed him back against the wall, he hit it hard, gaining a bruise that would hurt like hell later but right now wasn't even noticed under the feverish ravishing kisses. His gut lurched with pure helpless want, his mouth was opening under Spike's, his hands reaching and grabbing Spike, so Spike was pressed hard against him. The change was faster than a bolt of lightening tearing apart the night sky. From tender, bittersweet reunion to hard wrenching desire, as weeks of waiting, weeks of frustration and loss and hurt were blasted away by this kiss.

They couldn't let go of each other, couldn't get enough of each other, clinging on with a desperately tight grip. Their hands were under each other's shirt, Xander's mouth was buzzing, his tongue was hurting but he couldn't stop. Not when Spike was pressed up against him so close he could barely breath, not when he was tasting Spike again. Trying to kiss him so deeply for so long he'd never, ever forget how it felt.

"Missed you…oh I've missed you so much." His voice sounded so needy, so fervent and Spike was pressing kisses, rough and hungry up his neck, licking him, tasting him. He grabbed Spike's hair, pulling his head back, scraping his chin across Spike's sensitive lips, and Spike was making this sound this high, breathy moan and they couldn't get to the bed, they couldn't even separate long enough to get to the couch. They slid down the wall, crashing to the floor, Spike on top of him and they fitted just the way he remembered, making his insides feel hollowed out and oh so hot…Spike's shaking fingers slipped clumsily as he tried to unbutton his shirt, then with a muttered curse he just tore it. The buttons pattered lightly on the floor and he could hardly believe this was happening, but the carpet was rough against his bare back, and Spike's teeth were nipping at his neck, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Spike's blazing blue gaze, no longer tormented with guilt, but blazing with a desperate passion that he could feel mirrored in his own eyes, because God it had been so long. Everything was happening so fast, part of him wanted to slow it down, savor every moment, but his body couldn't stop. There was a tearing sound as he pulled off Spike's T-shirt and his skin was burning next to Spike's as their mouths melded together again. They writhed, trying to kick off their shoes, wriggle out of their jeans without separating, when suddenly. Oh – naked.

And they stilled – just for a second, their eyes dilated and hazy, mouths inches apart panting heavily. Taking a moment to look at each other – maybe to convince themselves that this was real – and Spike was so beautiful, and looking at him as if he was beautiful, but he couldn't be as lovely as Spike right now. Lips flushed and swollen, dark nipples, cock hard and leaking over the soft, pale skin of his stomach – an incredible, beautiful sight he thought he'd never see again, and he's so glad he's proved himself wrong, but there was something different about Spike's stomach…

It wasn't him that spoke, it was Spike, his voice shocked and slightly appalled. Xander glanced down at himself – seeing what Spike saw, how they almost matched in the weight loss.

Spike rolled his eyes ironically – always trying to keep cool that was Spike. "Misery diet luv." But his light response couldn't cover the painful truth in the words.

"Me too – maybe we should patent it – cry out all those fluids, don't eat a thing thanks to the lump in your throat…"

Spike reached up, stopping him from speaking, from glossing over the past pain by pulling him down to meet his lips with a fierce kiss that he returned so fervently it almost hurt. Although they'd agreed no more apologizing was necessary in this kiss they wordlessly tried to pour out their burning regret, their consuming desire to make everything right again. To just be again – and lying like this, with Spike's body was pressed against him, skin to skin, easing the physical ache of his absence, for the first time it feels like it's working. All this time he's been under such strain trying to deny his feelings, and now he's been set free and doesn't have to hold back anymore. He can do all the things he's secretly been dying to do for so long. He can roll so Spike is under him, and run his hands over his skin, circling his nipples with his fingers. Pinching them to make Spike gasp. He can trail kisses down Spike's throat and chest, letting his tongue out to taste the satin skin. He can settle his mouth over Spike's hard nipples and tease with teeth and tongue, and he does all this and more, whispering a constant stream of endearments to him and it's all skin and sensation and moans and a restless, aching knot of want growing and growing inside him and Spike's cock was bumping against his. Heavy, hard and silky and Spike moves his hips like liquid, making their cocks slide against each other and he gasps, just driving down against him, biting Spike's shoulder and shuddering at the delicious, slick friction and Spike's fingers were tight on his back, his blond head thrashing from side to side and he never, never wanted to stop, and all he knew was what his body was telling him. That he wanted Spike inside.

He shifted away despite Spike's growl of disappointment, rolling onto his back. He traced a finger over Spike's swollen lips, and Spike opened his mouth, giving his finger a gentle suck, making it wet. He pulled it out of Spike's mouth and reached down, opening his legs. Spike's eyes were hazy with heat yet dark, totally focused, watching. Both of them breathing heavily as he slid his finger down, and in. They gasped in unison and Spike's gaze is even hotter than touching himself like this and he's moving his finger. His eyes locked on Spike's as he rolls his hips, and Spike reaches out his hand, letting a finger brush over his crease, flicking at his entrance.

His breath is hitching and it sounds so needy, so harsh, but Spike's finger keeps slipping in joining his own – just a little and he's jerking his hips up, just trying to make it go in deeper, harder. Pulling his own finger out and just grabbing Spike's wrist – trying to force him in – and Spike must be taking pity on him because

it slips inside, and he's writhing. Jerking under his touch, babbling incoherent sex sounds as Spike slips his finger in and out, and it's so good – yet not quite enough in the most wonderfully tingling, teasing, frustrating way…

And Spike was trembling against him and he really can't wait any longer, "Spike, do it now. Now, I want you right now…"

Reaching for Spike, running his hand over Spike's cock – it's so hard it was flat against his stomach, but Spike's free hand flew out, grabbing his wrist, stopping him as he eased his finger out of Xander's body.

"Xander, I – I don't think I'll be much good." Spike said shakingly, holding out his trembling hands in explanation, and this was new. And humiliating. In every fantasy he'd ever had of making love to Xander again he'd always pictured himself as passionate yet self possessed. He'd never thought it would be like this, such a riot of sensation, sweet and frantic and wonderful and so overwhelming that the mere feel of Xander's hot skin would make him twist inside with emotion that feels almost close to tears. Xander is making him lose it. Making him feel desperate for more, to get closer, and closer still. He'd never wanted anything so much in his life as he wanted to make love to Xander right now, yet he couldn't control the trembles running through his body – the terror that somehow he would mess this up. He wanted this to be perfect, but it had been so long and he was so out of practice and shaking so badly, what if he wasn't good, wasn't right…?

Xander gave him a small smile. "Well," he said, also shakily. "I don't see anyone giving you points outta ten."

"Then it'll be okay," Xander whispered hoarsely, beginning to fist his cock, and Spike's hand loosened his grip on Xander's wrist, let go as he melted into his touch, moans rippling in his throat. "I'm nervous too, but it'll be okay because it's you and me. I want to be with you, Spike, and…it's been so long."

"Oh. Oh fuck." And maybe it was Xander's words, or the way his voice caught on the last word, or maybe it was the way his hand was moving, but the fear loosened it's freezingly tight grip on him. The shaking lessened a little and oh – he was still scared but he wanted him so much. His eyes ran over him hungrily – devouring him, Xander's eyes that were almost black with desire, his thick erection, the curve of his ass, until just looking wasn't enough anymore, and Xander seemed to get that, holding out his arms, gathering him to him, and he was kissing Xander. Kissing his forehead, eyelids, cheekbones, then his mouth, almost drunk with joy, wanting to laugh with happiness, yet tears still pricked his eyes as he hovered on the brink of making his wildest fantasy a reality. Running his hands over Xander possessively, down his chest to his hips, up to his stomach again, and pausing before moving down. Feeling Xander's hardness brush against his palm, hot and throbbing and Xander was arching his hips, for more friction. His fingers curled around Xander's cock, moving in the rhythm that drove Xander mad…

"Spiiike…" His name barely more than an exhalation from Xander's lips yet with a clear whimper of impatience.

"Wait a second…" He grabbed at his duster lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, reaching into the inside pocket and retrieving a tube of lube. From the inside pocket. The secret one close to his heart. Xander's eyebrows raised up almost to his hairline and Spike gave him a small, embarrassed smile. "It's the one we used, that last night we…I never could throw it away."

And maybe it was a strange thing to be touched by, but Xander was – touched to his very heart. It was odd, sad and slightly freaky, but it was so very Spike. He groped for the words that would express his emotion.

And maybe it's not the most romantic thing to say, but it's all that's in his head right now – how badly he wants this, and much he's feeling, and Spike doesn't seem to need to hear anymore as his eyes flare and suddenly neither of them are thinking about being frightened. Neither of them are thinking anything except that this is really going to happen, they're going to have sex. Right now.

And Spike is wrenching the top off the lube, slicking himself with a couple of swift pulls, and his cock is glistening and Xander can't help from licking his lips. Sees Spike's hand judder on his cock at the sight of it and oh Spike's eyes are so hot, so hungry and cock in hand, he's positioning himself. Back between Xander's legs, and he settles in there like it's where he's meant to be – like he's never been away, and suddenly Xander feels like crying again. Just a little, because he hadn't dared think until just now just how much he's missed him, missed this. He's been so empty and lost and so fucking miserable, but it's all over now and Spike's rubbing his cock over Xander's entrance, making moan, making him ache for it, making him feel it, making him want to open up and take it in…

And he's lifting his legs, wrapping them around Spike's waist, and Spike suddenly grabs a leg, dropping a quick kiss on his knee, before raising it up and shoving it over his shoulder, exposing him so much more – and that's okay, anything Spike does right now is okay and words are falling from his lips, words like;

"Oh please Spike, don't make me wait, want you in me, want you so bad…" And he's so hard and Spike's eyes are so dark and Spike's panting now, biting his lip and pushing the slick head of his cock into him. Pushing hard and oh fuck he's going in and /ohpleasepleaseit'sbeensolongandthatfeelssogood/ his heart is hammering and it's incredible pleasure and slightly painful and perfect. Spike sinks in, stretching him out and these groans begin coming out of his mouth, deep, animal sounds and oh. It's like

"Oh. My. God." His voice is harsh, spoken through a tight throat and it's that almost forgotten pleasure it's hotter than hot and Spike is moving, his hips pressing into him, hard against his buttocks and oh fuck he's moving too. They're moving together, and he'd forgotten just how this felt – this incredible, burning spiral of feeling that lifts him up and swallows him whole and it's just him and Spike locked together.

"I can't believe I'm inside you," Spike whispered, so quiet he could have missed it through his gasps and cries as the vicious pleasure wracks him. Making him shudder making him burn and making him arch up to guide Spike to that sweet, sweet, place And he nudges it – setting off those sparks inside him, and he yells, jerking uncontrollably, losing the rhythm briefly, then holy fuck picking it up again and Spike just keeps whispering to him;

"So hot, so sweet that's oh…that's so good. Xander, please never go again, I'll die if you go again, love you so much…"

Sweet, precious words gaped into his mouth in a sweet open-mouthed kiss and against his skin, sinking deep inside him where he can treasure them forever. Words that he knew Spike would deny saying at any other time, apart from now wrapped tight in his body and falling apart so wonderfully in his arms and he's gasping words back;

"Couldn't go…ever again…Love you Spike, I love you." And oh God he can hardly believe this is happening, but it is and although he thought there be nothing else he'd ever want there is something else that he wants, and there's no reason for it, but right now he wants it so much…

His eyes are drawn to Spike's lips parted as he pants, and the glint of the white teeth beyond, and his cock jumps in response with the pulse racing in his neck, and he wants to know. What is it like?

The tiny part of Spike still capable of thought was still lagging behind, unable to believe this was really happening – was this really him inside Xander? Things like this didn't happen to him, but it feels real – sinking into him feels like hope and love and passion all wrapped around him. Surrounded by Xander, by heat and velvet skin. Xander's kisses dripping over his face, and Xander's eyes all dark and wanting and this is something he thought he'd never have ever again and for the first time in his life it feels like he's found exactly where he should be. His heart is overflowing, with love, with the desire to make everything right, and the more he moves inside Xander the more it all flows out from him in gesture and whispers and movement. It's never been like this before, so driven, yet so tender as their bodies slide against each other, rocking into each other over and over, faster and deeper and they were both panting open-mouthed, eyes locked on to each other and he'd never thought he'd want more – he shouldn't want more – but there's an almost palpable buzz in the air over his tongue, and he can hear the blood rushing in a sweet, seductive hiss through Xander's veins and he wants to taste it so much. And Xander is so flushed, like his blood is jumping to the surface, begging to be released, singing to him in a siren song, and his mouth suddenly feels so dry. There's an empty space inside him still and bloodlust has never felt like this before, never pulled at him so strongly and of course he doesn't want to hurt Xander, he just wants to taste a little, but the bloody chip wouldn't understand that, more importantly Xander wouldn't understand that, so he tries to ignore it, tries to tear his eyes away from the smooth skin of Xander's throat, and Xander's panting, panting his name…

"Spike – oh yes that's so good – Spike I want…I want you…to do something for me," The words are gasped out like Xander's finding it hard to grasp them, hard to make his mind work.

"Anything." Immediate answer straight from his heart, but God he hopes Xander doesn't want to stop.

He slammed to a halt, something he thought wouldn't have been physically possible – but hey so many impossible things had already happened tonight what was one more? But Xander couldn't have possibly said what he'd thought he'd said. Could he? "Bite you?"

He should say no. Right away – just no. And yet what comes out of his mouth is; "What .? Why do you want that?"

"Because…because I trust you and I want you to know it. Because I want to know how it feels, you drinking from me. Spike I want you. All of you." He shifted his hips impatiently, and Spike's mind began to blur under the sensations. "I want to you to fuck me, I want you to bite me." And to tell the truth words couldn't really explain why Xander wanted Spike to bite him, just that he did. He wanted to do this for Spike, to give him a gift of trust and love and blood, and he wanted it for himself as well, emotionally, physically. He felt it everywhere. In the pit of his belly, in his skin, in his cock and heart and most of all in his blood. The blood pumping in his neck that felt just a little too tingly, too full, too hot to be contained and the only way to make the ache stop would be for Spike to break the skin, for his cool mouth to settle over the bite and draw the heat out of him, easing the deep-seated tingle that was driving him mad.

""Will it go off if you don't want to hurt me…if I want it too? 'Cos I do Spike. Oh, please Spike," he gasped as Spike began to pant hungrily, his eyes fixed on the pulse in his neck. "Want it – want it so bad…Don't you want it too?" Xander tilted his head, revealing the line of his neck. Spike's eyes flashed gold for a moment and his fingers tightened painfully on him as he gave in.

Spike's face shifted, and it was the demon looking down at him with it's ridged face, fierce yellow eyes and sharp fangs, and Xander almost laughed and almost cried, because of course he'd known Spike was a vampire. Even in his human face there were little flashes here and there, especially when they'd had sex. Spike's strength and stamina, his habit of sucking hungrily on his pulse points, but he'd never seen him like this before not when he was inside him and oh he still wanted it, didn't care that it was a demon looking at him, that he'd opened his heart and body, and now was about to open a vein to a demon. It was Spike and he was horrifyingly beautiful, and he loved him. Faster than he could see Spike buried his face in his neck and bit. Bit hard. His skin parted and Xander cried out, and for a moment /OhfuckinghellwhatthehellhaveIdone/ as the razor sharp fangs sunk in deep, it hurt yet he welcomed it, wanted the pain, the connection, the mark because it was Spike.

His blood was rushing into Spike's mouth as he sucked hungrily, and now he was inside Spike as Spike was inside him and it was scary and dangerous and hotter even than sex, and if he'd know that being bitten could feel like this he'd have done it long ago. He's totally vulnerable and incredibly powerful because even while he's completely in Spike's hands, Spike is taking from him – Spike needs him. He pulls Spike's head down even closer – feeling the fangs sink deeper, the pull as Spike sucked…and God he's hard, this is so fucking sexy and he's losing it, can't process thoughts anymore, thoughts have nothing on this whirl of sensation and…

And he'd slipped that fucking leash in his head, the chip remaining silent as Xander's lovely blood exploded across his tongue, sliding down his throat, flooding through him like heated spiced wine, but this was so much more than blood. It was tangible lovetrustsexheatlife racing down his throat – into his stomach, to his heart and bones, into the very core of him filling him up and making him whole and he's bitten during sex before but it's never been like this – never.

He was drowning in this bite and Xander's hand was on his head, holding him tightly, and he's inside Xander, Xander's inside him, and beyond his physical eyes he could see…feel their spirits like streams of different colored light entwining together bonding them in a way he's never known before and

Xander cried out under him, his body arching up, wanting more, and he wants more too – craves it like he's never craved anything, he could drain him dry and it would never be enough, but Xander trusts him and he's got to stop now before he can't. Breaking the bite he wrenches himself away, letting the chip's leash slip over him again, and glimpses a flash of Xander's face, eyes wide and hungry and he rams himself into Xander's body deep enough to try and lose himself in there…

Spike abruptly pulled away from his neck and for a second Xander felt a deep pang of loss, opened his mouth to tell him to bite him again – right now – but the words are lost as Spike thrusts into him so deep, so hard for a second he thinks he's going to pass out. Balls of light explode in front of his eyes, pain and pleasure radiating out through his body like he'd grabbed a bolt of lightening by the tail, colors were weirdly bright and wavy around the edges, and there was nothing, else here but him and Spike. No noise except the cries coming from their mouths and the rush of his blood, his heartbeat and this was it, the big drop, once in a lifetime never to be repeated, his body was a rollercoaster and there was no way off. Vibrating under Spike as Spike thrust so hard he thought he was going to die from it, and Spike was digging his fingernails into his shoulder and throwing his head back, wailing as he came. And came. And came. And came inside him, burning streams and oh God just – slamming into that place where the nerves leapt inside him and his body was spasming uncontrollably. Jerking up into Spike, impaling himself even deeper and his thighs were tense, his skin burning and it was scary and wonderful and hot as he trembled on the edge and then Spike's hand began to fist his cock and then…then his orgasm hit, and his scream joined Spike's. It was dark and bright and loud and silent, and against the brilliant darkness he had a flash of two beams of light coiled about each other – separate yet mysteriously fused and was this dying? But he could hear himself screaming out Spike's name over and over, feel his hoarse throat catching on his name and his eyes were wide open his heart hammering like a jackhammer in his chest and this wasn't dying, this was living, truly feeling alive with every cell of his body vibrating and jumping. Life that was rarely – if ever – experienced and Spike was back in his human face, his eyes wild and unfocused, his lips red with his blood and they were part laughing, part crying in the aftermath of their climax as they let the sensations slide over, and begin to fade away from them.

The giggles and sobs gradually stopped as their bodies stilled. They lay still and quiet wrapped in each other's arms for a long time. Time meant nothing right now. He felt so light and free. So peaceful and still and the only time he'd come close to feeling so happy before was the night he'd spent with Spike in his crypt. Or maybe he'd never come close to being so happy before. If only they could stay lying here forever. Never moving again.

Gradually they began to feel their way back into thinking, moving. Spike began licking the healing wound in his neck. He began stroking Spike's back.

After a long time Spike raised his head. "Xander," Spike tried the name out like it was a new word in a foreign language. He shook his head as though clearing it and tried again. "Xander – that was…"

Spike began stroking Xander's chest and stomach, smiling a little at Xander's contented sigh, and Spike knew whatever lay ahead of them in the battle tonight, this had, and would always be, the best night of his life.

Spike's hand paused in its caress, then resumed. He looked at Xander who was watching him, and for a moment all he could hear was the ticking of the clock. Ticking for him. Marking time. Taking him closer to the day when Xander will eventually, inevitably, be gone, and how could he bear it? How could he bear the void that lay waiting where once a dark-haired lad had been, who he loved so much? How could he face the price that lay waiting in the future for this happiness? But Xander kept on looking at him with those damn dark, hot eyes of his. Xander who he loves with all his heart, Xander who loves him back just as much. Xander who wants to take him into his life, his home, his heart, a place that no vampire has a right to be – yet Xander doesn't seem to care, and – yes – there will be sadness, a price in the future that he cannot avoid, but Xander just keeps looking at him with those eyes, and whatever the price, this is where he wants to be.

Xander nodded. "Good." But his quiet response was buoyed up as a brilliant smile swept over his face, and they were kissing again, laughing into the kiss, embracing each other tightly, but the outside world was pressing against the bubble they'd created around them. As Spike caught a glimpse of the clock, his smile faded and Xander followed his glance, his smile too vanishing, as the bubble burst.

"Don't panic," Spike ordered roughly, rolling on top of him and pinning him down, staring fiercely into his eyes.

"She won't know what's hit her. We've got time. We got our whole lives. Don't start running our farewell scene. We're gonna live through this. We have come too far and through too much to let the soddin' end of the world stop us now. We're going to stop Glory and save Dawn, then we are going to come back here, and fall into bed and live happy bloody ever after, okay?"

Xander nodded, feeling a faint smile touch his swollen mouth as Spike's eyes blazed down at him, and right now so many feelings were streaming through him he could hardly find words to describe them. Hopeful and fearful, achingly tender and unique because he's seeing a side to Spike that nobody else does. A protective, fiercely hopeful and – oh yeah – deeply, totally in love with him side. It's a little unsettling. He's never been the centre of anyone's world before, yet he thinks he could get used to it. "Okay."

Spike nodded relieved, returning Xander's smile he reluctantly stood, climbing to his feet and helping Xander up and he already knows that there's no such thing as a happy ending. Everything has a price and beating Glory is going to demand a high one. They both know that not all the Scoobies are gonna make it, but they have to have hope, and as long as he and Xander can come back here tonight and fall into bed, then they have the rest of their lives to figure out the rest.

Xander slipped into the bathroom to wash, and as the water gushed from the taps he stilled as he caught sight of his reflection in the cracked mirror – he never had gotten around to replacing it. He stared at himself. His hair was ruffled, he had finger shaped marks on his thighs, hips and buttocks. His nipples and lips were still flushed and swollen and the bite mark on his neck glowed a vivid red. He should feel exhausted, shaky, terrified of the upcoming fight but he felt alert, fired up, brave and ready for anything. His eyes were clear and sparkling and he felt so young – so strong. He touched the bite on his neck and for a moment he pictured the life he would never have now, the life with a pretty wife and kids and days out at the beach, then, easily, he let it go.

He dressed and fetched the Sphere, Spike looked up as he entered the room. Dressed in his usual battered black gear, looking dangerous and edgy and determined and enough. Always enough.

Xander didn't pause for one last look around as they left. He didn't need to. Although he didn't think tonight – or any other night would be easy, he believed they'd be coming back, together, and that was enough. They walked out together into the night, side by side. The way they should be, always. As they headed out towards the unknown, Xander reached out to take Spike's waiting hand.

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Sweet Revenge

by Jackson

Copyright © 2006

vamp_jackson@hotmail.com