Chapters <<<< 36 37 38 39 40

Xander Harris
- Undercover

by
BmblBee

Part Thirty-Six

Xander woke suddenly, not realizing he had fallen asleep. His eyes darted around quickly trying to locate a clock. Even without it, though, he knew it must be morning, as the room was now bathed in a glorious golden light.

He hadn't intended to spend the night but after all they had done last evening he had been too exhausted to go home and frankly walking had been a tad ouchy. Xander snickered.

Stretching, he couldn't remember the last time he slept that well. Rolling over he spotted Spike, still curled up and snoring
softly beside him. Immediately Xander relaxed, scooting back down and wiggling over till their bodies touched chest to back, legs entwined.

"Quit squirmin' else I'll have ta spank yer arse."

Xander moaned and scooched up tighter. Spike chuckled and wrapped his arms around the larger man in front of him.

"Morning, love. Why you awake so early?"

Xander rolled over, face to face, and smiled at the sex rumpled man who had claimed his body and his heart. "I don't know. I thought I heard something, but I guess not."

Spike reached over Xander's body and grabbed his watch off the night stand squinting to see it.

"7:00 am. You probably heard Wes's alarm. They always set it early enough to get in a quicky before they go to work. Too early for us. Go back to sleep."

Xander ran his hands over every inch of Spike skin he could reach. "A quicky?"

Spike groaned dramatically. "Hell! I've created a monster!"

Xander growled and pounced, straddling the sleepy, now laughing man. "That's right. It's the Xanafuckasaurus monster."

Xander threw his head back and let out a roar. He dropped down and began licking, nibbling, and tickling the sides and stomach of his chosen victim as Spike screamed for help and tried to escape.

Just as the monster was about to lay claim to his spoils the sound that had awakened him rang again. Instantly, both men knew it wasn't an alarm clock.

Xander sat back up and looked at Spike. "That was the door bell. Who the hell comes calling at seven in the morning?
You usually have company this early in the day? If we ignore it will Wes or Gunn answer it?"

That question was answered by the repetitious "thump thump, thump" of the headboard against the wall in the next room signaling that, no, they would not be getting up to invite people in for morning tea.

"Fuck. Wait here, Pet. I'll take care of this. I'll tell them we don't need any magazines, don't want our souls saved, and already have all the girl Scout cookies we can eat. Won't take but a minute."

Xander scowled as he watched Spike pull on his jeans and head out the door, his brow then shot up and he called after him, "We have cookies? What kind? Can you bring some back?"

Spike chuckled trying to remember if he did have any treats he could return with. Maybe feed to each other. Maybe
smear all over each other's........

Jerking the door open, the terse condemnation of the intrusion died on his lips and only one word came out.

"Angel?"

Swinging the worn shoulder pack off his back, Angel dropped it at his feet and then removed his dust covered ball cap, shaking it off. "Hi, Babe. You gonna invite me in?"

Spike was numb. His stomach twisted in knots and he feared for a minute that he was going to be sick. All the old memories and feelings that he thought he had put behind him came rushing back and the hurt he thought he had moved past suddenly felt as fresh as the day he packed up and walked away.

As the silence dragged on Angel was beginning to think Spike would just slam the door in his face and that would be the end. "Please, Will. I know you're still mad, but please, Baby, if you just let me come in and talk to me for a few minutes, I promise when I'm done, if you still want me to leave, I will. After all we meant to each other, can't I just have ten minutes?"

Praying his voice didn't crack, Spike tried to calm his trembling body and maintain some semblance of dignity. "I can't even imagine what you could have to say that I want of hear. What happened? Giles throw you out? The money all gone?"

Angel hung his head in shame then sadly looked imploringly into Spike's face. "I deserve all that and more, but please. Can we just talk? I've come a long way to see you, Baby."

Against his better judgement, Spike stepped aside and let his old lover slide past and into his home. He was ashamed and sickened to realize the old feelings of love were still there. "Don't call me that. The name's Spike. Use it." He stood far enough back that there was no chance of any physical contact, accidental or not, as he passed through.

Angel stepped inside and looked around. The place was every bit Spike. Small, clean, neat and sparsely furnished with
quality items. Angel allowed a small smile to appear before checking himself.

Spike watched him enter. Just like in death, his past life flashed in front of him. He remembered it all. The good times, the
early years of fun and adventure, the sexual experimentation, and love. Rainy Sunday mornings in bed. Late Saturday nights on the dance floor.

He especially missed the long trips they had taken on the bikes. Riding and hiking through the mountains for days, camping in a tent at night. Spike used to laugh that Angel loved that blood red Harley more than he loved Spike. Used to call it Big Red. Spike still missed that.

He also remembered the bad. The fights, petty arguments, the  dishonesty, the million and one ways Angel violated Spike's trust. And the infidelity. Suspected at first, Spike tried turning a blind eye hoping it would end, thinking it was just a phase and that Angel would tire of it and return home.

Then came the night with Giles. The only man he had ever thought of as his Father. The man who had raised him. Taken him to school, making sure he had lunch money. The man he had confided in when even as a pre-teen he felt different than the other boys.

Giles, who had comforted him and told him it didn't matter. Made him believe he was every bit as good as anyone else.
Convinced him to be proud of who he was.

That was the thing that hurt the most. He missed his Father.

Spike turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to keep from crying. He took a deep breath and a mental
hold on himself and shook.  'Get a grip! Find out what the fuck he wants and be rid of him.'

Spike slammed the door and followed Angel in.

Part Thirty-Seven

Xander stretched out with his arms high over his head and his toes wriggling and tangling in the soft, warm, wrinkled sheets. He rolled over on his side and ran his hands over the head shaped dent on Spike's pillow smoothing it out.

Frowning, he remembered his plan from last week and he lifted the corner of the pillow, relieved to find Spike had not hidden or saved a lock of anyone's hair.

Glancing at the doorway, Xander wondered what was taking Spike so long. He had figured three minutes to tell whoever it was to fuck off, five more minutes to check the kitchen for cookies and back to bed.

He considered going down, but remembering his clothes were still strewn about the living room floor, Xander decided to wait a little longer. No sense in scarring a Girl Scout who might be making a hell of a sale. Xander hoped she had Thin Mints.

Flopping back, Xander scooped up Spike's pillow and inhaled deeply. It was everything he had smelled the first day in the shop. Smoke, hair gel, after shave. Pure Spike. Xander groaned and felt himself harden.

"Ten minutes. That's how long you have then I want you out." Spike gave the door a push and let it slam shut before following Angel into the living room.

Angel stood quietly by the couch waiting for Spike to join him. "I don't want to sit. I'm all dirty and I don't want to ruin your nice furniture."

Spike frowned. He could never remember Angel being concerned about something like that before. In fact the old Angel would have prided himself in causing someone a little extra work.

"Sit or stand. Makes no difference, just say yer peace."

Angel dusted off the seat of his jeans and lowered himself. Once down, he slumped, seemingly too exhausted to speak, his face falling into his hands. Just as Spike was beginning to wonder if he had dozed off, he looked up, sorrow and sadness in his eyes.

Angel took a deep quivering breath and began. "My life fell apart the day you left, Spike. The next morning, when I
woke up with the worst hangover in the world, I realized what I had allowed Giles to do and I was stunned."

Spike wanted to scream. He wanted to call him a liar, to tell him to shut up and get out, but he didn't. He put on his best indifferent poker face and waited, wanting to see where this was going. Angel had nine minutes left.

As much as he hated to admit it he was beginning to wonder if Angel might be sincere. He had never seen him look so humble. He had never seen his hair so.....flat.

Angel rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and continued. "I cried for days. I wanted to come and find you, but I was too ashamed. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I lost my job and after a couple months I was evicted. It wasn't until later that I realized Giles had taken my bank card and stolen all the money from our joint account. I had to sell everything just to survive. I thought in time I would get over you, but I haven't."

Spike jumped to his feet. His eyes darted quickly from the front door back to Angel's face, a thought too horrible to imagine. "How did you get here? Why didn't I hear Big Red? Oh God Angel, you didn't sell her did you?"

Angel wiped his face with the back of his hand leaving a stripe of damp dirt across his cheeks. "I've traveled for days to get here to you. Hitchhiked mostly. Riding with truckers during the day, sleeping along the roadside at night. She's gone, Spike. Sold for food."  Angel sniffed, his voice shaky as he tried to explain. "Couldn't afford the gas anyway. I'm crushed, Spike. I'm broken. Without you I'm nothing. I'm beggin' here. Please, Will."

Spike begin to hyperventilate. Suddenly he felt trapped, overwhelmed. He needed to think. He needed some space. His brain, his entire body was screaming "Escape! Breath! Delete! Xander!"

Spike froze. 'Shit. Xander.'

Immediately Spike turned, his face looking up the stairs as he tried to decide what he should do. Just minutes ago every thing had been so simple, so wonderful. Now, it was all gone. Or was it?

Spike looked back at the man who was sitting, surprisingly comfortably on his expensive leather sofa. The same sofa he and Xander had played on just last night. Still uncertain of his feelings for Angel, Spike was not as unsure of Xander.

Xander had never lied to him. Never snuck around behind his back. Xander couldn't be deceitful if he tried.

Angel watched all the warring emotions flood Spike and settle on his face. He always could read him like a book and he watched as each of those pages flipped by, chapter by chapter. He wasn't worried. This was a book he had read a thousand times and he knew the ending well.

Angel scanned the room. Once he moved in he would want a stereo set up in the far corner and those God awful paintings would have to go. In fact, the large wall over the sofa was the perfect spot for his painting of Elvis on black velvet. Now that was class.

He was so absorbed in his mental decorating he very nearly missed Spike declaration of, "......not alone. Give me a few minutes to talk to him and I'll be back down. I'm not promising you anything Angel but you're right. We need to finally
conclude this situation between us one way or another."

Angel 's brow crinkled. He hadn't counted on that. He was fairly certain Spike would be alone. Always waiting. Always pining. Relaxing back, Angel shrugged. Didn't matter. No one new could compete with what they had.

Looking all around, Angel stood and began walking around the room, picking up first one item then another, deciding what could stay and what would go. Several of the items were really high quality. They would bring a hell of a price. It also told him that Spike was doing pretty well for himself.

Circling the couch, Angel bent down and picked up a pair of jeans. Jeans that clearly would have been too large for Will.
Cheap jeans. Value City jeans. Jeans with no designer name in the tag.

Angel snorted. Apparently Spike's choice of bed mate was not as high end as his choice of furniture.

Before tossing them to the side, Angel felt the weight in the back pocket. Expecting a wallet, he glanced at the stairs to make sure no one was coming, then fished around. Might as well send the intruder off broke. He deserved it for poaching on Angel's territory.

Tugging the black leather out, Angel was disappointed to see it was only a black note pad and a pack of pictures. Hoping for a little insight on the interloper, Angel flipped through both. He didn't recognize any of the men in the pictures, but they had obviously been taken of the front of the house from across the street.

They looked like surveillance pictures. Yeah, he watched CSI.

He then read randomly page after page in the notebook. The entries were usually short but orderly and documented the comings and goings of just one person. William Pratt.

When the realization of what he was seeing finally registered, his face nearly split with the smile that covered it. 'No fuckin' way! Spike's got himself a stalker.

Angel tapped the photos into a neat stack, placed the notepad on the top, tucked it all safely in his own pants pocket and sat back down to wait.

Part Thirty-Eight

Xander sat up in bed, smiling when Spike re-entered the room. "No cookies, huh? 'so.k. maybe we can go out for a donut later. What took you so long? I was beginning to think I was going to have to send the dogs out for you. You know, one of those St. Bernards with the whisky flask strapped around it's neck."

Xander flipped the corner of the covers back and patted the bed for Spike to lay back down with him.

Spike sat down on the offered side of the bed and tried for a weak chuckle at the joke as he hoped to explain. "Look, love, something's come up. Something I'm going to have to deal with and I'm not sure how long this is going to take."

Xander flopped back down and tugged the blanket back up to his chin with a yawn. "That's all right. I'll just cat nap till you get back. If you hurry I might be able to find a donut hole for us to share."

This time Spike didn't try to laugh. He was becoming so overwhelmed and distracted that it was impossible to find any humor. The only thing he was certain of is that he wished he had never left his bed in the first place. He should have NOT answered the door. "No, Xander. What I mean is that I need for you to go on home. I'll call you later as soon as I get this sorted out. I promise."

Xander's chest felt like an elephant had just stepped on it. It was a weight so crushing it hurt into his back. He was being sent away. He was being thrown out.

Xander jumped out of bed totally unconcerned with his nudity or his still half hard erection left over from his previous fantasies. He refused to believe last night meant nothing. That he was one of those anonymous fucks Spike had been talking about.

"That's it? Wham bam thank you Xan? I thought..... I thought.... Well I sure didn't think this." Xander's breaths were coming fast and shallow. His brain scrambled for something to say to make this right. Finally coming up with all he had.
"Please, Spike don't do this. I'm sorry if I said or did something wrong. Please don't send me away."

As horrible as the boy's pleading made Spike feel, it was more than he could handle at the moment. It was the last straw in a whole box of straws that were now raining down on Spike's head and threatening to crush him.

"Stop it. Xander, stop it. Look, I said I would call you. I just can't deal with this right now. I need some space. Some time to straighten out the mess I have downstairs and I can't do that with you waiting up here for me to finish. Go home. I'll talk to you later."

Xander hung his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't. You brought me here on your bike. I don't have a way home."

Spike jerked open the bedroom door and hollered toward the room next door as he headed back down stairs. "Wes, I need you to drop Xander at home on your way to work. He'll be ready in five minutes."

Sometimes in life, pride is a very important emotion. Xander found that this was not one of those times and let the tears fall freely as he stood, still naked by the side of the bed. He never bothered to look up and certainly felt no embarrassment of his nudity when Wes and Charles rushed in to the room.

At the sight of the despondent young man, Charles put his arm around Xander's shoulder. "What happened? I thought you two were getting on so well. You sure seemed happy last night. Several happies from what we could hear." Wes swatted his boyfriend and shook his head at Charles lack of tact and diplomacy.

Xander sniffled and wiped his eyes and looked imploringly. "I don't know. Everything was fine, then someone came. He went down to answer the door and when he came back it was all over. What did I do? What happened?"

Neither man had an answer. Wes had known Spike for a long time and couldn't imagine who could be down there that would cause this reaction. There was no one that could upset Spike. No one but.........

"FUCK!" Wes's face reflected the shock and disbelief he was feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Get dressed Xander. Get dressed and get down there. You act like you belong here and don't you dare give up that easily, do you hear me?"

Confusion and a tiny spark of hope swam in Xander's eyes as he tried to find answers and understanding in what Wes was telling him. "I can't. My clothes are downstairs. I can't go down there naked. Besides Spike said he wanted me to leave."

"Wait here!"

Wes rushed to his room and returned with a pair of black silk boxers which he tossed and Xander caught with one hand.

"Put those on. Go wash your face and march down there like you own the world. Make a point of the fact that your clothes are all over the floor and even drop a hint or two as to why. Don't you dare go gently into that good night Xander.
You fight for what you want."

Xander glanced at the bright morning light and decided to let the reference sail neatly over his head as most literary references did. The one thing he clearly understood was "fight for what you want" That, he could do.

Tugging on the boxers, Xander took a last sniffle and headed for the bathroom stopping at the last minute. "Thank's Wes. You're the best."

After he was gone, Charles scooped his lover up in his arms and hugged him tight. "He's right. You are the best. I know how hard that was for you and I'm proud of you. You know I love you, don't you?"

Wes smiled. He knew, but this was the first time Charles had actually said it and it felt surprisingly right. He threw his arms around his boyfriend's neck and gave him a kiss that said all he couldn't. Gunn's heart warmed. His body could hear what Wes wasn't quite ready to say.

Xander washed his face and finger combed his hair. Taking a deep breath he straightened his shoulders and marched down the stairs.

Spike was sitting in his wing back chair deep in conversation with a scruffy looking man who was lounging on the sofa like he lived here. Xander hated being at a disadvantage and wished he knew who the man was and why he was here. From the look on Spike's face it was not good news.

"Good morning. Sorry to interrupt but as you can see my jeans never made it upstairs when I went to bed last night." Xander tried capping the introduction with a laugh but came out more sounding like someone was strangling a cat.

He casually reached down to the far side of the couch and snagged his britches from off the floor. He then slowly proceeded to tug them up, not bothering to turn around as he zipped them.

Spike had been so engrossed in the discussion he never heard Xander come down. When he had spoken, Spike leaped to his feet, his heart pounding. He was not sure why, but he did NOT want Angel knowing about Xander. At least till he knew where this thing with Xander was going. "Oh, Xan, I thought you were leaving. Um, Xan this is Angel. Angel is an
old friend. We just have some unfinished business we are trying to hash out. I guess I forgot about your jeans. Is Wes ready to go?"

Spike searched the area frantically hoping to make his tardy roommate appear, collect the young man and leave as quickly as possible. Xander was not discouraged. He had no intention of walking away that easily. "No, I'm not in any hurry. I think if you don't mind I'll just hang out here for a while. I'm still a bit knackered after last night, if you know what I mean." Wink. Wink.

Angel sat back, smiled and threw his arm over the back of the couch. "No problem. Your choice. Stay or go." And then in a move so subtle only Xander caught it, Angel patted his pants pocket and winked.

Xander's hand immediately went to his own, now empty pocket, and he froze.

Part Thirty-Nine

Spike looked back and forth between the two men that were staring at each other and tried to figure out what was
happening. "There something I missed? You two know each other or somethin'?"

Stepping forward, Xander's eyes darted back and forth between Angel's smug face and his slightly bulging pocket. He had just seconds to decide what to do. He could turn tail and run. He could pull an oozie out of his pants and shoot Angel where he sat, or he could face the situation, call Angel's bluff and hope for the best.

Angel waited, watching the eyes of the young man and knowing he held all the cards. No matter how this went down the boy was an insignificance that was on his way out. Whoever the fuck Wes was he needed to come collect the trash and set it out on the curb.

So what if the kid left his pants on the floor and spent the night? If he was a real threat to Angel's future here he would have clothes in the closet. Pants and shirts in the drawers. Shoes under the bed.

Spike then noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Wes and Gunn had quietly slipped into the room and were also waiting to see who would make the next move.

Finally, Xander picked up his shirt, carefully shook it out, and acting as though he had all the time in the world, slipped it over his head and tugged it down. He then looked Angel straight in the eye and spoke clearly, his voice steady as a rock.
"Go for it. If I'm on my way out, it might as well be with a bang."

The grin on Angel's face burst into a full look of absolute glee as he stood slowly and reached down into his pocket.
Pulling out the contents, he tossed them on the coffee table directly in front of where Spike sat.

Confused, Spike stared at the pictures and book and again looked at the two men who had squared off. "What the fuck is all this?"

Xander stood still. What could he say? He couldn't deny what was spelled out in black and white, in his own handwriting. And wasn't it said that a picture is worth a thousand words? Well then there were twelve thousand of them in the dozen pictures laying spread out.

Angel sat back down, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. His face now wore an expression of worry, confusion and concern.

"Not sure. I found those when they fell out of the boy's pants pocket. I thought they were yours but when I picked them up I knew they were much too big in the butt for you, so I tossed them back down and all  that just tumbled out. It would appear the boy has been spying on you and from the dates in the book it's been going on for some time. Good thing I came along when I did. No telling what a psycho like that is capable of."

Xander finally snapped out of his stupor and found his voice. "Are you saying I have a big ass? Cause from where I stand you're the biggest ass in this room."

Jumping up and stepping into his face, Angel and Xander continued to shout and argue over butt size and shape, neither noticing as Spike picked up the items in front of him. Turning his back to the pointless rump comparisons, Spike walked slowly through the archway into the kitchen area as he began to read through the small black note book.

When he was finished, he laid it on the kitchen counter and started working his way through the pictures, one by one. He remembered the morning he had hugged Gunn and Wes had kissed him on the porch steps. He shuddered to think someone, even Xander, had been not only watching but had taken snap shots.

He spent extra time examining the last one then, without a word, stacked them back together and returned to the bickering that still raged unchecked.

"ENOUGH!"

Silence split the air.

"I want both of you to shut the fuck up! Wes! Take Xander home and you and Gunn need to leave or you'll be late for work. Now!"

Xander stepped to Spike's side and spoke quietly in his ear. "Please. Spike please, I can explain. Please don't send me away. Not like this."

Spike stepped away from him, never making eye contact.

"Go home Xander. I need for you to leave now. I'll talk to you later but right now there is nothing you can say that I want to hear. Please. Just leave. Wes, take him home now."

Reluctantly Wes took Xander by the arm gently and coaxed him out. "Come on Xander. Let's just go. Things have a way of working themselves out. Come on now. Spike's right. You don't want Charles and I to be late for work."

Sadly, Xander let himself be led away, stopping at the last minute to look back. Spike stood facing away.

Angel, knowing Spike couldn't see him pointed his finger at Xander then turned, bent over, and waved his hands around in a motion designed to look like a huge bubble butt. He then turned back around and with a winners smirk on his face
waved bye bye.

When they were finally alone, Spike sighed and sat back down. "What exactly is it you want Angel?"

Angel dropped to the sofa facing him. "I want you Will. I want us. I told you. I've been miserable without you. I've lost everything. My life is in shambles. Besides, you have plenty of room here. We could settle in, be happy. Remember how
happy we used to be?"

Spike closed his eyes and appeared to be giving the proposal serious consideration. He then rubbed his hands roughly over his forehead. "And if I say no? What if I don't want you settled in here?" Opening his eyes, Spike straightened his back and shoulders. "I remember. I remember everything. All the good times and all the bad and to be honest there were a lot more of the latter than I ever wanted to admit. I've moved on Angel and I won't go back. I want you to go."

"Is this because of that kid? He's crazy! Look what the fuck he was doing! Is that what you want?"

Spike refused to be baited and never let his voice rise above the low tone he had been able to maintain. "It has nothing to do with him. This is strictly about you and me and the fact that there is no more you and me. So, with nothing more to discuss I suggest you leave."

Furious, Angel sprang to his feet and loomed intimidatingly over where Spike still quietly sat. "Leave? How the fuck am I supposed to leave? I told you I lost everything! Gave it all up for you. It's your fault I'm in this situation. You think I'm going to just walk away empty handed? BULL SHIT! You owe me."

Spike's eyebrows went straight for his hair line as a bitter laugh left his lips. "Money? Is that it? You came here for money?"

Immediately calming himself Angel quickly crouched at Spike's side and took hold of his hands. "No, of course not. I came here for you. I came here because I care for you, but if that isn't what you want then fine, I'll go. But I need help. You're doing so well, and I need just enough to put a roof over my head and some food in my stomach. Just a loan. As soon as I get on my feet I'll pay you back."

Spike slid his hands away from the clammy ones that held them and he crossed his arms over his chest. "How much? How much to get you to go away and never come back?"

Part Forty

Angel pretended to be surprised by the unexpected question. "Well since I don't even have a car or a bike I'll need at least
four.....no no, five thousand and you'll never see me again. If that's what you really want."

Spike got up and walked to the desk in the corner of the living room picking up his check book. He also retrieved Xander's pictures from the kitchen before returning to his chair.

Laying everything on the coffee table Spike sat back with his hands behind his head. "I can't believe you sold Big Red. You loved that bike. To be honest I thought you loved it more than me. I remember the day I caught you masturbating
against the side of it."

Angel roared with laughter. "I remember that day. Damn, between the poppers and the weed we used to get high as fuck. Sure miss that bike. Hated to lose it. Now about that check. If you just want to make it out to cash......."

"I'm thinkin', um, no. Funny thing. The boy might be a stalker but he's also a hell of a photographer."

Angel frowned in confusion. Spike picked up the last picture in the pile. It was the one Xander had snapped to use up the end of the roll. It clearly showed the street, the intersection, and a clean, well dressed man sitting on a blood red Harley and staring in the direction of Spike's house.

Spike took great pleasure in the shocked and finally defeated look on Angel's face. Apparently the deck of cards that he
thought he held were all jokers. After staring at the picture for what seemed like forever, Angel tossed it back down and shrugged. "O.k. so I've still got the bike. What about half? You give me a couple thousand and I disappear. You won't even miss it. For old times sake?"

Spike leaned down and scooped his checkbook up off the table causing Angel to visibly relax and the smile return to his face. It wasn't what he had hoped for but it wasn't a complete wash either. It would be enough money to pay off that last gambling debt and get that fucking thug of a bookie off his ass. He could get a dime bag of weed and catch up his past due rent. All in all, a fair days work.

He would have preferred to move in, enjoy a little sex romp down memory lane, live cost free for a while, and maybe tap into that nest egg he was sure Spike had set up for himself, but as always, Angel had a back up plan. This one happened to be "take the money and run".

Spike opened the green plastic checkbook and tapped his pen on the first blank page, appearing to give great thought to
the requested amount. At the last minute, however, he closed it, tucked it in his shirt pocket and crossed his arms. "I've got another idea. How about you just get the fuck out of my house and if you ever try this again I call the law and file extortion charges against you."

Looking very much like a tired old man, Angel barked out a bitter laugh, rose to his feet and started for the front door where he collected the back pack he had dropped there. "Your loss Spike. We could have had a good time, turned this town upside down. You always were a bore, Spike and frankly if you had been a little better in bed I wouldn't have had to look elsewhere."

Spike took a deep breath, pleased and surprised to find the words didn't hurt at all. With no regrets he opened the front door and watched his past walk away. It was a tremendous load off his back he hadn't even realized was still there.

Pausing, on the front porch, he looked around. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and no one appeared to be watching him with a spy glass. Life was good.

Closing the door, Spike walked straight to the den and fired up the computer. He then returned to the kitchen and fixed himself a hot cup of tea. He located his reading glasses, the good ones, turned on his printer, and finally settled in for what promised to be a long day of research.

~*~*~*~*~

Xander hadn't stopped crying for two days. He refused to leave the basement and even judge Judy's case of the jilted bride who had shoved her engagement ring up her butt to avoid having to return it failed to cheer him up.

He had gained and lost it all in the blink of an eye. He couldn't eat He couldn't sleep. All he could do was cry. His father had even lost interest in harassing him with rooster jokes, especially disappointed that "cock of the walk" got no response at all.

His mother was beginning to be concerned and had asked at least ten times if he was sick and when was the last time his bowels had moved.

Dragging himself to his feet, Xander shuffled off to the bathroom. Maybe, he thought, a hot shower would make him feel better. Wash away all the hurt and depression he was swimming in.

Stripping down, he stepped into the spray of water and stuck his head under. Before he could reach for the shampoo his brain was immediately flooded with images of he and Spike having sex in the bathroom while watching Wes and Gunn.

The whole thing had been about so much more than great sex. REALLY REALLY great sex. It was about sharing. He was part of them and belonged with them, even if it was only for one night.

Xander dropped his head and let the tears start again. He knew even when Spike told him he would talk to him later that he never would. Still, he had sat faithfully by the phone. Jumping a mile each time it rang, although it was only twice.

It was over. Everything Xander had in his hands had slipped through his fingers and was gone. The water and the tears continued to flow.

Epilogue

Tony Harris sat sprawled out on the sofa, careful to avoid the broken spring that protruded through the cushion on the far left side. Totally engrossed in the football game he was watching on his pirated satellite system he was annoyed as fuck at the sound of the loud motorcycle that came rumbling down the road and stopped directly in front of his house.

Glancing out the front window, he couldn't even imagine who the fuck it could be. He didn't know anybody that rode
a fuckin' crotch rocket. Certainly not one as expensive as that. Yet there they were, obviously headed for the Harris estate.

He felt sorry for any fuckin' ass hole that had the nerve to come banging and interrupting the Pittsburgh Steelers when it looked like the fuckin' idiots might finally make a Goddamn touchdown. On the up side, at least it would give him someone to vent his frustration on, so he waited.

Spike pulled the Harley up to a stop. He booted the kick stand and swung his leg over the side. Walking around to the back of the bike he lifted the flap on the right saddle bag and removed a thick packet of papers. He then reached into the left side and brought out a large cardboard bucket.

With one item under his arm and the other in his hands he started up the cracked walkway to the house careful to step over the yard trash and what looked suspiciously like a small dead animal. With the doorbell obviously broken and hanging by an exposed wire, Spike lifted a leather, fingerless, biker glove and pounded on the door.

Gleefully Tony jumped to his feet and rushed to get it before his lazy wife dragged her fat ass off her kitchen stool.
As if. Angrily he recalled the last time he let her answer the door it was a snotty Avon rep. She had spent $25.00 of his hard earned money and was still ugly as a sack full of assholes.

Jerking the door open, a look of confused disgust crossed his face. "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?"

Spike shoved the hot, steamy bucket in the hands of the disgusting slob who had answered. Sadly, he had Xander's eyes and Spike resolved to make sure the Son would no further follow the Father. Letting his eyes dart quickly down to the gaping, thin boxers, Spike quickly looked back up, relieved that apparently Xander took after the other side of his family and had avoided the curse of the Harris's tiny dicks.

Tony's eyes got huge as he was given a bucket of the Colonel's own Kentucky fried chicken. He tugged the cardboard lid off and stuck his face in, inhaling deeply. "What the fuck is this?"

Shoving past him Spike stepped in the filthy house and tried not to crinkle his nose in disgust. "That's my calling card, extra crispy. Name's Spike and I'm here for your son. You got a problem with that let me know now. If not, point me in the right direction."

Tony pulled the drumstick out of his mouth and waved it in the direction of the basement then headed back to the living room yelling as he went. "Jess! Bring me a beer, the boy's got a date!"

Spike descended into the dank, mildew smelling cellar, giving his eyes a second to adjust to the dark. Standing at the bottom of the steps it took him a minute to locate what he was searching for.

Xander was laying, curled up on the ragged sleeper sofa, sniffling. Checking his sympathy at the door, Spike went directly over and kicked the couch to get his attention. "Hey! Wake up!"

Xander sat bolt upright shocked to see Spike, big as life, standing right in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again to make sure it was real. He would have turned religious a hell of a lot sooner if he had known prayers were answered that quickly.

Tossing the pack of papers down on the table in front of him, Spike made sure he had Xander's full attention then began his practiced speech.

"I love you Xan, but I need a man who will stand beside me. I want more out of life than what I have. I want to be someone and I need a man who is willing to work hard and wants to be someone with me. I need a man with ambition.
You said you just couldn't find your niche in life, but I don't think that's true. You more than proved where your talents lie. This package is full of all the information you need to go to the technical school at the college where Wes and Charles work. There is a one year course in private investigation and law enforcement that you seem to have a real penchant for. Considering your, ahem, financial situation you are eligible for complete state funding. Wes has offered to help you fill out all the applications and Charles will help with your school work. Within one year you could be a licensed private eye with your own practice, living with me, and building a future. Or you could be sitting right here, alone, watching......is that Divorce Court? Anyway, it's your choice."

Xander flipped through all the forms, papers, and course work descriptions. The thought of it was facinating. It was exactly what he never realized he wanted. It was everything he could see himself doing.

Spike held out his hand to the silent, overwhelmed young man who stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of him.
He was stunned to think how much research and time Spike had put into all this, for him. For them.

"This is it, Xan. Do you take my hand and come home with me? Are you ready to start your life Xander? Are you the man I'm looking for?"

There was nothing to consider. There was no one side against the other. It was a no brainer even for someone as challenged as him. His thoughts swirled and spun. Private eye! It was fucking perfect! He gathered up all the papers and reverently tucked them back in their folder. Immediately Xander took Spike's hand and rose to his feet. "I'm him Spike and I promise I won't screw up again."

Spike just laughed and led the way upstairs.

"Sure you will, but that's o.k. I probably will too. Just do me a favor and try to keep the private dick jokes to a minimum"

Walking out the door into the sunlight, Spike climbed back on the bike and leaned up. Xander knew just what to do. He climbed on and settled in as if he belonged there, which, thank God, he finally did.

Wrapping his arms tightly around Spike's body, Xander laid his cheek on Spike's shoulder.  "I love you too, Spike."

Spike ran his hands lovingly over the arms that held him then gripped the handlebars and kicked the bike to life. Over the roar of the motor they barely heard the sound of Tony Harris bellowing from the front porch.

"Next time don't forget the fuckin' biscuits!"

The End

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