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Sweet Revenge

by
Jackson

Part Twenty-One

Some dialogue taken from BtVS 'Forever'

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 realised. 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 sympathising entirely with his utter hatred of maths. 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.

"You going home?" he asked Willow.

"I'm gonna stop by my mom's first. I've been doing that a lot lately."

"Yeah I stop by your mom's too."

Willow sent him a look of bewilderment.

"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.

"Speaking of . . ." he said bitterly.

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 focussed 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 wicca 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.

"Xander . . ." Willow's voice was soft. "He didn't leave a card."

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."

He walked away leaving her gazing forlornly after him.

***

"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.

Confused. Right.

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.

Xander was sitting there. Huddled up into himself staring at the ground.

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 recognised 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.

Food or fun. Not feelings.

He took a deep breath.

"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.

Xander raised his head. "What?"

"I said can I . . "

"Help. Yeah I heard. You want to help me."

"Xander . . ." Pitter of rain as it began to fall lightly around them.

"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?"

"Right. Fine."

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."

"Maybe not. But I'm still tryin'"

"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 likes 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 apologised 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 apologises to his whore!"

"You're not my 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.

He was jealous.

As hell.

"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.

"It's the truth!"

"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.

Still he stared.

Time out.

"Well maybe it's time you were."

And then he kissed him.

Part Twenty-Two

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.

"Yes." On a moan and again. "Yes I do. I want to. Xander . . ."

And Xander's sinking in it's been so long and pain and scared and ohholygodthatissogoodsogoodsofuckinggood

"Xan . . ."

"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.

Fucking.

Hell.

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 anything as 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 slow pulses around him as he adjusted to Xander.

Inside him. Oh God. I'm inside him

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

"Ohhhhhhhh yes, fuck fuck fuck fuck . . ."

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 colour 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.

And burst into tears.

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, 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.

Part Twenty-Three

OkayXander 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.

"I'm sorr . . "

"Are you . . ." Spike began.

They both stopped.

"Go on." Spike said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry I . . ."

Spike shook his head sharply. "Don't."

" . . .didn't let you leave your flowers" had been what he was going to say but Spike was already talking.

"No need to apologise. 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 defences 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."

"Fine. Enjoy having sex with Julie" Spike snapped back.

"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 reddy 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 recognised 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?"

"Yes! No! That's not why I . . ."

"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.

"You're mine!"

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!"

"SO WHAT WAS IT ABOUT SPIKE?!" Xander roared back.

"It was about you you thick bastard! Because I wanted you !"

"You said it was nothing important!"

"Well you obviously regretted it! What the hell else did you expect me to say?"

"I don't regret it!" Xander shouted before he could stop himself.

"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 realised he was shaking, only inches away from Xander's mouth . . .

Xander was motionless, his face utterly unreadable, dark eyes opaque.

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.

"Julie isn't a bitch." Xander said, his voice sounding weirdly tight.

Spike snorted and wrenched open the door.

"And she isn't my girlfriend." Xander blurted out from behind 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.

"She's not?" Cautiously. Like he's dancing on eggshells here.

"No." He took a deep breath and continued. "I didn't even sleep with her."

Spike shook his head at his own stupidity, for a second there he'd almost believed him.

"I could smell her all over you."

"Look we, did . . . stuff, okay, but I didn't sleep with her."

"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."

"And why was that?" Spike asked in weary disbelief.

"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."

Bloody hell.

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 defences 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 focussed 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.

The desire began to pull inside him, the heat rising . . .

"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,

"I was using you 'cos I couldn't have her . . ."

Xander flinched.

" . . . 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 focussed 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.

But hey.

He'd been called worse.

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 . . .

"So do you want to?" Spike asked desperately.

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.

"Yeah" Xander said quietly. "I guess I do."

Part Twenty-Four

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.

A date, with the drinking and the talking, maybe the eating.

Maybe not the eating.

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 characterised 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 judgement 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.

If he was on time. He'd probably be late, this was Spike after all.

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?

Yes.

No.

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.

"Okay that's it. I'm officially snapping."

He grabbed the phone. This was crazy; he couldn't go through with it. There was just too much stuff happened between them to 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.

Eight o clock.

He wasn't here.

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.

Ten seconds past eight.

He's not coming.

Fifteen seconds.

He's stood me up

Twenty seconds.

That bastard

Twenty-five seconds.

That bastard. That complete, utter, total . .

The sound of a knock at the door stopped his rant in its tracks as his heart leapt into beating treble time.

.Oh God. he thought in disbelief. He's here. He's actually here.

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 speciality. 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.

He wasn't home.

He'd changed his mind.

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 travelled 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.

"Hi Xander" Spike said at last.

"Hey."

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 colour 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?

Spike attempted to shrug casually. "Yeah well I thought I'd make an effort."

"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.

But he was trying not to think about ripping their clothes off.

"Spike." He began nervously.

"What?" Spike replied warily.

Xander cleared his throat, and examined his fingernails minutely.

"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 revelled 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 realised he was desperate to pee. Shouldn't have had that beer.

"Ready?" Spike asked impatiently.

"Um . . .yeah." Xander replied, wimping out of telling Spike he needed to pee.

"So what are we doing?" Xander asked, as he locked the door behind him.

"Beer at the Bronze? " Spike asked. "Um, what do you want to do?"

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.

"So" Spike asked, staring at the table "how did the funeral go?"

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.

But he didn't. All he said was; "Yeah." Quietly. Like he understood.

No escape quite yet then.

"So what have you been doing?" he asked awkwardly.

"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."

"Oh."

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.

Mustn't think about fucking Xander until he screamed.

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.

Shit. He needed a smoke. Spike took out his pack. "Do you mind if I . . .?"

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 recognised it for what it was. A plea for reassurance.

"I'm not going anywhere mate, how about you?"

"No."

"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."

"Good."

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 too 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 levelled 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.

He paused then carried on. "The first time I saw you was in here."

"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.

"Yeah, you were over there." Spike gestured at the dance floor.

"You saw me dancing?"

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."

"How embarrassing." Xander groaned.

"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.

And kind of nice.

And 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.

Spike dropped his eyes, and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"So. You see Passions last night?"

~*~*~*~*~

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 defence 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 humour. 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 . . . "

"Yeah well at least I'm not R2D2." Spike retorted. "Talks incomprehensibly . . . "

"Hey, R2 was totally comprehensive!" Xander interrupted indignantly. Then realising 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.

"Just because you like outdated rock music . . ."

"Oi! Alice Cooper is not outdated."

"Sex Pistols." Xander countered.

"Billy Idol" Spike said. "He's gonna make a comeback. It'll be huge."

"Or, you could try something new."

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

Cold rain and hot body rammed in to the hilt and Spike arching up

some stuff he shouldn't be thinking about.

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.

"I . . .may have to rethink it."

"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

make love

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 colour but before he could ask what was wrong a voice from behind him stammered out;

"Xander? What . . .what's going on?"

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.

It was Willow.

***

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'.

But of course Willow wasn't going to listen to that.

"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!"

"Sweetie this isn't the time . . ."

"Willow I said it's okay . . ."

"Red this is none of your business . . ."

"I think you playing games with my friend is very much my business!"

"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.

Spike closed his eyes for a second. The sight was just too painful.

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 . . .

"Spike no!"

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 colour, 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.

"You two had better go. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Willow looked at him in disbelief. "But . . ."

"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 recognise his own voice.

"Sweetie." Tara tugged at her hand gently, "Come on, you're upset, lets go home. Xander will be okay tonight."

Willow stared at Xander. "You're not coming with me." It wasn't a question.

He kept looking in her eyes, but he didn't move.

Her eyes slowly darkened with understanding and bitterness.

"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.

"This isn't over."

Spike didn't move, didn't reply, and Tara led her slowly out of the Bronze.

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 realise 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.

Xander had already gone outside.

"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.

Fuck. Fuck.

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 . . .

"Oh dammit!" He screamed out angrily, then pelted after Xander.

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.

But he'd wanted it. He'd wanted it so badly.

He blinked rapidly and rubbed at his burning eyes with his knuckles.

"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?

A little softer, unsure now.

"Xander."

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.

"I didn't hit her." Spike said at last, still struggling to keep up with him.

"Give it up for the chip." Xander said heavily.

"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."

"Was she right?" Xander asked angrily. "Are you going to destroy me?"

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 . . .

"No!" He said vehemently. "Never. I'd stake myself first."

Xander didn't say anything but he slowed his pace a little, and Spike continued doggedly.

"I know it's hard for you to trust me after everything . . ."

"That's one way to put it."

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.

"So come back to my place."

"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.

"Alright."

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 realised where he was.

"I thought you had to leave this place after the vamps beat up on you."

Spike didn't reply, just busied himself with lighting the rest of the candles.

"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 humourless 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.

"Well . . .yeah."

Xander sighed exhaustedly. "Hell of a date. What do you do for an encore?"

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."

For now. Right.

"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.

But he had now.

"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 . . ."

He looked up. Xander's eyes met his. He never finished the sentence.

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.

And what was it about the way Xander kissed that did this to him?

"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.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his hand softly stroking his cheek.

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, hypnotised 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 licke