Period Of Adjustment

by
BmblBee

Part Sixteen

Xander arrived only minutes before the others. He knew they wouldn't be long so he left the front door standing open while he proceeded to pull the dusty sheets off the furniture in the sitting room. He had a lot to do today and couldn't wait to get started.

"Xan? Xander? You here?" The hesitant voice echoed from the front hallway.

"Come on in. I'm in here."

Xander stepped over the growing pile of old covers he had tossed on the floor and headed for the foyer. Before he had made three steps, two bright, beaming smiles greeted him from the doorway and both women leaped into his arms, squealing in his ears.

He caught them and pulled them in tight, their tiny twin frames fit snuggly against him. "Oh, Xander, it's magnificent! Isn't it hun?"

The quiet blond disengaged herself first and nodded. Despite her usual shyness her face glowed at the electricity in the
air around them. "It..It's wonderful. I...I can feel the vibration of the energy."

"Oh, Xander, she's right. Just feel it. It's all around us, and it buzzes with residuals. This is perfect for us. This is perfect for the circle."

Xander was thrilled to share this with the other important people in his life. He knew he was right about the mansion but hearing his girls cosign with him just solidified his resolve.

He kissed the red hair that was tickling his nose and give her an extra hug before setting her down. Willow, his Willow, she had been his best friend since grade school. Isolated from the other kids because of their strangeness they had formed a bond that strengthened over time as their talents and abilities grew. For years it had been just the two of them. Seeking a larger truth in themselves and the world around them.

Tara had come into their lives one night when they had attended an advertised seance on the college campus. Despite the spirits and medium proving to be a fake the experience nonetheless enriched all their lives Xander and Willow had been drawn to the feel of power from the blond. Tara, a natural medium, the three of them had been together ever since.

Willow and Tara were drawn to each instantly, but that was more than all right with him too. He knew their love and bond was like a shot of plutonium to their power. It fed and charged it. It was an energy they all derived strength from.

The others, like strays had gravitated to the magnetic pull of the three psychics, and one by one became part of the group. Part of the circle. Equal, but not, they all recognized Xander as the strength, the leader.

"Did you girls get hold of the others? Willow?"

Willow was walking around the sitting room running her hands over the backs of the red velvet saddle back chairs. Pausing to stare at the oil portrait that hung over the massive stone fireplace.

It was hard to sort through all the spirits that filled the house as they came and went. Visiting, passing through, they inhabited but were not trapped here as they stayed by choice. He knew what she was feeling. It was a warmth, a welcome that was distracting, inviting and called to them. It pulled them into the next world and confused them.

"WILLOW!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, wow, Xan I've never felt anything like this. It's as if the house itself is alive."

Tara chuckled and joined her girlfriend, taking her hand and tugging her close.

"Yes, we called them. Andrew will be here as soon as he can, of course. You really do need to speak to him you know. His unrequited crush is starting to cause a negative flow to the group. Gunilla has garden club, I think she just heard the word 'scrubbing' and figured she'd pass, although she did say she would drop off a crock pot of kraut and sausages later. Her husband has appointments all morning. So anyway, I guess it's just us four. Where do you want to start?"

Xander quickly outlined his plan to the girls. He thought it best to start with four rooms. The sitting room, the dining room, the kitchen and the bedroom. He had other plans for Andrew, who, right on schedule, charged in through the front door and glued himself to Xander's side.

"I'm here."

Andrew's chest heaved and moved as he gasped for breath. Having parked his moped on the curb, he ran as fast as his bean pole legs would carry him. It was rule #1 in his life. Xander called, he came.

"I'm here, Xan. Willow said you needed me."

Xander smiled and shook his head. The boy was like a puppy. Eager, willing to please, and unfortunately totally hormonal as a, well, the seventeen year old he was.

Xander knew he needed to sit down with Andrew but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Hurting anyone's feelings was something Xander hated to do. He still clung to the hope that discouraging the boy's advancements would soon see him giving up in favor of someone his own age.

Xander recognized the untamed psychic ability Andrew possessed and was doing his best to help the boy direct and develop it. Xander knew that, in time, Andrew's natural talents and abilities could far exceed his own.

Xander had often wondered if that wasn't his bigger purpose in life. Not to use his own talents, but to lead by example. Encourage the pursuit of spirituality and advance the understanding of our place in both this world and the next. In Spike's case, Xander felt like he was failing.

"Catch your breath, Andrew, and what did I tell you about riding that thing without a helmet? You want to crack that skull before I have the chance to mold it into something workable?" Xander tapped his knuckles on the grinning boy's forehead and smiled warmly at his exuberance.

"I'm sorry, Xan. I forgot but when Willow called......."

"I do need you. I need you to show me some of those gardening talents you're always bragging about. We want to start with the front of the house today. We need the grass cut, the shrubs trimmed and the weeds pulled. Do you think you can do all that? The carriage house out back has everything you should need."

Andrew's face exploded in excitement. It was a chance to spend the day with the man of his dreams and give him what he wanted, even if that was just a manicured lawn. "I can do that. I can make it great. You just wait and see. Hey! Hi Willow!
Hi Tara!"

Andrew waved at the women and dashed out the way he had come, leaping down the front steps two at a time and darting around the side of the mansion toward the small detached building in the rear. He could easily imagine living here. He and Xander, together, doing grown up things like drinking coffee and buying a dog. No, dogs made him sneeze. Maybe a bird, no maybe... suddenly "turtle" popped into his mind.

Andrew stopped and shook his head. Why on earth he thought Xander would want a turtle confused him, but, hell, whatever Xander wanted, Andrew wanted to give.

Part Seventeen

As expected, Spike was shown to an outer office to wait for the convenience of the man he had come to see. Spike suppressed the huge grin that wanted to cover his face. He had been in law enforcement long enough to understand that this was step one in the chess match of suspect confrontation.

How long he was to be kept waiting depended on several factors. The assumption of the subject's importance of himself, the level of guilt he felt and the impression of power he wished to display.

Spike knew letting his impatience or temper show would give his opponent the first winning move. Spike chuckled. What Mr. Jacobs couldn't have known was that Spike had no other cases on his desk right now. He had all the time in the world, and patience, after all, was a virtue.

Setting his briefcase down on one of the worn chairs, Spike noted that the waiting room was not as clean as it should be. The receptionist was young, and clearly inexperienced. That along with the old furniture and the magazines, none of which were less than a year old all combined to scream "money is short".

Apparently Mr.Jacob's investment business isn't exactly booming. 'Hmmm' Spike thought. 'Very interesting'

Spike chuckled, checked the time on his watch, grabbed up an outdated Sports Illustrated, NOT the swimsuit edition, and settled in to wait. Exactly seventeen minutes later, the solid wooden office door opened and a man in last years grey suit appeared, a strained smile on his lips.

"Detective Pratt? Please come in. I hope I didn't keep you waiting but I am very busy today. I hope we can do this quickly."

Spike slowly uncrossed his legs, laid down his magazine, stood and brushed the wrinkles from his dress pants. He picked up his case and smiled.

"No problem. I have plenty of time. I understand how shocked and grief stricken you must be over Mrs. Miller's, your Aunt's, death and I assure you I wouldn't dream of rushing through this investigation."

Spike breezed by the stocky man, sniffing the air as he went and found what he was looking for. Mr. Miller was sweating profusely. He entered the office and took the seat on the side of the desk. Once seated, Spike took out a yellow pad and pen. He then extracted his tape recorder, checked the batteries, and laid it on the scratched desk in front of him.

"You don't mind if I record this interview do you? I only do it for accuracy. I find it eliminates any misunderstanding later."

Jacobs still stood by the office door watching Spike make himself comfortable and seething with anger. His business was in the toilet, his bitch of a wife had maxed out more credit cards than he even knew they had and his worthless kids were insisting on every new video game and sneaker that came on the market.

When the old lady had died, Jacobs saw it as a way out. Just two weeks after being told he was losing his house to the fucking government, all his problems had suddenly floated away in the bath. Literally.

The accidental death clause of the insurance doubled the payoff and he could finally get out. Out of the business, out of the marriage, and out of the state, with one certain big breasted Mindy Greene, receptionist, on his arm.

'Now this.' Jacobs mentally cursed. 'The wheel of good fortune finally started to spin for me and just when, after a month of erectile disfunction, I can sense a woody of magnificent proportions on the horizon, this fucking cop shows up and puts the brakes on everything.' He had never felt more limp.

Willing his muscles to unlock and his fists to uncurl, Jacobs closed the office door and sat down across from the detective who was annoyingly fucking around with the buttons on his recorder.

"Record? Record what? I really don't understand why you are here. Tragic as it was, my Aunt drowned in the tub. No bullet wounds, no graphically severed throat, no hanging from the rafters. Accident. Period."

Spike's eyebrows shot up. If nothing else Mr. Jacobs was certainly guilty of felony heartlessness and misdemeanor stupidity.

Spike's eyes darted down to the recorder and he satisfied himself that the inner wheels were spinning, picking up every word. "Yes, well, I can see you're devastated by the loss of your beloved family member, however, I'm sure my visit here can't be too much of a shock now is it Mr. Jacobs? Didn't the Medical Examiner call and tell you that there were some discrepancies in the condition of the body and he would be conducting a full autopsy?"

Jacobs gasped. "What discrepancies? What kind of a game are you playing Detective? I'll have you know I have very influential clients. Judges, attorneys, doctors, even your boss. Did you know the magistrate, Judge Ethan Rayne is a client of mine? How do you think he would react if I called and told him you were fucking with me, Detective?"

Spike cringed inside. No, he did not know Judge Rayne was affiliated with this slime bag but if that was true, keeping this low key was going to be next to impossible.

"Fucking with you? I'm not sure where that's coming from, Mr. Jacobs. I'm certainly not accusing you of anything and we are as anxious as you are to get to the truth. Now, when my report is complete and the autopsy is finished, everything will be put together and this matter will reach the appropriate conclusion. Where were you on the evening of your Aunt's demise? When was the last time you went to visit her?"

Mark Jacobs stomach fell to his feet and squirmed around his toes. He looked silently into the eyes of the blank expression on the cops face and tried to read what was there. Was he a suspect? Was this some sort of payback initiated by a failed investor?

Suddenly a new phrase split through Jacobs brain like an Apache arrow.

MURDER SUSPECT.

Was he suggesting that he had murdered the old bird? How much trouble was he in?

Jacobs felt himself start to hyperventilate. His face turned red and his voice squeaked as his throat closed in. "What? I haven't been to the home in weeks. I was here. Well, o.k. not here, here, but I was in town, here. Having dinner, with my receptionist. A business dinner. You can ask her. I did not......."

Mark Jacobs immediately stopped and took a moment to compose himself. He reached across the desk, picked up the whirling tape recorder and held it just inches from his lips. Clearly and carefully he spoke into it.

"This interview is over, Detective. Any further questions should be directed to my attorney. Good day."

He then hit the stop button, rose from his chair and handed it back. Spike no longer made any attempt to hide his huge grin as he also stood and offered his hand.

"You have been very helpful, Mr. Jacobs. More than you realize. I'll be in touch."

Spike turned and walked out.

Part Eighteen

Dingle ding

The little bell over the door rang in a pleasant, familiar way welcoming Spike as he entered Momma's for a quick lunch and a few minutes to gather his notes and thoughts.

He headed straight for the booth in the back that had become his and Xander's home away from home when they met over lunch, dinner, or just a snack in between.

It seemed that Xander's appetite was something Momma knew well and did not, in the least, find odd or peculiar, but then considering what a valuable customer the boy was, even if she did, why would she mention it?

"Hey, there's my favorite cop. Where's your better half? Don't tell me he isn't hungry." Momma grabbed her round, aproned belly and rolled with laughter as if that was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

Spike chuckled too. Maybe it was. "Mornin' Mum. We both know him better than that, yeah? No, he's prolly at work this time of day. Can I get a turkey on white and a cup of tea?"

The heavy black woman patted Spike's shoulder affectionately and shuffled off in her worn, soft house shoes. Spike immediately turned all his concentration to the notes and pictures in front of him. Clearly Mark Jacobs was top on his list of suspects.

After all he had the most to lose. If the planned move had been made at the nursing home, his Aunt would have been entered as a full patient rather than resident and all her assets, house, insurance, and bonds would have reverted to the State to offset the cost of her advanced care.

Jacobs would have been out in the cold. Homeless? Spike jotted down several notes to follow up. He wanted to look into the financial condition of Jacobs investment business, poke around into the bliss of his marital bed, so to speak, and try to find out if he was the beneficiary and the terms of his Aunt's life insurance policy. He also wanted to look into his alibi.

It was a lot to do and a short time to do it. Laying his pencil down, Spike pondered one other bomb Jacobs had dropped during the interview. He said Judge Rayne was one of his clients. Spike's brow crinkled as he wondered what type of turd that would clog his investigational toilet with. No doubt a big one. One that could possibly hit the fan later on.

"Psst. Turtle."

Spike had been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn't noticed the small dark figure that stealthily approached from behind. When the whisper came, just inches from his ear, Spike jerked, grabbed for his gun, and spun around in his seat braced for an attack.

What he found was a short, stocky man in an almost ankle length black rain coat with the collar tugged high to circle his neck, if he had had one. He had a dark fedora pulled low over his face and showed nothing but a bit of cheek, chin, and one hand. The other was tucked inside the coat and held tight to his body.

Spike ducked his head and squinted his eyes. "Dr. Ahn?"

The figure twitched and looked about frantically to ensure himself that no one had heard his partner's faux pas. "Code word! You must use the code word!"

Spike's lips twitched, but he adopted a very serious demeanor. "Of course. Sorry. Turtle."

Dr. Ahn nodded and pulled his hand from his coat. He held a thin manilla folder which he quickly transferred to the detective's care. "This is a copy of the autopsy photos and preliminary report. So far there is nothing new I could find but I will need three more days to complete all the toxicology and tissue studies." Wink Wink. Nudge. Nudge.

Spike gladly accepted the file, despite the lack of additional forensic evidence he was sure there was something in there he could use.

"Thanks. I spoke to Mr. Jacobs this morning and found him very interesting. I have a few other leads I want to track down this afternoon and I may run back out to the nursing home again. I really appreciate your help on this, Doc. I'll stay in touch."

Doctor Ahn let a huge grin fill what was visible on his face before ducking and looking in all directions to make sure he had not been noticed. He then turned quickly and darted for the front door just as Momma was leaving the kitchen with Spike's turkey on white.

"Morning Akhmed."

"Morning Momma."

And he was gone in the blink of an eye leaving nothing in his wake but the tinkle of the bell over the door. Spike chortled and opened the file. The humor quickly left him when he read the preliminary write up. Nothing.

Two bites and the sandwich sat forgotten along side the cold tea. He had read and reread the entire autopsy report and came to the same conclusion Dr. Ahn had. There was absolutely no indication that this was anything other than a misstep. A tragic accident.

Slowly an idea started to grow in the back of his mind. A concept and hypothesis that he never would have even considered yesterday was now something Spike was going to have to reluctantly accept.
Xander had been wrong. Spike had banked everything he had and put himself on the line professionally on faith alone and Xander had been wrong. He didn't know what to feel. Angry? Foolish? Disappointed? He just wasn't sure. He did know one thing, though, he needed to talk to Xander. Now!

RING!

"Xan? I think that's your phone. Xan?"

Willow stood, covered from head to toe in dusty dirt, and stared at the ringing, vibrating phone that lay on the foyer table. She was pretty sure she had heard Xander say he was going upstairs to help Tara wash down the tall, floor to ceiling windows in the master bedroom and wondered if she should answer it.

RING!

Decision made, she grabbed it up and punched the button.

"Hello?"

Spike stared at the phone in his hand. Did he dial wrong? Couldn't have. He used the speed number. "Hello? This is Detective Pratt calling for Xander Harris. Is this the right number?"

"Spike? Is this Xander's Spike? Hi. This is Willow, Xander probably told you about me. Wow, I'll bet you're really excited about the house. I know we all are. It is so perfect for the circle. Sometimes it's hard to find a place with enough privacy and space for all of us to do what we do. It's not the kind of thing you can do in public, ya know. Ha ha, we found that out the hard way. People are just so closed minded sometimes. Anyway look at me babble like we were old friends. So, anyway, Xander's
busy right now. He's upstairs in the bedroom with Tara. They've been at it for a while so they should be about done. Do you want me to have him call you?"

Spike's mouth fell open. His lips flapped silently like a flag in the wind and the muscle in his left cheek twitched.

The Corvette was one block down the street before the over door bell had stopped swinging.

Part Nineteen

Spike's trip across town was quick and he grudgingly had to admit there was little traffic on this route and it wasn't actually all that inconvenient.

Still, he wanted to know who these people were at his house with HIS Xander. The woman on the phone knew him by name and assumed he knew her.

Spike was rattled. Xander had never been devious. He had never given Spike reason to doubt or be suspicious of him but now, now everything felt wrong. He had gone out on a limb for a case that turned out to be an empty shell, the final repercussions, he was certain, were yet to be felt.

On top of that a woman he didn't know told him Xander was apparently in bed with someone named Tara. Spike's stomach churned. It had been years since he had believed in anything. Now, in the short time they had been together, he believed in Xander. One hundred percent.Whole heartedly and unquestionly. He knew it would kill him to find that trust misplaced.

Whipping the car onto his new street, Spike pulled up in front of what he thought was the right address but now wasn't sure. The difference was night and day. The jungle and overgrowth of noxious weeds and foliage in the front of the house was gone.

The wall of ivy from the iron gate had been torn down and the front of the house could now be seen from the street. It actually wasn't in as bad a shape as Spike had originally thought. Everything was neatly trimmed, mowed and raked. It still had a long way to go, but the potential was now obvious. If Spike hadn't been a man on a mission he might have taken the time to admire it.

Leaping from the car, briefcase in hand, Spike charged up the front walkway which, he briefly registered, were expensively laid antique cobblestone. Just as he reached the front steps a voice called to him.

"Who are you?"

Spike spun around to see a young blond boy standing, rake in hand, scowling at him from the side corner of the house. Andrew. The name popped into his head, remembering Xander saying he knew someone with a lawn service. "Are you Andrew? I'm Detective Pratt. I'm looking for Xander. Do you know where he is?"

Andrew dropped his rake and rushed forward, a huge grin now lit his eyes and bubbled from his lips. "Xander talked about me? What did he say? Was it good? He's in the house, I'll go get him. You know Xander and I are the same and we're VERY close. He's teaching me. Xander is going to teach me about EVERTYHING, if you know what I mean."

Andrew giggled, winked and pushed the front door wide open. Spike followed him in and any retort he may have had for Andrew died on his lips.

This couldn't be the same house. The foyer was now bright, sunny and clean. The air was fresh and filled with the scent of the lemon cleaner used to buff the dark wood furniture to a gleaming shine.

The windows in the rooms on both sides of the house had been washed and the heavy drapes removed for cleaning causing the sunlight to explode and fill the whole area in a golden glow. All the small architectural detail that had been concealed in dirt, dark and dust was now obvious, giving the mansion an air of aristocracy and magnificence that took Spike's breath away.

With a shake of the head, Spike tried to return to the track he was on and looked back in time to see Andrew dashing up the huge sweeping staircase and off to the left in the direction of the master bedroom. Tears of anger stung Spike's eyes but he remained silent

"Hi. Are you Spike? I'm Willow, we just spoke on the phone. Wow, you got here quick. I'm not sure where Xan is."

Spike gave serious consideration to the tiny redhead in front of him. True enough, she was cute as a pair of lace panties, however, the fact that she was dusty and wearing sloppy sweats gave Spike a sense of relief. Whatever Xander was doing with "Tara", Willow was not joining in.

"I think Andrew went to find him. Didn't you say he was in the.....bedroom
with someone?"

Willow pulled the bandanna off her head and shook out her shoulder length soft hair. "Yeah, they have been up there for hours. I should have made them come down here and help me but Xander wanted that so bad I didn't have the heart to complain. Besides, there wasn't really as much work down here as I thought. It actually looks pretty good. What do you think?"

Spike was totally disinterested in how well the sitting room had fared under the little woman's spit and polish. His eyes were aimed upstairs as he warred with himself between charging up there and putting a stop to what "Xander wanted so bad" and just turning around and driving away.

Before he could make up his mind, Andrew appeared at the top of the steps, smiling, he waved his arms and slowly descended like Scarlett OHara. "Xanny and Tara are washing up. They'll be right down."

Suddenly an odd thought hit Spike and he turned to the small redhead who was patiently waiting for the fornicators to drag their exhausted bodies down the steps. He knew what the circle was! He knew what this mysterious group did together and why Xander had been so secretive about them. "Are you part of the group? The circle? Is Andrew? How many of you are there?"

Willow was confused. She was sure Xander would have told Spike everything. Xander certainly hadn't held back on telling them about his detective. She could feel the anger, the suspicion and insecurity rolling off the man and the negative energy made her shudder.

"Yes, we're all part of the circle. There are six of us. A positive number. There's the four of us plus Gunilla and her husband. Didn't Xander tell you? Explain each of us and what we do in the circle?"

Willow could see in his eyes that Xander hadn't. Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, Willow looked to the staircase and the young boy gracefully gliding down, one hand on the solid oak banister and the other sweeping the air.

Pretending to flip a full head of hair from his shoulder, Andrew tossed back his head and announced in his best attempt at a southern accent, "The master of the estate will join us shortly. Would you like some julep while you tarry?"

"Forget it, Andrew, you don't even know what julep is and anyway you're too young to drink."

All eyes in the room turned to the top of the stairs and the handsome, strong, confident young man who stood there. A gorgeous blond waited, smiling at his side.

Spike felt the knife plunge into his heart and he briefly noted how much more painful it was than when Elvin had stabbed him. He blanked his expression and except for the steel tension in his jaw, showed no reaction.

Everyone in the room shuddered at the emotion that spilled from Spike, saturating the house in negativity. Immediately the smile fell from Xander's face and he rushed down. "Spike? What's wrong?"

Spike dropped his briefcase on the foyer table and glared. "You need to ask your friends to leave. It's time to talk, Xander.
Now."

Part Twenty

No one moved as the standoff continued. Xander took the time to absorb and read the conflicting emotions that poured from his lover and knew he had caused every one of them

His reluctance to be totally honest, despite his knowing better, had bred suspicion, jealousy and insecurity in the one man that he would have died before he hurt.

He watched as Raymond sadly drifted backward, fading and disappearing away from his grandson and the stupid thing he was about to do. Xander's stomach tightened up.

The others remained silent and unmoving, unsure if they should leave, as directed, or stay and try to help their Xander. Andrew was the first to decide. He stepped forward and took Xander by the hand. "Don't you talk mean to Xander. We love him and we don't want you to stay here if you're going to contaminate the vibration."

Spike turned on him with venom. "Vibration? Vibration? Do me a favor and vibrate your ass right
out of here and take the rest of this freak show with you."

"SPIKE!"

The air in the foyer disappeared as Willow, Tara, Andrew, and involuntarily, Spike, gasped. No one had ever seen or heard Xander angry. Certainly not like this. Sparks burned in his eyes and his face flushed red. "You don't speak to people like that! Apologize! Now!"

Spike was stunned. He was the wronged person here and Xander, whom he apparently didn't know nearly as well as he had thought, had the nerve to chastise him? "How dare you! Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? I am not your child and I will not be spoken to as if I were. You will NOT tell me who to apologize to! I am NOT part of your circle of perversions, of free love and hippie free thinking. I will NOT sit by while you fuck Tara, Andrew, or Bozo the redheaded clown here. If that's what you're about, no wonder you kept it a secret."

Willow's eyebrows shot up and she immediately checked her hair for fuzzy split ends. Tara rushed to her side and grabbed her arm holding on for shared security, her body trembling in fear.

Recognizing what was happening, Xander took hold of his emotions and with Andrew's hand still tightly clasp in his own he led the three to the front door. "I'm sorry about all this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you did today. It's just wonderful. I think maybe you should all go so Spike and I can talk."

Xander saw the reluctance in his girls eyes and felt the squeeze of his hand in Andrew's. "It's all right. I'll give you all a call tomorrow. Please?'

Three heads nodded and quickly they hustled around collecting together their purses, jackets, and belongings before all hurrying silently out the door.

When they were gone, Xander turned back to the police officer that stood angrily in his sitting room entry way. "Look Spike, I know you're mad but can I at least explain?"

Spike crossed his arms, sealed his lips together in a tight line and lifted his head. Xander took the fact that he was not storming out of the house as a good sign and hurried to continue. "I should have told you everything about the circle earlier, but I just wasn't sure how you would take it. These people are all my friends. More than that they're my family. Next to you they're the most important people in the world to me."

The statement did little to pacify Spike. Instead it just confirmed what he had been feeling. How could he know so little about the man he loved? These people were Xander's world yet he had kept them hidden. Why? "So why all the secrecy? Are you ashamed of me? You didn't want them to know about me? Or is it them? What exactly do you do with this odd assortment of characters, Xander?"

Xander bristled but kept his temper in check. "They are not..... "Characters". They're good people and, no, I'm not ashamed of you. They all know about you. About us. I should have told you earlier about the circle. I was wrong, but I want to tell you now. Will you give five minutes to do that?"

Spike shifted his weight to his other foot. He didn't say yes, but he didn't say no. Xander relaxed marginally and continued.

"The circle is six people. We meet to share our energy and to help each other in advancement and encouragement. We all need spiritual growth and evolvement, Spike and we share our individual talents to do that. Andrew is like me. He's a empath and a clairvoyant, but he's also a teenager. His hormones are in full bloom and he needs guidance. The circle gains from his youthful, charged energy and we give him maturity and focus.

"Tara is a medium. When she's in a trance she can channel specific spirits. Willow is her reader. When Tara does a sitting, Willow gives her the questions and records and directs her responses. They are also wicca and have a deep understanding of the earth and elements. The group gains from their love and powerful ability to direct the flow around us. We give them love and support as we recognize them as one entity.

"Gunilla is another member, one you haven't met yet. She is an automatic writer. In a trance her spirit guide takes over and answering questions, responds through her in writing. She gives the group her strength and maturity and the circle tries to give her love, peace and serenity. Her husband is our anchor. Although not psychic, he grounds us. He keeps us centered and on task.during a reading. We offer him the reminder of humanity and sensitivity although sometimes he can be a tough nut."

Xander paused, took a breath and noted the dour expression on Spike's face was still firmly planted. "So that's it. No sex. No orgies, although Gunilla might surprise us and be a real firecracker, guess we'll never know." Xander chuckled, hoping to break the tension I didn't work.

His voice quiet, Xander stepped closer. "We cleaned the house. Tara and I scrubbed down the bedroom. I wanted
to surprise you. I wanted us to sleep there tonight."

Like a small sponge tossed into the ocean, Spike's brain could not absorb any more information. It had filled up three minutes ago and all the excess words coming out of Xander's mouth now just flowed through one ear and out the other on a wave of incredulence. "Jesus H. Christ, Xander. I knew you carved furniture I had no idea you moonlighted with Barnum and Bailey. I don't know you at all do I? Just who the fuck are you Xander?"

Xander reached out and touched Spike's arm gently. "I'm the man that loves you."

Spike pulled back. It was all too much. It was too overwhelming. "I'm sorry Xander. I can't do this. Not right now. Everything is caving in on me and this is too much. I'll call you in a day or so but please, give me some space, some time."

Spike turned his back on Xander. He collected his things from the table and headed for the door. Jerking it open he was stopped in his tracks by a short, round, heavily breasted woman with her hair in a bun and a crock pot in her hands.

"Dis is da kraut. It is for da circle. You give to Xander, yes?" It was clearly not a question as she roughly shoved it into Spike's hands and without another word stomped back down the walk in extremely sensible shoes.

Spike in turn handed the pot of smelly kraut and sausages to Xander. "Bon appetite."

Without another word, he walked away.

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