Waiting Here

The flickering of candlelight provided the only brightness in the room, all the rest was shaded in black. It was essential that this be so, that all other sources of light be blotted out, that the focus of everything was this, this square of black silk and the gleam of the silver. But it was not easy to make this so, indeed that was part of the ritual. Removing the dark cloth, swathing it over any other source of light. Draping the windows, the doors, the television, the stereo, anything that might glow. After the room was shrouded, the music was set. The same way every time, lift the fabric, insert the cd, select track fourteen, hit repeat, lower the draping.

When all that remained was the glow of the two pillars, he slowly reached into the chest for the bolt of silk. He took his time in unwinding the fabric, relishing the way the silk caressed his fingertips. He draped it over the now clear surface of the table, piling it up slightly on the sides but making sure the center was flat and smooth. He brought the candles closer, placing one directly in front of each hand. The pool of silk reflected the light, rippling across his skin.

Dipping back into the chest, he pulled out an intricately carved box. The box was of dark wood, some vaguely Celtic design weaving across the top. It was long and thin and smelled faintly of polish. The latch and hinges were gold but old and worn, contributing to the sense that the box had seen many years. He placed it reverently in the center of the circle. The light danced across the surface of the wood, seemingly making it glow. It was time.

He slowly leaned up, hit play then felt more than heard the whisper breathe into the room, the words exactly reflecting his soul.

The words slowly wrapped themselves around him, as he continued to stare at the box. Slowly he reached out a hand and slowly lifted the latch.

He reached out and ran a finger along the blade. He remembered when he first saw it sitting in the shop window. He had been walking somewhere, alone as always, when a gleam caught his eye. He slowed, glanced over, and then stopped. He saw it there, sitting in the box, the lid open, the blade pure on the background of red velvet. It was perfect. Long, thin, the edge razor sharp with a short, maroon handle. He had no idea how long he stared before yanking the door open. Within moments he bought it, not caring that he could ill afford it, not caring that it meant another month of spaghetti and ramen noodles, not caring for anything but the need to hold it in his hands, to feel the edge of the blade run up the pale skin inside his wrists.

He reached out and lifted the blade from its secure place in the box. He lifted it, twisting it in his hands, watching the flames reflected there. He clearly remembered the first time he had cut his own flesh, the memory was the cleanest in his mind. His first kiss, his first orgasm, his first time diving into the flesh of another were nothing compared to that. He had been fourteen. His father had been in a drunken rage and had beaten him to within an inch of his life. When he was broken and bruised and lying motionless on the floor he had felt his father ram into him, again and again, until the pain in his body and the pain in his mind has merged into some indescribable blackness. His father had left him there to bleed, uncaring as to whether he lived or died. He had been dragging himself across the floor, some animal instinct still reaching for survival, when he had crawled through the broken glass of his mirror. His forearm brushed through the glass, and he caught his breath as this fresh pain hit. Propping him against the foot of his bed he had looked down to see a piece embedded there. He had been trying to pull it out when he accidentally ran the jagged edge up his arm. His eyes had shot open at the feel. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. All the pain in his body and all the pain in his mind had concentrated on that one line, the heat and length of it burning through his soul. When that edge had parted his skin he FELT, just FELT, and the purity of it was overwhelming. Hands shaking, he had reached down again and this time drew the tip slowly along his arm. The most exquisite pain arced through him, shutting down all thoughts, all emotions, all sensations other than this burn. He knew at that moment he had found his home.

He turned and tilted the blade, unwilling to start just yet. The anticipation was part of the thrill, letting the heat and anger burn in him, knowing the whole while that release lay in his hands. He had never told anyone of this, knowing instinctively that they would not understand. As he had grown older he secretly read everything he could find on the subject. He had learned that his instinct to conceal was the right one, that his talent at finding portions of his body to score which no one would see had been essential to his charade. He remembered the words of one of the books, "Ritual self-mutilation, expressed primarily through purposeful cutting, is a signal cry for sexual abuse." He wanted no one to know, no one to guess. And no one ever had.

Through the years the desire had waxed and waned, overwhelming at times, completely dormant at others. He had once gone nearly two years without reaching for a blade. But he always came back, always returned to this one true thing, the only constant in his fucked up life.

In recent months the desire had become overwhelming. It had started slowly, beginning when Buffy and Willow had started college without him. They had slowly pulled away, leaving him even more alone than before. Then his father’s attacks had become more frequent. What had once been a rare event became more frequent, more violent, evolving to the point he was afraid to sleep, never knowing when those hands would strike. As he pulled further and further into himself, the blade became his savior, his safety, his line to reality. This was true, this was pure. If he could feel this, then he was still alive. Some part of him knew the insanity of these thoughts, but he no longer had any idea of how to stop. He became ever more adept at hiding the lines, reverting back to using broken pieces of glass, sharp edges of metal, even his own fingernails if forced to that point. He had long ago learned that no one, even Anya, looked closely at the soles of his feet, or under the wristband of his watch. Besides, the effect of the lines was heightened if he could feel them as he walked or used his hands.

Then Spike was forced on him. He knew, as soon as it was decided, that he would have to stop. No matter how careful he was, he always drew blood. And Spike would smell the blood. This was something else he had never shared with the Slayer or any of the others. He understood the bloodlust that raged through the vampires they killed. It was not merely the burn of the cut, the slow, agonizing thrill of watching his skin grow red then part. No, an equal part was watching the blood ooze through, lifting his arm to his lips and drinking it down. That was the best of all, saved only for the truly desperate times, the times were the game hit its highest peak. At its best, it was a dance. To creep up to that line that separated release from true danger, to dance on that edge where the blood would not seep but pour. To know that one more push, the tiniest bit of extra force and his escape would be final, that his blood would pour from his veins and down his arms and carry him away forever. That was the truest and purest of them all.

But not with Spike there. He had been forced to stop. Thankfully, whatever gods still took amusement in his little life had seen fit to make sure his father did not touch him during that time. He did not know if he would have been strong enough to stop otherwise. But his father had left him alone and so he poured his pain into sex, driving into Anya again and again, the fury of it burning to his core. So good, so sweet but not quite enough. Just enough to dull his fever.

Then Spike had gone and he was alone again. He had shocked himself when he did not reach for a blade the second the door had closed behind the leather duster. He was still for some time after that, entranced in the idea that Anya could make him whole. He began to hope again, to think that someone could heal him, ease that ache.

Then she had left him. One week before. They had been sitting on his bed, doing nothing really, just idly talking about the day. Anya had suddenly stood and swung around to face him.

"I have to tell you this and there will never be a good time. I am leaving you."

"What!", he blurted out, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yes, I am leaving you. You do not love me, you just use me for sex. And while I know that is what men do, I do not want a man doing it to me. I deserve better." And with that she walked out the door. He had tried to run after her, but the look on her face made him stop cold.

Since that time she had been nothing but pleasant to him. She had told the Scooby gang that Xander and she had decided they were too different to be together, that her lack of restraint had been too much for him. They were eager to accept this explanation and other than Willow’s quick, "I’m sorry, Xan, do you want to talk?", not too much had been said.

He had sleepwalked through the week, going to work, going to slay, going home. He felt bereft, his anchor yanked from his life. Then last night his father had come home, drunker than usual, and had burst down the stairs and slammed him into the wall. He had been knocked out immediately and regained consciousness to find himself being kicked repeatedly in the ribs. Eventually, as he knew he would, his father had ripped down his pants and proceed to pound into him, ripping him to shreds. When the violation ended, he crawled to the bathroom. He had showered, trying to clean the blood away, oddly thankful that his father had not ruptured anything. He woke that morning stiff and sore and covered with bruises. He had called off work, slept some more and then made his decision. No more. He could take no more. He needed the release only his blood could bring.

So here he sat, twisting his salvation in his hands. Finally, the rage and the pain became too much. Grasping the blade in his left hand, he pushed up his right sleeve. The perfectly clean expanse of arm sang to him and he pulled the blade across. He hissed in a breath as his head fell back. Heaven. It was heaven. Slowly he moved down his arm, each slice bringing some relief to the screaming in his mind. Looking down, he saw the ten parallel lines stretching down his arm. Too soon, too soon he needed more, had to have more, craved it like nothing he had ever known. He switched the blade to his right hand and began on his left arm. The cuts were faster now, more frantic, the need burning bright. It had been so long and there was too much pain to ease. The precision stopped and slashing began.

Reaching his left arm high into the air, he brought the tip of the knife to the outside edge of his wrist. With one final yank, he dragged the blade diagonally down the length of his arm to the inside of his elbow.

**Too much, too much, too deep, gods no stop stop stop no no no NO NO NO**

He knew immediately that he had finally crossed the line. Blood began to pour out of him, the cut much, much too deep. His control had snapped and what was meant to be salvation turned to danger. He jumped up and leapt for the bathroom and the gauze he kept there. He had to stop the bleeding. He did not want to die, not really, he had just wanted some relief from the pain. Frantically he grabbed a towel, pressing it firmly down. Still the blood flowed, coating everything around him. He slumped against the tub as the dizziness struck him. Too much. Too much. Red everywhere, the smell of it assaulting his senses. He yanked the towel away and grabbed a fresh one, reaching for a belt to tie it on. It had to stop, had to stop, he hadn’t meant it. He did not want to end like this. His eyes began to flutter and he sank down to the tile, his arm falling across his face. The blood continued to flow.

Spike walked slowly down the street which led to Xander’s house. He wasn’t sure why he was there, just that he had felt compelled to see the boy that night. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something wrong in the way Xander had smelled recently. The whelp usually smelled of heat and light and humor and lust. But over the last week, since that bitch of an Anya had dropped him flat, the scent had changed. He didn’t believe for a second that the breakup was mutual. He had learned a lot about Xander during the time he lived with him and knew that the boy was besotted with the little ex-demon. Besides, he didn’t really believe that she had stopped torturing men, he thought that she just did it in a subtler way now.

The boy had held up well though. Didn’t flinch when he saw her, didn’t try to blame her, didn’t do anything which would give away his pain. Spike respected that, there was no better measure of a man than the way he took a punch. And it was clear to anyone who could be bothered to look that Xander had taken a punch. His usual sarcasm was more bitter, his wit more brittle. Xander wouldn’t look anyone in the eye nor would he allow any true attention to be paid to him. He was trying to slip away, and Spike wanted to know why. He hated to admit it but he had grown to admire the boy, the way he fought on no matter what, the way he saw the humor in any situation, the way he faced down death like it was no big deal. To watch that slip away troubled the vampire on some deep level.

That was why the events of the night before had scared him so badly. He and Xander had been paired together. Spike had slowly grown to look forward to these times, to the chance to listen to Xander talk about everything and nothing, to hear those little quips. But Xander had been quiet, not responded no matter what bait Spike had thrown at him, not bantering back like he always did. Then they had come across a group of vampires, eight in all, and Spike had thrown himself into the battle, confident that Xander could take care of himself. He had thoroughly enjoyed the fight, snarling and spinning and kicking away, when he realized that his were the only shouted taunts. Snapping the neck of the fledgling he had been fighting then staking the vampire before he could hit the ground, Spike had turned, an insult rising in his throat.

"What’s the problem, pet, cat got your . . ." he stopped in shock at the sight before him.

Xander was fighting an older vampire, but not with his usual heat. The other vampire was on the offensive and it was clear it was only a matter of time before Xander lost. Just as Spike began to move towards them, Xander tripped over a tree root and fell heavily back. The vampire he had been fighting pounced and leaned down. Spike saw a flash of something, relief, joy, something else, flick for a second in Xander’s eyes before they closed. Horrified, Spike yanked the vampire off the boy and staked him.

"Holy shit, Harris, what the hell was that, you were almost killed," Spike screamed at him as the dust slowly settled.

"Yeah, well, I wasn’t so just shut up", came the weary reply. The lack of heat behind the words had stopped Spike’s lecture in its tracks. They had finished patrol quietly and then parted ways without saying another word.

So here he was, heading towards that basement, determined to find out what was wrong. Spike knew he probably wouldn’t be welcome, but was truly fascinated by whatever Xander was experiencing. It was a mystery to Spike and Spike did not like mysteries. Besides, he had spent the whole day preparing a lecture on how the Slayer would stake him if anything happened to Xander while he was on patrol with Spike and how selfish that made the human.

Spike stopped at the door to the basement and pounded.

"Come on, pet, open the door", he called. There was no response.

Spike pounded a little harder. "I said open the door, whelp." This time with a growl and a snarl. Still, there was no response.

Spike began to worry, just a little. He could see the flicker of candlelight through the window and hear the low tone of some song. It was obvious someone was there. He tried the handle but the door was locked. Growing more concerned by the moment, he pushed on a window, tipping it open. He leaned down to yell in.

"What are you doing, pet, spanking the . . ." He flinched back as the overpowering scent of blood, Xander’s blood, slapped him in the face. Without thinking, he kicked the door open and rushed in.

"Xander, pet, luv, where are you?" His eyes darted around the room, taking in the odd altar and the strange black hangings.

"Xander, can you hear me, what happened?" The scent was overpowering, intoxicating and Spike was rapidly becoming frantic. Moving towards the bathroom, he called out again, an odd waver to his voice.

"Xander, are you all right?" He stopped cold at the sight before him. Xander, slumped against the bathtub, blood pooled around him, gouges down his arms and a knife in his hand. One small part of Spike’s mind spoke up **well at least he did it right** while the rest stopped cold.

"Bloody fucking hell", Spike whispered as he crouched beside the still body. He could hear the slow heartbeat, hear the faint trickle of the blood. He carefully reached out to move the arm from across Xander’s face. As he did so, Xander’s body slid further down the tub, revealing his right arm. Glancing down, he saw the lines on the other arm. He looked up sharply. He knew what this was, he had seen this before. Suddenly, the picture clicked. This boy, this goofy manchild, this supposedly blithe soul had fooled them all. The pain had always been etched there for anyone who cared to look.

Spike knelt there, concentrating solely on hearing that heartbeat, ignoring the bloodlust which was keening in his ear at the sight of all that blood. He knew at a glance that Xander had lost several pints and that anymore could be fatal. However that heartbeat, though slow, was steady and strong. Carefully, Spike lifted the boy in his arms and carried him to the bed. His first instinct had been to run out the door and get him to a hospital but he had stopped on the first step. This would look for all the world like a suicide attempt, and Spike knew that he could not explain otherwise without revealing Xander’s secret. The heartbeat was still holding steady and the flow of blood had stopped. With a quirk of his head, Spike thought of his only other choice.

He reached for the phone, dialing the number by rote. It was answered on the sixth ring.

"Willy, it’s Spike, you will listen and do exactly as I say. I need a doctor, someone discrete, to come to where I tell you and he needs to bring five pints of human blood, whatever that universal type is along with whatever he needs to perform a transfusion. The doctor will be here in fifteen minutes with all his supplies or I will make sure your life is a living hell."

Spike listened to the sputtering on the other end for a few seconds before growing impatient.

"I don’t care what have to do, just get it done. You know what I’m capable of." The last words were delivered calmly but with such icy menace that there was no question as to the threat. There was a short pause, then Spike heard the bang of the other man’s head on the bar.

"Good, then we understand each other. I’ll be watching." Spike gave him the address then hung up.

He sat down on the side of the bed and listened again. That heartbeat was still there, faint, slow but steady.

"Hold on for me, luv, just a little while longer." Spike slowly looked him over, hissing a little as he saw just how flayed the skin on Xander’s forearms truly was. He could clearly see the progression, the slipping of the control, in the length and depth of the wounds. What troubled him was the control the first ones showed. There was an art to cutting enough to hurt but not to HURT. He knew how difficult it was to learn that art and this bespoke of years of practice.

"What drove to this, pet, who did this to you. You have to hold on, you have to wake up and then you have to tell me," Spike whispered softly. He reached a hand out and ran it down Xander’s face. Something had been ripped from Xander’s soul and Spike had to know what and had to know who and had to know why. He wasn’t sure why but he knew it to be true. Xander had never backed away from anything and to run like this – whatever it was he had to know. And then he would try to fix it.

The room was quiet and still, the only sound the slow, steady breathing from the inert form on the bed. The very air seemed heavy, all attention drawn to the sound. In. Out. A slight wheeze on the exhale from the constriction of the bandages wrapped around his chest, holding still the battered ribs. In. Out. Slowly counting the seconds in between, making sure the rhythm continued, that nothing interrupted the pace. In. Out. No longer haggard, no longer desperate. In. Out. The quiet and calm peace of sleep.

The other figure in the room suddenly stirred, breaking the spell. Reaching down he grabbed the lighter and cigarettes, suddenly desperate to move, in frantic need of some activity. Spike tapped out a cigarette and sparked the flame. He lit it smoothly and paced away from his vigil at the foot of the bed, not wanting to disturb Xander’s sleep. It had only been an hour ago that Xander had crossed that threshold from unconsciousness to peaceful sleep. As much as he craved the nicotine, Spike did not want to wake him yet, knowing that Xander desperately needed the sleep to recover from the ordeal of the night.

Spike moved around the room, trailing the smoke behind him. He had not had the opportunity to examine it before now, as preoccupied as he had been with ensuring that Xander would survive. The entire time, however, the strange nature of the room had tugged at the back of his mind. He reached out and smoothed his hand down the cloth with swaddled every light emitting item in the room. It was obvious that great care had been taken to deaden all light, to make the basement as dark and dank as a cave. Or as his crypt. He reached up and felt the thick fabric. It was clear that this was some ritual, some deep and private need, some religion to which all care was lavished. He circled around again to windows, seeing the small gap where the weight of the fabric had pulled away. This was where he had been able to see the flickering of the candle. Crossing back again he saw the mounded hump of the television and stereo. With a start he realized that whatever song he had heard when he first opened the window was still playing. He reached out, uncovering the stereo. He saw the cd player was set to repeat the same track. Fourteen. Hitting eject he pulled out the cd. His eyes widened slightly, he knew this record. Nine Inch Nails. The Downward Spiral. Hurt. His eyes squeezed shut, a tic running up his cheek as he ground his teeth.

Finally, he moved to the true center of his attention. The altar. There was nothing else to call it, really, it was clear that was what it was. His eyes roamed over the table. A pool of black silk. An opened box. Two candlestick holders, the candles long since guttered out. The stain of dark blood spreading out and running over the side of the table. He stalked his way along the path of the blood. The large gap between the initial pool and the next splash on the carpet. The stream which must have trailed behind Xander as he ran. Into the bathroom, the huge stain which was congealing on the tile. Two blood drenched towels with the imprint of Xander’s forearm. The white stamp of the hand where he had desperately held the towels blazing out from the black stain of the blood. The smear along the tub where Xander had collapsed. Spike’s head dropped a little and a huge sigh escaped him. He felt his shoulders slowly unclenching as a small amount of the tension which still vibrated through him was released. He had been almost entirely sure that he had read the situation correctly, that Xander had not been trying to commit suicide but rather that he had been purposefully cutting himself and had somehow slipped too far. This scene confirmed that. Spike could still faintly scent the smell of fear and desperation that permeated the space. Underneath it all was that familiar scent, that deep musky smell which set Xander apart.

Spike cast another glance around, then set to work. He quickly gathered the towels and threw them in the washing machine. He was tempted to set them aside to burn, but remembered that Xander had almost nothing and this small loss would mean much to him. That done, he pulled out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. He remembered where everything was from the time he had spent there. It had surprised and amused him to discover that as messy as the rest of the apartment may be, Xander was almost compulsive about keeping the bathroom clean. He efficiently wiped down the tile, fighting back the urge to taste. Not like this. He would be lying to say that he did not want to learn the taste of Xander’s blood but he would be damned if he would do it now. Stepping back, he cast a critical eye around the room. It softly gleamed back; showing no trace of the agony it had recently contained. The only jarring note was the knife that still lay on the tile. Spike could not bring himself to touch it, eyeing the blade as if it were a living thing that could turn on him at any time. He recognized the fine craftsmanship, the burnished silver glowing softly through those spaces not drenched in blood. The finely honed edge, the blade able to smoothly slice through flesh. Spike stared at it for some time and then turned his back, unable to stand the image of Xander’s still body which had greeted him when first entered the room and which was still burned in his mind as he looked at the room.

Spike returned to the living room. As much as he wanted to strip everything down and return it to normal, to erase any sign of what had happened, he knew that this was something that Xander needed to do. He paused for a moment at the foot of the bed and listened. The breathing was still calm and true, the heartbeat growing stronger and steadier. Satisfied, he moved to sit on top of the washing machine, his eyes locked on Xander’s face.

He lit another cigarette and let his head slowly drop down, unfocused eyes staring at the floor, his only movement the slow rise and fall of his hand to his mouth. He let the events of the night play out in his mind.

It had taken exactly twelve minutes and ten seconds from when he hung up with Willy to when the long Mercedes pulled along the street. Spike had moved to stand in the open doorway and dashed out to meet the man who slowly climbed from the car.

"Bloody hell, mate, what are you waiting for," Spike hollered as he rounded on the doctor. The doctor’s eyes widened in shock when he saw who was glaring at him, gameface a mere inches from his throat.

"Spike." The terror contained in the hoarse whimper had thrilled the vampire to no end. At least someone still feared him.

"Yes, now where’s your supplies, we haven’t got much time." The doctor had simply pointed to the backseat. Spike yanked the door open, gathered up the small ice chest, the stand and the doctor’s bag and ran back into the basement, the doctor right on his heels. Spike carefully dropped the equipment at the foot of the bed and turned back around. The doctor was simply standing there, staring with open mouthed shock at the blood drenched human in front of him.

"What happened?"

**Christ, who did Willy send me, this bloke can’t take a little shock.** Shaking off his rage, Spike hissed out his reply.

"What happened is none of your business, not now, not ever. Look, he’s lost a lot of blood and I know you can fix that. You better get started." The doctor had made the mistake of raising his head to look in Spike’s yellow eyes and the rage that burned there snapped him out of his fog.

The IV was quickly set up and within a minute a line had been taped into the back of Xander’s hand. The blood was placed on the stand and began to flow back into Xander’s body. Hungrily watching the flow, Spike suddenly was hit by a wave of terror. Grabbing the man by the throat and fighting back the sudden wave of agony this move engendered, Spike slammed him to the wall.

"How do I know that’s human, mate? Huh, how do I know that’s not pig’s blood and that you’re not killing him right now? How do I know that’s the right type? I’m just supposed to trust you, think not, luv."

The doctor’s eyes looked like they would burst straight from his skull. Despite the hand clenching his throat he managed to choke out a reply.

"Blood bank, from the blood bank, the bags are sealed."

Spike abruptly stepped back; leaning against the wall as the dizziness which accompanied the pain slammed into him. Reaching into the ice chest, he pulled out a bag. Sure enough he saw the labels and the seals, the large TYPE O.

The doctor was bent over, sucking in air. "Do you really think that I would come here and do that? And risk being ripped to shreds? All Willy told me was that a Master needed blood for a transfusion. Do you think I would really mess with that?" The high pitch of the voice proved the truth of the statement.

Spike just nodded his understanding back. "Yeah, well, can never be too sure now can you. Think I’ll just have a taste. Stop the flow and give me a glass."

The doctor rushed to do just that, desperate to prove his trustworthiness. He quickly stopped the IV and squeezed a small amount into a cup that he found by sink. Hands shaking, he handed it to the vampire. Spike raised the glass to his lips. The strong, pure taste of human blood rolled down his throat, yanking his demon to the fore. He licked his lips savoring the taste, even cold. Looking up, he stared the doctor down.

"Fine, you aren’t poisoning him, start it back up. But I get to taste from each bag before you give it to him." The doctor nodded and rushed back to work.

Spike slowly slid down the wall, shaking from the effort it had taken to go after the man and then to hide the pain. The human blood eased the pain while at the same time causing his bloodlust to burn.

The transfusion restarted, the doctor knelt by the bed, casting a critical eye down Xander’s body.

"Does he have any injuries other than the, the wounds on his arms?"

"Don’t really know," came Spike’s reply. "Didn’t check"

"If you don’t mind, I think I should examine him, make sure that the blood we’re putting in isn’t just coming right back out. If that’s all right with you, Master Spike."

Suppressing a completely inappropriate grin at the doctor’s use of the honorific, Spike nodded. That certainly made sense and Spike did not want to go through this again.

Reaching down, the doctor carefully began to remove Xander’s clothes, gratefully taking the small knife that Spike pulled from his boot to cut the sleeve away from Xander’s right wrist so as not to interrupt the drip of the blood. By this time the first bag was nearly empty and the doctor moved to replace it. Spike took the opportunity to examine Xander’s face. The dusky hue to his skin was fading and the ever so slight blue tinge to his lips was gone. His breathing was settling into a steadier pattern and he seemed less unconscious and more asleep.

The doctor pulled a new bag from the ice chest and again squeezed some blood into the cup for Spike. The vampire quickly tasted and nodded his approval. The doctor satisfied himself that the new transfusion was set up correctly and then returned to removing Xander’s clothes. He carefully rolled Xander up to pull the shirt from under his back, finally exposing his chest.

Spike went rigid. Xander’s sides were covered in bruises, the separate blows to his ribs quickly becoming one huge black mass. Despite this, he was clearly able to make out the shape of the toe to a boot. There was no way that this had happened during patrol the previous night. Nothing they had fought had worn blunt toed workboots. Someone, no something, else had done this. The doctor ran his hands over Xander’s sides, cautiously pressing and pulling.

"Well, it’s impossible to be sure without taking x-rays, but it doesn’t look any of the ribs are broken, just sprained and cracked. I want to tape them up, however, just as a precaution." Spike just nodded, still stunned by the sight.

"Could you possibly get me a bowl of water and a washcloth, I would like to clean the wounds before I apply the antiseptic."

The doctor was stunned to hear this request come from his mouth, he, a mere mortal, making such a menial demand of a powerful master vampire. He was even more shocked when Spike quickly stood, turned on his heel and went to get what he requested. He heard the sound of running water, of the noise of someone rummaging in a cabinet in the bathroom and then the vampire returned, a look of almost comic concentration on his face as he attempted to carry the bowl without spilling. Nodding gratefully the doctor reached up and took it from the vampire’s hands. He dipped the cloth into the water, startled to find the vampire had made sure the water was warm but not too hot. Slowly he set to work cleaning the wounds. Taking out a penlight, he checked Xander’s pupils, pleased to see that they were even and reactive. The man’s color was coming along well and the doctor ceased worrying that he would be killed when the vampire’s charge died.

The stress of imminent death removed, the doctor’s concern began to center solely on the patient. Obviously, the man had been beaten and attacked with a knife. He did not think it was the vampire who had done so. While vampires did use transfusions to keep their toys alive, they were usually prepared well ahead of time. Besides, the tension and rage present in the Master spoke of some other attack on the man. Deciding he would live much, much longer if he drove such thoughts from his mind, the doctor instead concentrated on cleaning the wounds thoroughly, taking the time to wash the blood off the mortal’s face. He was aware the entire time that the vampire’s eyes followed his every move.

Looking up, he caught Spike’s eye. Moving back on the bed, he dared another look into Spike’s face. Something in those yellow eyes tugged at the doctor and he slowly reached to lay a hand on Spike’s arm.

"He’s coming along well, don’t worry, there should be no lasting effects." Spike just continued to stare at the doctor, shocked by the man’s boldness in laying a hand on him. The anger quickly faded when he heard the words. He nodded, never ceasing his careful attention to the doctor’s actions.

The doctor moved up from the bed and reached into his bag, removing the tape he would need to strap Xander’s ribs. He slowly moved next to the man and began his work. He moved calmly and steadily, the rhythm of the work helping ease the stress of the situation. Quickly, Xander’s ribs were taped; another bag of blood was retrieved, sampled by Spike, approved and set up. The doctor checked Xander’s pulse and blood pressure, pleased at the results. The vampire continued to silently watch his every move.

"I would like to remove his pants, check to see if there’s anything we are missing." He wasn’t sure of the relationship between the vampire and the human but was positive that if the human was the vampire’s toy and he simply removed the man’s pants, then his life would be forfeit.

"Fine by me, shouldn’t need my help with that though." Spike turned and moved to stand in the doorway, needing to smoke and not wanting to bother the doctor. Besides, he suddenly did not want to see Xander exposed, knowing the mere fact that the vampire had seen what he had would humiliate Xander enough. He lit a cigarette and gazed into the night.

The doctor took the chance to pull the human’s pants and boxers down. The bruises on the human’s ribs continued down his legs, but they were not as many and not nearly as bad. Carefully rolling Xander onto his side, he brought his gaze up from Xander’s feet to the back of his thighs and then onto his ass. The doctor’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the evidence of the rape. His heart racing, he glanced at the pensive vampire in the door. For some reason he had no doubt that the vampire had not done this. He had no idea who had. He prayed that the vampire would stay in the doorway, would ignore the sudden pounding of his heart. His mind raced. Should he tell the Master and, if he did, would his life be forfeit. All he had ever heard of Spike’s reputation poured through his mind. One thing he knew, Spike would never share what was his. If this human was his and someone else had touched him, then everyone involved would be destroyed. The doctor leaned closer, seeing that the human was not bleeding and was not in any physical danger from the rape. He made up his mind. He would not say a word. Let the vampire find out for himself. He had no death wish. Daring a glance over he saw the vampire was still facing outside, throwing his cigarette butt into the grass. He had not noticed. The doctor was safe. He quickly pulled Xander’s boxers and pants into place.

Leaning back, the doctor stretched, attempting to loosen the knots in his back. He bent back down and examined the knife wounds carefully, seeing that it was only the large one on the left arm that posed any concern. He stood and moved to stand by Spike in the doorway.

"I’ll bandage his arms up right before I go. His left arm really should be stitched. I could do it now if you like, but you should know that it will leave a scar. I could give you the name of a good plastic surgeon if you like. As long as he goes tomorrow or the next day, there is a good chance that the scar could be minimized, if not entirely eliminated."

Spike glanced over. "I’ll take him to the surgeon tomorrow. I take it whoever he is will be aware of my ‘special circumstances’." He knew that Xander would be furious with him for making this decision but if there was any way to get out of this with no permanent marks, no scars Xander would have to explain away, then Spike would take that chance.

"She, actually, and, yes, she is used to a special clientele."

"What about infection?" The thought suddenly struck Spike. It would be just his luck that after all this some microbe would defeat him.

"As I said I’ll bandage him up and leave antibiotic cream." Spike nodded and moved into the room and beside the bed, resuming his silent inspection of the body before him. He had to give Willy credit, this man was good.

The last of the blood drained from the IV. Spike moved to retrieve another bag as the doctor sat down and checked Xander’s blood pressure again. His pressure was strong, well within normal limits, his pulse was strong and his breathing had evened out. His color was good and his skin was warm. Turning around, he stopped Spike as he went to taste the blood.

"He’s fine now." The look of relief in the vampire’s eyes shocked the doctor. Recovering quickly, knowing the Master would never admit to such a thing, the doctor began to bandage Xander’s arms. He worked quickly, anxious now to get as far away as possible and let this fade into a nightmare.

"Here’s the antibiotic cream, make sure he uses it. Here’s some more bandages for his arms, some antibiotics, a prescription for more. Be sure to tell him to take the entire prescription. It’s very important to prevent infection." Spike took the offered goods and placed them on the table. Pulling a card from his wallet, the doctor presented it to Spike.

"This is Dr. Steven’s number. She is the plastic surgeon I mentioned, have him call her tomorrow. Tell him to let her know Willy sent him and she’ll understand." Spike took the card and nodded. The doctor gathered his bag and took apart the stand. Quickly the room was cleared of the medical equipment, Spike moving to help him carry his things to the car. Stopping next to the driver’s side door, he again dared to place his hand on Spike’s arm.

"Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. You got him help in time and there will be no lasting harm. I don’t know if you were worried about brain damage or the like, but there is almost no risk of that."

Spike’s head snapped up at the mention of brain damage, he had never even considered that possibility. He froze again, pondering the loss of Xander’s voice, his sense of humor, the sound of the sarcastic cracks as some demon tried to kill him. A shudder ran through Spike’s body at the thought of being left with a Xander body but no Xander mind. He realized the doctor was still speaking to him

"I left the final two bags of blood for you, I know its not the same but I thought you might want them if you are going to stay with him for tonight." Spike merely nodded. Finally finding his voice, he met the doctor’s eyes.

"What do I owe you."

Now it was the doctor’s turn to be shocked. He was just grateful that he had been allowed to live, now he was being offered payment.

"Nothing, nothing, Master Spike, I am yours to command. It was an honor to do some small service to you," he managed to stutter out.

A wry smile crossed the vampire’s lips. Clearly his current emasculated state was not quite as well known as he had thought. Either that or the human was clever and was banking up for a future that included Spike restored to his former glory.

"This service will be well remembered. Know that you and your family go in peace from me and my court." The traditional words of honor brought a flush to the doctor’s face. He started to get in the car when Spike’s hand caught his arm.

"Only one last thing, pet. You never saw this, you never heard this, you do not know that boy exists." The menace in the vampire’s eyes was matched by the steel in his voice. Wordlessly, the doctor nodded his understanding and sped off.

The shock on his fingers as the cigarette burned to its end brought Spike out of his reverie. The doctor’s off hand comment about brain damage had shocked him to his core. He had seriously never considered any other option between live Xander and dead Xander. The thought of anything else was unthinkable. He hopped off the washing machine and stalked over to kneel by the bed. He stared into Xander’s face, letting the sound of Xander’s heartbeat calm him, letting the rhythm of the breathing still his shaking hands.

"Pet, you will never do this again. I will not allow it. You will not take such a chance." The harshness of the words was in sharp contrast to the shaking of the voice. Spike moved back to sitting on the foot of the bed, eyes locked on the sleeping human. Dawn was coming but Spike would not sleep until he saw Xander’s eyes, until he heard his voice and knew his mind was clear. He settled in, unaware that one hand had crept out and was resting on Xander’s leg.

Xander lay perfectly still, trying desperately to keep his breathing even and calm. He was trapped. He could fell the constriction around his chest, the heavy chains wrapped up both arms, some cold, dead weight draped along his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what it was that finally captured him. He had always known this day would come, that he would wind up separated and alone from his friends, caught by some evil being and then tortured, long and slow, before finally being given the blessed release of death. All the hours he had thought about it, concentrated on it, preparing himself for the reality of it had done nothing to help. A wave of panic ripped through him and he forced himself to open his eyes, prepared for whatever horror awaited him.

Any horror that is, but the sight of his own ceiling.

His eyes darted desperately around as the familiar patterns of stains and mold registered in his mind. He heard the familiar noises, the slow drip of the faucet, the neighbor’s dog, a creak as someone walked across the kitchen. He could tell by the glow around the dark curtains covering his windows that it was midday. He blinked slowly, his mind finally clearing a little.

He was on his bed. In the basement. The basement. The basement where he had . . . His mind stopped at that thought as he suddenly came wide awake. He closed his eyes again and tried to remember how he had gotten to the bed. The last clear memory he had was of running to the bathroom and then sinking to the floor, unable to stop the spill of his blood. A wave of shame washed over him and he shuddered slightly. God, what kind of sick fuck was he. He had done it again. Done it after he swore never again. Done it despite knowing everyone would see. Done it so bad he had almost died.

It was that thought that snapped him back, forcing him to figure out what happened. He had flashes of arms carrying him, a hand on his cheek, some kind of growling, a prick on his hand. That was it. Nothing else. How had he gotten on the bed? He opened his eyes and started to sit up. He was shocked when he felt the heavy bandages around his chest as he tried to bend.

**What the hell, who taped my ribs**

He reached his arms out to help push himself up. He glanced down and saw the heavy bandaging running up both arms from wrist to elbow.

**WHAT the hell is this, who bandaged my arms**

Shaking his head, he let out a heavy sigh and looked up. It took everything he had not to start screaming in terror when he saw the back of the white blond head lying next to his knees, saw the right arm protectively wrapped around his legs, the rest of the vampire curled up at the foot of his bed.

"Spike," he practically yelped, trying desperately to pull away from that iron grasp. "Holy shit, Spike what are you doing here?" Xander began to pant as he tried harder to pull away.

Spike’s eyes flew open at the sound of his name. He hadn’t realized that he had fallen asleep, let alone that he had wrapped himself around Xander. **You wanker, you wanker** he cursed as he yanked himself up and away from the bed. He stood, paused a moment to compose himself, then turned to face the boy.

"What, luv, don’t remember asking me to stay the night," he drawled, a cocky grin on his lips and an arch to his eyebrow. The grin quickly faded as he saw the confusion cloud Xander’s eyes. Sitting back on the foot of the bed, he sought the boy’s eyes with his own, the doctor’s words sounding in his head.

"Pet, I was just joking," he quietly said.

There was no response from the human staring down at the bed.

"Xander," he continued, feeling panic rise in his chest, "Xander, do you know where you are?"

It was the worry behind those words that snapped him out of his fog. He was thoroughly confused. Here he was, sitting on his bed wrapped like a mummy with Spike acting all concerned. It was much too weird. He realized he had to answer the question.

"The Bahamas," he snapped back, looking up to catch the vampire’s eyes. Startled by the look of worry he saw, he continued. "Come on, I’m in my luxurious basement hell hole, what did you think I was going to say?"

Spike’s panic eased some at the mocking response. Now that was Xander, insecure, uncertain of what was going on around him, so making a joke to hide. A bad joke to be sure, but a joke nonetheless.

Xander looked back down at himself then back at Spike. He could see the cloth still draping the room, could just make out the candlesticks and open box on the table behind Spike’s head. **Oh gods, oh gods, how do I explain THIS, what did he see, why is he here, of all the people to find out** He sighed and looked at Spike.

"When did you get here?" he asked. He might as well get this over with as soon as possible – see just how bad it was.

"Last night," came the short reply. Xander was caught off guard. He was prepared for some smart ass comment, some mocking words, some insult, but not this quiet response. This was worse than he thought.

"Um, do you know who cleaned me up?" he asked. Maybe that would jar something out of the suddenly evasive vamp.

"Yes," came the simple reply. Nothing more, no mocking, no other information. **NOW he decides to give straightforward answers** a small voice asked.

"That’s it, just yes, no big long explanation, no mocking, c’mon, Spike, give it up."

Xander couldn’t believe it. The vampire was just sitting there watching him with an odd look on his face. Nearly a minute passed with the two just staring at one another. Spike finally sighed and looked away.

"Why don’t you go get cleaned up, when you’re done I’ll tell you what happened." He knew this offer would surprise the whelp, maybe buy him some more time to brace himself for what he knew would be a long day and night.

Xander flinched back, startled. Spike, volunteering to answer questions? He slowly nodded. He did want to wash his face. And he really needed to use the bathroom. He started a little at the thought of going in there, of seeing the blood. However, he could think of no way to refuse without being obvious.

"All right," he said, "Back in a flash." He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up.

The world suddenly tilted sideways, spinning round and round. He began to fall, shocked by how weak he was. He felt the cold arms reach out and catch him, settling him back on the bed.

"Be careful, whelp. You’re probably still pretty weak from the blood loss. Just move slowly." Spike jerked his head back as he heard the words spill from his mouth. **Oh hell, that’s just great, you pillock, just the way to ease into the topic there, mate**

Xander’s eyes turned to bore through Spike’s.

"Blood loss, the blood loss, holy fucking shit what did you see," he hissed out. It was clear that the vampire knew at least some of what had happened – he just wasn’t going to tell Xander how much.

"Look, just get this over with – what did you see, who all was here, who did you tell," Xander’s voice began to rise. "Who, Spike, huh, who, who did the bandages, Buffy, don’t think so, she’s too impatient to do them this tight. Willow, nope she would be busy crying too hard. Tara, maybe. Anya, no, she would make sure my dick was strapped down too. Giles – sure what would he care. He could do it. So who did it Spike? And why did they leave you here, you draw the short straw, you get stuck on psycho duty? Or did they just figure that with all your experience with Dru you would just know how to deal if I lost it, is that it?"

Xander hadn’t realized he was standing and screaming until he suddenly started to sway. "C’mon, Spike, what the fuck happened. You get a taste, they let you lick me is that it? Look, you bastard, just tell me."

Xander was nearly sobbing now, the shame and the pain burning through him. The voice started in his head.

**All over, it’s all over, they know, they know. I’m a freak and they know. I’m insane and they know. They know, they know** No wonder they left him with Spike, no one else could stand to be near him. He sank back onto the bed and hung his head, bringing his left arm up to rub across his eyes. He hissed as the movement caused the bandage to pull against the wounds.

Spike just sat and listened to Xander yell, listened to the pain pour out of him. He knew Xander needed this, needed to lash out, to try to take control of the situation. Of course he assumed the Slayer and her gang had fixed him, why shouldn’t he, it made the most sense. He could smell the fear and shame pouring off Xander’s body, the fury and fear dark and rich. Spike let him rage, let him turn the anger onto Spike and away from himself. He felt the weight drop next to him on the bed, heard the hiss of pain.

"Xander, I will tell you what happened – and I will tell you the truth," Xander snorted as he heard that. "But I do think it would be better if you cleaned up first. Make you feel better."

Spike chanced a quick glance over. The frantic pace of Xander’s heart had slowed and the sharp scent of fear had faded some.

"Look, pet, I’ve got more bandages, some cream you’ve got to rub on those cuts," Spike carefully looked away as he felt Xander tense up, "and I don’t really feel like doing it myself."

Xander slowly nodded. It was true, he would feel better if he showered. He carefully stood up, not wanting to collapse again. He cautiously made his way to the bathroom, dreading what he would find. Opening the door, his eyes widened in shock. It gleamed in the light, perfectly clean, fresh towels hanging on the rod. No trace of blood anywhere to be found. He glanced around again, startled. It was clear that someone had taken the time to do this, to erase any trace of what had occurred. He took another step into the room and looked down. There. The knife. It was still lying where it had fallen from his hand, dried blood now turning the blade black. He stood still for long moments, staring at the blade. He swallowed again, shaking slightly as the memory of the pain crashed into him. How had he been so stupid. How could he have lost so much control. Gods, he sickened himself. Swallowing hard, he closed the door.

Spike heard the bathroom door slam shut. He leapt from the bed and grabbed his cigarettes. He quickly lit up and began to pace back and forth. **At least that cloth has some use** he thought as he passed under the windows. **Couldn’t have put them up while I was staying here, though, could he** It actually had not gone as badly as he had anticipated. He had been prepared to try to defend himself from an attack. The anger was actually good, he had no idea what to do if Xander had started to cry.

He still couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep. He had been determined to stay awake until Xander regained consciousness. However, the stress of the night had caught up with him and he had basically collapsed. Still, he had stayed awake for a long time, merely watching Xander as he slept. It had given him time to think – to determine why he had reacted as he did. It had only been when the phone rang about 9:00 a.m. and when he heard Red’s voice leaving a message that he realized that it had never occurred to him to call the Slayer, the Watcher, Red, any of the whelp’s friends. At first, he told himself it was because there simply hadn’t been time. He had to get the boy help immediately or he would have died. That excuse didn’t last long. If that had been the case, he would have just taken him to the hospital. Spike knew that he hadn’t called the Scooby gang for the same reason he hadn’t taken the boy to the hospital, too many inconvenient questions. Spike didn’t want to answer the questions and he sure as hell didn’t want to watch while Xander tried to answer them either.

Spike continued to pace the room, striding faster and faster the more he thought of listening to the idiotic questions he could just hear coming from the group. They would never understand the purity of blood, the craving that always existed, the need to feel flesh part under your hands. Spike now understood why he had always felt an odd kinship with Xander, it was that faint hint of bloodlust that ran in his veins.

But it was more than that. He stopped in front of the altar, looking down at the silk and blood. It reminded him of Dru. She too loved blood play, loved to trace a blade across his throat while he fucked her, to wait until he would whisper out the words of love that she dragged from him, then to trace the tip across his throat. In those early days, before she had become completely his, she would return from her time with Angelus and reach for her knife. She would trace and trace circles on her skin, whimpering out her pain and pouring it into herself. He would hold her and run his hands in her hair.

He had instantly known what those lines on Xander’s arms meant, just as he had known that Xander did not want to die. That was the dark beauty of it, the way that those who did not taste the blood would never know that it was life that those cuts sought, life that the blade represented.

But he knew. He knew and he understood. And now he understood a little more about that dark boy. He had always seen something more there, something deeper than Xander let on. The boy was bright, no matter what his friends thought, and he was braver than the rest. The Slayer had her strength, the Watcher and the witches their craft, Anya was an ex-demon. The whelp was just a boy. And he went out there just as they did. And they treated him like shit.

Spike tilted his head towards the door, listening to make sure Xander hadn’t collapsed again. He heard the sounds of the running water, the slight splashes as he washed. Spike began to pace again. So, now he knew one secret. But where there was one there were more. Like where those bruises were from. And how the boy had learned this in the first place. And what had pushed him over that edge. It was obvious that the boy had been doing this for some time and that he knew what he was about. It had taken all of Spike’s control not to strip him down and search for the other scars. And he knew the secret places they would be. To be pushed this far, something outrageous had to occur. Spike was determined to find out just what that was. He heard the water stop and moved back to lean against a wall, waiting for Xander to appear.

Xander slowly unwound the bandages around his chest, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Looking in the mirror he gasped. His chest was a mass of black, no single bruise standing out. He was grateful that none of his ribs had been broken, this he could hide. He next turned to his right arm, slowly unwrapping the covering. Ten perfect, parallel lines greeted him. They started as faint shadows by his elbow, deepening down to dark gouges by his wrist. He would have to wear long sleeve shirts for about, oh three weeks, he figured, eyeing the wounds with long practice. He ran his finger along the second from the bottom, his eyes misting slightly at the sensations it produced. Shaking his head, he turned to his left arm. This took much longer to uncover, with portions of gauze still clinging to the skin. He looked down, appalled at what he saw. His forearm looked as if some madman had gone after it with a cleaver. No perfect length, no matching lines, no discrete space in between. Instead, it was a mass of wounds, deep, shallow, jagged, thick, thin. All were there. And finally, the master cut. It ran the length of his arm and he knew it would scar. He had finally done it. Made it impossible to hide. A bitter smile unconsciously crossed his face. Well, this would take some explaining. He could always blame it on some demon or other.

He adjusted the water then stepped in the shower. He gasped a little when the water hit his bruises and ran down his arms, but the soothing heat soon dulled that pain. He leaned against a wall and just let the water run down him. He was so weak it was frightening. He wondered how much blood he had lost. He also wondered how it had been replaced. And why. And who.

His thoughts finally settled on Spike. Why was he there? What had he done? It was obvious that Spike had helped him for some reason, but why? And why hadn’t he made any comments on the state of the basement? And was he the one who cleaned the bathroom? Xander suspected that was the case, Spike knew where everything was. And the towels had been folded just how he liked them. Not too many people knew that piece of trivia. Why was Spike still here – well, all right it was day so it wasn’t like he could go anywhere, but why was he there in the first place? Xander sighed heavily. Well, he would deal with one disaster at a time. A small, hidden part of him, however, was thrilled. He could tell that Spike knew, if not the details, then the basic nature of what he had done. And he wasn’t disgusted. Maybe even understood.

The water began to run cold, and Xander started to shiver. Turning the taps off, he got out, dried off and then rubbed the antibiotic cream onto his arms, smiling slightly as he thought of the look on the vampire’s face when he had pressed in into Xander’s hand. The look that made it clear that Xander would be using this one way or another. He quickly and expertly rewrapped his ribs, having grown used to the process by now. He carefully bandaged his arms, wincing at the pain. He grabbed his clothes, dressing slowly. He turned back, thinking of anything else he could do, any reason to stay here and not look Spike in the eye. He brushed his teeth for the second time, ran a comb through his hair again but was finally forced to admit defeat. Time to face the music.

Spike looked up as the door opened. A burst of steam came out and Xander appeared in the mist. He looked noticeably calmer, but still very pale and shaky. He moved over to the chair in which he had chained Spike and looked up at the vampire. They stared at each other in silence.

"So, why don’t you tell me just what the hell happened last night."

Two sets of shocked eyes stared at each other. The words hung in the air between them, spoken in unison and with the same note of anger, curiosity and fear. Long seconds ticked away as they locked eyes, neither willing to speak first. A small smile suddenly curled the corner of Xander’s mouth.

"Jinx," he said, catching Spike completely off guard.

"What," came the incredulous reply. "Why the bloody hell would you jinx me?" The vampire was thoroughly confused now. He felt the rage beginning to build in his chest.

"Here I help you, hell only knows why, get you a doctor, clean you up and you want to JINX me, bloody ungrateful if you ask me." Spike pushed himself away from the wall and began to stalk towards the boy in the chair. "Ungrateful whelp, should have left you there to bleed . . ."

Xander flinched back, shocked both by Spike’s reaction and by the revelations unwittingly being divulged by the furious vampire. He reflexively raised his hands as Spike stopped directly in front of him, yellow flickering around the rims of his eyes.

"Um, Spike, it’s just a thing, you know, when two people say the same thing at the same time, one says jinx and the other has to buy him a drink." He knew he was babbling, but he was desperate to calm Spike down before something happened. He knew that Spike couldn’t really hurt him, but he didn’t particularly want to have to replace whatever it was that Spike threw across the room. "Didn’t mean anything by it, I’m glad you helped me, please calm down, I wasn’t trying to hurt you."

Spike glared down, trying to force the anger away. As strange as the explanation was, he could see that Xander was telling the truth. The boy hadn’t been trying to curse him, he had just been trying to break the tension.

"Bloody humans, playing with things they don’t understand, jinx, indeed." He shot Xander another angry glare, then returned to leaning against the wall. His eyes suddenly closed when he realized what he had said. A low growl rumbled through him at his stupidity. **Oh, you’re just the master of discretion today aren’t you. Pillock**

Xander cleared his throat, trying to work up the courage to ask the questions swirling through his mind. **C’mon, he said he’d tell you**

"You said you would tell me what happened after I got cleaned up, well, I’m cleaned up, so tell me. What happened last night?" He tried to keep his voice calm and steady, but he could hear the slight waver underneath the words. He closed his eyes, not wanting Spike to see the tears which had suddenly filled his eyes.

Spike looked over at the boy, scenting the anguish coming off him in waves. He sighed, knowing that the only reason he had attacked Xander was to try to delay this moment. It was going to hurt, no matter what. He had decided during those long hours of watching over Xander as he slept that he would tell him the truth, just not all the entire truth. There were some things he wasn’t sure of himself, and he was not about to bring up certain subjects until he figured out his motives first. He moved to sit on the bed, staring straight ahead, in profile to the boy.

"I stopped by last night, wanted to talk to you about why you suddenly lost all ability to fight. Knocked, no one answered, knocked again, still no answer. Could see light, hear music, knew you were there. Opened a window, smelled blood. Kicked open the door, found you in the bathroom. Saw the blood, knew you needed help. Called Willy, got him to send a doctor. Doctor gave you a transfusion, checked you over, saw your ribs, strapped you up. Finished the transfusion, said you would be fine, left. It was almost dawn so I stayed." His voice was flat and emotionless, the only sign of tension being the clenching and unclenching of his hands.

Xander stared at him in shock. He hadn’t really expected Spike to answer him, or, if he did, he expected some story about being forced there by Buffy and everyone and how they found him. Not this. He mind raced as questions poured through his head. Finally picking the most important one, he turned to look Spike in the eye.

"So, you found me. None of the rest know?" Again, that damned waver to his voice. Shit, he was such a wuss. He stared at Spike, dreading the answer.

"No, they don’t know." Spike steadily met his gaze, the truth apparent there.

Again, the simple response shocked him. This was completely unexpected. Here was the ultimate item to blackmail him, to humiliate and destroy him. But apparently not only had the vampire not told anyone else, he had gotten help from sources which would never tell his friends. Knowing he was pushing his luck, he still had to ask.

"Why, why didn’t you call them or just take me to a hospital? Not that I don’t appreciate it, I do, but why?"

Here was the question that Spike had been dreading, why. Why had he done what he did. He had known that would be almost the first thing that Xander would ask, it was what was foremost in his mind as well.

"Because a hospital would have thought you were trying to kill yourself and the Slayer would think that somehow I had done it. Don’t want to get staked now, do I." He watched carefully, hoping this half-truth would be sufficient. He really didn’t want to have to tell the truth, that he understood the need and the pain behind it and that he knew that the whelp’s friends **Yeah, such wonderful friends that they never noticed** would only make things worse.

Xander slowly nodded. That made sense and he truly was grateful that he did not have to explain. He didn’t think he was up to it, he was too exhausted to think up some believable lie.

"Well, thanks. I mean, for everything, not just getting me a doctor. I appreciate it." He sighed as he looked around the room, still draped in the black cloth with a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. **That’s going to be a bitch to clean** He went to stand, to begin stripping down the room when a cold hand shot up and pushed him back.

"My turn, now. What the hell happened last night? And no joking around, I want to know. And just because I haven’t told that little gang of yours – yet - doesn’t mean that I won’t if I don’t get answers. So, what happened?" Spike’s eyes burned into him, pinning him to the chair. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this with some story, some joke or evasion. He knew the vampire, knew he was serious, knew that if he did not answer the questions then Spike would have no hesitation about telling everyone exactly what he had seen. He looked up, trying to get the words together, to find some means to explain.

Spike watched the emotions play across Xander’s face. He wasn’t sure what response he would get, but he had to know. He knew that Xander would never willingly tell him, but he also knew that the threat of telling the boy’s friends would get him some type of response. He needed to know what had pushed Xander to this point, what had caused this loss of control. He needed to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again, that whatever, whoever, had hurt him would never have that chance again.

Xander dropped his eyes to his hands. He didn’t know where to begin, how to explain what he had done. He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to have to try to put into words the sheer necessity of the pain. He opened his mouth, then closed it, at a loss for how to start. He heard a low growl begin above him, then felt a cool hand reach to lift up his chin. He saw that Spike was kneeling in front of the chair, gently grasping his chin, forcing him to look in the vampire’s eyes.

"Pet, I know it’s hard, but you need to tell someone about this. I’m certain you would rather it be me than someone who wouldn’t know how much the pain can cleanse." A small sigh, then the hand dropped away. "Don’t worry, as long as you tell me, I won’t tell them." The voice was quiet and soothing and the eyes were concerned. "Luv, please tell me, it will help."

It was those words that pushed him over the edge. Tears started to roll down his face, unbidden, unwanted. He couldn’t stop himself as the sobs racked through his body. It was all too much. Just too much. First Anya leaving, then his father and now Spike knowing how sick he was. His world had fallen away and there was nothing left. His only method of survival had nearly destroyed him. He tried to bury his head in the chair, humiliated to his core. On top of everything else, he was crying like a baby in front of the one person who would most delight in seeing his pain. He was shocked when he felt himself wrapped in a tight embrace, heard soothing words muttered into his ear, felt a hand trace through his hair.

Spike just held Xander as he sobbed. He hadn’t expected this, wasn’t sure what to do. His reaction to wrap himself around the boy had been instinctive and immediate. He was stunned that the boy didn’t try to push him away, then realized that he was in so much pain that any comfort would be acceptable. He continued to run his hand through that dark hair, whispering words of comfort. He could feel the tension drain from the body in his arms with every sob, could feel the pain which burned like a flame. It tore through Spike, drawing out every protective instinct he had. Whatever was causing the boy this agony went deep through him. It was obvious this was the rage and pain of years being poured out in his arms. Spike just held on, hoping his presence would help somehow. Slowly, the wrenching sobs quieted and turned into hitching breaths. The tears slowed and Xander’s breathing began to steady. Spike loosened his grip slightly, pulling back to look in Xander’s face. He reached a hand up and pushed the hair out of Xander’s eyes.

"Luv, you all right, how are your ribs, that had to hurt." He was careful to keep his voice even and low. Xander’s eyes were still closed and he could sense the embarrassment. "Do you want some water or something . . ." His voice trailed off, unsure of what to do now. Whenever Dru had wept like that it was followed by sex. He was fairly certain that wasn’t next in this case.

Xander forced himself to open his eyes, afraid of what he would see. Spike looked back at him, the only thing present in his eyes concern, some understanding and a little confusion. No mocking, no laughter, nothing but care. Xander shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind.

"Water, water would be good. Throat hurts." Spike nodded, released him and went to the sink. The vampire grabbed a glass, filled it and handed it to him. He drank slowly, wincing a little as his ribs let him know they did not appreciate what they had just gone through. He eventually finished the water and put the glass on the floor next to the chair. Spike had moved so that he was sitting on the table facing him, the black silk pushed to the side. He ran his hand slowly through his hair then took a deep breath. **The sooner you start the sooner its over, so buck up little camper and just do it** He released the breath and began to speak.

"Sometimes, whenever things get to be too much, I, I, I cut myself. It helps. Makes me feel, lets me know that I’m still alive. I mean, if I feel pain then I feel something, you know. And when things are really bad then I need it the most, I need to see and taste my blood. It’s just so pure, so good and right. And I know it’s sick but I can’t stop. Well, things have been bad for months, my friends all leaving for college and I’m stuck in this basement doing work I hate. Feeling more and more useless with the gang, I mean, I don’t have Buffy’s strength or Willow’s magic. Then I had Anya and everything was okay for awhile, she made it better. Then she left me, said I was just using her. After Anya left, it just seemed that everything was gone, that there was no reason for me to be around anymore. Then that vamp almost killed me and I just didn’t care. I think I wanted him to do it on some level, just wanted everything to stop. I came home," he stopped, catching another breath. There was no way he was going to tell Spike what actually happened next, there was no way he would let anyone find out about that. He started again, "I came home and hurt so bad from the fight. Called off work. Needed it, needed it more than ever before. Got the room set up. Got out my knife. Started to cut," his voice began to waver again **shit, haven’t you made enough of a fool of yourself** took another deep breath **almost done, just a little more** "I just lost control, I never meant to really hurt myself. I mean the whole reason I do it is so that I don’t want to kill myself. And I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s true. Anyway, I realized as I was making the last cut that it was too much, but I couldn’t stop. When the blood started to gush out I ran for the bathroom, tried to stop the bleeding, couldn’t, then I passed out." He could feel his whole body shaking, desperately waiting for Spike’s reaction.

Spike just stared at him for a moment. He couldn’t believe that Xander had actually told him all that, he had expected some brief explanation, some defensive response. Not this honest baring of Xander’s soul. His insides twisted at the echoes of the pain underlying every word. Another part of him raged at the thoughtlessness of those people who were supposed to be his friends. No one had ever sensed the anguish, the horror which was obviously eating Xander alive. Yet another part realized that there was more unsaid, that this explanation didn’t account for the bruised body. He could also sense some deeper pain which Xander has holding close and that he would not share. Spike could see that Xander was afraid of how he would react, could see the tension in every line of his body.

"Well, pet, as much as you may need it to stay alive, this time it almost killed you," Spike now heard an answering waver in his voice as the image of Xander sprawled bloody and still on the floor of the bathroom appeared before his eyes. He shook his head, trying to wipe the vision away. "I’ve seen this before, you know, and I know that you’ve been doing this for years. I know that there’s something else there. If you don’t want to tell me now, fine, but know that I will find out." Xander’s head shot up at that but Spike didn’t stop. "Your ‘release’ almost killed you, still might, what if those cuts get infected. And what if I hadn’t found you, what if it had been the Slayer or Red or the Watcher, then they would know." Spike stopped, wanting to see the reaction to his words.

"Yeah, well, they’ll know now, won’t they," came the quiet response. "This is gonna scar and scar bad."

Spike turned, picked up the card the doctor had left and handed it across. He saw Xander take it, read it and look up, confusion written on his face.

"The doctor who took care of you left that, I called this morning, we have an appointment for 9:00 tonight. I know you don’t want anyone else to know and, for some reason, neither do I. Won’t help and will only result in that lot asking a bunch of stupid questions. Here’s the deal, I won’t tell but you are NEVER doing this again. Never. And to make sure of that I’m moving back in here." Spike’s voice had taken on an air of command. It was clear that this was not negotiable. "We’ll just have to find something else for you to do."

Xander stared at him in shock. He wasn’t sure what surprised him most, that Spike wanted to help him, that Spike wasn’t blackmailing him too much or that Spike actually sounded like he cared what happened. Xander clearly recognized that a deal was being offered to him, let Spike stay or Spike would tell. He was surprised that the prospect of Spike staying with him actually brought a sense of relief. As much as it hurt to discuss, he actually felt slightly better now that someone else knew. Besides, Spike actually was fairly good company, once you got used to his odd sense of humor. **What about your father, what will you do when he finds out**, a small voice asked. He decided to ignore it. He would deal with that when the time came. It would be nice to have some company. He knew he had to object, just for form’s sake. Had to have some dignity left.

"And what if I tell you that you can’t and get Willow to do the uninvite spell?"

Spike leaned forward, yellow again flickering in his eyes. "Then you won’t have this little secret anymore and you can explain to them."

Xander nodded, swallowing hard, no matter how much his mind knew Spike couldn’t hurt him, his body still hadn’t quite gotten the message. "All right, deal."

"Deal," repeated Spike. He looked at the clock. 5:00. Three hours to sundown, four to their appointment. "Well, I’m going back to sleep, didn’t get much this morning. Red called, you might want to call her back. Make some excuse for not seeing them tonight. The doctor said you had to get that arm stitched today to avoid scarring. And since I went to the trouble of making the arrangements you’re going." He threw himself on the bed, drained from the events of the last night and day. "And clean up this room, even I think it’s odd."

Xander looked down at Spike and then moved for the phone. He was still confused, still shaky and weak and still a little in shock at finding Spike protecting him. He decided to push all those thoughts aside for later. For whatever reason, Spike had helped him, wanted to help him and wanted to continue to help him. That was enough for now.

Spike woke the second the sun went down. He felt much better, usually he didn’t need much rest, but the intensity of the last day had drained him. He sat up, looked around. The room had been restored to its normal state, perhaps a little cleaner than usual, but the hangings had been removed from the room. He noticed that Xander had left them over the windows. He could hear the television and smell the milk that Xander had poured into his cereal. Xander sat in the chair, flipping through the channels as he ate. Spike got up, walked to the refrigerator, reached in and removed the last bag of blood. Opening it, he poured it into a mug then put the mug into the microwave. Once heated, he took it out and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, savoring the warm taste of human blood.

Xander glanced over, a little unsure of what to say. He had called Willow, told her that he was sick and couldn’t come out. He had persuaded her not to come over with some rather convincing descriptions of his supposed illness and promised to call her the next morning. He had then removed the draping from the room, carefully folding the cloth and putting it away. He had left the hangings over the windows, realizing how much they helped keep out the sun. He then had straightened up a little, knowing he was avoiding going into the bathroom. He finally ran out of excuses and went to retrieve the knife. He picked it up gently, careful to point the edge away from his body. He had tenderly wiped down the knife, forcing himself to see how much blood caked the blade, to realize just how close he had come to death. Once the blade was cleaned he placed it back into its box. He caressed the lid, then pulled a lock box from the closet. He opened the lock box, put the box with the knife inside, then locked it back up. Removing the key from the ring, he placed in on the table. He then had scrubbed at the blood staining the floor, finally getting the majority of it out. He had then showered again, feeling the tension drain from him. He realized he was starved and had sat down with the cereal just before Spike woke up.

Spike finished the blood and then regretfully set the mug down. There was never enough in those bags, just enough to calm one craving and start another. Looking over, he saw the uncertainty on Xander’s face as the boy looked at him. He sighed, knowing that the boy still had to be a little nervous about what the vampire would do.

"Well, you did a good job of cleaning up, mate, looks almost nice in here." He heard Xander slowly release the breath he had been holding. Glancing at the clock he saw it was just after 8:00. "I’ll be right back, gotta grab some clothes before we go." He pulled himself up and out the door, heading for the DeSoto which was parked up the street. He had gotten in the habit of parking away from the house during the time he had lived with the boy and had automatically parked a few blocks away the night before. He reached the car, opened the trunk and then retrieved the spare set of clothes he always kept there. Returning to the basement he saw that Xander had stripped the sheets off the bed and folded it back into a couch.

"Let me get cleaned up and then we’ll go, don’t want to be late." Xander just nodded.

Spike quickly showered, not wanting to leave Xander alone for too long. He knew that the boy would be feeling lost right now, and he wanted to make sure that Xander realized that he wasn’t toying with him. He didn’t understand this need he had to make Xander feel safe, but he liked it. He had always enjoyed having someone to care for, it made him feel needed and wanted. Since Dru had left, he had felt empty and alone, completely useless with the bloody chip in his head. Now, Xander needed help and he could help him. He wasn’t going to question beyond that, just enjoy it while he could.

He dried himself off and dressed quickly, coming out to find Xander sitting on the couch, fingering a key. A small lockbox sat on the table. He sat down next to him, waiting to hear whatever it is that Xander was going to say.

Xander twisted the key in his fingers, not sure how to start. He felt like everything he knew had changed in the space of a day. He had almost died, his mortal enemy had learned his secret and then had offered to help. It made him feel warm inside, to know that someone, even if it was a vampire, cared about him. He knew what a gesture it was for Spike to keep this secret and he wanted to do something to show his appreciation.

"I put the knife back in its box and then put the knife in this." He picked up the lockbox and unlocked it. Inside sat the box containing the knife. He opened it and handed it to Spike. Spike took it, his eyes never leaving Xander’s. "I want you to know that I appreciate this. Here, put it back in and I’ll lock it up. I want you to have the key."

Spike heard the determination in Xander’s voice. He hadn’t expected this, had no idea that the boy was determined to prove his strength. He nodded and carefully closed the box, then placed it into the larger lockbox, careful not to scrape the box with the knife against the side of the lockbox. Xander slid his hand across the wood, and Spike could smell the longing and desire begin. Xander quickly slammed the lid of the lockbox shut, locked it and handed over the key.

"Here’s the key, do whatever you want with it, I don’t want to know," Xander abruptly stood and paced away. It was done. He wouldn’t be able to get at the knife now without going through Spike. He was certain that would not go well if he tried.

Spike stared at the key for a moment and then put it in a pocket of his duster. He would keep it safe until Xander was ready to take it back. Standing, he shrugged into the duster then motioned to Xander.

"Let’s get going, whelp. Not sure exactly where this place is and we don’t want to be late."

They pulled into the parking garage of one of the medical buildings downtown. According to the business card, Dr. Steven’s office was on the ninth floor. They silently rode the elevator, each tensing at the thought of what would come next. They emerged into an elegant office, all pale colors and blonde wood. A smiling young woman greeted them as they walked through the door.

"Mr. Harris, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sandra, Dr. Steven’s nurse. If you’ll both come with me, I’ll take you back to meet the doctor." Her quiet, pleasant voice calmed them a little as she led them to an examination room. She opened a door and led them into a room with large armchairs and a padded table. It was obvious that every effort had been made to minimize the medical equipment.

"The doctor’s been expecting you, she’ll be just a moment, there’s some water in the carafe." She smiled as she gently closed the door.

Spike moved to examine the pictures on the wall while Xander sat in one of the chairs. "Bloody hate doctor’s offices, don’t care what they do can still smell that doctor smell," he muttered, tension building again.

Xander just sat there, too nervous to speak. He had no idea what to say, how to explain the wounds. Maybe she wouldn’t ask. The door quietly opened and a small, dark-haired woman entered. Xander automatically stood as she approached.

"You must be Mr. Harris, I understand that you’re a friend of Willy’s. Well, just let me assure you that whatever you need, I should be able to help." She reached out her hand and Xander shook it, calming a little at the kind look in her eye. There was a small sound behind her as Spike turned from the wall to look her over.

Dr. Steven turned and then went white. "Master Spike, I am so sorry, I did not realize that you were here, that he was," she realized she was still holding Xander’s hand and turned even paler. She released the hand and then moved a step away. "Master, truly I meant no dishonor, please tell me how I can serve you."

A delighted grin went across Spike’s face. Well now, this was going to be fun. Yet another poor mortal who didn’t know his fate. He knew he shouldn’t do this, that it was sure to just confuse Xander but he couldn’t resist.

"Well, I will let this little slip pass this once. I was told that you could provide a valuable service to me. You see, my boy there stupidly got himself into a fight and, unfortunately, the demon had a knife. Managed to cut the boy’s left arm up fairly well before the boy ripped his spine out. As you can see, he is much too lovely to be scarred so I asked and was given your name. Just need some stitching done right to make sure that the only marks he bears are the ones I give him." The words came out in a bored drawl while Spike’s eyes caught Xander’s over the doctor’s shoulder. A quirk of an eyebrow at Xander’s confused expression and then his gaze returned to the woman before him. "So, have I been informed correctly, that you can help? I would hate to think I’ve been misinformed."

It was all Xander could do not to burst out laughing. The sheer number of lies which Spike had so confidently told was impressive. He could tell that Spike was relishing this chance to assert authority over the poor doctor. He settled his face what he hoped was an appropriately penitent expression, biting his lower lip to keep quiet.

"Oh, yes, I will do everything I can to help," she practically stuttered. "Please if he could move over to the chair under the light so that I can examine him."

Xander moved to the indicated chair and placed his arm on the table. She slowly unwrapped the gauze, taking care not to cause him any pain. Once the arm was unwrapped she carefully examined his arm, forehead wrinkling in concentration. Spike had moved to stand directly behind Xander, a hand protectively on his shoulder. Finally done with her examination, Dr. Steven looked up at Spike.

"Well, the only cut that really needs attention is the one that runs down his arm. When did this happen?"

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Spike squeezed his shoulder.

"Last night, I believe, he came crawling back all bloody so I had one of my minions clean him up."

The doctor nodded, her eyes never leaving Spike’s face. "I can microstitch the cut, thankfully, the knife had a fine blade so the edges are nice and clean. It should heal nicely, there may be a faint line for a few months, but eventually that will also fade. I would like to give him a local anesthetic to block any pain. It should take about half an hour to complete the stitching."

Spike merely nodded. The doctor picked up the phone and asked Sandra to bring in the necessary equipment and medication. Spike’s grip on Xander’s shoulder never let up.

Sandra carefully prepped his arm, then the doctor injected something near his elbow. His eyes widened a little as the needle went in, but quickly his arm went numb. The doctor sat next to him, organizing her equipment.

Looking up at Spike, Dr. Stevens saw the worry cross the vampire’s face. "Don’t worry, it won’t hurt him now, and other than itching, it won’t hurt when I’m done." Spike’s face cleared slightly, a look of concern moving into the space. Obviously, the boy was important to him. She dared another question. "Would it be all right if I addressed him directly, it will be easier for me to determine if everything is going right."

"If it will help, then by all means," came the reply. His other hand came up to rest on Xander’s shoulder on its own accord.

She nodded her thanks and then bent to work. Xander watched as she carefully knit the edges of his flesh together, using such small stitches they could barely be seen. The methodical nature of her work gave him time to examine his arm. He hissed slightly as he realized just how badly he had hurt himself. Spike’s hands suddenly clenched on his shoulders.

"Did she hurt you," came a growl from above. "If she does you say something immediately, do you understand?" Again, growled out with rage underlying the tone.

Dr. Steven immediately stopped, her eyes widening. "I didn’t hurt you did, I, really he’s right, you just say something and we can take care of that." If she hurt the vampire’s boy, well, she couldn’t begin to imagine the punishment she would endure.

Xander quickly shook his head, "No, no, nothing like that, I just, I didn’t realize how bad it was, that’s all." He hadn’t meant to upset anyone like that, it had just been a reaction to seeing the cuts under the bright light.

"All right, continue, I want to leave here as soon as possible." Spike relaxed his grip, slightly mollified by Xander’s words.

The doctor resumed, still taking as much care as before. Finally, she finished, washed the stitches down with antiseptic. She tilted her head, critically inspecting her work. Satisfied, she looked at Xander.

"You need to keep this clean, I’ll give you some more antiseptic. Wash it down at least three times a day." She turned and reached into a cabinet behind her. She handed him a bottle of pills. "This is penicillin, are you allergic?" Xander shook his head no. "All right, then you MUST take all the pills. Take these three times a day, with food. It is very important so that you don’t get an infection." Both Spike and Xander nodded at that. "I want you to come back in three weeks so that I can see how the stitches are healing, the same time will be fine. If you have any problems in the meantime, just call any time, day or night." Again, both Spike and Xander nodded. Seeing that her instructions had been heard and understood, she bandaged Xander’s arm.

When she was finished, Spike dropped his hands from Xander’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Turning to face the woman, he let some of the gratitude he felt show on his face.

"Thank you, I can see that Willy’s confidence was well placed. This will not be forgotten." Spike saw the pleased flush creep up the doctor’s neck. "Come, boy, let’s get back, the rest are sure to have caused some problem by now."

Xander just nodded, dying to find out just what had transpired. It was clear that Dr. Steven was in awe of Spike and that she would do anything he asked. He was curious to know what that had been all about.

They rode the elevator back down in silence, with an amused smile playing around Spike’s lips. Finally, when they reached the car, he threw his head back and began to laugh.

It had been so long since anyone had shown that level of fear and respect. To hear a human call him Master, to be afraid to touch what they assumed was his, when Spike could do nothing to hurt her amused him to no end. He had never had really had any use for the trappings that came with his status as a master, but he had enjoyed the automatic fear and respect that it had instilled. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it until then. Well, at least it came to good use now. He laughed again, to think that he would want to use his power to help a human. His unlife just became odder by the day.

Xander listened to Spike laugh. He was dying to know what the laughter was all about. He assumed it was a result of the respect and fear that the doctor had shown. It was obvious that she hadn’t known about Spike’s chip and still feared him. He supposed the vampire would find it humorous that a being whom he couldn’t harm to save his life was sure that if she failed then Spike would kill her.

They got into the car, Spike still grinning slightly, and started home. Xander shot a quick glance over and saw the smirk still on Spike’s face.

"Uh, Spike, you want to tell me what the hell that was all about? Why was she afraid to look at me without your permission? And what was that about me getting into a fight and you having minions? That was really weird, you know." He grinned a little, he had to admit it had been fun to watch.

Spike’s smirk grew larger, this should be interesting. "Well, you see, pet, if a human is with a vampire that usually means only one thing. The human is the vampire’s pet and belongs to the vampire. No one else is allowed to speak to or touch him without his owner’s permission. When a master vampire is keeping a human, then anyone who dares to touch or speak to the human will usually be killed instantly. So, when she shook your hand and spoke to you then saw me, her first thought was that I would kill her." Spike began to laugh again. "Christ, it’s been a long time since I’ve made anyone shake so quickly. Quite a lot of fun, that. As far as the rest, well, not her bloody business what happened, now is it? And besides, I rather enjoyed playing the master again." His smirk faded a little as he realized all he could do was play. **Let’s not think about that, don’t want to turn into a brooding pouf like Angel, now do we**

Xander stared at Spike in shock, she had thought he was a PET. Well, that was interesting, certainly explained things. He knew that Spike was not known for his restraint and if she had thought he was Spike’s pet . . . No wonder she had been so concerned. Xander looked out the window as they drove. He had never really thought about what it must be like for Spike, now that the chip kept him from hurting humans. He had known that Spike was a Master, that other vampires had bowed before him. But he had never really seen that. Between Buffy putting Spike in a wheelchair and Angelus returning, Spike had never truly been at his most powerful. When he had returned from South America, drunk and pining for Dru, he had been dangerous, but more concerned with getting Dru back than building his power. Then he had been chipped and lost his ability to rule. Now that he was, however reluctantly, helping the good guy, he was held in contempt by those he used to lord. Xander couldn’t even imagine what a loss like that was like. No wonder he had tried to kill himself. Xander couldn’t even deal with the petty problems of his life, let alone imagine what it was like to lose everything that made him what he was. Maybe Spike did understand what Xander felt. Xander pulled himself out of his thoughts as Spike stopped a few blocks from his house.

"Thought it best to leave the car here, didn’t think you wanted those wankers you call parents to know I was there," Spike explained as they got out of the car.

Xander silently agreed, he definitely didn’t want to explain this. They made their way down the stairs, then both fell onto the couch. Spike grabbed the remote and began flipping through the channels as they fell into a comfortable silence.

It had been two weeks since Spike had moved back in with Xander. For some reason, neither had mentioned this arrangement to the rest of the gang. The subject had simply never come up. They had fallen into a routine. Xander made sure that the windows were draped before he went to work, worked and then came home. By that time Spike was usually awake and they would watch television while eating dinner, well drinking dinner in Spike’s case. Then more tv, or maybe a movie, if they weren’t patrolling. They would have long conversations about everything and nothing. Spike had shared a few choice stories about Angel and Xander could hardly wait to see the vamp again, just to let a few hints drop to see what reaction he would get. In turn, Xander talked about how it was before Buffy had arrived, what Willow had been like, how close they had been. They never mentioned that night but Xander knew Spike watched him carefully, looking for any signs that Xander was feeling the call for the blade. But he hadn’t. For some reason the vampire’s presence was calming. Spike made him feel good, like someone cared.

Within the last week they had taken to sharing the bed. They had stayed up nearly to dawn one night, getting drunk and watching bad Japanese monster movies. A heated argument over the relative merits of Godzilla v. Mothra and Godzilla v. King Kong had raged for about an hour. For some reason which Xander could not quite remember, they had pulled the bed out. Something to do with the being unable to stand due to the alcohol seemed vaguely right. For whatever reason, the bed was out and they had both fallen asleep. Or passed out. One or the other. The point was that when Xander woke up he found that he was on his side with Spike curled against him. He had frozen for a second, but didn’t move. There was something comforting in that cool touch. Spike woke a few minutes later. He too had frozen but he didn’t move either. Xander got up to use the bathroom a few seconds later. Neither said a word. That night, though, when Xander got ready for bed he looked over at Spike. "Um, it’s okay if you want to sleep on the bed too, that chair’s got to be uncomfortable." Spike just nodded, careful to avoid Xander’s eyes. Every night since then they had slept together. Xander was getting used to the cool presence pressing into his back. He had to admit he liked the vampire living there.

Just not at the moment.

It was pouring rain and they had met nothing on patrol. Spike had made sure that Xander was paired with either himself or Buffy when they went out. Even when he was with Buffy, Xander could tell that Spike made sure to cross their paths a few times a night. He knew Spike was checking up on him, making sure he fought back. Xander took it as another sign of protection. And he had fought, he poured his rage into attacking the vampires and demons. He thought he understood how Spike felt, unable to do what he wanted, he had this substitute. He could only imagine how much it meant to Spike.

He watched Spike pace, looking for all the world like a caged panther. They had spent nearly every moment Xander wasn’t at work together and Xander was craving some space. He finally looked up from his book.

"All right, that’s it. Why don’t you go get a drink somewhere, go out looking for something to kill, go get gas for your car, just go somewhere and stop that pacing."

Spike whipped his head around, his eyes narrowing. He had to admit that he was getting cabin fever. He was craving to go out, he just didn’t want to leave Xander alone. The boy seemed to be getting stronger everyday, he hadn’t sensed that desperation on him. And, just in the last few days, that scent that he had lost had begun to come back. Still, he didn’t trust this.

"Why, you need to be alone for some reason I should know about. Awfully anxious to get rid of me all of a sudden." Spike stalked over and sat next to Xander on the couch. "Up to no good or are you planning on having a bit of fun without me?" The words were snarled out as he closely watched Xander’s reaction.

Xander just sighed, he should have known this would happen. "No reason, just we’ve been spending a lot of quality time and I thought you might like to be alone for a little while. I don’t feel like going out in the rain or I would leave. Don’t worry, I’m not up to anything."

Spike leaned closer, inhaling deeply. There was nothing there, just the usual Xander smell. No pain, no rage. **It would be nice to go out, I could stop by the crypt, get some things, stop at the butchers**

"Right, mate, that sounds like a good idea." He grabbed his duster off the chair, surreptitiously checking to make sure the key was still there. He moved to the door before abruptly turning back. "I’ll be back in exactly two hours, and I will know if you do anything in the meantime. If you do, then the deal’s off and I’ll call the Slayer straightway."

Xander just nodded. He was surprised that Spike hadn’t fought him more on this.

"Go on, I’ll be waiting here when you get back. Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen while you’re gone." He tried to sound put upon, ignoring the sharp tinge of pleasure at Spike’s concern.

"Right, then, I’m off." Spike stared at him for another moment, opening his mouth to say something, then abruptly closing it. He turned on his heel and stalked out the door. Xander settled back on the couch, grabbing the remote. Finally, quality surfing time. The vampire thought the remote was his sole possession and Xander had missed the feel of it in his hands. **Oh, look Asteroid is on** Xander settled back for some uninterrupted tv time.

Spike pulled the car back against the curb. He had to admit, it had been nice to be out by himself. He had stopped back at the crypt, picking up some more clothes, some cigarettes and a few other odds and ends. He had come across a fledgling skulking about and had toyed with him for awhile before finally staking him. He had stopped by the butchers and picked up some more blood. He actually had stopped and filled the gas, wry grin crossing his face as he realized he had taken the whelp’s advice. He knew he was killing time, but he had told Xander two hours and he didn’t want to be early. It seemed important to show he trusted the boy, that he appreciated the thoughtfulness of this gesture. He stared into the night. Xander was slowly becoming more and more important to him. He hated it when Xander patrolled without him, when he couldn’t make sure he was safe. He hated the boy had to work with idiots who didn’t appreciate him. He hated that Xander had to live in that hovel. He sighed, deciding to stop there. He knew full well where this train of thought was headed and he wasn’t ready to deal with that quite yet.

He got out of the car and began walking back to the house. As he approached he felt something wrong, something that made the hackles rise on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. He broke into a run, tearing down the stairs. The scent of Xander’s blood flooded his senses as he ripped open the door.

**That bastard, I’ll kill him, he promised, that bastard** Spike’s thoughts raged as he dropped his packages and rushed into the basement.

The sight before him stopped him cold. Xander was lying face down on the floor, face battered and bruised. The blood Spike smelled was spilling from the broken nose and numerous other cuts on the boy’s **MY boy’s** face. Straddling him was some man, some man who was violently pushing himself into Xander’s body.

"Oh yeah, you like it, you always like it, you know you want it" Spike felt his face shift instantly when he realized that the voice was that of Xander’s father. In a split second everything fell into place. He knew why Xander did what he did, knew who gave him those bruises, knew why Xander flinched every time someone grabbed him from behind.

With a howl of rage, Spike threw himself onto the man **not man beast no man would do this** trying desperately to ignore the pain that exploded in his head. He ripped the man off Xander, throwing him to the floor. Grabbing Xander’s father again, he threw him into the wall, vaguely registering the satisfying crack of his skull through the pain. The man collapsed on the floor, unconscious. Spike let out another growl and leaned down, trying to rip the throat out of this monster. Pain exploded in his mind and he dropped to the floor. Desperate, he tried to crawl closer, tried to gather every ounce of strength he had to destroy this being, this creature who had no right to live.

The seizure ripped through him before he could crawl a foot. He heard his head hitting the floor, heard his ribs crack. Still, he tried to move forward, uncaring as to whether he lived or died as long as he destroyed the person who had tortured his Xander for hell only knew who long. Another seizure ripped through him and he was unable to move. Tears of pain and fury poured down his face. He had never hated the bloody bastards who had done this to him more than at this moment.

Spike was vaguely aware that Xander was stirring next to him on the floor. He began to crawl towards Xander, desperately trying to find some way to touch him, to comfort him. Another seizure, not quite as bad, gripped him. He heard Xander stand, saw him reach out an unsteady hand to the couch. Spike managed to push himself off the floor and lean back against the wall.

"Sorry, I’m sorry," he heard the words pour out of his mouth. "I shouldn’t have left, my fault," he hissed as the pain in his head grabbed him again. Xander just stared down at him for a moment, then dropped to his knees beside Spike.

"Shh, it’s not your fault, don’t talk, you’re hurt," Spike heard Xander’s voice coming from far away. He tried to reach up to touch him, but his vision was fading in and out. He felt Xander move away and turned his head to watch what he did. He felt a wave of panic grab him as he saw Xander slowly walk over and pick up a knife from beside the sink.

"No," he managed to wheeze out, "No, please." Spike didn’t think he could watch this. He didn’t blame Xander, he just didn’t know if he could watch this, if he could stand to see the results of his utter failure to protect his boy.

Xander came back and knelt beside Spike again.

"It’s not that, you need blood, you’re hurt really bad." Xander’s eyes locked with Spike’s. Xander looked pale and his eyes reflected pain and shock. "There’s no more human blood, and you need it." With that he raised the knife with his left hand and carefully sliced open his right wrist. The blood began to spill and Xander held his wrist to Spike’s mouth.

"Drink, please drink, please don’t leave me, drink, please." The desperation was clear in Xander’s voice.

Spike shook his head. No, no matter how much he longed for Xander’s blood he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take anymore, Xander looked too hurt already.

"Damn it, don’t get noble on me now, you’re no help to me if you can’t move, drink you fucker, drink," Xander grabbed the back of Spike’s head and slammed his wrist on Spike’s mouth.

Spike’s eyes rolled back into his head as the heady taste washed through his mouth. Dark, rich, pure, light, heat, peace, fire, longing, fear all washed over his tongue. Better than he had ever dreamed. And underneath it all was the faint taste of hope. That was the scent that had been missing, that was what had started to come back. Hope. Spike began to pull at the blood, desperate to bring it into himself. He heard the gasp from above him, could hear Xander’s heart start to slow. He gathered all his remaining strength and yanked the arm from his mouth. He looked up and stared into Xander’s eyes just as they closed.

"Spike," he heard his name sighed out as Xander collapsed into his arms.

He held him. He held him as if his life depended on it. He held him as if he was the only true thing he had ever known. He held him as if the world would end if he let go. He thought it just might. Spike knew that the fragile thread keeping him sane was strung between the sound of a heartbeat and the feel of warm breath on his neck. He also knew that the tremors racking his body came more from fury and fear then from any lingering effects of the seizures that had ripped through him. He was torn between blind rage at what had happened, at the absolute violation of the boy in his arms, at his inability to destroy that which had dared to hurt Xander and pure panic at the thought of what aftermath this would have on the fragile body he cradled. He was still shocked at what Xander had done, giving up his blood to heal the vampire. No one had ever sacrificed so much for him. Hell, no one had ever sacrificed anything for him. His mind stopped cold at the thought that Xander might die from this. He did not think he would survive if Xander did not.

Spike gripped Xander a little closer, trying to will his strength into the still body. He could hear the words echoing in his mind, "Go on, I’ll be waiting here when you get back. Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen while you’re gone." He could see the slight smile on Xander’s face, the happiness the boy had tried to hide that Spike had trusted him enough to leave. Spike’s eyes closed as a wave of shame washed over him. It was all his fault, he should have known this was going to happen, should have sensed it, smelled it, something, anything, he should have seen this coming. He should have stayed to protect Xander. He knew that he would have gladly died to keep this boy, this pure soul, away from such evil.

Spike knew evil, had tasted it, touched it, bathed it its dark embrace. But there were certain depths which even a vampire would not descend. This was not the same as his Sire claiming rights to his body. No matter how violent, there was still a sense of asserting power, of attempting to draw him back to the family on those occasions. This, this was pure evil. Spike’s hands began to shake as he slowly rubbed them down Xander’s back, attempting to soothe and calm him. That beast was blood of Xander’s blood, the strongest tie of all. And he **no IT** had betrayed that on the basest level. Spike wanted nothing more then to spend days torturing him, bringing to bear all he had ever learned in the art of pain to this sweet task of destruction. Spike knew he could make it last and linger, could push that sick fuck beyond any wall of agony to some higher peak, some last exquisite agony. And, at the end, when the last breath was nigh, Spike wanted to hand Xander the box with the knife, watch him open it and plunge it to its hilt in this monster’s heart. But he couldn’t, not yet, and the pain of that knowledge burned the vampire to his core.

He heard a sudden hitch in the boy’s breath as Xander slowly lifted his head off Spike’s shoulder. Spike stilled, anxiously waiting for Xander’s eyes to open. He didn’t know what to expect, could only hope that the eyes would be clear, that the spark of life he longed to touch would still be there.

Xander slowly opened his eyes. He felt battered, his face throbbing from where he had hit the floor, his ribs, which had only recently stopped aching every time he inhaled, were once again cracked and sore. He could feel the cool arms wrapped around him, soothing the pain. He could not believe how safe he felt here, wrapped in the arms of a vampire. A vampire he had just fed. The slice on his wrist burned, but not in the way his own cuts had. Rather, this felt like a brand, a kind of claiming. He had never felt anything like the pull of Spike’s mouth on his wrist. He could feel the desperation, the need, the pure desire Spike had to draw his essence from him. It was not desire for blood, it was desire for HIM, to become part of him. Xander shuddered. The intimacy of it was greater than anything he had ever known. He looked up, catching Spike’s gaze with his own.

Brown eyes stared into blue, a mixture of fear, pain, worry, need and longing mirrored there. For long moments they stayed like that, lost in each other’s eyes, the relief at finding one another safe crashing over them. Xander slowly raised his hand, tracing a finger down Spike’s face.

"You’re okay, Christ, I was so worried, I wasn’t sure what to do, it looked so bad, like it hurt so much," the words come flowing out as Xander’s voice began to shake. "I thought that you were going to. . .," the words trailed off as the visions flicked through his consciousness. He had heard the breaking of Spike’s ribs, the echo of the sick smack of Spike’s skull on the floor still rang in his ears. "I didn’t want you to hurt for me."

Spike reached up, covering Xander’s hand with his own. "Luv, I’m sorry that this happened, that you were hurt, that you had to do that for me." Spike’s voice too had a curious waver, a slight crack that hinted at greater pain. Dropping his hand, he carefully wrapped his arms around that warm body, pulling Xander down to lean back on his shoulder. "I promise you this, no one will ever harm you again. No one will ever touch you, you will never hurt, not while I’m here."

Xander allowed himself to be pulled into the embrace, the fierceness of the words piercing his soul. He nodded into Spike’s shoulder. He wanted to tell Spike he knew, that he believed him, but didn’t trust himself to speak. They stayed there a minute longer, each taking the chance to calm down, to realize the other was safe. With a small sigh, Xander leaned back. He didn’t want to, but the pain was starting to overwhelm him now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He let out a shaky breath, trying to gather the strength to stand.

"You all right, pet, do you need something," Spike could feel the pain radiating from Xander, even as the sharp stench of fear began to fade. Xander just shook his head, clearly trying to gather his bearings. Spike carefully moved away, watching closely to make sure he wasn’t hurting his boy. He pushed himself up the wall, then reached down his hand.

"C’mon, let’s get you some aspirin. And I want to take a look at your nose. I think it’s broken. Might need to get that looked at." Spike spoke quietly, trying to instill a sense of peace and calm. He knew he would need it. He was determined to get Xander to the hospital this time, no matter how much the whelp protested. That nose was definitely broken and had to hurt like hell. Besides, Spike wanted to make sure the ribs weren’t broken too and he also had to make sure that Xander hadn’t suffered any internal damage. His mind slipped at that thought as the rage he had been suppressing slammed back into him. He unconsciously slipped back into gameface as the full events of the night flashed before his eyes. He began to growl deep in his chest.

Xander’s eyes widened when the growling began. He reached up, taking the proffered hand which pulled him to his feet. He had seen the emotions flick across Spike’s face and instantly knew that Spike had seen everything. Xander had only been half-conscious when Spike had arrived and hadn’t been completely sure as to what Spike knew. There was no doubt now.

"Spike, calm down. Please, calm down. It’s okay," he flinched back as Spike rounded on him at those words, yellow eyes blazing. "I mean, I don’t mean it’s okay what happened, I mean I’m okay now, it’s over, please calm down. I can’t see you hurt again, please."

The desperation in Xander’s voice stopped Spike cold. Taking long, harsh breaths, he forced himself to calm down, to step back. He knew that he couldn’t go after that thing lying on the floor again, that he was still too weak. Besides, it was upsetting Xander, and he knew that Xander needed nothing more than calm at the moment. Nodding, he tried to slip back into human guise but was finding it hard to maintain his control. Every time he started to rein it in, some sight or sound would rock him, and the rage would begin to build.

He started when he felt a warm hand trace the ridges on his forehead. Instinctively, he moved closer to Xander, tilting his face up as the soothing caress calmed him. "Please, please, just, please talk to me, okay? Just say something." Xander’s voice cracked, he was terrified that Spike would collapse again, that he would try to kill his father **and yes, I would love to see that** and that those seizures would rip the vampire apart.

Spike nodded, took one last breath and slipped back into human form. "Sorry, luv, just, can’t bear that pile of shit over there even considering breathing, let alone breathing the same air as you."

They both turned to look at the still body lying on the floor. It was clear that Xander’s father was still alive, they could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed. A trickle of blood ran from his forehead and trailed across the basement floor. Xander took a few steps forward to stand next to him.

Spike reached up, intent on tearing Xander away. He did not want Xander anywhere near that motherfucker, didn’t want that piece of shit ever laying eyes on him again. His hands dropped, however, as he watched the emotions play across Xander’s face. Fear, pain, rage, disgust, a glimpse of love with caused Spike’s heart to constrict, immediately replaced by disgust, hate and rage. He heard Xander’s heart begin to race, smelled the pure fury which was filling his boy.

Xander glared down at the still form. For the first time, he let himself truly feel the hatred which had burned in him for years. Enough, it was finally enough. His leg drew back and viciously kicked into his father’s ribs. A satisfying thud resounded through the basement. Xander’s mouth curled into a snarl as his leg came back again.

"You bastard, you sick fuck, you piece of shit, how could you do that to me, huh, why, I’m your child, you motherfucker, your flesh and blood, how could you, HOW COULD YOU" The screams rang out as Xander lashed out in fury, his words punctuated by the sounds of tearing flesh and snapping bones. He kicked and kicked, years of rage pouring out. "How could you, why would you, what did I ever do, what did I ever do," the words came out in a sob as Xander slowly started to fall. He never reached the ground as Spike’s strong arms caught him and held him tight. Now it was Spike’s turn to mutter soothing words as he held the sobbing boy.

"It’s over, it’s over, never again, never again, shh, I’ve got you," Spike felt a swell of emotions flood into him. He had savored every sound, every drop of blood that Xander had ripped from that flesh. At the same time he had been terrified, knowing that Xander was still weak from all that he had gone through. He carefully walked them to the couch, wanting to let Xander sit and gather back his strength. Xander’s sobs slowly stopped and Spike pulled back.

"Gods, you’ve got to think I’m just pathetic, crying all the time like that. Go on, say it I’m nothing but a nancy boy," Xander smiled weakly, embarrassed at losing control like that once again. He felt a firm hand grip his chin, forcing him to look up.

"Not quite, luv. In fact, you may be the strongest human I’ve ever met." Leaning forward, Spike pressed a cool kiss to his forehead. "Course, you’re also one of the bloodiest, really need to get you cleaned up, or do you just want to wait and let them do it at the hospital." He hoped that the kiss had distracted Xander enough to blur the reference to the hospital. That wasn’t why he had done it, of course. He needed to, needed to let Xander know that he would never think he was weak, would never look down on him. It was perfectly obvious that this was not the first time Xander had been attacked, and Spike could not begin to imagine the strength of character it took for Xander to not only survive but to be so open to the world.

Xander just stared at him in shock. He shook himself, this was Spike being nice to him, Spike making him feel so wanted. He couldn’t begin to deal with this now, didn’t want to think what this could mean. All he really knew was that no one had ever made him feel so secure. He realized what Spike had just said.

"What do you mean hospital," a stubborn look crossed Xander’s face. "I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ll be fine."

Spike sighed. He knew this was coming but he was determined to do whatever was needed to get Xander there. If for no other reason then he didn’t want that handsome face marred by a broken nose. Xander’s face was fine just the way it was.

"Be reasonable, pet, that nose is broken and needs to be set, your ribs need to be checked, bet some broke this time. And besides, we need to make sure. . .," Spike’s voice cracked again. He didn’t want to think about this, couldn’t bear that he could still smell that vileness on Xander. **This is ridiculous, you’re William the Bloody, continents used to cringe at the mention of your name, you can do this** He started again, his voice quiet and calm. "We need to make sure that nothing else happened, that there’s nothing torn." He looked down, unable to bear the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t arrived when he did.

Xander swallowed hard. He knew his nose was broken, that was pretty obvious. He also knew that nothing had ruptured when **buck up little camper, you can face this** when his father had slammed into him. He had intimate knowledge of what that felt like and, besides, there was no blood flowing down his thighs. He had no idea how to tell that to Spike without the vampire completely freaking out. It was one thing for Spike to know. He was fairly certain the vampire could put two and two together and figure out that this was not a new occurrence. It was quite another to reveal just how much he had been hurt in the past.

"Um, I don’t think that’s a problem, it doesn’t hurt as much as when that happens, and there’s, well, er, there’s, there’s no blood." Xander’s voice trailed off at the last part.

Spike’s head shot up. "What do you mean ‘it doesn’t hurt as much as when that happens’. How the fuck would you know that?" His eyes narrowed and yellow began to flicker around the edges of his eyes. "How would you know? Bloody hell, what did that beast do to you?" He heard the quick intake of breath and felt Xander jerk away from him. The loss of Xander’s touch was like a slap to the face. With a huge effort of will, he pulled his fury back. This was not helping. He slowly reached out a hand, not quite touching Xander’s face, waiting until Xander could look at him, not wanting to scare him.

"It’s okay, luv, you don’t have to answer. You can tell me later if you want. You still need to go to the hospital, though. I can’t set your nose and we don’t want you looking beaten up, now do we."

Xander shook his head again. There was no way he was going to the hospital. There would be questions, explanations. And besides, Giles was listed as his emergency contact person. He couldn’t begin to think of how to explain this.

"No, it’ll be okay. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that bad." The glazing of his eyes proved that wrong. He kept seeing black spots and was beginning to have difficulty sitting upright. "I’ll be fine."

"Bullshit, you can’t even sit up straight. You’re going, even if I have to carry you. Now get up."

"No."

"Don’t make me do this."

"I’m not going."

"Fine, I warned you." Spike quickly stood and scooped Xander into his arms, moving for the door. Xander’s mouth fell open in shock.

"Put me down."

"No, bloody hell, where’s my duster, need the bloody keys. Be a dear and pick it up would you."

"I said, put me down." Xander began to struggle and Spike tightened his grip. A wave of pain ripped through him, dropping him to his knees.

"Bloody hell, not trying to hurt him, stop it, stop it, those bastards, I’m going to rip their balls off and feed ‘em to them," Spike managed to hiss out between waves of agony. Xander had wrenched out of his arms and crouched next to him. Spike rocked back and forth as the pain hit again. **Not fair, trying to help, would never hurt him, never hurt, not right** He felt warm arms reach out for him this time.

"Spike," a small voice in his ear. "God, I’m sorry, I’ll go, you didn’t hurt me, I don’t know what made it go off. I’ll go, really, I just didn’t want anyone to know what happened, that’s all, please be okay, I’m sorry."

Spike looked up as the pain faded. That was all, Xander just didn’t want anyone to know? That was easily taken care of. Spike stood up, leaning against the wall for a second. For the first time since he had come back to the basement, the faint hint of a smirk crossed his face.

"That’s the only reason you didn’t want to go, didn’t want to tell them what happened. Why didn’t you say so, that’s easily fixed. Just lie." Hell, these humans and their need to be so literal. Bloody ridiculous notions of truth which just got in the way.

Xander’s jaw dropped. **Just lie, well, Jesus, that’s too simple isn’t it** "Lie, and say what exactly, I fell down? Isn’t telling bald face untruths your department anyway?" Xander began to smile a little too. Lie. Well, why not. Technically, he HAD been beaten up. No need to mention the rest.

"Yes, lie. How about this, you stopped at the store and got jumped on the way back to your car, some wankers who wanted your wallet." Yes, that would do. "They knocked you down, kicked you a little, smacked you in the face and took off when you began to scream like a little girl." The smirk on Spike’s face widened. Yes, this would work. People always underestimated his Xander, and he was sure that no one would question it too much, not in the busy ER of Sunnydale General.

"Screamed like a little girl, gee, thanks for the support," Xander grinned back, though. This could work. His smile faded a little. "Spike, what about the stitches? Won’t they want to know how I got those?"

Spike just waved a hand. "Fell on glass a few weeks ago, hate to say this, ducks, but you do come across as a bit accident prone."

"What about the cut on my wrist," Spike caught Xander’s eyes as the soft words. Reaching out, he carefully grasped Xander’s right arm, turning the palm up so he could trace the wound. He could still feel the purity of the blood in his veins. This, this he didn’t want to lie about, didn’t want to deny what had happened. On the other hand, it was no one’s business but theirs.

"One of them had a knife, went for your face, you put an arm up to block it." Xander heard the quiet response as Spike continued to trace his finger lightly over the cut. Xander just nodded.

"Only one more problem, Giles is my person to call in case of emergency. You know the whole gang will show up. What will we tell them about you?"

Spike yanked his eyes away from staring at the cut. **We, he said we**

"You want me to stay with you, then?" Spike heard the note of hope in his voice. **Bloody hell mate, acting like a schoolgirl here**

Xander just stared back, what, Spike thought he wanted him to go. "Of course I want you there," a smile curled back on his lips. "Gotta have someone to support this load of shit."

"Right, then," Spike nodded sharply, hoping Xander couldn’t see the relief on his face. "Let’s get going, want to be back before dawn and it’s late." Both heads turned to look at the alarm clock. 11:23. They looked back at each other, shocked. It felt like days had passed.

"Spike, what are we going to do with, with," Xander stopped, not sure of what to say.

"Set him on fire." The answer was immediate and it was clear that the vampire wasn’t joking.

"No, the house would go up too, he’s got so much alcohol in him, he would go up like a torch." An evil grin crossed Xander’s face. "I know, let’s drag him outside and leave him in the yard. Something is bound to eat him while we’re gone."

Spike nodded in pride. "Always knew you had an evil streak, which end do you want? If you take his head you could always gouge his eyes out," he added helpfully. This was more like it.

"No, let me drag him by his feet, that way his head will hit on the stairs." The look on Xander’s face would have done any vampire proud.

"Be my guest."

Spike sat down on the couch and watched as Xander walked over, stopping to get one last kick in, before he reached down and grabbed this bastard’s ankles. Xander made sure to slam into every possible obstacle on his way out the door, and Spike followed him up the stairs, luxuriating in every crack of the head on the concrete of the steps. Xander finally dropped him in the yard, a look of pure hate on his face.

"Ready, luv?" Spike was dying to get Xander to the hospital, knowing that he had to be close to collapse.

"No, I want to shower first. That way in case they want to do any kind of further exam," Xander’s voice trailed off.

"Anything you want, pet," Spike battled back his impatience. He understood Xander’s reluctance to let anyone else know, as much as he wanted to rub it into the faces of those supposed friends of his.

They returned to the basement and Xander headed to the shower. He really felt the need to wash, to remove the stench from his body. He knew he was delaying the trip, delaying seeing his friends, hearing their concern over something that wasn’t real. He also didn’t know how they would react to Spike’s presence. He stepped under the spray, gingerly cleaning himself. **If Buffy starts up on Spike** Xander stopped his thoughts there.

Spike took the time to quickly look around. Amazingly enough, the apartment wasn’t that destroyed. There was a fairly large patch of blood on the floor which he quickly covered with a blanket. A lamp had been knocked over which he set back upright. Other than that, there was nothing to show what had happened. He sighed. Nothing other than the stench which lingered in the air. He walked back and opened the door, letting the cool night air wash into the room. He knew the Slayer would insist on bringing Xander home, and he didn’t want any evidence to remain. He already had his story planned, and he had decided that he would just follow them back and wait for them to leave. There was no way he was letting Xander out of his sight for a second longer than necessary. He heard the water stop and a few minutes later Xander came out. Luckily, it was still raining, so his wet hair would be explained. Xander quickly changed and walked over to Spike.

"Ok," he took a deep breath. "Let’s go."

Spike simply draped his arm over Xander’s shoulders and led him into the night.

Xander glared at his friends. **Why can’t they just leave** It had been midnight when he and Spike had reached the hospital. Luckily, the ER wasn’t that full and a doctor had been with him fairly quickly. No one had questioned his story too closely. It was clear that he had been beaten and a mugging seemed like an obvious explanation. Xander had learned one thing living on the Hellmouth, if there was an obvious explanation, people believed it. It was amazing how people saw only what they wanted to see. Sure enough, the hospital had called Giles and the whole gang had come roaring in, Willow all wide-eyed and frightened, Tara frightened on Willow’s behalf, Giles fatherly and concerned and Buffy ready to hunt and destroy the supposed muggers. Exactly as expected. They had all stopped short when they saw Spike.

"What’s he doing here," Buffy had spat out.

It took all Xander’s self-control not to spit back "Saving my life, most likely" but he had been saved by Spike himself.

"Popped over to watch the telly, the one in the crypt’s busted, and found the silly whelp sitting on his couch dripping blood all over himself. Got him to admit some humans beat him up and when I was done laughing, got him to come here. Didn’t want you saying I don’t take care of your pets there, ducks." The same drawl he had used on Dr. Steven. He sounded completely bored, but Xander could see the tension in the way Spike was holding himself perfectly still, leaning against the wall with his head tilted back, his eyes closed, one leg propped on the wall. Spike had not been more then ten feet away from him the entire time, except when Xander had been taken in the back for x-rays. Spike’s face had been a study when he realized that he wasn’t going to be allowed back with Xander. Xander had managed a quick squeeze of Spike’s hand and it had been just enough to calm the vampire.

The x-rays had come back negative. No broken ribs, just cracks and sprains. He had been taped up, his nose had been set, luckily it was a clean break and he had been assured that it would heal nicely, he had been given some pain pills and sent on his way. Giles had insisted on taking him home and Xander hadn’t had a chance to talk to Spike, to see if he would be okay around the whole gang. However, the vampire had come up behind him as they all trooped out the door. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. now.

"Can’t stand to see that group, can’t bear listening to them natter. I’ll just lurk a bit, come back when they go." Xander had nodded at the low whisper in his ear, then felt a cold hand trace across the back of his neck.

"Well, I’m off then," Spike called out. "Love to stay for the coffee klatch, but, on the other hand, rather stake myself." Spike turned and walked away.

"Like we want you there," Buffy shot back. It was all Xander could do not to slap her.

And now here it was, nearly 4:30 and still they were there. The sun would rise soon and Xander desperately wanted to see Spike before dawn came. He had to know that the vampire didn’t hate him, didn’t think he was disgusting or vile, that whatever connection it was that he felt was real and not just some desperate projection of his need to find someone who cared.

Yawning hugely, he pointedly looked at the clock.

"Guys, as fun as this has been, wanna sleep. Get out." The direct approach always seemed to work best.

"You sure, don’t you want some company," Willow said from her spot curled on the floor with Tara.

**Yes, just not yours** "No, I’m okay, just need sleep, thankfully I don’t work tomorrow so I can sleep in. Get out."

Laughing, everyone left, with gentle kisses on the cheeks from the girls and a brief clasp on the shoulder from Giles. Xander stood in the doorway, waiting for Giles’s car to turn the corner. He turned his head to find Spike at his side.

"Bloody hell, those bints yap your ear off or what," Spike growled as he looked Xander over. He looked very pale but calm. Spike has spent the last hour and a half stalking around the house. He had noticed the trail of blood going up the stairs and the light on in the window. The bastard was still alive. He wanted Xander out of that house immediately. He was not going to give that thing another chance to hurt what was his. He had given up all pretense the second he had seen Xander lying on the floor. He knew what he felt for the boy, there was no use denying it. He had meant what he said, he would never let anything hurt Xander, not if he could help it.

"Couldn’t get rid of them, tried, finally threw them out." Xander reached out a cautious hand, then grasped Spike’s wrist, pulling him into the basement.

"How do you feel, really?" Spike’s eyes darkened as he saw the black eyes being to form underneath the bandages that covered Xander’s face.

"Beaten, tired, sore, bruised, like I could sleep for a month." Xander let out a long sigh, it had been hard to keep up appearances around his friends, to pretend that he was okay. All he had wanted to do was curl up with Spike, to feel the safety only those cool arms could bring.

"He’s upstairs, you know." Spike hated to hear those words coming from his mouth, but he had to say it.

"I know," came the quiet reply. "Don’t worry, he usually avoids me like the plague for at least a week afterwards." Xander moved to pull out the bed, surprised when Spike stopped him.

"I don’t want you staying here. Let’s leave, get a hotel room, then we’ll find you a place tomorrow." Spike could hear the steel in his voice. He wanted Xander away, now, he didn’t know if he could think with the bloodlust that raged through him at the thought of that monster being anywhere near Xander.

"Can’t," Xander started, only to hear a loud growl come from Spike. He turned to look into yellow eyes. Rolling his own eyes in return, he pointed to the clock. "Don’t give me that, can’t, sun will be up in like 25 minutes. Don’t have time to get anywhere. Don’t worry, I don’t work tomorrow, I’ll go look for a place for us then. As long as you promise not to go after them while I’m gone."

Spike’s mind froze on one word. "Us?" he repeated quietly. Surely he had heard wrong.

Xander looked down for a moment, gathering his courage. "Yeah, us. I’ve gotten used to having you around. Thought it would be better than your crypt. We’ll get cable, you’ll be able to watch Passions all crystal clear." The joke rang hollow even in his ears. Dead silence greeted him. He could feel tears begin to gather. "Ok, stupid idea. Never mind." He turned his back and went to pull out the couch again.

Spike stared over at Xander. The whelp was serious. Realizing Xander had interpreted his silence as contempt, he quickly reached over, running his hand down Xander’s arm.

"Deal. I won’t try to kill them while you’re gone and you find a place for us tomorrow." The look on Xander’s face ripped Spike’s heart in two. From complete despair to wonderment in one second. **Oh hell, I’m just getting more pathetic by the moment. Wanker**

Xander just nodded, not wanting to speak. He felt a surge of joy. Spike wanted to stay with him. Then there was something there. He was too tired to think about it any further than that. He turned his attention back to the couch, finally pulling it out. He dropped heavily down, exhaustion finally overtaking him. He felt the small shift as Spike sat on the foot of the bed, the weight of an arm on his legs.

"Spike?" he sighed.

"Yes, pet?" came the questioning response.

"Will you, will you, could you," he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to screw up his courage.

He felt the bed shift again, felt Spike move to sit behind him. Now he felt a hand begin to run through his hair. He tilted his head back, amazed at how soothing it felt.

"Yes, pet?" again in the same quiet tone.

Taking a deep breath, Xander asked what he had been longing for since leaving the hospital.

"Could you just hold me, just for a little bit?" He stayed perfectly still, not wanting to see the look on Spike’s face.

Instead of an answer, he felt the cool body curl into his, felt himself pulled into a tight embrace.

"Not hurting your ribs, am I," came a low murmur in his ear.

"No, feels nice." Xander began to drift off, his body screaming for sleep. In seconds he had dozed off.

Spike slowly lifted his head, propping it on one hand. Satisfied that Xander was resting peacefully, he dropped a quick kiss on his temple.

"Night, luv. Pleasant dreams." Spike dropped his head back down and followed Xander into sleep, their bodies wrapped into each other.

The best place to start was at the center of the ankle on the inside of the right foot. The key was to use just the tip of the knife, to make a thin, clean line which drew enough blood to hurt but not enough so that it would continue to bleed throughout the day. Just deep enough to hurt with every step, with every rub of fabric over the rawness. The slower the better, drawing the exquisite pain out as long as possible. Once the initial cut was made then to drag along the top of the foot, tracing just inside the outline of the shoe, again causing the reminder of the pain, the almost but not quite good enough, echo throughout the day. Slowly, slowly, taking as much time as possible, dragging it out. Fast was fine sometimes, when time was short, or someone could walk in, or the pain was just too much. But it was better when it was slow. Finally tracing around the back of the leg, closing the circle, a ring of fire to make it through the day.

Or maybe the inner thigh. That was always good, almost no one saw that. That was best for short, parallel strokes, perfectly matched streaks that were purely private.

Or to turn the flat of the knife along his sides, not cutting really, more like scratching the surface of the skin, rubbing it raw. That way when he stretched he could feel it.

Maybe the back of the knee, three long vertical slices on each leg. There was no way to do anything without ripping the wounds back open. The faint trickle would wind its way down his leg, leaving traces on his skin.

He couldn’t decide, couldn’t pick which would be best. There was only one thing of which he was sure. Not his wrists again, never his wrists again. To do so would destroy the perfection of the last time he had opened a vein in that way.

Xander closed his eyes tighter, trying to picture each cut in his mind, to draw forth the memory of steel, the sharpness of glass, the harsh scrape of metal, the rough edges of his fingernails. He wanted it, wanted it so badly he could taste it, could taste his blood in his mouth. He jerked his head up slightly when he realized that he could actually taste blood in his mouth, that he was compulsively chewing through his lower lip. He opened his eyes, seeking for something to focus on, to block out the pain, the need ripping through his veins. Eyes darting frantically, everything he saw only heightened his grief.

Finally, his eyes came to rest on a black leather duster that had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor. He stared at it, focusing on the small creases and rips he could see. He poured everything he had into memorizing every part of it visible to him, wanting to be able to draw this picture into his mind to block out everything else that wanted to rise, unbidden, before his eyes. He could almost smell the scent of the cigarettes mingling with the leather. He certainly could smell them in the hair of the vampire who was wrapped protectively around him.

Xander had never expected to fall asleep. Usually the nights after his father attacked him, he would toss and turn, pain of body and soul too much to allow any rest. But last night he had dropped off as soon as his head hit his pillow. He knew full well that it wasn’t the pain medication which had caused him to drop off. It was the feel of Spike reaching with strong arms to pull him close to that hard body, the way they had just seemed to naturally fit together. He hadn’t known what to expect when he had asked Spike to hold him, but Spike’s immediate and unflinching drawing of Xander to Spike’s chest had not been it. There was no hesitation, no snort, no comment, no quirk of an eyebrow. Just a murmured question, a check to make sure the vampire wasn’t hurting Xander.

It was that question, that show of concern that was pinning Xander to the bed when all he wanted to do was walk over to the sink, pick up one of the knives lying there and begin carving his flesh. The need burned through him, every second he was lying still torturing him. He wanted that release, craved it, anything to take away the sounds and images which ripped into him. If he could not take it away, block out the images somehow, then he would be forced to face them. Forced to hear the sound of the door at the top of the stairs being kicked open. Forced to see the blur of his father’s hand in the corner of his eye as he was yanked from the couch by the back of his neck. Forced to hear the sickening crunch as his nose shattered when his face hit the floor. Forced to feel the blows to his ribs. Forced to smell the alcohol drenching the man straddling his back. Forced to experience that pain again as his father pounded into him. No, it was too much. He had to have some release. His hands began to rhythmically clench the sheets next to him, his palms literally aching for the weight of something, anything he could use to burn the memories from his mind.

But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He would not hurt Spike like that. He didn’t know what had happened, couldn’t begin to imagine when the two of them had crossed some invisible line between enemies to friends. He had no idea at what point they had moved to something beyond that. All he knew was that Spike understood him and that he understood Spike. Not completely, but understood nonetheless. All he knew was that Spike cared what happened to him, that Spike didn’t judge him, that Spike didn’t think any less of him even after seeing what had happened. He knew the rest of the gang cared too, it was just they didn’t know. So, no matter how hard it was, he was going to stay here and not reach for the only solace he knew. He began to tremble slightly as the pain from his injuries washed over him. His whole body ached, his face throbbed, breathing was an exercise in agony. But the bottle containing the Darvocet was on the sink, right next to the knives. He couldn’t go over there without reaching for a knife. He would take this pain instead. He trembled a little more violently, unconsciously tightening his grasp on the arm around his waist.

Spike’s eyes shot open. The scent of agony hit him sharply, rising in waves from the body pressing into his. The sudden grip on his arm had pulled him from sleep, yanked him from some of the most peaceful sleep he had experienced in decades. It was the soft beating of Xander’s heart that lulled him, the sound sinking into his bones. He had covered Xander in the night, trying to draw that peace into himself. Now Xander was lying in his arms, shaking and in pain. Spike carefully slid his arm from beneath the boy’s body then he began stroking Xander’s hair.

"Xander, pet, what is it." He lifted his head up, shocked to see the tension tightening Xander’s features. "Luv, what’s wrong?"

"It hurts," came the stuttering reply as Xander kept his eyes tightly closed.

Spike glanced over at the clock. 2:34. They had been asleep for nearly ten hours. Spike hissed. He had carefully read the directions for Xander’s pain medication and knew that he was allowed one pill every four hours. Two. He had missed two.

He pulled Xander up with him as he sat up, taking care not to jostle Xander’s ribs. He noticed that Xander’s eyes were still shut. "Well, the medicine’s right on the sink, I’ll just get you some. Have you been up long?"

"About an hour"

Spike hissed, how could he have slept while his boy was in such pain. Cursing himself, he reached out to run press a cold hand against the black eyes which Xander was now sporting, hoping that would ease the pain.

"Why didn’t you go get some earlier, you can have one every four hours you know." He felt the shaking continue.

"Couldn’t, couldn’t go over there," the reply whispered almost inaudibly.

"Why not, can you walk, hell, why didn’t you wake me," Spike carefully leaned Xander back, propping a pillow behind his back. He went to the sink then shook out the medicine, grabbed a glass, filled it with water and hurried back. Handing the glass and pill over, he watched as Xander gulped it down, nodding gratefully.

"Next time, you wake me," Spike could hear the note of command in his voice and saw Xander’s head flinch back. He softened his tone. "If you hurt too much to walk, then I’ll just go get it, do you hear me?"

"It wasn’t that, I just couldn’t go over there." Xander opened his eyes but kept his gaze locked on his hands. "I, I keep my cooking stuff there and there’s a knife right out next to the bottle." Xander heard his voice fade down, took a deep breath and forced himself to look at Spike who was standing frozen next to the bed. "If I go over there then I’ll use that knife and I can’t, I won’t." Xander’s voice began to drop again. "I promised you I wouldn’t and right now that’s all I want."

Spike’s mouth opened slightly as he heard the words. It took everything in him not to reach down and crush Xander to him. He realized that he had expected to wake to find himself alone with the fresh scent of Xander’s blood in the air. He wouldn’t have blamed the boy, he could barely deal with what had occurred and it hadn’t happened to him.

Xander continued to look up at Spike, trying to see what reaction his confession would provoke. He didn’t want to anger Spike, but he also had to tell the truth. He saw Spike’s mouth open, then suddenly snap shut as Spike nodded once, as if he had made a decision. Turning on his heel, he walked over to the duster, kneeling down and reaching into one of the deep pockets. He saw Spike straighten, stare down at something in his hand. By the perfect line of Spike’s back he could tell the vampire was upset by something. Whatever it was, Spike turned back and returned to his position by the bed. Spike simply stared at him for a minute then settled next to Xander. Reaching out, Spike took Xander’s right hand and turned it over. Looking straight into Xander’s eyes, Spike let whatever he had been holding drop from his hand to Xander’s.

Xander looked down as a small weight fell into his palm. It was a key. It was the key to the lockbox. Startled, he looked back up to see that Spike was staring levelly back at him.

"Go ahead, if it will make you better. I’ll clean you up when you’re done."

Xander just stared at the vampire. He could clearly see the pain in Spike’s eyes, but also understanding. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The trust this displayed was beyond anything Xander could have imagined. He began to shake his head. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t cause any more pain. He was tired of hiding, tired of turning inward for release. Now, for the first time since he could remember, there was someone else he could tell, someone who would listen, someone who knew. No matter how much he wanted it, he wasn’t going to go back to the loneliness of the blade.

"No. I won’t."

Spike was shocked by the words. He could smell the bloodlust coming from Xander, could see how desperately he needed to escape the pain. Even though it cut him to the quick to do this, he wanted Xander to know that whatever he needed, Spike would get. Even if it was this.

"Xander, you know I don’t want you to," Spike stopped. Anything, whatever he needed. Spike started again. "If you need to, well, then I’ll be here to make sure you don’t go too far." The image of Xander lying drenched in blood on the bathroom floor shimmered before his eyes.

"No." The answer was stronger this time. "No, that’s not the answer. Remember you said you would find me something else to do." Spike nodded, confused. Xander closed his eyes and took a deep breath and continued. "Well, let’s try this. I’ll stop pretending it didn’t happen as long as you tell me one way you’re going to kill him at breakfast each morning."

A matching, vicious smile curled over both their lips as they locked eyes again. Spike nodded. "Think I can manage that, pet." Xander just nodded back.

Xander slowly stood, feeling some of the tension begin to drain from the room. He moved to the bathroom, craving a nice, long, hot shower to work out some of the kinks. He saw that Spike had followed behind him. Xander turned and poked the vampire in the chest.

"Hey, not going to share everything with you. Gonna get cleaned up so I can start trying to find a place." He was looking forward to it. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to afford much, his current construction job was going to end in a few months, but anything had to be better than this. He had been always been terrified to move out before, afraid of what might happen if he was alone with his thoughts. But he wouldn’t be alone now. Besides, he no longer had any illusions about his chance of survival if he remained in the basement. Either his father would kill him or he would kill himself, intentionally or not. He shut the bathroom door, slowly stripping down and beginning the tedious process of removing his bandages.

Spike grabbed his cigarettes the second the bathroom door closed. Frowning, he realized that at some point over the last two weeks he had begun to smoke only when the boy wasn’t present. He moved over to the refrigerator and took out a bag of blood, heating it quickly. He drank slowly, turning the events of the last day over in his mind. Somehow, somewhere, he and Xander had developed a bond. He knew Xander felt it as well. He had no illusions. He was falling for the boy, falling fast and falling hard. The boy **no man** had hidden depths, more courage than any being that Spike had ever met and the purity of his soul was a beacon in the darkness of Spike’s universe. He wanted to pull it into himself. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still faintly taste Xander in his mouth. Spike was fairly certain that was the moment that had inexorably linked them. There was always a bond created when a vampire drank but it was usually extinguished when the life drained from the victim or when the person was turned. But this was different. Spike hadn’t taken from Xander but had only received what was freely offered, what had practically been forced on him. The taste of Xander’s blood had given him a glimpse of heaven, a split second’s chance to stand again in the sun.

Xander carefully dried himself off, taking care not to look too closely in the mirror. His face was a mess, the bandaging holding his nose in place not quite managing to cover the two **well, no reason to go half way** black eyes. **Oh yeah, I would rent to me** He dressed quickly and came out to find Spike staring vacantly into space, smoke trailing from his hand.

"Well, do I look like an upstanding, reliable citizen," Xander called over.

Spike looked up, unable to help the smirk at the picture Xander presented. "Actually, you look like you got caught out with another lass and your woman threw you out on your sorry arse. After braining you with a lamp of course."

"Ah, good, my clever disguise has worked." Xander managed a grin back. That was actually a pretty good story. Explained the nose, explained the rush. Shaking his head ruefully, he realized that the vampire was proving to be a bad influence.

He walked over, grabbing his wallet and car keys from the kitchen counter, his eyes briefly lingering over the knife he belatedly realized Spike had purposefully placed there. Swallowing, he caught Spike’s eyes. "Well, I’m off. Not promising anything this palatial, but somewhere else." He saw Spike open his mouth to speak. "And if we can’t move in tonight, then I promise we can grab a hotel somewhere. I don’t want to stay here either." He saw Spike nod once. Good, he had guessed right. "Don’t forget your end of the deal. No attempts at parent slaughter." He saw the flicker of gold in Spike’s eyes, but he ignored it. "Right, off then, I’ll be back before the sun goes down."

Spike followed Xander to the door, reluctant to let Xander leave his sight, even though he knew there was no way to follow. They stood in the doorway for a second, then Xander pulled the door open as little as possible, trying to keep the sun out. Turning, he suddenly ran the back of his hand down Spike’s cheek.

"Promise to be here when I get back?"

"Yes. Promise to come back?"

"Yes." With that he walked out the door.

Five hours later Xander came tearing down the stairs. He had found the perfect place. It was the loft of an old warehouse. He knew Spike liked warehouses, all that room and decay and old machinery. The rent was incredibly cheap and Xander had a feeling it was because the building wasn’t really supposed to be used for apartments. But there was an elevator up, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and a large open space. The last occupants had even left some furniture, fairly ugly but free. Only one bed though, a king size in what was obviously the master bedroom. Not that Xander particularly minded, he had come to like the feel of Spike in his bed. His mind immediately stopped at that thought. No, wouldn’t even consider that now. All he could think of as he looked over each apartment was whether or not Spike would like it, could hear the sarcastic little comments as each potential landlord tried to sweet talk him. His thoughts had centered on Spike all day long. Whenever he had begun to feel anxious or to think about what had brought him to this point, he thought of the duster and immediately calmed down. He didn’t want to think about this. He just wanted to enjoy it.

"Spike, hey where are you, wait until you see this place," he called as he opened the door. He stopped, his jaw dropping in shock. The basement had been stripped down, the only thing still out was the black cloth draping the windows. Everything else had been neatly packed and boxed, with lists taped to the top. Not that there were many boxes but still. He saw the blond head bent over what was obviously the last box, finishing the list. A delighted grin crossed Spike’s face at the look of shock and gratitude on Xander’s face.

"What," he innocently asked as Xander stood gaping in the door. "Bloody hell, whelp, mind closing the door there, sun, undead, fire, remember." He had started almost as soon as Xander left. It was partly to give him something to do but mostly to help relieve his anger at the fact that Xander had been forced to go alone.

"Spike, man, thanks. This is great." A matching grin moved across Xander’s face. "Especially since we can move in as soon as the sun goes down." This was unbelievable, all they had to do was pack up the cars and go.

"So, found a place did you?" Spike could sense the pride coming from Xander. His boy looked much better, standing taller and generally acting more confident. Much better. This is how it should be.

"Yeah, it’s great. It’s the top floor of an old warehouse," Xander saw Spike perk up at that. "It’s huge, we have three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a huge open area, even some furniture. And guess what, the windows are these huge shutters so we won’t have to board them up or anything." He knew he was babbling but he was excited. "Rent’s very reasonable too. And there’s cable all hooked up. I think it’s being stolen actually, but I knew that wouldn’t bother you."

Spike felt himself sharing in the boy’s excitement. The place did sound great, actually, except that three-bedroom part. **No more sharing the bed then** And he couldn’t help but notice the way Xander kept saying we.

"So, it’s ours then," he casually said, watching closely to gauge Xander’s reaction. He saw Xander’s hand rise and automatically flinched back, looking for the stake. Instead, he saw a silver gleam arch through the air and it was only his reflexive grab that allowed him to catch the keys. He looked down, seeing the large silver S on the keychain. Confused, he looked up to see Xander holding an identical set, only his ring had a large X.

"Figured this way we wouldn’t get them mixed up." They just grinned at each other for a minute, the excitement growing in the room. They were leaving.

Spike looked away first, as the sudden urge to reach over and kiss Xander was almost absurdly strong. He could not imagine that going well. "So, what are you going to tell everyone?"

"About what," Xander replied, busy pulling the boxes over to the door. He thought he was going to burst. He was leaving, not on a stretcher, not in a body bag, but on his own. He felt like he could take on anything in the world.

"About your sudden ability to fly," came the snotty reply. "About moving, won’t the gang be curious?" Spike had wondered about this. How would Xander explain this, wouldn’t those idiots he called friends be able to put two and two together and get something other than twenty-two.

"Oh, got that all figured out, I’m just going to tell them that I got a raise and had been looking for awhile and finally just decided to go and do it today." Spike felt a swell of pride. Xander was taking to lying like a natural, tailoring his story to what the audience wanted to hear. "And what are we going to tell them about our living arrangement?" He didn’t really want to ask, didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he wanted to know how far Xander had thought this through.

"That’s none of their bloody business," came the instant reply, Xander grinning once again. **Oh great, only two weeks and I’m already sounding like him**

Spike’s eyebrow raised at that but he couldn’t agree more. Looking out the one exposed corner of the window, he saw that the sun was down. "Well, I’m going to start on the boxes, can’t be out of here fast enough for my tastes."

Three hours later an exhausted human and an equally exhausted vampire lay flat on their backs on the bed.

"Bloody fucking hell, glad that elevator is there." Spike grunted out.

"Uh huh," came the exhausted reply.

"It didn’t look like that many boxes," Spike continued.

"Uh huh"

"Of course if someone hadn’t insisted on moving the couch around what was it, six or seven times, you chit."

"Uh huh"

"And if someone hadn’t insisted on going grocery shopping."

"Uh huh"

"And then looking for towels and a shower curtain. You do realize that you will pay for making me go to Wal-Mart don’t you."

"Uh huh"

"And if someone hadn’t then run around like a loon shouting, mine, it’s all mine."

"Uh, Spike, that was you."

"Yes, well. Do like the place, pet."

"Good, I thought you would."

They lay there side by side. Spike finally pushed himself up to look down at Xander’s face. It had been quite fun. First, Xander had gone up the stairs to tell his parents he was leaving after swearing that if he wasn’t out in three minutes then Spike could come in after him. It had only taken thirty seconds. Spike had pressed himself to the door, turning all his attention to listening to the voices. Xander had simply marched in, said "I found a place, I’m leaving. I’ll make sure my mail get forwarded." The sound of his keys slapping down, then the slam of the front door. Spike liked that touch.

Next, he had followed Xander to the apartment. There was an awning to park the cars under downstairs, then they had each grabbed a box and come up the elevator. Xander had made Spike close his eyes when they got to the door and then had led him into the apartment. Once they were inside, Xander had quietly said "Ok, you can look now." . He liked it the instant he saw it. He had turned to Xander and thrown an arm around his shoulders. "Well, you would never know from how you dress, but it looks like you have taste after all." Xander just laughed then took Spike on the tour, ending in the bedroom. Neither one commented on that there was only one bed in the entire apartment. They had quickly moved to unpack, and on one of the trips Spike realized that Xander was quietly unpacking all their clothes and other personal belongings in the master bedroom. It was clear that he still expected Spike to share the room with him.

It was at this point that they gotten a little carried away. Xander’s stomach had growled and they realized they had no food. Their shopping trip had started as nothing more than a quick run for milk, bread and cereal. That had lasted about two minutes. Xander had grabbed some bananas, then Spike found the cookies. Then they both found the ice cream. After returning to the apartment and grabbing some dinner, Xander had gone to shower. That’s when they realized there were no shower curtains. There had been a fifteen minute argument about whether or not Spike would go to Wal-Mart which had ended with Spike agreeing to go after Xander promised to let him scare some people in the parking lot.

They had gotten carried away at Wal-Mart as well and were now the proud owners of dishes, glasses and towels. They were half way home when they realized they had forgotten the shower curtain. Back to Wal-Mart. Another fifteen minute fight over which one to get before they realized that there were two showers so that Xander could have fish and Spike could have all black. Out the door and to the car before they realized they needed sheets. Back into Wal-Mart where the cashiers were beginning to grin at them. Another argument. Finally a compromise, black sheets with a herringbone comforter. Back to the car then back home.

Home. Spike still found it hard to believe he had a home, had someone to stay with, someone who wanted him there. He sighed.

"Why the Angel brooding," Xander yawned out.

"No comparing me to that pouf," Spike growled in reply. "Just glad to be here."

"Well, I’m glad you’re here," came the sleepy reply. "Bedtime."

"Yup."

They lay in comfortable silence.

"Spike,"

"Hmmmm"

"Shouldn’t we get under the covers."

"Suppose so"

A few more minutes passed.

"Xander"

"Uh huh"

"If we’re going to get into the bed we have to move."

"Uh huh"

A few more minutes then Xander began to shiver.

"Ok, that’s it. Cold, you might not be but I am." Xander stood, carefully pulling off his shirt and grabbing his favorite flannel pajamas. He went into the bathroom, for some obscure reason not wanting to change in front of Spike. He quickly relieved himself, brushed his teeth and padded back into the bedroom. He found Spike under the covers, with a pile of clothes by the bed.

**Oh lord, I hope he’s wearing boxers, or something, anyway** went across Xander’s mind as he got into bed. He turned on his side then felt Spike’s arm tentatively curve around his waist. Xander felt a smile ghost across his face as his eyes fell shut. He scooted backwards, pressing his back into Spike’s chest, letting his arm fall on top of Spike’s, hearing the faint whisper of silk on the sheets. **That’s ok then**

"Night, Spike."

"Night, Xander"

"Spike,"

"Yes, luv."

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Anything for you, pet."

"You too, Spike, anything for you."

Spike hesitated for a second, then placed a gentle kiss on the base of Xander’s neck. Xander just let out a contented sigh. Home. They were both home.

"And only then will I shove his balls down his throat. After all, wouldn’t want to cut the screams off early, now, would we," Spike was practically bouncing up and down as he finished his description. He wouldn’t be happy until the bastard was dead, but at least in the meantime he could content himself with crafting a daily horror show. He tried to maintain eye contact with Xander the entire time, drinking in the rage in his boy’s eyes, the unconscious manner in which he would lick his lips, as if he could taste the blood, the way the heat slowly infused Xander’s face, adding a ruddy glow. It was beautiful.

Xander stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth, the milk dripping back into the bowl. He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he had asked Spike to start each day with a description of his father’s death, but he had never anticipated his own response. He had hung on every word, clearly seeing it in his mind’s eye, feeling the longing burning through his body. He had tried, just for a second, to feel some remorse at his reaction but just couldn’t do it. Not when he still hurt all over.

"Hmm, that was," he had no words to describe what that was. He started over. "That was very graphic. Only one question, can I pour the burning oil in his eyes?"

Spike thought the grin would split his face in two. "Sure, pet, but, trust me, it’s more fun to use the pliers. The oil reeks, gets all over your clothes."

"’S okay, I’m used to weird smells. You do remember that we live on a Hellmouth? And that I fought that stench demon?" Xander grinned back, taking a moment out of inhaling his cereal. He was starved, he felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Glancing over, he let out a groan.

"Well, gotta go to work. This should be fun." His eyes were almost swollen shut and his nose wheezed with every breath. His ribs were better, but still protested every time he turned too fast.

"You can’t be serious," Spike stared back, appalled. There was no way that Xander could go to work. He worked at some type of construction job and Spike had watched as it took Xander ten minutes just to put his shirt on. "There is absolutely no way that you can work today." Spike stalked around the island counter they were leaning on, moving to block Xander’s path to the door.

"Have to go, someone has to pay the rent," came the reply. "I already called off a few weeks ago, don’t want them to think I’m unreliable. Besides, we’re doing interior trim work right now and it’s not that strenuous." Xander turned and poured what was left of the milk down the sink, feeling the stare burning into the back of his head.

"And what are you going to say when they asked what happened to you?"

"Auto accident," Xander grinned. "Hey, this lying thing, this is kind of fun. Think that I’m going to have to start taking notes when you do it." He turned back, reaching for his jacket and keys. He really didn’t want to go to work but he meant what he said. He didn’t want to be considered a problem. He had finally found a job he was good at and that he enjoyed. So he was going to work, even though he just wanted to crawl back into bed.

"About rent, mate, meant to talk to you about that." Spike began to spin his lighter round and round, careful to keep his gaze down. "Don’t want you to think that I’m not pulling my weight around here, so I’ll just be chipping in my share."

Xander looked over, shocked. This was completely unexpected. He hadn’t even thought about that when he was looking at places, he was just grateful that Spike had agreed to come with him. Besides, he couldn’t picture Spike paying for anything, chipped or not.

"Spike, that’s, you don’t have to do that. Besides, I mean, that’s not why I wanted you to move in with me." He stopped for a second then looked over to see Spike still completely absorbed with the lighter. "And well, not to put too fine a point on it, it’s not like you can just go get a job. And I don’t want you stealing anything, so, just, don’t worry about it."

Spike looked up at that. "What, did you think I was going to steal? Bloody hell, luv, I have money."

"Yeah, the money you got from Buffy and Giles, I know. But I don’t want you relying on them either, so. . ." He stopped as heard Spike start to chuckle.

"Not that pittance. Christ, did you lot really believe that I spent all the last century just wandering about, looking for a meal? I mean, give me some credit. I stored away my share, pretty well off actually."

Xander felt his mouth fall open and quickly snapped it shut. **Gods, he just is one surprise after another**

"Well, if you have money, then why did you take it from Giles and Buffy?" Xander was growing more confused by the second. He was starting to find that to be his usual state when talking to Spike.

"Bit of fun that, having a Slayer and a Watcher paying me, the Slayer of Slayers. Too good to pass up." A grin at the thought. It had been quite amusing, playing the little marionette, seeing they actually believed he was broke. "For hell’s sake, I’m Angelus’s childe and that wanker could squeeze blood from a nickel. And believe you me, better to listen to him go on and on about interest and dividends and diversification and all sorts of mindnumbing shit than to sit and watch him brood. Picked it up after awhile."

Spike thought back to the quiet call he had made a few days before while Xander was at work. He actually was a bit more than well off. He wasn’t kidding about Angelus, he might be a soul-having, brooding git, but he understood money. Besides, the magic of compound interest worked wonders when you were immortal. He still had accounts in England that he had established back in the early 1900’s. Just one of them was enough to keep he and Xander in comfort for the next twenty years or so. He had made some arrangements, liquidated some funds, planning on finally moving out of the crypt and into somewhere nicer. It had taken all his restraint not to simply tell Xander that he would take care of finding them a place and then packing Xander off to the best hotel he could find, arranging for the constant attention that Xander deserved. He hadn’t, though, knowing that Xander didn’t need to be pampered, no matter how much Spike may want to. He knew that Xander needed to feel independent, needed to be in control, needed to stand on his own. So Spike had let Xander find them a place, let Xander make that choice. And the whelp had done a good job. He really did like it here. Would like it more when they had some more furniture, a bigger television, a new stereo.

Xander just continued to stare at Spike. Every time he thought he knew something about the vampire, something would happen which turned that assumption on its head.

"Well, then why did you live in the crypt. I mean, I would’ve found a nice place or something," Xander’s voice trailed off.

"Well, didn’t really want to broadcast it. Besides, had to do everything I could to make people think I was still the Big Bad. Image counts you know. Live in a cushy joint, people think you’re cushy. Live in a dank, dingy crypt, why that’s a man." Spike smirked back. "Worked on the lot of you now didn’t it?"

Xander just shook his head. "Fine, if it will make you feel better, then we’ll split the rent." That really would help and Spike seemed sincere. Looking back at the clock he let out another groan. "Okay, now I’m going to be late. See you around 7:00 probably."

Spike trailed Xander out the door of the apartment and into the small hallway leading to the elevator. He lifted up the gate, knowing Xander was still incredibly sore, no matter what front he put up. "Right, I’ll be here." Xander nodded his goodbye and stepped into the elevator. Spike stood in the hall until he heard the sound of Xander’s car leaving. Sighing, he turned walked back to the apartment. He walked back into the bedroom and tumbled into bed, not that he was tired, but because it smelled like his Xander.

Xander raised his head sleepily from the pillow when he heard the sounds of keys in the door and the quick beeping of the alarm. Sitting up, he stretched and then padded into the living room. Over the last two months they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Xander would get up around 6:30 and Spike would get up with him, grabbing some breakfast of his own. Their deal was still in effect and over breakfast Spike would tell some gruesome tale, killing Xander’s father in every more creative ways. Xander now understood just how Spike had gotten that nickname, he had never known that a simple railroad spike could do those things to someone. Then Xander would go to work and Spike would go back to sleep. Spike usually woke up around 2:00 or 3:00 and he would spend the time reading and smoking, pacing around or working out in the part of the large living room which they had converted into a training area.

Xander usually got back between 6:00 and 7:00 and then they would have dinner. After that they would join the others on patrol, always taking both cars, arriving at different times and from different directions. None of the rest of the gang knew that Spike was living with Xander and neither of them had any desire to let them in on the secret. They both knew that would only cause complications. After patrol they would come back, watch television or a movie. They would talk for hours about everything and nothing. Finally, Xander would go to bed around 11:00 or 12:00 and Spike would head back out. He would go hunting for some demon or driving or go to grab a drink at some bar. Xander didn’t mind, he understood that Spike needed to be away, needed to spend time on his own. Spike usually came back in a few hours anyway and Xander would wake, listen to the stories of Spike’s night. Then they would go back to bed. They slept curled together every night, Spike’s arm draped protectively across Xander, Xander holding just as tight. His nose had healed perfectly and the scar on his left arm was almost completely gone. However, he was plagued by nightmares and Spike’s presence helped calm him.

Xander had come home one day after they had been there about a week to find the security system installed. Spike had just shrugged and quirked an eyebrow at Xander’s questions. "Don’t feel like being snuck up on, pet," had been his only comment. However, Xander knew this was just one more sign that Spike was determined to protect him in any way he could. Spike had also surprised Xander by arranging for all new furniture and a very large television and accompanying surround sound system. It was a good thing that they had the warehouse to themselves, because neither one of them were happy unless the sound was so loud the walls actually shook. The living room now looked nice, a large black leather sofa facing the television with a low table set in front of the sofa. Two matching chairs sat facing each other on the other sides of the table. Two tall floor lamps cast diffused light up from either side of the television.

Xander walked into the kitchen to find Spike staring into the open door, the light highlighting his cheekbones. He was coated in some dark substance and a large ax was slung over his left shoulder.

"So, looks like you had a busy night," Xander leaned on the counter, drinking in the sight. Drenched in bile or not, Spike was still a striking figure.

"Yeah, ran into a troll. Stupid bugger. Big though, thought I was going to break my hands before I finally knocked him out." Spike leaned into the refrigerator, propping the ax against the sink. **There it is** He pulled a can of Guinness out and popped the tab. He had thoroughly enjoyed the fight, relishing a chance to beat the shit out of something for a good long time. He took a deep pull on the ale and then stretched.

Xander just stared, his mouth dry. He was becoming more and more aware of that cool body behind him every night. It would be difficult not to notice how unbelievably sexy the vampire was. Xander knew exactly when he realized that he was in love with Spike. It was sixteen days before. It was about 2:30 Saturday morning and he and Spike were sitting on the couch, watching Mothra and getting drunk. This was their typical Friday night/Saturday morning routine, but that night, their usual drunken banter had devolved into tossing popcorn at each other. After being repeatedly pelted on the side of the head, Xander had grabbed the bowl, turned and started to tip it over Spike’s head. Spike’s hands had shot up, grabbing Xander’s wrists and Xander had fallen straight onto Spike’s chest. He had landed with his face mere inches from Spike’s and for one moment they had stayed there, staring at each other. Xander felt his breath catch, could feel the heat building between them. He thought Spike was going to kiss him and at that moment he had wanted nothing more. Then Spike had pushed him back up and stalked off into the kitchen. He came back a few seconds later with more beer and they fell back into their usual bantering, like nothing had happened. But Xander had stayed awake in bed for hours that night, thinking about the look that had been in Spike’s eyes, wondering if it was the same as the one in his own. He didn’t care that Spike was a guy, that Spike was a vampire, all he knew was that what he felt for Spike was the purest emotion he had ever had. He had no secrets from Spike, Spike knew everything about him. And knowing all that he did, Spike still wanted to be around him.

However, Xander had no idea what to say or what to do. Hell, he had taken to hoping that Spike could smell it on him, that Spike would just do something to show that he was aware that Xander wanted him. It was driving him crazy.

Spike continued to stretch, feeling the warm pull in his muscles. He was trying to relax, to work out some of the tension returning to his body now that he was back with Xander. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay in that bed with Xander and not just pull him into his arms and kiss that delicious mouth. He had come so close a few weeks ago. He and Xander had been watching a stupid movie, when the notion to throw popcorn at the whelp had struck him. The boy had taken it for a moment, then had tried to dump the whole bowl over him. He had automatically reached up to stop him and then Xander had fallen onto his chest. His eyes had widened when Xander’s face lay so close to his, all he had needed to do was lift his head slightly and he could have finally tasted that mouth. But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, he would never do that. He could never treat Xander the way that, that thing had done. Spike felt the familiar burn of fury begin again at the thought. Yet another thing that beast had torn away. Xander had stared back at him with an indescribable look and, on very few occasions, Spike had let himself believe what he saw there was desire. But that thought was too precious and Spike kept it locked away.

"Anything else happen tonight?"

Spike opened his eyes and looked down, going still at what he saw. Xander sat on one of the stools he had made at work so that they could sit at the island counter. His hair was messier than usual and his voice was dusky with sleep. But that wasn’t what caught Spike’s attention. Xander was shirtless. Spike usually slept in just his boxers, but Xander usually wore both boxers and a shirt. Spike rarely was treated to the sight of Xander’s body, only stolen glimpses now and then. But here was Xander in all his glory, skin golden and muscles tight. A wave of desire hit him so strong he thought his knees would buckle.

"No, not really." Spike knew we was staring but couldn’t stop. He grew harder and he quickly pulled his duster forward to hide the bulge.

"Oh, well," now Xander yawned and stretched and Spike thought his pants would split in two. "Then I’m going back to bed. You coming?" Xander called over his shoulder as he made his way back to their room.

**Almost** "No, pet, still a little jacked up from the fight. I do want to clean off this slime though, so I’ll shower in the other bathroom, you just go on to bed." Spike licked his lips, praying Xander would just get to bed so he could go to the other bathroom and jerk off, thinking of Xander’s face the entire time.

"Don’t be long," came the sleepy reply. **Miss you when you’re gone**

**Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem, pet** "I’ll be there in a mo."

With that the frustrated vampire headed for one bathroom while a frustrated human headed for another. The locks on each door clicked shut. If anyone had been in the apartment they would have heard two sets of murmured words, two sets of quiet exclamations, two sets of cries strangled in two throats. And they would have heard two names drop from two sets of lips.

"Xander"

"Spike"

Xander’s hands shook as he traced his fingers down Spike’s face yet again. He needed to touch the cool skin, to feel that Spike was still there with him somehow. He couldn’t search for a pulse, couldn’t watch for the rise and fall of Spike’s chest. He could only touch the skin, somehow able to feel Spike still there with him.

They had been out on patrol earlier that evening and despite Spike’s best efforts, Xander had been paired with Buffy. Xander and Spike were both unhappy with this chain of events, neither was content unless they could watch out for each other, but they didn’t want to be obvious about it. So Xander had gone with Buffy and Spike with Tara and Willow. It had been a fairly slow night and Xander had been forced to listen to Buffy obsess over whatever new guy she was seeing. Xander couldn’t bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was be with Spike. Then, cresting a hill, they had heard screaming. It was Willow.

They both took off at a dead run, Xander trailing behind Buffy. They ran into a sea of blood. There were bodies everywhere. Willow, Tara and Spike had run into a nest of fledglings and though the new vampires didn’t know how to fight, there had to be thirty or forty of them. Xander heard Spike snarling, could hear the frantic sound as Spike was finally grabbed and held down, the other vampires viciously attacking him. Xander felt something snap inside him and he tore into the vampires holding Spike, trying to take what was his. His mind became a sea of red as he hacked and slashed his way to Spike, the lessons he had absorbed during their morning talks ringing through him. He vaguely heard Buffy pulling Willow and Tara away, saw some movement out of the corner of his eye as Buffy fought next to him. He didn’t care, he just had to get to Spike. Finally, he reached Spike, grabbing the vampire who was feeding from Spike by the throat and trying to tear the vampire’s windpipe out. He growled and slammed the stake home. Panting deeply, he realized that Spike was lying on the ground, perfectly still. Xander had dropped to his knees, his hands shaking.

"Spike, Spike, Spike, wake up," Xander saw the blood drenching his vampire. He reached down to shake him. "Spike, get up." He heard the waver in his voice, felt the tears form in his eyes.

"Xander, what are you doing," Buffy said. "Get up."

Xander had snarled again and shook her hand away. "Willow, Willow, is he still alive or undead, whatever, just tell me, is he?"

Willow had dropped down next to Xander and slowly placed her hands on Spike. "Yes, just, he’s very hurt."

"Can we move him?" Xander was shaking. He had almost lost Spike. He could still lose Spike.

"Why do you want to move him?" Buffy voice drifted down to him. "Just leave him Xander, if he wakes before sunrise he’ll be fine, otherwise, well, no great loss." Buffy wasn’t even looking at Xander, she was busy making sure Tara was okay. She was stunned when Xander slammed her into the wall of the crypt.

"You bitch, you would leave him here to die." Xander poured all the contempt he felt into his words.

"Xander, what’s wrong with you, that’s SPIKE, it’s not like he’s. . ." Buffy stopped as Xander turned his back to her and returned to Spike’s side.

Xander just reached down and lifted Spike from the ground, surprised by how light he was. He began walking as quickly as he could back to where he had left his car. He could sense the girls trailing behind him but he didn’t care, he just wanted to get to the car, get away from them so that he could feed Spike, could wash the blood off and watch until he woke up. Xander didn’t even consider what would happen if Spike didn’t wake up.

Buffy moved to stand in front of him and he just stepped around her. Buffy frowned and reached out, grabbing onto Xander’s arm using all her strength to stop him. Xander glared down at her.

"Xander, what are you doing, did you hit your head or something? Why are you helping Spike?"

"Because he’s my friend, because he helped me. Now get out of my way, Slayer."

Buffy flinched back at the coldness of the voice. Xander just yanked his arm away and turned his back on them all. Long minutes later he reached his car and quickly settled Spike on the front seat. Spike had not moved the entire time. Xander flew back to their apartment, panic ripping through him. Finally, he had gently placed Spike onto the couch. He raced to the kitchen, yanking open the freezer and grabbing a packet of human blood he had placed there as an emergency stash. He ripped it open and threw it into the microwave, in agony at how slowly the seconds ticked by. Finally, it was warm and he raced back to the couch. Tilting Spike’s head back, he poured the blood into Spike’s mouth. At first, it had just rolled down Spike’s chin and Xander’s panic began to spiral out of control.

"No, no, gods, please whatever you want, just give him back to me, please, please, drink."

He wiped Spike’s chin with his shirttail and poured some more blood into Spike’s mouth. This time, Spike swallowed and Xander felt the tears begin to fall down his face.

"That’s right, drink, it will make you better, that’s it a little more." Xander quickly fed all the blood to Spike and then went back for another bag. He quickly heated this as well and returned to the couch. Spike still hadn’t moved, but this time he drank with no hesitation. Xander had settled Spike back onto the couch, then had gone to clean him. He couldn’t bear to see the blood covering Spike’s body. He carefully pulled the torn clothes away, dressing Spike in Xander’s favorite t-shirt and sweats. Still, Spike didn’t move. Xander settled next to him on the couch, a hand on the vampire’s chest, the other caressing Spike’s face.

"Please, wake up. You have to wake up. I never told you just how much you did for me, just what you mean to me. You have to wake up." Xander whispered the words over and over, his whole body shaking. "Please."

There was still no response. Finally, Xander could take no more. Reaching out blindly, he found the edge of the glass topping the table. He ripped his wrist open and pressed it to Spike’s mouth.

"Drink, please, you did it before, drink." Nothing. He began to sob. "Don’t you leave me here, I need you. I can’t be here without you. Drink."

His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the sudden pull. It was everything that he had remembered, everything he had dreamed about. Spike’s mouth, pulling Xander into him. Better than anything. His head fell back as he grew faint but still he did not pull away. All, Spike could drain him dry. As long as Spike was safe. He felt cold arms suddenly grip his back, felt his arm being yanked away, heard a rough gasp.

"Xander, Xander, speak to me. Why did you do that, I could have drained you," Spike’s voice. Spike’s shaky voice. Spike talking to him. Xander forced his eyes to open.

"You’re awake." Xander smiled as the world tilted back into place.

"Yes," Spike replied. His mind was reeling. He remembered the attack, remember his rage as he was held down, his terror at being torn from Xander, at leaving his love. Then nothing. Then Xander’s voice, hot tears on his face. Then that taste again, the heat of Xander pouring into him. It had yanked him out of whatever limbo state he had been in. Then panic as he felt Xander’s heart slow, felt the life bleed from him. He had forced him away. Now Xander was propped against the back of the couch, ghostly pale.

"Xander, why did you do that, I could have drained you, never do that, never again." Spike’s voice cut through the room. **Never, never lose you, never, stake myself first**

"You wouldn’t wake up, I brought you back and you wouldn’t wake up. I had some human blood in the freezer and heated it and fed it to you, but you wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t, I couldn’t lose you, I couldn’t bear it, it was all I could think to do." Xander reached out, tracing over the ridges still present on Spike’s forehead.

Spike pulled back slightly, he hadn’t realized he was still in his gameface. He pulled Xander into a tight embrace, rocking slightly, trying to calm them both.

"Luv, I would have woken up, it’s just something vampires do to heal, we kind of go into a coma like state, usually lasts about a day, then we wake up fine, hungry but fine." Spike could feel hot tears streaming down from where Xander’s face was pressed into his shoulder. "You didn’t have to do that." Pulling back slightly he leaned his head down to catch Xander’s eye. "Promise me that you will never do that again." Now it was his voice that cracked.

Xander shook his head. "No, I can’t promise that."

Spike’s grip on Xander’s back tightened. "Xander, please, promise me. What if I hadn’t been able to stop, what if I had," he couldn’t finish the sentence. Spike began to shake again.

"It would be worth it."

the truth burning in Xander’s eyes.

"What?"

"It would be worth it. If you survived, it would be worth it." Firm conviction in Xander’s voice.

"Why," Spike whispered. "Why would it be worth it? If you were gone then I wouldn’t want to survive anyway." He went still as he realized what he had just said. **OH SHIT** He had just all but admitted that he loved the boy. He closed his eyes as he waited for Xander to pull away.

"That’s why," Spike’s eyes shot open again as he heard Xander’s voice. "That’s why it would be worth it. If you were gone I wouldn’t want to be here either."

Xander looked straight into Spike’s eyes, gathering all his courage. "I couldn’t live if you weren’t here." With those quiet words he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spike’s pouring all the other words he couldn’t say into the kiss. He didn’t care if Spike pushed him away, didn’t care if he was mocked and humiliated. He had almost lost the only person he loved, and he was not going to waste any more time.

Spike felt Xander’s mouth on his, felt Xander’s tongue trace his lips. He gave up and fell into the heat. He opened his mouth, returning passion with passion. He pulled Xander closer to him, trying to merge into him. The blood was nothing compared to this. The sweep of a tongue in his mouth, warm hands running through his hair, small moans of desire, his, Xander’s, theirs. Finally, they broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other.

"Spike," Xander whispered, reaching for that last bit of courage, trying to say the words.

"Xander," his name sighed out with the same longing, the same desire.

"Spike," Xander leaned back, reaching up his hand to cup Spike’s face. Spike leaned into the touch. They stared at each other for eternal seconds.

"Spike," again the sigh of a voice, everything that needed to be said contained in that one syllable.

"I know," came the quiet reply. "So do I"

The fire burned through him, stripping away all else. Through all his years, all the time he had wandered the globe, all the places he had been, all the flesh he had touched, nothing had ever burned him like this. It was like tasting the sun, like jumping into an ocean of lava. The purity raced through his veins, washing all aside, everything but the feel of the warm body in his arms, the taste of hope and truth in his mouth, the scent of love and desire that surrounded them both. Spike buried his hands in Xander’s hair, locking their mouths even tighter together. He trailed his tongue along Xander’s lower lip, pressing down slightly to request entrance. He wanted Xander. He needed Xander. He would do nothing that Xander did not request, he would never take, only ask. Even now as every fiber in his body screamed to take the boy, to finally know the feel of that hot, hot skin against his, another part held back. No. The small part of his mind that still retained some control was holding him back. He couldn’t believe that Xander could kiss him back, that Xander could run his hands roughly down his back, that Xander could open his mouth and seek out his tongue in return. Not after everything that had happened. Spike was awed at the strength it showed. No matter how much he wanted to plunge into Xander, to become one, he would wait. He had to wait. He would never hurt his love.

Xander groaned into Spike’s mouth. So cold, so right. Everything he had dreamed and better, so much better. This was right. His eyes were tightly closed, concentrating everything he had on this kiss, on the feel of Spike’s tongue finally dancing with his, twining round and round. He tried to pull Spike even closer, though their bodies were already flush against one another. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t be close enough. He wanted Spike, he wanted to be part of him, to join together, to be one. Finally, he pulled his mouth away, gasping for air, a faint part of him damning the fate that made him need to breathe. Panting, he lowered his head back to Spike’s shoulder, feeling the dampness from his tears. His hands greedily roamed over Spike’s back as he began to kiss his way up Spike’s neck, reveling in the sounds it provoked, the little whimpers and moans, the husky sound of Spike crying out his name. "Xan," breathed on a sigh, "Oh, hell, there, right there, Xan." He began to tug at Spike’s shirt, the need to feel the skin against his overpowering.

Spike could feel his eyes roll back in his head as he felt the warm path of Xander’s mouth along his jawline. Every time he thought it was impossible for him to grow harder, Xander did something new with his tongue that took him to greater heights. **Bloody hell, where did the whelp learn how to do THAT** "Yes, that, there, again, Xan. Bloody hell." **Bloody hell, so good, don’t stop** He felt one hand begin to tug his shirt out of his jeans as the other moved to the neck line, pulling it away from his throat. Xander’s mouth greedily moved along the stark line of his collarbone, pausing in the hollow. Xander began to lick long, slow paths back and forth, back and forth, in a firm, suggestive rhythm. Spike thrust his hips up in ecstasy. Finally, pulling himself together, he ran his hands up Xander’s sides and wrapped a hand around each shoulder, gently tearing Xander away. He heard the protesting whimper but held firm. He had to stop them now. Another minute and he would be too far gone. He didn’t want to stop, he wanted to lavish attention on the body of his love, wanted to bring Xander to the pinnacle of delight over and over, wanted to worship Xander the way he should be. But he had to stop them. He had to know this is what Xander wanted. It had to be Xander’s choice.

"Luv," Spike swallowed hard, trying to collect himself. **Love. Say it. Love** "Luv," he started again. He looked straight into Xander’s eyes and was stunned by what he saw there. Desire, desire for him. Desire, longing and love. Spike felt an almost overpowering urge to crush his mouth back down, but he held firm. This needed to be said and needed to be said now. "Please, are you sure? Do you want this?" He saw the sudden cloud over those beautiful eyes, felt Xander begin to draw back slightly. He just gripped harder, pulling Xander back. "I need to know, do you truly want this? We don’t have to do anything more, we can do whatever you want, we will do only what you want. I just," Spike’s eyes dropped down for just a moment, gathering strength. He took in a purposeful breath and then slowly let it out. **Here goes nothing** "I just need you to know that you don’t have to do anything for me. I need you to know that I would never hurt you, never make you do something you don’t want," his voice cracked now as the image of Xander’s father loomed over him. "I would never," he felt the tears well up, choking him. **Damn it, stop it you nancy boy. This is not helping** "I would never hurt you. I will never hurt you."

Xander felt his heart stop for a moment at those words, could actually smell the truth radiating from Spike’s body. **Is this what it’s like for him, to know everything with all his senses** His hands had moved to Spike’s waist when Spike had leaned him back and his fingers were trailing along the firm edge there, longing to move over that hard stomach, over the perfect ripples along Spike’s abdomen. But, at Spike’s words, he reached up and placed a hand on each side of Spike’s face, forcing the vampire to look into his eyes. He understood why Spike hesitated and it nearly broke his heart. If he had any doubt about Spike’s true feelings before, they were gone now. He held William the Bloody in his arms, the legendary Spike, the Slayer of Slayers. A Master. A vampire who lorded over others, who roamed wherever he wanted, taking whatever he wanted. A powerful lord, whose very name invoked fear and respect. And he was stopping Xander when it was obvious that he wanted nothing more than to continue. He was stopping to ask permission, no, not even that. He had asked for nothing other than assurances that this was what Xander wanted, letting him know that Xander was in control, that the decision was entirely his. Xander drew in a shaky breath. Yes, there was a part of him that was nervous, somewhat from the memories of what his father had done, but more because he had never made love to a man before and he could only imagine how much experience Spike had. But the rest of him had never been so sure of anything in his life. He wanted this. He had finally found his home, found the place where he was whole and true.

"Spike, listen to me. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I wanted you before I could admit to myself that I did. It’s been all I could do for the last few weeks not to just turn over in bed at night and throw myself at you." Xander saw the wonderment in Spike’s eyes, the relief and joy but there was still some hesitation. Again, his heart twisted as he realized the only reason why Spike would still hold back. There was only one thing he could think to say to make Spike sure, to make him realize Xander was telling the truth. Xander took in a deep breath and then continued. He knew there would be no going back from this, and the thrill of it was almost more than he could bear. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Spike’s lips. Pulling back, he caught Spike’s eyes again.

"Please, Spike. Make love to me. Show me what to do. Teach me how to please you. I want you, I need you, I’ve never needed anything more. Please." Leaning back into Spike, he caught the vampire’s mouth in a frantic kiss, plunging his tongue past those cool, cool lips, praying Spike could taste the desire and truth. He let up slightly, leaving his lips pressed against Spike’s. "Please."

Spike groaned and grabbed Xander by the back of his head, devouring that mouth. He hadn’t been prepared for that response, for the open look of lust and the pure taste of desire. They attached one another, mouths desperately roaming over whatever part they could touch. Spike sank back on the couch, pulling Xander on top of him, draping that heavy, beautiful weight over him. Xander’s hair fell forward, caressing his cheek as Xander moved back down his throat. He could feel Xander’s hardness pressed into his leg, the heat of it calling to him. Then all thoughts stopped as he felt Xander’s hands go under his shirt, moving up his sides as Xander returned to his mouth. The kiss was slower this time, deeper, longer, still desperate but in a different way. This time the desire was for knowledge, the passion was to learn the taste of one another, to memorize it for later.

Slowly they drew apart as Xander’s need to breathe interrupted again. Spike took the opportunity to trace a line down Xander’s throat, heart constricting when he saw Xander lean his head back, heard the gasps of pleasure his actions provoked. The trust was instinctive, there was not even the faintest scent of fear. Spike moved his hands under Xander’s shirt, finally caressing that strong back, daring to trace the lines that he had memorized as they lay together in bed. Spike suddenly realized that they were writhing against each other, hips moving together, unconsciously rocking back and forth.

Xander suddenly pulled them both upright, shocking Spike with his strength.

"Okay, time out."

"What is it, pet?" came the immediate, concerned reply. "Too much, bloody hell, I’m sorry, why didn’t you say something?" The hands which had continued to stroke Xander’s back slowed, then pulled away. "What do you want?"

Xander smiled at that. "You, of course. That’s pretty obvious." He was so hard it hurt. "It’s just that you haven’t actually answered me. How about it, Spike? Make love to me?" He wasn’t sure why but he needed to hear it. He could feel Spike’s erection pressing into him, he knew full well that Spike wanted this too. It was just that he couldn’t believe that anyone who knew about what his father had done could truly want him, not really believe it. He needed to hear the words.

"Xander," Spike traced a finger down his face. "Luv, I truly want nothing more. Just, are you sure?"

Xander felt a sudden rush of desire. It was true, Spike wanted him, wanted him as much as he wanted Spike. "Oh, hell, yes, I’m sure." The response was growled out.

"C’mon then, let’s take this to bed. Want to do this right and if we don’t go now, don’t think I’ll be able to walk." Spike hoped the joke would cover the sudden nervousness he felt. It wasn’t so much that he was concerned about his performance, hell, he had been having sex before his soon to be lover’s great-great-grandparents were born. And he had learned from some of the greatest lovers in the world. It was just that he wanted this to be perfect, wanted to erase whatever images that bastard had left in Xander’s head.

"Yeah, that would be good idea." At that they slowly untangled themselves and stood up, both wincing slightly. Reaching out, Spike gently took Xander’s hand and led him into their bedroom.

Xander could feel the nervousness rise in him, could feel the increase of his heartbeat. He wasn’t afraid, just a little concerned that it would hurt. He was more worried about pleasing Spike. What did he know about pleasing another man? He knew what he liked, but that was about it. **Stop it, stop it, this is what you want. It’ll be okay**

Entering the bedroom, Spike pulled Xander close and began kissing him again, slowly, carefully. He could feel the tenseness in the body next to him. He knew that Xander was nervous, whether from the memories or from some other reason. He thought he knew what it was. He was practically certain that Xander had never been with a man before and Spike still remembered how he had felt, even as a vampire, the first time he had been with Angelus. Insecure, unsure, intimidated. He trailed tiny kisses up to Xander’s ear.

"Relax, luv, this is for you. All for you. I don’t want you to think about me, to do anything for me. This is your night. All for you." Spike purred deep in his chest, thinking of what he would do to this beautiful man in his arms, all the ways he had to make him beg for more. He kissed the soft spot behind Xander’s ear, then slowly moved them to the edge of the bed, drawing Xander down next to him.

Xander shuddered at the gentle touch of Spike’s lips, calming under the hypnotizing sound of Spike’s voice. He relaxed, letting the sensations wash over him. He felt himself being pushed backwards so that he was lying on the bed, Spike hovering over him.

"Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I want to please you, to make you feel good. That’s all I want," Spike’s voice low in his ear as he was gently pulled up so that he was lying completely on the bed, a pillow suddenly appearing under his head. Xander nodded, his eyes still closed, unaware that his lips were slightly parted and a look of bliss was on his face.

Spike resumed his slow exploration of Xander’s mouth, pressing closely into Xander’s side. He trailed his hand slowly across Xander’s chest while Xander’s hands traced down his sides. He felt a questing hand trace across his waist, felt Xander tug at his shirt again. Never letting up from his attention to Xander’s mouth, he slowly pulled Xander’s shirt up, gradually revealing the golden flesh. Xander, in turn, pulled at Spike’s shirt. Finally, Spike pulled back, parting them just enough so that they could each pull the shirts over the others head. Spike grabbed the cloth in his hands, tossing it across the room. He feasted on the sight below him. Xander glowed in the low light of the bedside lamps, shining like a star.

Xander finally opened his eyes, needing to see Spike’s body. The familiar white skin, the perfect hardness of that chest, the faint line of hair disappearing into those black jeans. His mouth went dry as he stared.

They stayed locked like that for a few minutes, hands tracing across each other’s flesh until the desire for contact overwhelmed them. This time it was Xander who pulled Spike onto his body, crushing the vampire down onto him, craving that coolness to bathe his heat.

Spike moved down Xander’s throat, kissing a meandering path to Xander’s nipples which had already hardened into stiff peaks. He slowly licked a circle around the hard nubbin on Xander’s right side, watching his lover’s face the entire time. Xander gasped and arched into Spike’s mouth. "Christ, Spike," the broken words panted out. "Please, so good." Spike took the flesh further into his mouth, lapping slowly across the nipple while his hand stole up to Xander’s left side. He ran the flat of his palm against that hard, hot flesh and another gasp stole from Xander’s mouth. He slowly licked across, finally bathing the other nipple in long, hot kisses. Xander began to moan, unconsciously thrusting his hips up and down.

Spike began to kiss his way lower, longing to drag this out further, but knowing that Xander was getting close to the edge. He hesitated when he reached the waistband of Xander’s pants, wanting to just rip them off, but needing more to be sure this was what Xander wanted. His concern, however, was quickly answered when Xander lifted his hips from the bed as he reached down to unzip his pants.

"You gonna help or what?"

Grinning, Spike grabbed the legs of Xander’s pants and in one strong move tore them from Xander’s body. Xander’s boxers came off with them, and Spike drew in a sharp breath as the feast which lay before him. Xander was so very beautiful. Spike smelled the sudden scent of embarrassment and hesitation, and he immediately leaned down for a gentle kiss.

"Xander, you are so beautiful. So perfect, so pure." Spike murmured into Xander’s ear. He began to run his hands down Xander’s side. "I want you so much." He felt the tension begin to ease from his boy’s body, and Spike took the opportunity to sit up, moving to the foot of the bed.

"So beautiful." The words were sighed out as Spike began to kiss his way up Xander’s legs. "You taste so good." Slowly, slowly he kissed along Xander’s calves, moving from leg to leg, leaving no spot untouched.

Xander reached out blindly, grabbing the sheets, desperately trying to control the sensations flooding him. This was better than anything he had ever dreamed. His thoughts had been occupied almost exclusively with daydreams about Spike for some time, but this was a million times better than any fantasy. He gasped again as Spike lavished attention on his thighs, drawing ever closer to the hard length pressed into his stomach. He swallowed and concentrated, wanting to endure for as long as he could.

Spike moved up Xander’s body, ravishing every inch he could find. **So pure, like tasting the sky** He knew he was torturing Xander, but he wanted to memorize every part of him, wanted to pull it into himself. However, the rise in Xander’s heartbeat and a sudden change in his scent warned him that he was close to going too far. Settling himself between Xander’s legs, he moved so that his mouth hovered over the tip of Xander’s cock. It was long and straight, as perfect as the rest of Xander. The tip was already shiny with pre-cum and the scent of it blew through Spike’s senses. He gently reached up, caressing the long length was careful fingertips. Watching Xander’s face, focusing all his senses on feeling any hesitation coming from his lover, he lowered his mouth and took the flesh into his mouth.

Xander gasped, helplessly arching upwards. He almost came right then. He had never felt anything so good in his life. Not even Anya had affected him like this. He didn’t know if it was the way Spike was caressing his balls or the way Spike’s tongue trailed and traced around the sensitive skin at the tip of his prick or if it was the fact that it was Spike, the man he loved more than life itself, sucking him deeply down that made it so intense. Waves of pleasure poured over him and he lost all ability to think, could only feel. He whimpered meaningless sounds, a look of pure exhilaration on his face.

Spike sucked him in slowly, taking Xander as far into his mouth as he could. He moved slowly, knowing that Xander wouldn’t last long. He set up a steady rhythm, moving up and down the shaft, trailing his tongue around the hardness. He could feel the tension building and he quickened the pace, one hand grabbing the base while he turned all his attention to the tip. He felt the build, heard Xander’s breath coming in long, hard pants and then heard Xander call his name, "Spike, Spike, god, Spike" and the strong, salty taste poured down his throat. He greedily sucked up every drop, the intensity of the taste the same as Xander’s blood. When he had wrung out every drop he could, he moved back up to lie next to Xander, pulling him close, dropping light kisses into his hair.

Xander leaned up and grabbed the back of Spike’s head, yanking him into a strong kiss. He could taste himself in Spike’s mouth and the mixture of their flavors pulled a strong moan from him. One. They were one. He slowly realized that Spike was still wearing his jeans, that he could feel Spike’s hardness against him. Reaching down, he quickly unbuttoned the jeans, yanked down the zipper and started to tug the impossibly **no perfectly, you KNOW what they do for his ass** tight jeans down. Spike’s hands reached down to stop him.

"No, pet, for you, all for you. Don’t worry about me," Spike muttered into his mouth. He didn’t want Xander to feel he had to do this. As aroused as he was, he was content with the look of pleasure on Xander’s face. **I did that, I made him that happy**

"I want to worry about you. I want you. Please, Spike," Xander’s voice trailed off a bit. He didn’t know how to ask this. He wanted it, he wanted Spike to fill him, to claim him, to possess him. Xander felt the blush creep over him, but he was determined. He needed this, he wanted this. "Please, Spike, I want you. I want you to. . ." Again his voice sank away. **Oh, fuck this** "Spike, I want you inside me."

Spike went still. He hadn’t expected this. He had long resigned himself to the fact that if by some miracle he would ever have a chance with Xander that this would not be part of their relationship. He could not imagine Xander trusting anyone enough to allow that, let alone Xander wanting anyone to do that.

"Xander," now it was Spike’s turn to hear his voice break. "Xander, are you positive? I don’t want to. . ." Spike locked eyes with his lover, unable to continue. **To what, hurt you, make you think of that monster, do anything to you that creature did, remind you of him in any way** "I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you." Spike’s voice shook. He wanted nothing more than this. He couldn’t claim Xander, not the way he should be since he couldn’t bite him and this was the next closest thing. But he wouldn’t hurt Xander, couldn’t hurt Xander.

"I know, the chip," Xander went to continue but was stopped by a finger on his lips.

"No, not the chip. I don’t want to hurt you. I could never hurt you. I will never hurt you." The sincerity burned in those blue eyes, tearing into Xander’s heart.

"But I want this. I really do. Spike, I want to be part of you, I want you to be part of me." A smile suddenly crossed Xander’s face. "Besides, you said this was all for me. Well, I want you in me. Spike, I really do. I need to, I want to, believe me." Xander ran his fingers down the side of Spike’s face, trying to convince him.

Spike just stared down at the disheveled body below him. Xander meant it. His hands started to shake as the love this represented overwhelmed him. Nodding, unable to speak, he leaned down and gently kissed Xander.

"If that’s what you want. . ." A sudden thought struck him and he fell back on the bed, groaning. **Of all the bloody luck** "Um, pet, don’t know how to put this, but I, well, I don’t have anything to. . ." Spike stopped unsure of how to broach this topic.

Xander just grinned suddenly, reaching out to his side and opening a drawer in the bedside table. Spike just stared as Xander leaned up, rummaged around and then dropped something on the bed between them. Spike’s jaw dropped in shock when he saw the tube of lube. When he looked up, he saw Xander grinning from ear to ear, a pleased expression in his eye.

"Pet, when did you get that?" It was the only possible question he could think to ask.

"Last week," came the answer, laughter obvious in the voice. "Didn’t know if it was good planning or wishful thinking, but, be prepared, you know." Xander just smirked. He had been in the grocery store the previous week, picking up milk and cigarettes and the Godiva white chocolate ice cream Spike was addicted to. Walking down the wrong aisle and daydreaming about licking the ice cream off Spike’s chest, he had caught sight of the box out of the corner of his eye. On sudden impulse he had thrown it into the cart and, when he came home, had moved it to his nightstand when Spike went out that night.

"Good planning." Spike grinned back at him. The smiles slowly faded and were replaced by a rising heat. He heard Xander’s heartbeat quicken as Xander’s hand began to trail along his chest.

"So, let’s put it to good use then," the words spoken slowly, but with conviction.

"Are you absolutely positive?" Spike had to ask one last time, had to be sure. His answer came when Xander pushed him back and ripped off his pants.

Xander inhaled sharply, openly gaping at the sight of Spike lying naked before him. Spike was perfect, there was no other way to put it. Long, lean, hard. Perfect. He reached out a hand and grasped Spike’s shaft, desperate for contact. He heard a sudden hiss and saw Spike’s face contort in pleasure. Wickedly grinning, he began to stroke his vampire, listening to the sounds coming from underneath him. After a minute, however, he was suddenly forced onto his back, Spike pinning his arms above his head.

"Keep that up and you won’t get your wish," was growled into his lips. Xander just nodded.

Spike began to deeply kiss him, reaching out for the lube. If Xander was sure, and he could tell that Xander was sure, then Spike was desperate for this as well. He carefully squeezed out a generous amount and thoroughly coated his the fingers of his right hand. He drew Xander’s legs up and pulled him flat on the bed. He could smell the nervousness and strength in equal measures.

"I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ll make this feel so good." Spike began to whisper as he reached down slowly, finally meeting the burning flesh. "Just tell me if you don’t like it and we’ll stop." Xander just nodded, his eyes falling shut.

Spike gently pressed one finger forward, moving slowly, taking care to be as slow as he could. He pushed carefully, gasping a little at the tightness and heat he found. He moved slowly, until his finger was completely inserted. He probed gently, finally encountering his goal. He gently stroked Xander’s prostate, delighted by the sudden cry beneath him.

"Christ, so good, do that again."

Smiling slightly, Spike repeated his gesture and Xander arched up under his ministrations.

"More, please, more."

Pulling out carefully, Spike added a second finger. He entered more quickly, Xander’s passage already relaxing. Spike began to carefully thrust in and out, making sure to stroke Xander’s prostate each time. Xander quickly hardened again and his hips began to move in time with Spike’s hand.

"Please," the words fell from hot lips, Xander’s eyes were still closed and his head tossed back and forth. "Please."

Spike added a third finger and found his entry to be smooth. He still slowly prepared Xander, taking infinite care. He wanted this to be amazing. He wanted to blow Xander’s mind. He wanted Xander to know what felt like to be filled so that Xander would fuck him next time. Finally satisfied with his preparations, he curled Xander’s legs into his chest. He wanted to face him as he entered, wanted to see the reactions on that lovely face.

Spike quickly coated himself, making sure he was as slick as could be. He positioned himself at Xander’s entrance, then reached a hand up to rest on Xander’s face.

"Xander," he said quietly, "Please, look at me."

Xander opened his eyes, his breath coming quickly.

"I love you," Spike said, then slowly entered him, his eyes on Xander’s face the entire time.

Xander thought he was going to die from the pleasure. The times with his father had been so violent and had hurt so much. This, this was heaven. He wanted to respond to Spike, repeat the words, let Spike know he loved him too. But he couldn’t speak.

Spike’s eyes rolled back as he moved slowly, as slowly as he could. The tightness and heat were overwhelming. He felt no hesitation, his preparations having fully opened his lover. Sinking down, he entered Xander to the hilt, completely wrapped together. Spike forced his eyes open and he looked down, wanting to be sure there was no trace of pain on Xander’s face. He saw Xander staring back at him, nothing but pleasure written there.

"Spike, Spike, I love you. I love you so much. Everything. Always."

Those words sent Spike over the edge. He began thrusting in and out, moving deliberately but steadily. A hand wrapped itself around Xander’s renewed hardness and they began to move in unison, their climax approaching quickly. Spike’s thrusts grew faster, more frantic and with a cry he came, Xander’s echoing cry coming a second later. He spilled into Xander, shooting his seed in as deeply as he could. He dropped slowly onto Xander’s chest, reluctantly pulling out so that he could wrap his lover **Mine, forever, mine** into a tight embrace. They panted together, still shaking. Finally, Xander pulled away slightly, leaning up for a quick kiss.

"That was incredible." Xander had loved it, loved the feel, the connection. Loved that Spike said he loved him. Loved that he knew Spike loved him. Loved Spike.

"Yes, it was." Spike’s hold on Xander tightened for a second. It was better than he had imagined. And he had spent a very long time imagining just this.

"Spike?"

"Yes, Xander?"

"I love you." Xander sighed out the words.

Spike smiled, contentment flooding through him. "I love you, too. Now, what do you say we go shower. Always wanted to wash your back."

Xander grinned. "Ok, I always wanted to wash your front."

Spike grinned back. He felt incredible. Xander loved him. Xander had said he loved him. Xander loved him. **And I’m turning into an enormous whipped pouf of a wanker**

Standing up, he reached up a hand. "C’mon, pet, let’s get washed up then sleep. Wanna get some rest so I can shag you rotten tomorrow."

Xander grinned as Spike pulled him up. Looking at the clock he saw it was 2:30 in the morning. "Spike, technically, it is tomorrow."

"Well, then best get cracking."

Matching idiotic smiles on their faces, they walked hand in hand to the bathroom.

Xander slowly opened his eyes, a feeling of utter contentment running through his body. He had grown so used to waking up slightly anxious, muscles still tense from subconsciously waiting for an attack. This had started to fade somewhat since he had moved out, but the nightmares which still plagued him had not allowed him to completely relax. But now, for the first time since he could remember, he woke up entirely refreshed. He knew exactly why, it was because of the cool weight which was draped across his chest. He hadn’t realized until now that the smell of cigarettes mingled with hairgel would calm him completely. Hadn’t realized it, that is, until Spike’s head had rested on his chest, until the scent drifted up to him.

Xander smiled to himself, enjoying the feel of the flesh under his hands. Spike was still asleep, well, at least he thought the vampire was still asleep. It was so difficult to tell since Xander couldn’t rely on the sounds of a muffled heartbeat or the steady pull of breathing. So Xander had him all to himself for at least a few moments, could stare down to his heart’s content. Spike was so gorgeous, the sharp line of his cheekbone casting shadows along his face. Some time during the night they had turned and Xander was now resting on his back, Spike’s head on his chest, the vampire’s body sprawled next to his. Xander’s right arm was wrapped around that firm body, almost completely encircling the slender waist. He hadn’t realized just how compact Spike was until they were in the shower, until Xander had run his hands over every inch of that body, calm enough after their lovemaking to enjoy without the hot need burning through him. Well, mostly. Sort of. A little bit. Okay, maybe he had pinned Spike to the shower wall a few times and tried to suck his tonsils out through his mouth, but, please, he was only human - a wry grin crossed his face as those words went through his head - and Spike was, well, Spike. Not that the vampire had protested. If they weren’t both so exhausted from the events of the night before, Xander was sure that the vampire would have been happy to have had sex in the shower.

But, between the sex and the beating Spike had taken, combined with the blood that Xander had given Spike to drink, they were both a little too worn out to try anything that strenuous.

Of course, Xander was thoroughly rested now. An evil smile crept over his face. Spike had murmured several things in his ear before they went to sleep the previous night. Among the promises, between vows of love and oaths of protection, had been one comment that was now driving Xander slowly insane.

"Don’t worry, pet, don’t be shy around me. I’ll teach you everything I know. Give me a chance and I’ll make sure you know just how to make me scream." A tongue had traced the contours of his ear as the words fell into his mind.

Xander began to stroke his fingers through Spike’s hair while his other hand ran up and down Spike’s flank. A low rumbling purr started beneath him, delighting Xander to no end. When they had finally emerged from the shower, basically driven out when the hot water ran out and Xander’s lips had started to turn blue, Spike had set about making sure that Xander as comfortable as possible. Spike had washed him from head to toe, even washing Xander’s hair. The whole time the same low, contented rumbling had come from Spike. Xander didn’t even have to ask, it was obvious that Spike was purring, that he was completely pleased. The noise was soothing and slightly arousing all at once. Soothing, because the hum of it came from some low register which made him sleepy and arousing because Xander knew that Spike was happy, that he had made Spike happy, that he had made Spike feel so secure. Spike had pulled him over to the bed and set him down then pressed a quick kiss to Xander’s lips.

"Right back, Xan, why don’t you get dressed, I want to go get something."

Xander opened his mouth to ask what Spike was after, but Spike had already left the room. Shrugging, wondering what his lover was up to, he decided to pull on something comfortable. Looking over, he saw the shirts they had been wearing lying on the floor where they had landed when Spike had tossed them away. Padding over, he picked up the shirt he had put on Spike and held it in his hands. It smelled like Spike, the trace of tobacco there but other scents too. Surprisingly, it was a fresh, clean smell, which was in sharp contrast to what he had expected. Xander inhaled it deeply, wishing he could smell it on Spike the way Spike could smell his own scent. Sighing, he slipped it over his head, moving back to pull open a drawer and pull out an old pair of sweats. Comfy, he cocked his head and listened closely. Spike was doing something in the kitchen. Curious, he headed out to see what his partner was up to.

Spike moved quickly and efficiently around the kitchen, gathering together a light supper for Xander. It was one of his many well-kept secrets that he was actually rather an accomplished cook. While vampires didn’t need to eat, not food anyway, Spike enjoyed a good meal on occasion. He had not had many chances to cook with Dru and since the crypt had no kitchen, he had not had any opportunities there. Since moving into the apartment, he had made a few meals for Xander, simple things like stir-fry or pasta, wanting to make sure that Xander consumed something other than the junk food that his body seemed to thrive on. Spike knew that Xander had to be starving, that the blood loss would shortly begin to catch up to Xander and make him dizzy.

Spike pulled the eggs out and quickly broke them into a bowl, stirred in some milk, salt and pepper, then expertly poured the mixture into the heated pan. Xander liked omelettes, the protein would be good and it was light. Besides, he made excellent omelettes, light and fluffy and he wanted to show off, just a little. Spike smiled at the thought. **Bloody right I want to show off, want to treat him like the god he is, take care of him the way he should be** Spike shook his head at this train of thought.

He had always been a hopeless romantic. Before he had been turned, William had been bookish and shy, besotted with Cecily, living to please her. When he had been turned, his essential nature had not changed, just been twisted slightly. He had been as devoted to Angelus as he had ever been to Cecily, becoming whatever his Sire wanted to make him happy. It had made Angelus happy to have a childe as vicious and cruel as he was, so Spike had turned into a vicious killer to please him. It was meant as a gift, an act of devotion. And with Drusilla, he had instantly been her devoted slave. He had known she was unstable, childish and difficult, but he didn’t care. He knew that no matter what he did Dru would always want Angel more, but, again, he didn’t care. He needed to take care of someone and Dru needed him. She had been his dark princess and together they had caused rivers of blood to flow. All as an offering to her. Spike did love violence, it appealed to him deeply, but he was not as cold-blooded as Angelus, Dru and Darla. He had some code of honor, twisted as it was. Dru’s abandonment had crushed him and he had been lost without someone to love.

Now, now he had Xander. Spike had thought hard about the reasons for his feelings, wanting to be sure that he was not just latching onto the boy because Xander had been so helpless and Spike needed to be needed. He had spent hours prowling through the apartment searching to be sure that what he felt was true. He had ruthlessly examined himself and had finally realized that his emotions were authentic. Yes, in part he was drawn to Xander because Xander needed him, but that was not why he loved the dark eyed beauty. It was Xander’s strength, heat, kindness and purity that drew him like a moth to a flame. No matter what, Xander bounced back, was thrown down again and again and just smiled and returned. It awed Spike, that this human was so resilient and brave, facing down evil of all kinds open eyed but still hopeful. Spike knew his love for Xander was like nothing he had ever known.

Spike shook himself out of his reverie and expertly flipped the omelette. It was done quickly and Spike slid it onto a plate. He turned to pour out a glass of milk and was looking for a tray when he heard the sound of Xander walking into the kitchen.

Xander had smelled the delicious scent of cooking as soon as he started down the hall. His mouth had instantly started watering and he realized that he was starving.

"Hey, that smells good," he called out as he settled onto the stool, enjoying the sight of a topless Spike cooking in their kitchen. Spike had grabbed a pair of Xander’s sweatpants and the vision of Spike wearing his clothes was stirring a low flame of desire in Xander. Especially since they were dipping off Spike’s slender hips. Xander licked his lips, clearly picturing Spike’s tight ass in his hands. **Down boy, down, gotta eat, gotta get strength so you can play with the pretty**

"Thought you might be hungry, you’ve had a busy night," Spike replied, sliding the plate over along with a fork and some napkins. He leaned on the other side of the counter as Xander hungrily attacked his plate.

"Yehmf, dimff reayibize," Xander started to talk while simultaneously eating and downing the glass of milk. He swallowed and started over. "Yeah, didn’t realize how much. This is great, Spike."

Spike just smiled, raking in the sight of Xander’s swollen lips and wet hair. The shower had been great, he had gotten to clean Xander, been able to run his hands lovingly over the strong body, gotten to run his hands through that thick hair. He felt his arousal begin to grow again and just shook his head. **Bloody hell, I could spend the rest of the night shagging him and it still wouldn’t be enough** As much as he wanted to do just that, he also wanted to let the events of the evening sink fully into his mind. He had made love to Xander. It still seemed unbelievable. He had wanted just this for so long that he was finding it hard to accept as real, he kept expecting to wake up as he had so many times before, waking to reach out for Xander only to find that he was alone, that it was just a dream.

Of course, his dream Xander usually didn’t run his finger along a plate, trying to lick up every last crumb. Xander finally stopped, satisfied that he had devoured the entire meal. It tasted wonderful and he felt so content, so happy. A huge yawn gripped him, and he stretched.

"Tired, Xan?"

Xander just nodded, his eyes closed. He hadn’t realized just how tired until that moment. Between the shower and the food, not to mention the mindshattering sex, he was completely relaxed. Exhaustion was being to steal over him. It had been a very long night. Looking up, he saw it was now nearly 3:30 in the morning. No wonder he was so tired.

Spike walked over, pulling Xander behind him as they headed back to sleep. Spike hated to admit it, but he was just as spent. Along with the physical drain, the emotions of the night were taking their toll. He had been terrified when the fledglings had attacked, furious that he was being ripped away, that he was losing his love, that Xander would no long be safe and protected. Then he had been jerked back to consciousness by the taste of Xander’s blood, terror again ripping through him when he thought he had taken too much. Then the shock of Xander kissing him, immediately followed by the enormous relief of finally admitting his feelings. Then the sensation of taking Xander as his, of feeling Xander surrounding him. Now, the security of knowing that Xander loved him too. It was fabulous, it was tremendous, it was making him very, very tired.

They collapsed onto the bed, crawling under the covers. Automatically, Xander turned onto his right side and Spike curved behind him. Just like always. Except this time Xander’s fingers were locked with Spike’s and Spike could whisper all the things he had been longing to say. He felt Xander drift off and then he shortly followed him in rest.

Xander’s hands began to wander over the body in his arms, the longing growing the more he watched his sleeping lover. His lover. Spike was his lover. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe how right it felt, couldn’t believe that he had no hesitation, no doubt. Everything about Spike was wrong for him. He was a vicious killer. He had tried to kill Xander in the past. He would probably try to kill him in the future should the chip ever fail or Spike succeeded in having it removed. He was undead. He was male. He was a vampire. He was the love of Xander’s life. Maybe it the Hellmouth, maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, Xander didn’t care. It was right. That’s all he cared. He leaned down to kiss the top of Spike’s head.

Spike’s eyes shot open as he felt the kiss drop on his temple. He was resting on Xander’s chest, Xander’s hand were moving over him possessively. Not a dream. It had all been real. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling a wave of happiness steal over him. That and a wave of arousal. Xander’s hands were doing some very nice things to his back at the moment and he was rapidly coming to full consciousness. He lifted his head up to gaze into Xander’s face.

"Morning, luv."

"And a good morning to you, sleepy head," came the amused reply. "Thought you were going to spend the rest of the day unconscious."

Spike reluctantly pulled his way out of Xander’s embrace, not wanting to leave but unable to reach Xander’s lips. He pulled himself up Xander’s body, then leaned in for a quick kiss which rapidly deepened as their passions grew. Xander pulled Spike on top of him so that the cool weight was plastered to his body. Hands began to roam all over, each vying for possession of the other. Their lengths grew against one another as they began to move in unison, grinding their hips together. Spike suddenly turned, flipping them over so that Xander was now on top of him. Xander responded by kissing straight down Spike’s throat, stopping only to run the tip of his tongue straight across Spike’s collarbones, swirling a circle in the hollow at the base of Spike’s throat. He continued down, licking a sure path from nipple to nipple, sucking each into his mouth and tonguing it firmly. Spike just moaned at the sensations, desperate hands trying frantically to pull Xander back up, needing to taste that warm mouth. Xander ignored the imploring hands, the needful tone of Spike’s voice and continued his sure path down. Spike finally managed to yank Xander back up just as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of the sweats Spike still wore.

"Hell, Xan, what are you doing," he gasped out, stunned by Xander’s aggressiveness.

"Thought that was pretty obvious," came the amused reply. Xander attempted to slide back down the bed, but Spike held him tightly.

"Seriously, Xander, what are you up to," Spike looked up as Xander hovered above him.

Xander pressed quick kisses all over Spike’s face. "You promised to teach me how to make you scream, well, now seemed like as good a time as any to start." He leaned down and captured Spike’s lips with his own, devouring the cool mouth. He broke away and continued his path down, both growing more and more aroused. This time, Xander kissed straight down Spike’s chest, unerringly heading for Spike’s erection. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants and began to pull down.

Just as the phone began to ring.

Xander stopped for a second then shrugged, deciding to ignore it. He was busy and that’s why they invented answering machines. He resumed his attempts at stripping Spike when he heard the machine kick in.

"Xander, it’s Buffy, look wanted to talk to you about last night. Please pick up if you’re there, well, we’re all kinda worried about you being alone with Spike, um, if you don’t call back soon, tell you what we’ll just come over. Ok, well, hope you get this. Bye."
Matching groans filled the air as Spike sat up and Xander pulled Spike’s pants back on.

"Xander, is there something you want to tell me?" Spike asked. Buffy had obviously sounded worried and a worried Slayer was never boded well for him.

"Well, see, Buffy kind of, well, kind of wanted to leave you in the cemetery. Said something about leaving you there and if the sun rose no big loss. I sort of threw her into the side of a crypt, picked you up, she tried to stop me and I may, possibly, have been somewhat rude to her." Xander nervously picked at the comforter. He really had forgotten about that, it didn’t particularly matter before.

Spike groaned again and fell back on the bed, grabbing a pillow to cover his face.

"That’s just bloody fabulous, got the Slayer all brassed off, did you? Proud as I am, this is not good." He had been avoiding thinking about what to tell the Slayer, the Watcher, the witches, the demon, basically all of Xander’s friends. They would not react well, and he had been too enraptured in the moment to want reality to intrude. So much for that plan.

"Look, I wasn’t really thinking," Xander heatedly started to reply. Spike just reached out a hand and ran it down Xander’s arm.

"I’m not mad, luv. Just, didn’t want to deal with this just yet."

Xander took in a deep breath. "Neither did I. What are we going to do?"

He was torn. On the one hand, he was proud that Spike was his and wanted everyone to know. On the other hand, he didn’t want to explain this yet, didn’t want to see the looks on everyone’s faces. This was his, it was private, he wanted a chance to just enjoy it without explanations and accusations. And without having to watch as one of his best friends tried to kill his love. No, that was of the bad.

Spike uncovered his face and sat up. He let out an unnecessary sigh. This was inevitable, but he wanted some time alone first, wanted some time to just bond in peace.

"I don’t know. Do you want to tell them?" Spike looked down at this. This was another thing he wasn’t sure about, if Xander would want to tell everyone. Maybe not. He knew it would just further complicate Xander’s full life.

"Of course," came the instant reply. Xander looked over and saw the relief on Spike’s face. "Spike, of course I want to tell them. I’m proud of you, proud you want me. But, not yet, you know?"

Spike nodded, thrilled by the response. "I know. You do realize that the Slayer will probably try to stake me."

"Yup," came the quiet reply. "She doesn’t mean it you know, she’s just trying to protect me. Carries it too far sometimes, but that’s because she’s my friend."

"Well, I may be familiar with overreacting when trying to protect someone," came the wry reply. Spike reached over and took Xander’s hand. "Why don’t you call her back, tell her you tied me to a chair and that I’ll be leaving as soon as the sun goes down. Then go and meet them, grab some lunch or something." Spike hated the thought of being torn apart so soon, but he knew that this would at least buy them some time.

Xander just reached for the phone. That was a good idea. He already knew what he was going to tell them, how to explain his reaction. Gods, he hated lying about this, but neither of them were ready to face the others. Not just yet. He hit the speed dial and waited for an answer.

"Hey, Buff." Spike listened to the disjointed conversation. "Yeah, I was in the bathroom. Sorry about last night. Oh, I tied the bleached wonder to a chair, he’s sitting here flipping me off as we speak. Trust me, he wasn’t thrilled about this either. What? Oh, as soon as the sun goes down. Don’t think he’ll be patrolling for a few days, he seems rather pissed off. What are you doing for lunch? With Willow and Tara? I’ll meet you there. ‘K, bye." He slowly hung up the phone.

"I’m meeting them in about half an hour." Xander sighed and headed for the bathroom, reluctant to leave but seeing no other choice.

Spike trailed behind him, wanting to pull his lover back, but knowing he couldn’t.

"This is for the best, at least for now," he quietly murmured, trying to convince himself as well.

"Yeah," came the sad reply. "I know."

Spike quickly left the bathroom, not trusting himself around a naked and wet Xander. He stalked into the living room and began to hit the heavy bag in the corner, pouring out his rage.

Xander quickly showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, dressed and let the room. He heard the sound of Spike attacking the bag, wishing he could join him. He walked over, angling himself so that Spike would see him. Spike spun, getting in one more kick, then stopped.
"I have to go," Xander sighed. "I’ll be back as soon as I can, miss you."

Spike just looked over then reached out and grabbed Xander. He kissed him desperately, longing and fear driving him. Xander responded in kind, then reluctantly pulled away.

"Look, I’ll call as soon as I can. Tell you what happened, just pick up if you hear me on the machine."

Spike just stared at him, shocked at the feeling of loss coming over him. It was just lunch. Xander would be back soon. Spike walked Xander to the elevator, wanting to spend every second possible with his love.

Xander turned, trailed a finger across Spike’s lips. "Miss you. Love you." He yanked the gate shut and took the elevator down before he changed his mind. Spike just stared after him, unable to speak.

Xander dropped down next to Willow on the couch.

"Hey, Wills, Tara, Buffster. And how are my lovely ladies?" It took everything he had to sound like his normal, chipper self. This was going to be torture.

"Hey, Xan," came the replies.

"So, did you fix up the bleached one?" Buffy called out as she came down the stairs of her house, adjusting the heel of her shoe.

"Yup, back to his ungrateful, surly self."

Buffy nodded, grabbing her jacket as they headed for the door. "Well, what was that all about anyway, you certainly wigged." The gang headed for Xander’s car, heading for the mall.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Just, well, got to know him a little when you dumped him on me and we sorta became friends. Kinda, in a weird way, and just didn’t want to leave him there. Besides, he’s saved my sorry ass more than once recently and felt like returning the favor." Xander said as he pulled down the street.

"Oh," said Willow. "Well, that makes sense. Sort of."

"Yeah," Tara softly agreed, stroking Willow’s hand. "He was trying to protect us, so I guess we should have been a little more concerned. He pulled like three or four fledglings off of Willow. So, so, he can’t be all bad."

Xander shot a grateful look into the rearview mirror. He hadn’t even thought about that point.

"I guess," Buffy said, digging through her purse. Finding her sunglasses, she put them on. "Still, he is Spike. Of the bad and all. And he has tried to kill us all before, several times, so you’ll forgive me for not giving a damn."

Xander’s knuckles went white as he clenched the steering wheel. He took several deep, calming breaths. He knew, intellectually, that Buffy wasn’t trying to hurt him. Just try telling that to the rest of him.

"Well, like I said, sorry. Won’t happen again. So what are we shopping for?" He knew that would shut them up. Well, actually that would set them off on a new path and that’s all he really wanted.

"Shoes!" came the delighted reply, all three voices called out.

"Please, kill me now."

Three hours later, Xander finally managed to tear himself away from the women. They had hit every shoe store at least once and he had been forced to stay with them as catch and ferry boy. He was going slowly insane. But, true to form, they had all gone off to the bathroom together. He grabbed the nearest telephone, sending up a quick prayer of thanks that he could see the ladies room door. He dialed the number and listened as the machine kicked in on the first ring.

"Spike, please pick up. Everything’s fine, I miss you. Pick up." He heard the quick disconnect then Spike’s voice.

"Xander, you okay, did they say anything?" Spike’s hands were shaking. He had grown increasingly frantic with every second that passed.

"No, gave them some line about how you saved me so I had to save you. They bought it." He heard the sigh of relief come down the line.

"Miss you."

Xander couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. They had only been apart for three and a half hours and they were both acting like it was days. "Me too. Back soon I hope, can’t promise. I’m bailing on them tonight, though. I’ve got better things to do." His vision blurred for a moment as he pondered just what he would be doing. **Down boy**

"Fucking right you do," came the snarled reply.

Xander saw the door open and heard Willow voice. "Gotta go, back soon, promise" He hung up and walked back to join his friends, counting the seconds until he could leave.

Spike paced in front of the elevator doors, listening to the grinding of the gears. He had been going insane the entire time Xander was gone, picturing the Slayer saying something cruel, hurting his mate. The phone call had only helped a tiny amount. He had been able to hear the truth in Xander’s voice, knew that the gang had believed him. However, the sound of Xander’s voice had driven him mad with longing. He caught himself playing the snippet caught on the machine over and over just to hear Xander say he missed him.

Finally, the doors opened and Xander came almost running out the elevator straight into Spike’s arms.

"Spike, oh Christ, that was, you weren’t there, missed you," the words came spilling out as they fell to the floor, clutching one another. Frantically, they started to kiss, trying to make up for the hours they were apart. Xander finally wrenched away, once again damning his need to breathe.

"C’mon, let’s get inside." Xander moved off Spike, stood and reached out a hand. Spike took it and Xander pulled him up, then yanked him through the door of their apartment.

"Xander," Spike called out as he was pulled determinedly to the bedroom. "Seem a little focused there, care to share."

Xander stopped, pulled Spike flush against him and stared deep into those blue eyes.

"You promised me some lessons. Figure since I have so much to learn, need to get started." Xander pushed Spike down onto the bed and straddled him, ripping off his shirt.

"I do like an eager student," came the amused reply. "What say we start by you unzipping my jeans with your teeth?"

Xander grinned and leaned down. "So, how long will this lesson go, anyway?"

"All night, if your lucky."

"Oh, I plan on getting lucky."

Spike just laughed as Xander set to work.

Spike paced back and forth, checking the clock for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. He had cleaned the apartment, done the dishes, worked out for about three hours until even that got boring, put away the laundry, cleaned both bathrooms – again, put away the movies, sorted the cds alphabetically by artist and chronologically for each artist and rearranged the books. He had managed to stop himself when he realized he was standing in the center of the living room trying to decide how to move the couch to achieve maximum flow. **That’s it, no more HGTV, mate. Next thing you know you’ll be making curtains**

He had taken to pacing and smoking but even that was not helping. He looked at the clock again and sighed. Ten minutes until Xander was due back. He hated that Xander still worked, that he hadn’t been able to convince him to quit and just be with him. It wasn’t as if Xander needed the money, Spike was only too happy to give Xander everything that was his. But his lover had just shook his head at that , said "Sorry, I actually like this job, makes me feel like there’s something out there I do well." Xander had managed to cut Spike’s response short. "And don’t even start – I mean, besides that." So now, instead of being with Spike on their anniversary, Xander was at bloody work.

Their anniversary. One month today. One month since Xander said he loved him. Spike closed his eyes, savoring the memory of that night. He had spent so much time just wishing to hear it that, every time the words came from his lover’s mouth, he felt his dead heart twist, just a little. Even now, when the words came easily and often, they still resonated in the air.

Spike turned to kitchen counter, settling onto one of the stools and staring at the small, dark box with a deep forest green ribbon sitting there. He hoped his Xander would like his present. It was perhaps a trifle extravagant, but Xander rarely let Spike do anything for him, wouldn’t allow Spike to heap the treasures upon him that he deserved. Spike had been at a loss for what to get until they had driven by the dealership a few days before. They were on their way to the grocery store when Xander had looked out the window.

"Hey, that’s nice."

Spike shot a quick glance over. A dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee was sitting near the road, a small spotlight shining on it.

"Fancy something with a bit more flash, myself." His eyes had suddenly narrowed and a wicked grin curved up the corner of his mouth. His problem may have just been solved. "So you like something a bit manlier, eh? Good for hauling things around and whatnot?"

"Well, those are really nice. All leather interior and sound system. Can go camping and not even get mosquito bit. And they hold up really well and are really safe." Xander had replied, casting a quick glance back. He had always wanted one, just that color.

Spike had just shrugged, "To each their own."

He had called the car lot as soon as Xander left for work the next day. Thankfully, they had exactly what he wanted in stock and would be able to make the few changes that Spike requested. He exhaled a quick stream of smoke and looked to the ceiling. It was amazing what cash could get you. It had been delivered earlier that day and Spike had moved it around the side of the warehouse. The box contained the keys.

He wondered what Xander had in mind. When they woke that morning, wrapped around one another as always, Xander had immediately leaned up to kiss him.

"Happy anniversary," a low, happy tone to his voice.

"Happy anniversary to you too, pet. Wasn’t sure you would notice."

Xander sat up, stretched and then smacked him upside the head. "Not notice. Like I could not notice something like that."

They had padded into the kitchen where Xander had quickly finished breakfast. As he turned to head into the bathroom to shower, he had called back. "Oh, don’t make any plans for dinner. I’m going to take you somewhere."

"And where’s that, luv." **Damn, have to cancel the reservations then**

"You’ll see, it’s a surprise. Wash my back?" With that all thoughts of the surprise had fled Spike’s mind.

Now, Spike wondered just what Xander had in mind. His precious had seemed a little distracted the last few days, and Spike had been unable to find out why. Maybe this was the reason. He heard the sound of the elevator and quickly opened the apartment door. He was rewarded by the sight of a quick blur as Xander slammed him into the wall.

"Missed you," Spike managed to get out before they were again attacking one another, Xander pinning him against the wall, Spike grabbing his shirt and holding just as tight.

"Missed you, too. Happy anniversary, I love you." Xander grinned at Spike. He had missed him, even more than usual. It always felt like part of him was gone whenever they were separated and today, well, today it was even worse. Reluctantly, he stepped back. If they didn’t stop now, they would just wind up having sex in the doorway, again, and as much fun as that was, Xander wanted to savor it tonight.

"Love you too," came the quiet reply as Spike also took a step back. **Right, remember, no shagging until later, you have a plan** Spike watched as Xander preceded him into the living room, strong back moving under his shirt, ass nicely outlined by his jeans. **Sod the plan** He reached out, but Xander quickly pulled away, swatting at his hands.

"Stop that, bad vamp. Later. Want to get cleaned up. Sun’s down in a little bit and, like I said, I have a surprise for you." Xander smiled, then a small crease crossed his brow. He wasn’t sure if Spike would like this. He shook his head, clearing his mind. "Looks nice in here, you clean?"

"Bloody nothing else to do. I’m turning into a little nancy boy, you do realize that?" Spike followed Xander into the bedroom, watching him strip out his work clothes. **Oh, free show**

"Sorry, I’ll get right to work on that whole sun not melting you thing. Gonna go shower," Xander glanced down and saw the hopeful expression on Spike’s face. **Focus, no sex now, sex later, focus, you can do it.** "And, no, you can’t join me." He ignored the howl of protest and locked the door behind him. **Yeah, like that would stop him**

Xander quickly showered, then changed into his favorite outfit, a black sweater and dark khakis. He knew Spike liked it, thus it was now his favorite. He wanted to look good, wanted everything to be perfect. He really wasn’t sure how Spike was going to react, so he wanted to be sure that everything else was right. Spike had gone back into the living room to avoid temptation and Xander walked out to meet him.

"Ready?"

"We going somewhere, then, luv?" Spike smiled up at Xander. This was the perfect time.

"Yup, got everything in my car." Xander grabbed Spike’s hand and started to pull him to the door. He was startled when he found himself being pulled into the kitchen instead.

"No, Xander, I don’t think you do." Spike grinned as he handed Xander the small box, seeing the look of confusion there. "Happy anniversary, open it."

"Spike, what are you up to," Xander started as he pulled the lid off. He looked down, confused, at the keychain. "Spike, um, these are keys."

"Very good, I always knew you were bright."

Xander just rolled his eyes as he lifted the keys from the box. His eyes grew wide when he saw the emblem hanging down. "Spike, these are Jeep keys."

"Another brilliant observation. Now, why didn’t they accept you at Oxford?"

"Spike," Xander looked over, trying to keep his voice calm and level. "What are these for?"

Now Spike rolled his eyes, "For a Jeep, thought you established that, ducks." He grinned. This was going even better than he had thought.

"SPIKE," came the frustrated response.

Laughing, Spike just pulled Xander out the door. "Close your eyes, Xander." Dutifully, Xander closed his eyes, giving up and just going along with whatever Spike had planned. They rode the elevator down, then Xander felt them go outside, walk a little ways and then stop.

"Ok, you can open them now."

Xander opened his eyes and felt his jaw drop. The Jeep, the one he had pointed out, was parked in front of him. He looked at Spike, who was looked like he was about to burst in two with pride and glee, then back at the Jeep. He closed his mouth, opened it again, still couldn’t speak, shook his head, then moved the few steps forward to place his hand on the hood.

"For me." the wonderment was clear in his voice. No one had ever done anything so nice for him in his life.

"Said you liked it, besides, that deathtrap you drive has to go." Spike was ecstatic. It was obvious that he had done the right thing.

"Wow, this is, wow, too much, you shouldn’t have, oh man." Xander stopped then walked over to grab Spike. "Thank you." With that, he kissed Spike thoroughly, trying to ensure that Spike realized just how much this meant. "Really, thank you. I would say you shouldn’t have, but that would be a waste of time."

He and Spike had already argued about this several times. Spike had finally admitted that his comment about being well off was a slight understatement, in fact, Spike was rich. Very rich. And Spike did not understand why he couldn’t just give it all to Xander. Xander had finally convinced Spike that he wanted nothing more than Spike’s own evil self, but he knew it hurt Spike that he wouldn’t just accept his gifts. So, he wasn’t about to turn this down.

"Glad you like. Now, didn’t say something about going somewhere?" Spike just stared into Xander’s eyes, drinking in the pleasure there. He had done a good thing, he had made Xander happy. He had worried that Xander might fight him on this like he had fought the suggestion that Spike add him to his bank accounts, but, apparently, special occasions were exceptions to Xander’s idiotic "small gifts ONLY" rule. Spike filed that away for future use.

"Yeah, and actually, this is perfect for where we’re going. Just, let me get some stuff." Xander practically ran back to his car, grabbing the small picnic basket in the backseat along with a blanket from the trunk. Returning, he found Spike just watching him, pride on his face. Xander quickly unlocked the doors and they got in. The new car smell hit them both, the smell of the leather heady.

**Oh, great, now my car smells like Spike’s duster. No distraction there, can just see it now. Well, officer, see I hit the tree because I was too busy thinking about what my boyfriend looks like naked to pay attention to anything as petty as the road**

They pulled out, and Xander just grinned, feeling the power as he stepped on the gas. He began to look around the interior, noticing that this was clearly a top line model. Glancing over, he realized the side windows were nearly opaque.

"Spike, did you have the windows blacked out?" This was great, if they ever had to go somewhere during the day then Spike could just ride in the back.

"Absolutely. Well, as dark as they would and still let you drive it. Wanted to have some options in case we suddenly had to flee during the day."

"Good idea, not the fleeing, but the day thing. This way we can take road trips." He was dying to go away with his partner.

They drove on for a short time longer, Xander exclaiming as he discovered each feature of his new toy. Spike just sat there, bemused, listening to the happy chatter. Finally, the pulled off the road into a small park. Xander followed the curving road all the way to the back, then parked the car. By this time, the moon had risen, full and heavy and the stars shown clearly in the sky.

"We’re here. Well, almost, have to walk a little way still." Xander got out, running his hand down the doorframe as he did so, then reached back to grab the basket and blanket. He reached out, took Spike’s hand, then led him down a small path.

"Pet, you sure this is the safest place to be." Spike looked around, somewhat concerned. If he had been hunting, this would have been a fabulous place to lay in wait.

Xander just pulled a couple of stakes from the basket. "Thought about that already. I used to come here a lot, though, and I was never attacked. And you know that I’m a demon magnet." They followed the path down, the sound of running water filling their ears. They reached the end of the path and Xander simply turned to his right and struck out through the woods.

"You do know where you are going?" Spike asked, worried. He could see clearly, but it was dark and they were now descending a steep hill.

"I told you, I used to come here a lot." Xander just continued down, carefully picking his footing. Finally, they reached the bottom of the hill and entered a small clearing. Spike’s eyes widened at the sight before him.

They had emerged from the trees into a clearing at the foot of a large pool. The pool was fed by a small waterfall that came cascading down the side of the hill they had descended, sparkling in the moonlight. A stream fed out the other side of the pool and large, moss covered rocks were present in the water. It was beautiful, calm, peaceful, an oasis in the night.

"Xander, this is unbelievable, I never knew this was here," Spike moved forward, gazing around in awe.

"Nobody does, you can see there’s no path. I found it years ago when I was out hiking one night and, well, for a long time I came here whenever things got to be too much." Xander moved behind Spike and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Spike’s shoulder. "I’ve never seen anyone else here, never even seen signs that anyone else knows it’s here, it’s like it’s my own private place."

Spike just nodded, hearing the unspoken words. They rarely spoke of Xander’s past, only when Xander mentioned it, only when he wanted to share. It was still too difficult for his love, and Spike always grew furious whenever he thought about what Xander’s parents had done to him. They stayed there, quiet, for long minutes, until Xander sighed and then pulled away from Spike. He spread out the blanket, placed the basket in the center and then sat down. Spike immediately sat next to him.

Xander took a deep breath. He had been thinking about this for the last two weeks and he had finally reached a decision. He had to say this, had to get it out in the open for what he prayed would be the only time.

"Spike, please just listen to me for a few minutes, okay. This is really important." The vampire nodded, scenting the hesitation coming from his boy. He tried to move closer, but Xander turned to face him. Taking Spike’s hands in his, and staring at their entwined fingers, he continued.

"I didn’t know what to give you. I don’t have much to offer you besides my love which you have already. But that’s not enough, I want to do something to show you how much you mean to me. So, tomorrow we’re having an apartment warming party. Everyone is coming over and, well, they aren’t coming over to see my place, they are coming over to see our place." Xander looked up, seeing the shock on Spike’s face. "When they get there, I’m going to tell them that you are living with me, that you are my boyfriend, that we are together. They can just deal." His voice was defiant but still shook a little. He knew this had the potential to go very badly. Spike opened his mouth to speak, but Xander stopped him. "I know, you don’t want them to hurt me. Well, I don’t want them to hurt you. They have to know. I want them to know. I want everyone to know. I’m yours, you’re mine. So, happy anniversary." Xander looked back down, afraid of Spike’s response. He meant it, he was tired of hiding, tired of having to always show up separately, tired of not touching whenever they were with the others, tired of pretending.

Spike just stared for a moment. He honestly didn’t know how to react. "Xander, are you sure, the Slayer, I mean, you know she will be upset. And the rest, they won’t understand, Xander, they’re your friends. I don’t want you to lose them because of me."

Xander’s head shot up at that and he leaned over to kiss Spike. "First, the Slayer can deal. I had to deal with her and Angel and, well, I didn’t deal well, but I dealt. I can take whatever she dishes out. And if she tries to stake you, then she’ll have to come through me first. Second, if the rest can’t accept it, then they aren’t my friends."

Spike returned the kiss, touched to the core. "Thank you. So, tomorrow night. The big coming out party." A smirk crossed his face. "We serving pink cake?"

Xander hit him, relieved. That part had gone better then he thought. "No, idiot. Alcohol. Thought that would help more." Now the hard part. "That’s not all though." With that he stood and began to pace.

"Remember, the other night, when you asked me what I was thinking about so intensely?" Spike nodded, going still. He could tell that Xander was finally going to reveal whatever it was that had been troubling him. He pushed himself up and moved to stand next to the water, able to watch Xander pace but not getting in the way.

Xander looked up at the stars, gathering his courage. "Well, I was thinking about how you always say forever to me." He put a hand to stop Spike. "I know you mean it, that’s not the problem." Xander’s pacing became faster as the tension in him coiled tightly. "Well, I say forever, too, and I mean it." He walked over to Spike, reaching out to touch that perfect face. "I do." Dropping his hand, he resumed pacing.

"It’s just, I was thinking how it wasn’t fair. When you say forever, you really truly mean forever. I don’t. I can’t. Someday," Xander swallowed hard as the tears began to form. "Someday I’m going to die," he said quietly. "I’m going to die and I’m going to leave you and," he stopped as his throat closed and the tears began to stream down his face. He felt cool arms grab him, felt a hand push his head down on a firm shoulder, heard the soothing sounds.

"Shh, don’t talk like that, don’t, why would you think about that," Spike’s voice shook as well, however. This was the subject they always avoided, the cloud which hung over them. No matter what, Xander would eventually leave Spike. Spike knew that even if he could, he would never turn this boy, that doing that would destroy what he loved in the first place. So it was inevitable, they could put it off as long as possible, but it was there with every heartbeat, every second one second closer to the end. Spike’s eyes closed and he felt the blood tears begin at the thought. "I know you mean it, that if it was yours to give then you would. It doesn’t matter." He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to reveal that he already knew that, as soon as Xander was gone, he would lie on his grave and wait for the sun.

Xander pulled back. He had to say this, had to deal with this once and for all. "Spike, please, just listen, ok. You’re right, if I can find some way to become immortal without being turned, then I will. And I’ve been searching and I plan on continuing to search. But, until, then, I want to be yours. I want everyone, everything to know I’m yours. I don’t want there to be any doubt." He let out another breath. This was the hardest part.

"Spike, I want you to claim me."

Spike froze. "What?" He couldn’t have heard right. He longed to claim Xander, to place his mark on that flesh so that nothing would dare harm what was his. But he couldn't, he couldn’t bite because of that fucking chip. Couldn’t truly protect Xander if he did.

"I said, I want you to claim me." Xander’s voice shook as he turned away. **Oh, fuck. You blew this, Harris** "Don’t worry, stupid idea, shouldn’t have said anything."

Spike yanked him around and crushed him to his chest. "Not a good idea. Don’t you think I’ve thought about nothing else the last month. Of course I want to claim you, but I can’t. I can’t bite you. Fucking bastards." The familiar rage began to build.

Xander’s shoulders completely relaxed as he listened to Spike rage. So Spike did want to claim him, it was just the chip that had stopped him. He grabbed Spike’s face in his hands, instantly stopping the violent words. He placed a gentle kiss on Spike’s lips, then pulled back.

"Thought about that, and, well, it’s up to you, but it depends on how much pain you’re willing to bear." Xander pulled them back to the blanket and opened the picnic basket. It contained a thermos and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Holding up the thermos, Xander began again. "Stopped at the blood bank the other day and told them I was going in for surgery and wanted a pint of my blood handy just in case." With the other hand, Xander help up the Jack Daniels. "And this should help knock you out after."

Spike stared at him in shock. "Blood to heal me and Jack to knock me out. Clever boy."

Xander grinned. "What can I say, I have my moments." The grin faded. "Seriously, Spike, I don’t know what will happen if you try to bite me, but I trust you. I love you. I know you won’t drain me. I don’t want to cause you pain, but I want to bear your mark. I want the world to know I’m yours."

Spike’s mind reeled. He had wanted this the moment he first kissed Xander, wanted to make sure no one else ever touched what was his. Wanted to see that mark, wanted to touch it, wanted to lap the wound clean. Wanted to taste that purity and hope moving inside him. And Xander wanted it too.

"You sure, what if, well, what if I can’t?"

"Than you can’t and we’ll figure something else out." Xander felt his heart pounding in his chest. Every time he thought that he loved Spike as much as possible, something else happened and he loved him a little more. Spike wanted to claim him. He wanted to be claimed. They wanted to be one. "Please, can we at least try?"

Spike pinned Xander down, crushing him, trying to pull them together as they kissed.

"Yes, anything, everything, you are mine. Forever. Forever. Mine." Finally, they drew apart, staring into each other’s eyes. Spike slowly stood, pulling Xander with him. He moved them to stand next to the pool, turning Xander so that the moon shown straight on that beautiful face.

"Where do you want the mark?"

Xander’s eyes dilated at that as a pang of arousal hit him. "Wherever you want."

Spike began to gently kiss along Xander’s neck, desire and fear mingling in equal parts.

"Well, luv, as much as I want everyone to see it, may cause questions you don’t want to answer." He finally stopped at the juncture of Xander’s neck and shoulder. There. Still could be seen but also covered. He raised his head, staring into those brown eyes. He could tell Xander meant this, could smell the truth of it. "Ready?"

Xander just nodded. He could still feel the times when Spike had drank from him, could still feel the pull, the intimacy. He craved this.

Spike nodded back. "Xander, I love you." With those words, he bent his head to Xander’s neck.

The pain hit the second his fangs descended. Spike’s knees almost buckled, but Xander held him firmly, the arms around Spike's waist supporting him. Spike pushed it away, tried to ignore the knife tearing through his mind. He pressed down and felt his teeth begin to sink into the hot flesh, felt the warm taste of blood begin to pour down his throat. The pain grew and grew, a living beast attempting to consume him. Spike could feel his whole body shake, could feel a seizure building, but still he pressed down. He would do this, he had to do this. Finally, he began to drink, the now familiar taste washing over him, battling back the waves of agony. He pressed further, deeper, mingling their essences. Suddenly, all pain stopped and he could only taste Xander, could only feel the love and completeness. He drank one last mouthful, faintly hearing Xander’s moan, feeling Xander’s hardness press into him. Slowly, reverently, he raised his head and began licking the wound clean, bathing his mate’s neck with long, sure strokes, sealing the mark. Finally, satisfied with his actions, he looked into Xander’s eyes.

Xander stared back. He could feel Spike inside him, could feel their halves become whole. He was Spike’s, Spike was his. They were. They would always be. He saw the slick of blood still on Spike’s mouth. With a low growl, he pulled that mouth to his, desperate to taste his blood in his lover’s mouth. Spike gave an answering growl and they fell to the ground, licking and tasting, feeling Xander’s blood pound in both their veins. Finally, they pulled apart.

Xander stroked Spike’s hair, shocked that Spike seemed so calm. "Are you ok, how bad was it? What do you need?"

Spike just trailed a finger along the mark. His. Xander was his. Forever. And now there was no way anyone could ever doubt. "It was bad, then it went away. It just stopped."

Xander’s eyes grew wide. "Really, what does that mean?"

"Don’t know," came the response, Spike’s eyes still fixed on the wound.

"Maybe you can bite me now, try it again."

"Really," Spike said, hopefully. Sex wasn’t quite the same without a little biting. "Here goes." He slipped back into gameface as Xander exposed his neck.

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL" The pain wracked through him instantly and Spike collapsed on top of Xander, shaking.

"Oh, hell, sorry, sorry, stupid idea." Xander rattled off frantically. He pushed Spike off, ran over and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. "Here, drink."

Spike reached out, panting, the pain still crashing through him. He yanked the bottle open and took a huge drink, then another, then another. Finally, the pain stopped.

Xander just sat next to Spike, stroking his back. He was furious with himself for suggesting something so stupid, but he really thought that something had happened, that maybe the chip had stopped working or something. Apparently not. Finally, Spike stopped shaking from pain.

"So, guess the fucking thing still works." The words slurred out.

"Guess so."

"Guess shagging is out of the question. Not sure which one of you I want most, probably the one in the middle." **Fuck, or not, can’t even walk. Car. Hill. How will**

"Guess not, we’ll make up for it later."

Xander gathered up their belongings, then wrapped a steady arm around his lover’s **my mate** waist. "C’mon, drunk boy. Let’s go home." Spike just nodded, his head tilting too far back and forward. Xander slowly led them back up the hill, settled Spike in the Jeep and headed home. He kept looking in the mirror, seeing the mark and grinning like a madman.

The Scoobies would just love this.

It was Xander’s turn to pace. The bottles were lined up on the island in the kitchen. There were chips and pretzels on the table. Movies were rented. Music selected. He had finally extracted a promise from Spike that when Buffy came after him, he would allow Xander to intervene. They were due here any minute. Xander knew they were all coming in a group, Giles had agreed to be the designated driver, so at least they would all know at once. He paced again.

"Pet, you’re making me dizzy."

Spike leaned against the refrigerator, looking the picture of calm. He actually was coiled like a snake, having reviewed all possible exits in case the Slayer reacted very worse than Xander thought.

"Can’t stand this, tell you what, let’s leave. Did you like Brazil, let’s go to Brazil. Always wanted to see Rio."

Spike let out a laugh at that. "Don’t forget, this little shindig was your idea. Now, you sure you want to go through with this?"

"No. Yes. Fuck."

"Well, that would let them in on our little secret wouldn’t it. Walk in to find us going at it on the floor." **Hmm, not a bad idea, that**

"Spike, that’s not helping." **Great, now I’m nervous and horny. Just great**

They heard the elevator, the sounds of the voices coming up the shaft. Then footsteps, then the loud knock. Xander looked over at Spike, who mouthed "love you". With that, Xander opened the door.

"Welcome to our humble abode."

They all came pouring in, thankfully, Buffy was at the back. The praise washed over him. "Great place, wow, do you have the whole thing to yourself, whose Jeep, oh, like the couch, it’s huge," all one big blur of noise.

Then Anya’s voice. "Hey, Spike, didn’t know you were invited."

Everyone turned at that and Spike slowly moved to stand by Xander. **Here we go**

Buffy turned to Xander, "You invited him, why would do that?"

Xander swallowed hard, reached out, took Spike’s hand and looked her straight in the eye.

"Didn’t invite. He lives here."

The room went perfectly still as all attention focused on Xander’s hand grasping Spike’s. Once again, it was Anya’s voice which broke the silence.

"Well, it’s about time you two said something, do you know how hard it’s been to keep acting like it’s a big secret."

She came bouncing over and kissed Xander on the cheek, tilting her head and deciding to kiss Spike as well, memorizing the expression of shock on his face.

"Yeah," said Willow, pulling Tara over with her. "I mean, it’s not like you guys have been subtle or anything." She leaned over to kiss Xander as well, chuckling as she saw his grip on Spike’s hand tighten.

Tara just looked at them shyly. "Seriously, Xander, Spike, didn’t you notice that when we had that party last week, the invitation said Xander and Spike."

At least this got some reaction. Xander and Spike looked at each other. No, they hadn’t noticed.

"But, how, I mean, we were careful, how, what," Xander began to sputter.

Willow, Tara and Anya just burst into gales of laughter. "Xander, you’ve been walking around on cloud nine for like, a month and Spike’s been even worse. Besides, he looks at you the way I look at Tara."

"Besides, you are men. You have men subtlety. Like the leaving five minutes apart thing." Anya just shook her head. "So obvious. And, just a suggestion, just because we’re human, well sort of, doesn’t mean we can’t smell sex if you give each other orgasms right before you leave." She rolled her eyes. Men.

Spike and Xander just stared at each other, shocked. They realized, however, that Buffy and Giles were standing perfectly still. As one their heads turned.

Buffy just stared back at them, the emotions clearly written on her face. Fury, disgust, rage, urge to kill. She stalked quickly over and Xander immediately placed himself between Spike and Buffy. **Oh shit, here it comes** Xander saw her reach down and he felt Spike tense, ready to run. "Buffy, c’mon, let me explain," he began then saw her hand quickly flinch up, throwing the water in his face.

"Hey, what was that for," he yelped out as Spike began to hiss behind him as the holy water splashed onto him. Spike jumped away from Xander, who was still staring down at Buffy. Buffy just looked back at him, confused.

"Xan, he didn’t, you’re not, you know, a vamp? He didn’t turn you?"

"Fuck, no, you stupid bint," Spike called from, relative, safety behind the counter. "Why would I turn him?"

Buffy just stared back as Xander continued to drip. She had to admit, she was more than a little confused. "Need a minute here guys. Apparently, someone forget to give me the memo that said you two hooked up." She grabbed Xander and yanked him forward, ignoring the growl that instantly came from Spike. "Why don’t you explain?" She let Xander go and noticed that Spike was instantly at his side, reaching out to touch him, then flinching back when he realized that he couldn’t, that Xander was drenched in the holy water.

"Are you done with the sudden water throwing?" Xander asked. This was not at all what he thought would happen. Apparently, Anya, Willow and Tara knew and seemed happy for them. Buffy had only tried to make sure that he hadn’t been turned, hadn’t tried to kill Spike, at least not yet. Giles was just staring at him.

"Yes."

Giles cleared his throat, taking his glasses off and polishing them. So, he had been right. Xander had seemed much happier lately, and Giles had started wondering why. Then, about a week ago, he had heard Xander and Spike having a quiet conversation. He hadn’t heard the words, but he recognized the tone. "Why don’t we all grab a drink, I know I need one, and let Spike and, and Xander explain."

Everyone nodded and moved to grab something, Xander still taking care to stay between Spike and Buffy who were trying to stare each other down. They moved to the living room, arranged themselves and then all looked at he and Spike expectantly.

"Well, since this doesn’t seem to be quite the surprise we thought, guess that’s good." Xander started, not sure how to proceed. He looked over at Spike, smiled slightly and started up.

"Well, a few months ago, Spike and I started to become friends. Some stuff happened," Xander’s face darkened for a moment and he looked back over. Spike just stared back, trying to will Xander his strength. Xander nodded and continued. "Anyway, stuff happened, and Spike was there and helped me deal. He moved back into the basement with me and when I got this place, he came along. Started feeling something more, then that night that he was attacked, we finally admitted what was happening. Told each other we loved each other," a smile unconsciously crossed his face at that, "and now, well, here we are."

Spike looked over at Xander’s friends as his mate finished. Giles looked back at him warily, Anya was grinning, Willow and Tara were beaming and Buffy, well she looked confused but not murderous. Much better than expected.

"So, you two are together," Buffy started. This was completely unexpected. She looked back at Xander. "I didn’t know you were gay."

"Neither did I," came the quiet reply.

"And now you’re with Spike," Buffy shook her head. Glaring over, she rose, stalking toward the blond who simply backed away. Xander again darted over to place himself between the two.

"Buffy, look, he didn’t do anything, I love him, you can’t stake him. This was my decision."

Buffy just glared at him. "Fine. I won’t stake him, yet." She pushed Xander out of the way, moving directly in front of Spike. "If you hurt him, in ANY way," a stake quickly dropped into her hand, "Then I won’t hesitate for a second." She pressed the tip of the stake into Spike’s chest. "I mean it. You hurt him, you’re dust."

Spike just looked back down at her. "Slayer, if I hurt him, I’ll stake myself. Wouldn’t give anyone else the pleasure."

Buffy just stared back at him, searching his face. The blue eyes stared steadily back, the truth apparent there. She pushed the stake back into her sleeve. "Fine. As long as we all understand." She walked back over to the couch. "Now, I just want to make one thing clear, Alexander Lavelle Harris. I get to be just as nice and supportive of you and your vampire boyfriend as you were of me and mine." She grinned. "So, how did you and Deadboy hook up?"

Spike and Xander stared at the ceiling. The party had gone quite well after that, everyone laughing, getting more and more drunk. Xander had gone to dry off and Spike went with him, still wary of the Slayer’s reaction. But, when they came back out, hand in hand, Buffy had just rolled her eyes but said nothing. The rest of the night had gone well, everyone sharing their best imitations of the look on Spike’s face when Anya had made the crack about the orgasms and Xander’s reaction to the water. Totally unexpected.

"Guess we were wrong about them," Spike suddenly said.

"Guess so," came the sleepy reply.

"Guess they really are your friends."

"No, guess they really are our friends."

"Guess so."

With that, they both fell asleep.

"I cannot believe you bloody got me back in Wal-Mart." Spike growled out. The bribe this time had been the promise that he could push the cart.

"Well, you’re the one who ate all the ice cream and nothing else is open at this time of night. Morning. Whatever. Besides, we need some other stuff, too." Xander looked down at the list. "Let’s start over with the toothbrushes, can get the other bathroom type stuff."

Spike just nodded. He had finally talked Xander into going to college and, since Xander made sure to take afternoon classes, they were on almost the same schedule. Xander had fought him at first, but Spike could be very persuasive. Actually, it was the support that Spike had given that had convinced Xander to try. Xander had always wanted to go to college, but, since his grades were so bad, most people had just assumed he wasn’t that bright. Spike had finally made him see otherwise, had forced him to check into it, had called around, had gotten the information, had filled out the application, had sent in the check. Basically done everything but drag Xander to class the first day and Xander was pretty sure that Spike would have found a way to do that if he hadn’t gone on his own.

He was enjoying it, discovering that, yes, he was actually pretty smart. He hadn’t decided a major yet, but was taking his time. The most surprising part was realizing that Spike could actually be a huge help. Xander had gradually realized that Spike was far more educated then any of them had ever suspected. In fact, Xander had a sneaking suspicion that Spike had gone to university himself at some point. Xander hadn’t asked, he was waiting until Spike reached just the right state of intoxication.

"Need soap, too."

Xander just nodded throwing cotton balls into the cart. "I’m going to go pick out toothbrushes, why don’t you get the soap then." He started to move away, when Spike grabbed him.

"What, no kiss goodbye?" An eyebrow quirked up.

"I’m going ten feet." A token protest.

"Your point being?"

Xander laughed, leaned over and kissed Spike. They usually didn’t kiss in public, not wanting to draw any undue attention, but it was 3:30 on a Wednesday morning, who could possibly see them.

"Always knew you were a fucking faggot." The harsh voice slapped into them, the scent of alcohol close behind.

Spike instantly went rigid. He knew that voice. Xander’s bastard of a father.

Xander looked up, in shock. He hadn’t seen or heard from his parents since he left. He had no desire to even act like they were alive. Now, here his father was, watching him kiss Spike. He heard the growling come from Spike and reached out just as Spike began to spring forward. "Stop it, not here, security cameras," he managed to hiss out, pulling Spike back with all his might.

Spike just continued to growl, yellow flickering through his eyes. The mere fact that piece of shit was still walking was an insult to everything he held dear. But he backed down.

"Dad," Xander said, looking straight into his father’s eyes. "What I do with my life is none of your fucking business."

"Don’t you speak to me like that, boy. You show some respect." A finger reached out, jabbing towards Xander’s chest. That was too much for Spike. Moving in front of Xander, he let himself morph into full gameface. He saw the shock cross the bastard’s face, felt the scent of fear rush out of him. Good. At least he could do this.

"You don’t deserve to speak to him. You never speak to him again. You are nothing to him." The words were a vicious growl and Spike’s hands clenched and unclenched as the longing to just rip the motherfucker’s head off raced through him. He felt Xander’s hand touch his back.

"Let’s just go. He isn’t worth this." The words were spat out as Xander simply walked away, refusing to even look at the man who claimed to be his father. Spike followed, turning back for one last hiss.

Xander walked quickly out the doors, head high, Spike right on his heels. He made it to his Jeep before he started to shake. Spike immediately grabbed him, running his hands over Xander’s back, making quiet, soothing sounds.
"Fuck"

"Yes, luv, that pretty much sums it up."

"Can’t believe he still makes me feel like that."

"I know," Spike felt the tic on his cheek as he clenched his teeth together. "He can’t hurt you now, though."

"I know." Xander buried his head in Spike’s shoulder, taking a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent. "Let’s go, don’t want him to come out and see us." Spike just nodded.

They got into the Jeep, Spike driving since Xander was still shaking too much, and drove home. Neither noticed the car following them.

Xander heard the elevator coming up. He glanced at the door. That was quick. Spike had just left for coffee about ten minutes before. Xander was studying for an American literature exam and needed the caffeine. He walked over, opening the door as he heard the footsteps approach, still reading the book in his hand. He pulled open the door.

"Hey that was fast," he never got another word out as he felt the fist slam into his cheek. Shocked, he fell back, smelling the alcohol, feeling the rage coming from the man in front of him. His father stared down, hatred evident on his face.

"Fucking faggot, prancing about, everyone laughing at me," he heard the words as his father grabbed him and threw him into the wall. The back of his head hit hard and he fell, seeing stars. He frantically tried to fight back, to reach the door, to get away. He felt the kicks to his ribs and he collapsed again, curling protectively to shield his face.

"You disgrace, should have killed you a long time ago," again he was thrown to the wall, but this time closer to the door. He reached out, pulling away, just as he saw the gleam of steel in his father’s hand. "I can fix that though."

Xander managed to hit the panic button on the alarm just as the knife was buried to its hilt in his chest.

Spike hummed along happily to the Sex Pistols. He had gone, gotten the coffee, stopped to pick up some Chinese, stopped at the store to get some chocolate and was now heading home. His Xander was studying, intent on doing well, intent on proving everyone wrong. It was so wonderful to see him changing, becoming more and more confident every day. Xander was growing up, growing into the strong, sure man that Spike had always known he would be. It was magical, like watching a tree grow, or a mountain form. Every day was something new. Spike hadn’t realized that such happiness existed.

He turned down their alleyway, startled by the lights suddenly before him. He felt panic begin to rise as he pulled forward, seeing the blue and red strobes, hearing the voices, seeing one, two, no three police cars and two ambulances. He slammed on the brakes, ripped open the door and took off at a dead run.

"Xander," the scream ripped through him. "Xander"

Strong arms grabbed him as he came to the police cars.

"Sir, sir you can’t go in there." The words vaguely registered as he desperately tried to pull away. The pain hit him and he jumped back, furious, desperate.

"Please, Xander, what happened, Xander, where is he. . ." Frantically, he turned to look at the officer holding him. "Xander." He turned back, the scent of blood hitting him from this distance. He managed to yank away and leapt over the hood of the car blocking his path, moving as quickly as he could towards the stretcher coming out the door. Again, he was stopped.

"Sir, please you can’t go in there. It’s a crime scene." At that he whirled around, yellow eyes blazing. He saw the shock on the young man’s face, but he didn’t care. "Sir, please, calm down, who are you?"

"William, I’m Xander’s mate." Spike managed to pant the words out, still straining to move ahead. Again, he saw the confusion there. "Boyfriend, I’m his boyfriend. What happened, please?" He hadn’t been gone that long, what the fuck happened.

"Sir, your boyfriend, Xander, he was attacked," came a quiet reply behind him. Spike turned again, growing dizzy at the words, looking over to see a calm face staring back at him. "He was beaten and stabbed," Spike began to howl as the words sank into him. He frantically tried to pull free. "Sir, calm down. He’s on his way to the hospital. He managed to hit the alarm and we were here in about five minutes. We shot the man who did this. We can take you to the hospital if you like, just please calm down."

Spike slowed a little, the calm words reaching through his rage. Attacked. While he was gone. He had failed. He had promised that nothing would ever happen to Xander. He had failed. Spike crashed to the ground as his legs finally gave way. Strong hands pulled him back up.

"Sir," "William," he faintly heard whispered next to him. "William, he’s still alive, he’s on his way to the hospital. I’m sure you want to go. Do you want us to take you?"

Spike managed to nod a yes and felt himself being led to a police car. He closed his eyes as the siren ripped through the night. Xander. Xander. Bleeding. Stabbed. Dying.

"He was attacked." The quiet words were pulled from him.

"Yes, someone came into the apartment and it appears there was a struggle and he was stabbed." Spike hissed at the words. Stabbed. Bleeding. Dying. Alone. He began to shake in rage.

"You shot who did this."

"Yes," came the simple reply.

Spike looked down at his shaking hands. They were flying along. **At least the tosser driving knows his stuff** "So he was still there when you got there." Spike felt his heart break, knew his mind wasn’t far behind. Stabbed. Bleeding. Dying. Alone.

"William," he looked over at the officer’s face, for the first time registering that it was a woman sitting next to him, that he was in the backseat. "William, please, I know this is hard, but just listen. Xander managed to hit the panic on the alarm. We got there in about five minutes. When we arrived, Xander was lying on the floor, stabbed." The woman reached her hand out as Spike began to shake. "William, just, try to be strong, Xander’s going to need you to be strong."

"Is the fucker still alive," he hissed out, yellow flashing through his eyes. **Please, whatever gods or demons, please let him be alive so I can kill him**

"Yes, at the moment. He’s going to the hospital as well." Spike just nodded.

They pulled into the hospital and Spike jumped out the door before the car had stopped. He ran into the emergency room, following the scent of Xander’s blood which seemed to drench everything around him. He heard the shouts behind him, heard the screams to stop, but he didn’t care. Stabbed. Bleeding. Dying. Alone. He couldn’t let that happen.

Once again, he was yanked back, this time by several pairs of hands. "Sir, you can’t go in there it’s the trauma room. Sir, stop, sir." Spike just struggled, desperate to break free. Again, pain crashed into him and he dropped to his knees, a scream of rage tearing through him. He felt a warm hand touch the side of his face.

"William," it was the female officer again. "William, the doctors are with him. They have to help him. I know you want to see him but you’ll just get in the way." She led Spike over to the chairs, sitting him down. He turned back to the doors, training all his senses on hearing the sounds. He could still hear Xander’s heartbeat, could pick it out from everything else. Shutting all other sounds out, he trained on just that sound. So slow, so weak, but still there. He realized that she was talking again.

"and I’m sorry to ask."

"What," Spike managed to whisper, never taking his eyes from the door.

"Can I ask you some questions," again, quietly, calmly, like she was trying to soothe a savage beast.

"Sure," Spike replied, still listening for that sound.

"Where were you," she started and found herself faced with a vicious glare.

"You think I had something to do with this, that’s my mate, my mate, do you understand, when he dies, I die." Spike hissed at her, the rage building inside him. The only reason he didn’t scream was to prevent them from coming to tranquilize him, to take him away from his mate.

"That’s not it, just trying to get a sense of what happened." She calmly looked back, waiting as Spike finally nodded. "Can you tell me about what you did tonight?"

"Stayed in, Xander has a big test tomorrow, he was studying. Ran out of coffee, asked me to go get some, I did, stopped for some Chinese, some chocolate," Spike’s voice trailed off. He had left him, had abandoned him there. His fault, all his fault.

Officer Healy just nodded, jotting the information down. She looked back up. "Have you had any problems with burglary, anything like that?" The alarm system had been top of the line.

"No." Spike could still hear Xander’s heart, still beating, still alive.

"Well, like I said, the man who attacked him is here. Once they get your boyfriend stabilized, do you think you could see if you can identify him?" She didn’t want to upset William further, didn’t want to tell him they had found a wallet and knew who it was.

Spike just nodded. "Would you like something to drink?"

Spike shook his head, he wasn’t going to move, not until someone told him what they were doing to his Xander. He felt the warm touch again, looked over, saw the concern in the green eyes.

"I’ll see if I can find a nurse or someone else to tell you what’s happening." Spike nodded gratefully, then resumed his vigil, hands shaking. He closed his eyes, focusing only on that sound.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the officer standing with another man, white coat, some kind of doctor.

"William, this is Dr. Hume. He’s one of the doctors who was taking care of Xander."

"Please, you have to help him, all I have, please," the words came tumbling out.

"William, Xander is stable now. We had to take him to surgery." Another hiss at that. "He sustained a quite significant stab wound to his chest near his heart. We are going in to close it up. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to replace that fairly quickly. He also has some broken ribs, looks like he hit his head."

"Will, will he live?" Spike forced the question out, looking up, desperate for an answer.

"Depends on the surgery." Spike just stared at the doctor. "He’s stable and we can control the blood loss, but we have to find out how deep the knife went." The doctor sat down as Spike’s head sank into his hands. "I’m not trying to upset you, just telling you the truth. Signs are good. The rate of blood loss has significantly slowed, which indicates that the heart itself wasn’t punctured."

Spike nodded, unable to speak. Surgery, they had to cut his Xander open. Someone would pay. His head shot up and he pinned the woman to the wall with a glare.

"Where’s fucking bastard who did this?" Rage began to build, it didn’t matter how much it hurt, he was going to make the prick pay.

"Being stitched up, the bullet just went through his shoulder."

Spike rose. "I want to see him."

Nodding, Officer Healy led him down the hall. She stopped before opening the door. "Look, I just want you to identify him. Nothing more. No matter what you want to do, you can’t." Spike’s eyes thinned to slits, then he nodded. It wouldn’t help Xander if he was arrested on the spot. Satisfied, she pushed open the door.

Spike entered in one dark swirl of his duster. There, handcuffed to the bed. He took one look, turned around and headed out the door.

"Do you know who that is?"

"His fucking father. Were you planning on telling me that Xander had been raped as well?" He spit out the words.

Officer Healy just stared at him. Xander had been raped, but she hadn’t wanted to mention it. William seemed unstable enough as was. "How did you know that?" She managed to get the question out with some degree of control.

"Bastard’s been doing it since he was eleven."

Her eyes grew wide, both at the information and at the sound of the words. She had never heard anything like it, it sounded like William was growling. It also contained the plainest threat of violence that she had ever heard. It was clear that Xander’s father was a dead man. Not that she disagreed. She had been there when the first set of officers had entered the apartment, had seen the blood, heard the sound of violation. She knew that the officer who shot that being in the other room was thrilled that he had left him alive once they opened both wallets and compared the names on the driver’s licenses. What was going to happen to him in prison was much, much worse than death.

Spike began to pace, desperate for activity, damning the chip in his brain for the millionth time. A nurse approached them cautiously, the blond man radiated anger. "William?"

Spike stopped, "Yes?"

The nurse looked at him in fear. "Dr. Hume said to bring you to the waiting room. He thought you might be more comfortable there." Spike began to follow her as Officer Healy trailed behind.

"William, is there anyone you would like to call?" Obviously not the boy’s parents, that was sure.
Spike stopped, turned around. "Yes, he has," he swallowed, started over. "We have some friends," He saw the phone in her outstretched hand. He took it gratefully, dialing the number from memory.

"Lo," came the sleepy answer.

"Buffy."

"Spike," Buffy sat up in a panic. Spike only called her Buffy when something was very, very wrong. She looked at the clock. 1:23 a.m. "Spike, what is it?’

"Xander, he’s hurt, we’re at the hospital." Buffy heard the sheer terror in Spike’s voice. "He was stabbed, they took him to surgery, they said it was his heart." Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat. "Please, get everyone, hurry."

"We’ll be right, there. Spike, honey, he’ll be okay." There was no response. Just a dial tone.

Willow looked over at Spike. Buffy had called everyone, telling them only that Xander was hurt and was at the hospital. She and Tara had gone to pick up Buffy and Giles and Anya met them at the hospital. They were shocked when a police officer had met them at the door, then ushered them into the waiting room where Spike sat, staring straight ahead. He hadn’t looked up when they arrived, hadn’t indicated he knew they were there at all. But when Buffy had crouched next to him, asked him what had happened, he had answered in a flat, emotionless tone. Xander had been studying. He left. Xander had been beaten and stabbed. He was in surgery. That was all he had said. They had been given a private waiting area and were arranged around the room

That was three hours ago. They were still waiting for news. Spike hadn’t moved the entire time, had just sat there, staring. Watching the door they had been told the surgeon would come through. Three hours and he hadn’t so much as blinked.

They all started when Spike suddenly jumped up and began moving for the door. A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall, dark haired man came into the room. He looked down at a chart in his hand then back up. "William," he gently called.

Spike walked straight ahead, desperately scenting the air, trying to smell Xander on this man. He was shocked when the surgeon’s eyes met his. It was the same doctor who had fixed Xander those long months ago. The surgeon looked just as shocked.

"Master, I didn’t realize. . . Master, he will be fine. Please, don’t worry, he’s alive, he’s well, he will recover, he will be just fine." Spike just continued to stare as the surgeon went on. "Master Spike, please, if you can just sit for a moment, so I can explain." Dr. O’Rourke slowly became aware of the others in the room. Glancing over, he stopped cold. **Surely that’s the Slayer** Shaking his head, he gently lowered Spike into a chair.

"He’s alive." Spike closed his eyes, repeating the words. "He’s alive."

"Yes, the knife pierced the pericardium, the sac surrounding the heart, but missed the heart itself. We were able to repair it without any problems." Dr. O’Rourke could see the tension begin to drain from the vampire sitting next to him. "A few ribs were also broken but those were easily reset. He has a concussion, some other wounds. He’s in recovery now, probably will be there for a few more hours, we were in surgery for about four hours so the anesthesia needs some time to wear off. He’ll make a full recovery, just will be sore for a long time."

Spike looked over, waves of gratitude hitting him. Twice, this man had saved his Xander twice.

"Doctor, I do not know how to thank you," he began, hearing the waver in his voice. "He is my mate, my everything." Spike stopped as the tears began to fall. "Everything. Are you sure he’s fine?"

Dr. O’Rourke nodded. "Yes. Now, he’ll need to stay here for a week or so, we had to crack open his chest," he felt Spike go rigid next to him. "So, he’ll be in a lot of pain. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do the best we can to stop that. After that, it’ll be a few months until he’s completely back on his feet, but once he recovers, he’ll be just the same. There’s a private set of rooms on the seventh floor that are windowless, I’ll make sure he’s moved there. You can stay with him as long as you want."

"Thank you." The tears continued down Spike’s face, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. Xander was alive, Xander would be fine. That was all that mattered. The surgeon stood and Spike stood with him. "Thank you."

Dr. O’Rourke just nodded. "If you would like, I’ll take you down to recovery. No one’s really supposed to go in there, but I’ll make sure they leave you alone. Don’t be upset by all the machinery, it’s just monitoring equipment." Spike nodded and began to follow the doctor, the rest of the gang fast on their heels.

They walked down a corridor, then into a large room. Xander’s bed was the only one there. Spike practically ran over, hissing at the sheer number of tubes coming from that frail body. He reached out, took Xander’s hand.

"Xander, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you, please, you’ll be fine, I’m sorry."

Everyone else held back, just watching.

"Xander, I love you. Wake up soon. I want to see you. Please," a quiet sob. "Please, forgive me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."

Any doubts that had remained about the depths of Spike’s feelings were answered by the sound of his voice, the despair and pain contained in the words. Spike reached out, tracing a finger over the faint scar on Xander’s neck.

"Mine. You are mine. I will avenge you. I promise that."

"Master," Spike heard the words, but refused to look up. Xander. Xander alive. Xander breathing. Xander’s heart still beating. "Master, we’re going to take him up to the room now, you can come with if you would like." Spike just nodded. There was no way he was leaving Xander’s side. Not ever again.

The orderlies began to wheel the bed out, Spike still clutching Xander’s hand. They moved to an elevator, then all piled around as they rose to the seventh floor. The large entourage moved into a suite of rooms at the end of a long hall. Spike was forced to move as they arranged Xander in the room. Finally, he was allowed back, allowed to take Xander’s hand again. He felt Giles move behind him, heard the sound of something moving on the floor, felt himself being pushed down into a chair. His hand never left Xander’s hand, his eyes never left Xander’s face. He vaguely registered everyone else arranging themselves around the bed, but he didn’t care. Xander was alive. That was all that mattered.

His chest burned, his throat burned, his eyes burned, hell, his hair burned. Xander slowly came awake, hearing a strange beeping noise, aching all over. Gradually, the events of the night came back to him. He had been stabbed. He remembered that, then nothing else. He could feel something cool next to him and he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Spike’s face, red tracks from tears streaking the pale skin. Spike’s eyes staring into his, worry, pain, grief, a touch of furious rage. He felt Spike’s hand in his and he gave a quick squeeze.

"Love you," he managed to croak out.

"Shh, don’t speak. I love you. I’m sorry." Spike’s voice, thick with grief and pain.

"Not your fault." Xander tried to continue but couldn’t, his mouth too dry. He suddenly felt an ice chip being held to his lips.

"Here, suck this, it will help. You’re in the hospital. They had to operate but you’ll be fine." Spike’s voice trembled. "Everyone’s here, we’re all here, don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Go back to sleep." He didn’t want Xander to go, wanted him here, but Spike could see the exhaustion on his mate’s face. "I’ll be here when you wake up again, don’t worry." A cool hand ran through Xander’s hair. "I’ll never leave you again. I love you. Sleep now."

"Spike, love you." He felt a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Sleep, we’ll talk when you wake up." Xander just nodded, he was so tired. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

Spike just stared down at the battered body. "I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll feed you his heart." He pressed another gentle kiss to Xander’s lips, then scooted the chair so that he could rest his head on the pillow next to Xander’s. He was so tired. Now that he had seen Xander, heard his voice, he could sleep. He quickly fell asleep, never noticing the soft hands wrapping a blanket around him, never feeling the kiss dropped on his brow.

Buffy stepped back, looking down on them, Willow at her side.

"He loves him."

"Yes."

"I hope someone loves me like that someday," Buffy said softly.

"They will."

Buffy just nodded. "Where’s that cop? I have to find out who did this." Buffy stalked out of the room, everyone else following her.

"Buffy, why?" Giles called out, trying to keep up.

"Well, it must be human or Spike would have ripped it into tiny pieces already." An evil look crossed her face. "So, I have a plan. I’ll find the monster who did this and let Spike tell me just how to torture him. I know it’s not quite the same, but it’s the best I can do."

She continued down the hall, leaving a stunned group behind her.

Buffy just stared at the policeman in shock. No, she shook her head firmly. No, this was impossible. This could not be happening. There was no way the words he was saying could be true. Her hands balled into fists as she moved to stand immediately in front of the man blocking her way into the hospital room. No. This could not be.

"I already told you, miss, you can’t go in there. This is an ongoing investigation."

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way." She glared up at him, violence pouring off her in waves. This, this, this idiot was standing in her way, was in between her and whatever it was that had almost killed Xander. She reached up, ready to simply throw the stupid cop over her shoulder when she felt Giles’s hand grab her arm.

"Sir, sir," Giles managed to call out as he yanked the startled Slayer away. "We are friends of the, the victim," his voice caught a little at that. "And we want to know what happened." He turned his best authoritative glare on the man, the one that sometimes even managed to get Spike to listen. Buffy began to squirm in his arms.

"Let go, Giles, why did you," she hissed out.

"Because there are witnesses and other police and you don’t want that attention," came the quiet answer in her ear. Buffy’s eyes widened slightly then she nodded. Fuck. She hated it when Giles was right.

The policeman turned his attention to Giles, clearly glad to speak to an adult. "As I was telling the girl," Buffy bristled at that, "the investigation is ongoing. There is no way you can go in there." The harsh voice softened a little. The group staring back at him obviously were friends of that boy they had brought in. "Look, the bastard who did this got shot for his trouble, he’s not going anywhere for a long time." Not for a very long time if what he had picked up on the radio was true. He looked down at the pretty blonde staring back at him, fire in her eyes. It looked like she was ready to tear whatever hurt her friend from limb to limb, and, if that sick prick chained to the bed in there had really stabbed and raped his own kid, well, he was tempted to let her. Couldn’t though. "Why don’t you just go back, stay with your friend. I’m sure that he would appreciate the support when he comes to."

Buffy just glared back. No. She wanted to see for herself what beast had done this, what sick thing had dared come after Xander in his own home. Frustrated, she turned back to Giles.

"No. I’m going in there." She began to move forward again, and this time it was Willow who stopped her.

"Buffy, I want to go in there too, but, he’s right, we can’t." Willow’s voice shook. Her best friend, her family was lying in a hospital bed, lucky to be alive. And the thing that did it was right behind her and she couldn’t destroy it. Not yet. "Xander needs us. We’ll go back, maybe that nice lady cop will come by later."

Buffy hurled once last hateful look at the officer, who flinched back as if slapped.

"Fine, be the voice of reason why don’t you."

She stalked back towards Xander’s room, shaking with impotent fury. A sudden thought flashed through her mind. **This must be what Spike feels, can’t do anything, can’t protect him** Her stomach twisted at the thought. She knew how protective Spike was, remembered clearly the way he had done anything to help Dru, even teaming with her, his mortal enemy. Some part of her recognized that what Spike felt for Xander was far stronger than what Spike had felt for Dru. And now Spike was reduced to sitting and waiting, unable to bring back the monster’s heart as a fitting present for his love. The rage inside her burned higher. Fine. She could wait. Give them more time to plan. Give Spike a chance to show her exactly how to use those railroad spikes that earned him his name.

The gang turned back with her, moving smoothly together as they always did. Giles moved to Buffy’s side, anxious to speak with her.

"Buffy, what exactly did you mean earlier?" He looked over, curious. He agreed completely, whatever had caused Xander such pain must die. But to hear it come from his charge. . . The greatest crime a Slayer could commit was to kill a human. And it sounded like Buffy intended to do exactly that.

"I mean that since Spike can’t avenge Xander, I will do it for him." The words were flat, nearly emotionless. Nearly. The coldness of the tone served to only hide the fire behind the thought.

"Buffy," he reached to take off his glasses, the gesture not calming him like it should. "You can’t kill a human either."

Buffy came to an abrupt halt, causing Willow and Tara to nearly run into her, while Anya managed to stop just before crashing straight into Giles. She looked up, unnamable emotions playing across her face.

"Who said anything about killing?" She knew killing was out. No one had mentioned anything about not torturing humans, however.

Anya smiled proudly at Buffy. She had always known the Slayer had it in her. "That’s true, Giles. I know that Slayers can’t kill humans but in all my time I never heard anyone say they couldn’t hurt them. I mean, I’ve seen Buffy accidentally hurt humans sometimes and nothing happened. So, obviously, she could just hurt him a little. A lot. I know this great thing," she turned to the witches excitedly. She was just as angry as the rest of them. Just because she had left Xander didn’t mean she didn’t still care for him. "Where can we get some lizard eyes, we’ll need them to make the paste. . ."

Giles quickly cut her off, recognizing the glint in her eye. "Buffy, technically, I suppose that’s true, but this is a police matter. You heard the man, they caught him, shot him, even, so there’s nothing we can do." He heard the faint hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Giles, what are they going to do? Send him to prison for a little. Fuck that. He has to pay." They started walking down the hall towards Xander’s room.

"Get the fuck away from him."

Spike stood toe to toe with the two men who were trying to wake his Xander. He had suddenly jerked awake, sensing something in the room and had found these bastards trying to shake Xander awake. He had instinctively started to slip into gameface, but the warning flash of pain had been enough to restore his control. He knew he had to maintain his human façade to ensure that he could remain at his beloved’s side. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still try to protect what was his, though.

"Sir, look, we need to speak with him." One of the detectives held up his hands trying to calm the furious man in front of him. **Wow, they were right, he’s like an animal** Officer Healy had warned them before going up that Xander had a very protective boyfriend and to be careful how they approached the situation. They had nodded, sure they could handle an upset partner. They hadn’t been prepared in the least for the predatory glare which now confronted them.

"Sir," the other detective started, only to find vicious blue eyes staring him down. He stopped, swallowing hard. "Sir, we just need to talk to your boyfriend there, just need to find out what happened." He spoke in what he hoped was a soothing manner, sure that the man before him was growling.

"Sod off. He’s sleeping." The growling had changed to a snarl. "Heard you already know. The fucker broke in, stabbed Xander," Spike’s eyes shut as his whole body shook at that thought. "Stabbed him, raped him," Spike’s voice went quiet at that. He looked down, barely controlling his rage. He looked back up, only the shaking of his voice and the faint flickers of yellow in his eyes betraying him. "You showed up, shot the bastard. Brought him here." Spike swallowed hard. "Not much else to find out now is there. Get out."

The detectives turned as they heard several people enter the room. A small blonde, a middle aged man, a small redhead holding hands with another girl, yet another girl.

"Spike, what’s wrong? Who are they?" Willow moved quickly to his side, taking a hand, trying to calm him down.

"They’re leaving." Spike continued to stare them down even as he curled his fingers into Willow’s.

"Sir, we really need to speak to him," the detectives began again, only to find the small blonde had suddenly moved in front of them as well.

"No. He’s sleeping. Let him be." Buffy folded her arms. This she could do. Some small way to protect Xander.

"Listen, we aren’t trying to hurt him," **Great now there’s a whole group of them**

"Spike"

The small voice stopped everyone in the room. Spike turned and was by Xander’s side in an instant.

"I’m here, luv. I’m here." He reached over to get some ice, running a cool hand through Xander’s hair, heart breaking as he looked into those brown eyes. "How do you feel?" Everything else faded away, only Xander mattered, only Xander remained.

"Like I got stabbed," came the faint voice, a small smile crossing his lips. Spike just stared down at him. "Hey, give me a break, not at my best here." He reached over, taking his lover’s hand.

Xander just stared into Spike’s eyes. He hurt. Everywhere. All over. The incision in his chest burned, his ribs ached with every breath. He could feel where his father had ripped into him. It didn’t matter. He was holding Spike’s hand, feeling Spike’s fingers in his hair, hearing the quiet purring rolling down. Happiness spread through him. He thought he had lost them all forever.

He gradually became aware that the room was filled, that the rest of the gang was there, that there were some strange men still fighting with Buffy.

"Spike, what’s going on?"

"Some stupid gits who want to talk to you. Slayer will make them go away." Spike continued to smooth his hands over every part of Xander he could touch, careful not to pull any of the wires or tubes that still covered Xander’s body. "Do you hurt, do you want the doctor?"

"No, I’m fine." He heard a snort at that. "Ok, not fine, but you know." He swallowed, needing to know, but not wanting to ask. "You know what happened." A statement.

"Yes. Do you know they shot him?" Spike’s eyes flashed yellow at the look of shame that suddenly crossed Xander’s face, the scent of it striking him. Spike took a calming breath, the unnecessary action focusing his attention away from the rage that still burned him.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes. Not for long." The promise of it rang strong in Spike’s voice. Xander just nodded.

He looked up to see the two men still engaged in a furious battle with Buffy. He smiled again, the men seemed surprised that such a little thing was so effective at keeping them away. "Who are they?"

Spike just glanced up, uncaring. "Some wankers from the police, want to talk to you. Told them to sod off." He spared another second to make sure that the Slayer was still holding them back. Good. **Knew she had some use**

Xander nodded again then tried to sit up, a wave of pain hitting him as he did so. **That’s not a good idea** "Um, Spike, what did they want to know?"

"Don’t know. Don’t care."

"Spike, I’m going to have to talk to them," Xander sighed. This was not going to go well, he was so tired, still a little hazy from all the medicine. However, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner it would be done.

"No," Spike began. There was no way in hell that he was going to let them upset Xander, not now, not while those dark circles were under his eyes, that tube still under his nose, that thin line of blood visible where the incision had ripped open Xander’s chest. "No fucking way."

"Spike, look I don’t want to do this either, but you know I have to, they’ll just keep bothering us if I don’t. Besides," a small smile again crossed his face. "I’m still kinda drugged up, won’t remember it later I bet." **Liar, liar, pants on fire** The feel of his father’s hands throwing him into the wall, the sound of his father’s voice, the sick look of triumph on his father’s face when he raised the knife, the sound of it sinking into his flesh, the pain which had ripped him in two, the utter shock as his blood gushed out of his body, the agony of knowing, knowing that he would never touch Spike again, never get to say his name, never tell him he loved him, never again, all were burned into him. He would never forget that.

"No." There was no way that Spike was going to let them upset Xander. No. **So pale, so cold** "You’re cold, where’s another blanket?" Spike turned his head slightly. "Red, get me a blanket, there’s a luv."

"Spike," the vampire turned back, hearing the note of resolution in Xander’s voice. "Stop it. I have to do this. Have to get it over with."

Spike looked down. He knew that look. The look that said "Hey, you won’t like it. Tough shit. Still doing it." Spike let out another sigh.

"Fine, pet, but the rest are leaving." No need to have an audience, besides, Spike knew there would be questions that Xander wouldn’t want to answer quite yet. He knew they would ask about all the past times, knew that Xander would finally have to discuss it, finally have to admit all that happened. It was going to be hard enough without having to tell his friends that way.

"Deal." Xander nodded shakily. He didn’t want to see the looks on everyone’s faces, couldn’t deal with that quite yet.

"Sure, pet?" At the quick nod, he leaned over, kissed Xander quickly, then stood.

"Right. Well mates, against my better judgment, the whelp there will talk to you. But the rest of you have to leave." He heard the protests, but ignored them. "Out. Now." A low growl accompanied the words, making it clear there was no choice.

Giles gathered up the protesting gang, catching Spike’s eye on the way. There was something very wrong here. There was no reason for Spike to throw them all out if Xander was just going to give a statement about what happened. It may be upsetting, but surely Xander wouldn’t want to explain twice. Spike just looked back. Giles frowned. Something was very wrong. Giles heard Spike pull the door shut behind him, blocking out any further questions.

Xander let out a heavy sigh. It had not gone well at all. The detectives were polite, calm but insistent. They made him go through everything that happened over and over, and it had been all Xander could do to keep Spike from trying to rip their throats out. Spike had sat next to him, getting him water, holding his hand, trying to pour his strength into Xander. The worst had been when they had started questioning him about the rape. He didn’t remember it, not really. Once the knife had pierced his flesh, he had collapsed in agony. He vaguely recalled feeling his pants pulled down, but that was about it. But they had kept questioning him, kept pushing him and he had been forced to reveal everything, even things he had never told Spike. He had been very glad at that moment that Spike had turned his back to the men, because the second he mentioned how he could always tell when it was coming by the sound of the footsteps on the stairs, Spike had gone all vamp. The yellow eyes burned into his, a vow of retribution present there. One hand had continued to hold his, but the other had moved to the grasp the arm of the chair. Xander had focused on that hand as he spoke, the years of abuse pouring out of him, watching as Spike slowly crushed the arm, bending the metal into unrecognizable shapes.

When he had finished, he had been handed some business cards. Spike had ushered them out and then returned to his side. Xander had started to cry, but every breath just caused more pain. Spike had held him for a short time before getting a nurse, insisting that they gave him some kind of pain medication. The medicine hit him fast and he had fallen into a heavy sleep. Now, he was awake once again and could hear the quiet fight above him.

"Look, Watcher, it’s none of your fucking business."

"Spike," the familiar sound of exasperation. "Be realistic. Sooner or later, we are going to find out what happened. It’s obvious that something beyond a simple attack occurred. Once the police press charges, everyone will know. You might as well tell us."

He heard Spike pacing back and forth. "No. It’s Xander’s decision, it’s his right to tell. And if he doesn’t want to, then you lot had best leave him alone."

"We aren’t trying to hurt him, we just want to know what happened." Giles continued, only to be stopped by a vicious growl.

"Too bloody late for that. You lot had your chance for years. Didn’t even notice."

"Notice what," a huge sigh came from Giles. "Really, this secrecy is ridiculous. Whatever it is can’t be that bad."

A disgusted snort. "Fucking humans. Think you know all about evil. You don’t know the half of it. Think you’re so smart. Can’t even see what’s right in front of you."

"Spike, what ARE you talking about?" The confusion was evident.

"As I already said, none of your fucking business, Watcher. Get out."

"No."

Xander finally forced his eyes open, unable to listen any longer.

"Will you two shut up already?" Once again, Spike instantly came to his side. "What’s going on?" He looked over, Giles and Spike were the only ones in the room. "Where’d everybody go?"

Giles moved over and looked down. "I sent them to get something to eat. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was stabbed, covered that already." Xander looked back up. "What’s going on?"

"That git" "Xander, I am just concerned," "Bloody ponce," "Now, there is no need. . ."

Xander interrupted again. "Guys, focus here. What’s the fight about?"

Spike turned back to Xander, shooting one last nasty glance over to Giles.

"They want to know what happened, won’t take no for an answer."

"Xander, it’s more than that. It is obvious that this is something more than a random robbery or the like. We just want to know what truly happened."

The concern was evident in Giles voice. He had not been able to get any information in the few hours that had passed. The police had finally told him that an arrest had been made, but they would say nothing else. However, he had found something which made his blood run cold. He had returned to the room after the detectives left and had entered when he saw Spike leave to get a nurse. Spike had left the cards sitting on a side table and Giles picked one up. A name and then one other line. Special crimes section. Giles felt his heart stop. He knew what that euphemism was used to describe. Rape and sexual abuse investigations. He had slipped out of the room, then sent the rest out for food, telling them that Xander was asleep anyway. He had come back to confront Spike when Xander had stopped them.

"Whatever it is, you can tell us, you know." Giles removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had no idea how to handle this.

Spike’s head shot up, catching some faint undercurrent to the words. "Watcher, get out. Need to talk to my mate here in private for a minute." Spike tried leering, figuring maybe those oh so perceptive eyes would mistake his intentions.

Giles nodded, not fooled in the least. "I’ll be right outside."

Spike turned back to Xander, fussing with the pillows, making sure that Xander was comfortable. Xander put up with it for a minute, enjoying the attention, before he grasped Spike’s wrist.

"Spike, what’s wrong, there’s something, just tell me. Are you mad that I didn’t tell you all that stuff before," tears began to spill down his cheeks.

"Bloody hell, no." Spike placed his hands on either side of Xander’s face, gently pulling Xander’s head up to see his eyes. "No, I’m not mad at you. I’m going to destroy that fucking waste of flesh, but you have nothing to be ashamed about, nothing to worry about." Spike dropped quick kisses on Xander’s head, aching to pull him into his arms.

"Stupid wires, can’t even hold you properly, hate fucking hospitals." Spike closed his eyes, gathering his courage. This had to be done. "The police called earlier while you were asleep. They arrested that bastard. He’s going in front of a judge tomorrow. They are charging him with several things, attempted murder, breaking and entering, rape." He steeled himself. **Now the hard part** "They expect it to be on tv, in the papers and the like." Spike felt the waves of anger, pain, shame and humiliation begin to pour from Xander.

"Everyone will know," Xander’s eyes went wide. "Fuck, everyone will know, they’ll know, oh fuck." **Hate me, know, hate me, dirty, hate me, know, know, leave me, hate me, dirty, dirty, dirty** He began to shake as the shame burned him. "Everyone will know, have to leave, everyone will know." He began to pant, ignoring the pain, the world going dark, blackness filling in the corners of his eyes. He began to unconsciously run his right wrist along the edge of the bed, needing the friction, needing the pain, feeling the IV begin to pull from his hand.

Spike hissed and then gently reached down and took Xander’s hands in his own, stopping the motion. Grief spilled over him, watching Xander pull further and further inside, watching him slip away, watching Xander lose everything they had fought so hard to gain.

"Xander, look at me."

Xander just shook his head, closing his eyes tighter. **Can’t look, no, hate me, dirty, hate me**

"Xander, please," Spike’s voice broke, "Please, look at me. I love you. You didn’t do anything, you didn’t make him do this, you didn’t cause this. I love you. Always love you. Please, just please," a hand reached up to caress the side of Xander’s face, the other still holding Xander’s right hand, trying to still the motion. "Please."

It was the sound of pain in that last word that finally snapped Xander out of his thoughts, the sound of his own agony reflected there. "You, you love me, even after everything," Xander’s throat closed and he took a shaky breath. "After everything, you love me?"

Spike just nodded unable to speak. He didn’t need to, the expression on his face revealing the truth.

Xander leaned up as far as he could and just managed to capture Spike’s lips with his own. Crushing them together, he began to kiss Spike with everything he had, ignoring the pain his actions caused. Spike responded in kind, the events of the last day destroying them both, burning them down until only this was left. Pain, rage, terror, hatred, love, longing, all were there, all mingling with the taste of salt and blood as the tears poured down both their cheeks. Finally, Xander was forced to pull away, forced to gulp in the air.

Spike leaned him back, letting Xander regain control. Xander’s breathing finally calmed, and he let out a small laugh.

"Surprised they didn’t come in when the heart monitor went nuts like that."

Spike chuckled back, awed as always by the way Xander’s sense of humor survived everything. "Probably would have if it wasn’t for the camera."

He quirked an eyebrow as Xander’s head tilted up to see that, sure enough, there was a camera over the bed. A smile slowly worked its way across Xander’s lips. **Hmmmm, camera**

"So, there’s a camera over the bed. That could be fun. Spike, ever wanted to be in a porno?" The grin widened. He had tasted the truth of Spike’s words. Spike loved him, cherished him, didn’t think anything was wrong with him, thought he was pure.

Spike opened his mouth in shock and then smirked. "What makes you think I’m not already?" Xander grinned back. The smiles slowly faded as they heard footsteps in the hall.

"I have to tell them, don’t I?"

"Yes." Spike moved down from his perch on the side of the bed. "Do you want me to do it?" Anything, he would do anything Xander asked.

"No, I will." A deep breath, then Xander nodded. "I know just where to begin."

Xander watched as everyone trooped back in, Buffy, Willow and Anya all coming over to kiss him gently on the cheek, Tara shyly waving and Giles just standing at the foot of the bed. Spike was now standing next to him, unable to sit. Giles looked over, seeing the tension coiling in Spike. Spike nodded.

"Ask away. You won’t like the answers." The quiet words cut through the chattering in the room.

Giles just nodded. "Xander, why don’t you tell us what happened."

A quick glance up to see Spike standing there, still but for the clenching of the muscles along his jaw. Xander took in one more breath then started, determined to get this all out at once.

"Ok, but it’s not a simple story. And no interruptions, have to do this once." Another look up, a quick squeeze of Spike’s hand.

"Buffy, remember you asked how Deadboy and I hooked up? Didn’t quite tell you the truth. Right after Anya and I broke up, Spike stopped over to see me one night. He found me lying in a pool of blood in the bathroom. My father had beaten me pretty badly." He heard the shocked gasps. He had decided not to tell them the entire truth, he couldn’t deal with that right now. There was no need to reveal everything just yet. "Spike got Willy to send a doctor to fix me up then he moved in with me to make sure that I wasn’t hurt again. Well, that night we told you I was mugged, that wasn’t exactly true, it was my father again. That’s when Spike told me I had to move and we left the next day. Then, about a week ago, we ran into my father at Wal-Mart, he saw us kissing, went nuts. Last night, **only a day ago, feels like forever** I was studying, sent Spike for coffee, heard the elevator, thought it was Spike, went to the door. It was my father, he threw me into the wall, called me a faggot, said, said, I was a disgrace, that he should have killed me a long time ago, then he stabbed me." Xander stopped, out of breath from having run through it all so quickly.

He looked up to see the shock on everyone’s faces. It was Buffy who managed to speak first.

"Your father, your father did this to you," her voice rose steadily. "Your fucking father, that bastard," Buffy shook, furious. His father. His father.

Willow looked up, tears streaming down her face. "He hit you, did he always hit you, why didn’t you tell me, could have done something," her breath began to hitch. How could she not have known.

Spike just watched them, waiting for the question, seeing it in the Watcher’s eyes.

"Xander, I am so sorry," Giles voice came quietly drifting down. "I don’t understand though, why didn’t Spike just take you to hospital that first night? Why go through Willy, why not call us?" He heart was heavy, knowing the answer, sending prayers to every god he could recall that he was wrong.

Xander closed his eyes, unable to look at them as he said the words. "Because my father didn’t just beat me. He raped me, too."

Dead silence. Then howling, the voices mingling. Buffy’s, Willow’s, Anya’s. A loud snap as something snapped in two. Through it all, Spike’s hand in his, grasping tightly, giving him strength.

"Raped you, he raped you, oh goddess, Xander," Willow grasping his other hand. He forced open his eyes, seeing the agony on her face. "Xander, why didn’t you tell me, why didn’t you tell us, that’s horrible, how could he have done that," Xander saw the realization hit her and saw her knees buckle, saw Tara rush to catch her as she fell.

"Not the first time, Xander, why didn’t you. . ." Willow began to shake. Best friend, her best friend, known him forever, part of her and she never knew. How could she not know.

"How long?" Buffy’s voice. Cold, clipped, insane. Xander forced himself to meet her eyes. They looked like Spike’s had that night, so long ago, when Spike had come racing into the basement. Absolutely burning hatred. Utter rage. Pure vengeance.

"Since I was eleven."

Willow’s sobbing grew even harder, Tara trying desperately to calm her, to get her to breathe. Eleven. The words pounded into her. Eleven. All those years.

Spike just watched them, part of him enjoying the scene. They deserved this. Deserved to have their world destroyed, deserved to suffer for their blindness. Deserved to pay for their crime. They never saw, never wanted to see. Another part of Spike protested. That wasn’t true, they hadn’t seen because Xander hadn’t wanted them to see. Spike ruthlessly shut that part of his mind down. It didn’t matter. They had hurt what was his. Now they hurt in turn. It was only right.

Giles moved to stand in front of Spike. "You knew." Blunt accusation.

"Yes, walked into the middle of it. Tried to kill the bastard but couldn’t. Fucking chip. Managed to slam him into the wall at least." Spike’s voice was as cold as the Slayer’s.

"Why didn’t you say something?" Giles lashed out, trying desperately to find someone, anyone else to blame. It all made sense now. Xander’s jumpiness, the use of humor as a shield, the way he never talked about his family, the curious lack of self-preservation. He should have known. Maybe he had known but ignored it.

"Asked me not to. So I didn’t. Wouldn’t have now but it’s all going to come out."

Giles slowly backed away, knowing Spike was telling the truth. Buffy quickly moved to take his place. They eyed each other levelly, silently reaching an agreement. Buffy turned to Xander, reaching out to take his hand.

"Xander, I’m sorry, I’m so terribly sorry," Buffy stopped as the tears filled her eyes. No. She would weep later, now was not the time. "Just know this one thing. He will pray to die before Spike and I are through with him. He will beg and beg and we will show no mercy. I’m sure that Spike knows just how to keep him alive and, if not, I’m equally sure that Willow will find some spell. He will pay and pay dearly. I swear to you. I will not rest until I taste his blood. I will kill him for you." The words rang in the room.

"No," Xander started.

"Don’t give me the whole you’re the Slayer you can’t kill humans bit. That, that thing," she spat the words out. "That thing isn’t human. I would go find him and do it now but I want to make it last and last."

"No." Xander said again. "No, you won’t kill him." An evil grin spread across his face. "I have a much better idea."

"Spike, for gods sake, will you just sit down?"

Xander let out a sigh as he watched Spike pace across the room for the 463rd time that evening. It had been six days since Xander had been attacked and he was finally beginning to feel somewhat better. Enough so that Spike's incessant pacing was driving him slowly insane. **Yeah, and imagine how he must feel**

Spike had refused to leave the room the entire time Xander had been there. Luckily, Dr. O'Rourke had arranged for Xander to be roomed in what obviously was some type of suite. There was a main room with Xander's bed, three chairs, a few small tables and a couch. A large bathroom was off to the side and then a separate bedroom with a regular bed, a few more chairs, a television and a large closet. Since Xander had woken that first day, Spike had remained at Xander's side, moving only to get a nurse or when one the doctors made him move so Xander could be examined. Spike slept in a chair next to Xander's bed, always holding his hand, or running his fingers through Xander's hair, or standing at the foot of the bed with an arm resting lightly on Xander's leg. Xander had finally gotten him to let go that morning by promising to let Spike wash his hair later that night. Spike had a thing for washing his hair and Xander had to admit that he liked it too. Now, Spike was pacing back and forth, watching Xander the entire time. It was as if Spike was terrified that Xander would disappear if Spike let go, if he took his eyes off Xander for even one moment.

Xander's eyes grew wide at the thought. He looked up, realizing how gaunt Spike had become, how tired those eyes were, how Spike seemed even paler than usual. **His fault, he thinks it's his fault.** Xander felt his throat close as he realized the truth. This had to be dealt with, he couldn't stand Spike thinking he bore any fault for what had occurred.

"Spike, seriously, would you come over here, sit down, I want to talk to you about something."

"Of course, luv, are you all right, do you need something, isn't it almost time for your medication again, do you need something to drink?" Spike heard himself fussing but he couldn't stop. He had failed. He had promised to keep Xander safe and he had failed. This was all he could do now, try to make everything safe, try to keep Xander comfortable, distract him, try to make the pain go away.

Xander reached down and grabbed Spike's hands as they skimmed over his body, checking that everything was ok, that all the hated wires and tubes were secure.

"No, Spike, stop it. I want to talk to you about something." Xander grasped the hands tightly, waiting for Spike to meet his gaze.

"Yes, pet, what is it? Do you need something, I can have the Watcher or Red go for whatever it is. You must be bloody bored out of your mind, do you want some books, or some music," again the almost frantic litany of options, the listing of things that Spike would do. The desperation of it hit Xander, the fear clear in the worried tones.

"No. Spike, I want to ask you something. Do you think this is your fault? Do you think that you let me down somehow, that you could have done something to prevent this?" Xander kept his voice quiet, grasping Spike's hands in his, knowing that Spike would try to pull away.

Spike stared back for a moment, then his head dropped. Finally, Xander had asked, finally he had realized what he had done, finally he would make Spike leave, would lash out for the broken promises, for the protection which Spike could never give. His hands began to shake as he tried to pull away.

"Yes." Spike could barely force the word out, but the truth of it burnt the air. He continued to look down, not wanting to meet Xander's gaze, unwilling to see the betrayal that would reside there.

"Spike, Spike, look at me." Xander continued to hold on, knowing exactly what Spike was thinking, seeing the pain in the profile of Spike's face. "Spike, please. It's not your fault, there was nothing you could have done. I was the one who asked you to go out, I was the one who opened the door without seeing who was there first."

Xander swallowed hard at that. Since the night they first had their friends over, they had been getting regular visitors to their apartment. Spike had arranged for cameras both at the entrance to the elevator on the ground level and again at their front door. He had told Xander over and over to never let anyone in until he saw who it was first. Xander had just laughed, amused as always by the lengths to which Spike would go to protect him.

"I heard the elevator, thought it was you and just opened the door. If I had looked like you told me to, I would never have let him in, Spike, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine." Xander heard a sudden hiss as Spike's head shot up.

"Never say that. How can you think that, this is not your fault, none of it is your fault. That motherfucker came after you and you did nothing, do you hear me, nothing to make him." Spike's voice shook with rage and pain. "No, I won't stand for this. You always try to make everything somehow your fault, this isn't. It isn't, it's mine, I left you, I should have known, I promised he would never hurt you and he did, I'm sorry, please, forgive me, please don't make me leave." Spike's voice grew weaker as he visibly began to shake. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't leave me." His head dropped to the bed.

"Don't leave me, couldn't bear it, everything, don't. . ." His voice trailed off as Spike began to weep, the fear and pain of the last week pouring out of him.

Xander just ran his hand through Spike's soft hair. Now it was his turn to comfort, his turn to be strong, his turn to provide an anchor for the pain. It had worried him that Spike had tried to seem so strong, so resolute. It was one thing for him to be that way when the others were present, Xander understood that. Spike did not like to reveal how vulnerable he could truly be, still needed to appear to be the heartless bastard that the others knew and loathed. But, even when they were alone, even when Xander had woken screaming from the nightmares that plagued him, Spike had remained calm. Other than that first night, Spike had not shown any release for the anger and fear that Xander knew was still in Spike. Knew because it was still in him as well. Xander managed to tug on Spike enough to pull his head onto Xander's shoulder.

"Shh, it's over, it's all over. I'm going to be fine. I will never leave you. I can't leave you, I'm yours remember. Spike, open your eyes, look down, see, that's your mark there, I'm yours, always yours. It's not my fault either, there was nothing either of us could have done, shh, it's all right." Xander ran his hands along Spike's back, sending up a quick prayer of thanks that he could finally move, a little anyway. He had been allowed to sit up just in the last few days and slowly but surely the various machinery was being disconnected. "Shh, that's right, let it out, it's fine, I'm fine, love you, not mad at you, never mad at you, you did everything you could, nothing else you could have done, shh."

They stayed like that for a long time, Spike's sobbing letting off some then starting again as Spike thought of how close he had come to losing Xander. Finally, Spike managed to lift his head. He needed to see Xander's eyes, needed to know that the words were true. Xander still loved him, even though he had failed.

"Xander, I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

Xander just crushed Spike into him, pulling as close as they could, Spike still careful to lean away from the wound that ran down the center of Xander's chest.

"Nothing to forgive. I love you. Stop being such a bloody idiot, turning into your brooding Sire there." Xander whispered the words, a small smile crossing his lips. Spike loved it when Xander talked like him. And he knew the immediate reaction any mention of Angel would provoke.

"Don't compare me to that bloody pouf." The response came like clockwork, causing Xander's smile to widen. "I love you too, don't deserve you," again the waver in Spike's voice, but the usual amusement beginning to return as well. "Turning me into a girl here, whelp, leaking about all over the place.

Xander just grinned at that. "Yeah, nancy boy."

"Idiot"

"Wanker"

"Moron"

"Ponce"

"Prick"

Xander paused for a second, trying to remember any of Spike's other favorite insults when he felt cool lips press into his. He leaned into the kiss eagerly, needing this connection, feeling some semblance of normalcy return between them. He opened his mouth, sliding a tongue across Spike's lips. He felt Spike's mouth open to him and he eagerly plunged his tongue into that cool mouth, drawing Spike's tongue into his own. He moaned, needing this, wanting this, the taste driving him insane. His grip on Spike's back tightened, drawing him closer. Xander's hands began to wander down Spike's back, moving lower and lower. He felt Spike's hands tangle in his hair, knew that Spike longed to caress him as well. **Fucking hospitals** The thought crossed both their minds at the same time as the kiss changed. Not comforting. Not claiming. Not relearning each other's taste. No, it was needful, lustful, the desire burning into them both. Xander pulled back, gulping in air, then leaned back into that mouth, desire rising strong between them.

Spike suddenly yanked away, shaky breaths coming from him as well. He locked eyes with Xander, trying to calm them both.

"Bloody hell, want you." The words forced their way past his lips despite his effort to stop them.

"Tell me about it," came the wry reply as Xander tried to stop his hands from moving further down Spike's back, trying to stop them from pulling Spike's shirt out from the waist of his jeans, trying to stop them from running along that flat, flat stomach. His hands, however, appeared to have a mind of their own.

A gasp came from Spike and he closed his eyes, feeling the heat of Xander's touch burn him.

"Christ, Xan, what are you doing?" He tried to pull away, but Xander held him firm.

"Not too sure. Want you though, fuck, what's the use of having this great bed that moves for you if you can't use it," the words were muttered into Spike's lips as Xander leaned back up.

"Can't be good for your stitches," Spike managed to get out with the few seconds of control he had remaining.

"I know, been thinking about this though, had an idea." With that, Xander plunged his hand down the front of Spike's jeans, having managed to get the zipper down by distracting Spike by sucking on his neck. He needed this, had to have Spike in some way. He grasped the hard length and began to stroke, slowly and surely.

Spike's head fell back. **Fuck, taught him too bloody well by half** "Xander, what if someone comes in. . . Oh, that, again, oh hell."

Xander drank in the sight above him, watching the emotions play on that beautiful face. "Let them, my boyfriend, do what I want, my room, their fault for coming in."

Xander continued his long, sure strokes, feeling the tension building, knowing that Spike wouldn't be able to hold back for long. He quickened his pace, swiping his thumb over the soft skin of Spike's tip, just how Spike liked, exactly what he wanted, just what they both needed. He watched as Spike's face rippled, the ridges coming out, then felt the shudder go through his love, felt the cold liquid pour down his hands, heard the broken words.

"Xan, love, hell, always," Spike panted, unable to finish a thought, the pleasure crashing through him. He managed to stay standing only by propping one arm along the wall. He watched, hazy eyed, as Xander placed him back in his jeans then zipped him back up.

Slowly, deliberately, Xander lifted his hand to his lips, then wrapped his tongue around his finger, licking it clean. Spike felt his cock twitch again at the sight.

"Mmmm, much better than hospital food." He grinned as he looked up, Spike's eyes still hazy. "You better get cleaned up, don't want to be too obvious," he began.

"Sure thing, pet, won't be the same without you. However, still have some unfinished business." Now it was Spike's hands that moved carefully down Xander's body, reaching over to grasp Xander's erection. Gently, he began to stroke up and down, a slow but strong rhythm, careful not to jar Xander too much.

Xander's eyes closed, lips parting and his tongue running along his lower lip. "Spike," a low moan. **So good, so good** "Spike, just, careful, you know."

A low chuckle. "Don't worry, pet, don't want the doctors yelling at me." Spike resumed the steady pace, drawing it out. Finally, Xander felt his orgasm coming, felt it crash into him, felt the strong hands holding his hips so that he wouldn't jar anything, felt a cool tongue lean down and lick him clean.

Spike moved back up, dropped a quick kiss on Xander's temple, seeing that Xander had already fallen into a light sleep. He slipped into the bathroom and Xander faintly heard the shower begin as he surfaced back to consciousness for a moment. He smiled then fell back to sleep.

"What do you mean, another week?" The words were yelped out in unison, the frustration apparent in both voices.

Dr. O'Rourke took a deep breath, knowing they wouldn't like the news. "Xander, you're healing very nicely, everything looks great, but, still, you went through a significant traumatic event, followed by a major surgery. We just want to make sure that everything is fine before we send you home. We don't want you coming back here, now, do we?" The voice was eminently reasonable, the logic impeccable.

A low rumble came from Spike. "Stupid git."

A small smile crossed the surgeon's face. Looked like the vampire had some sense, at least, and wasn't trying to convince him to let his patient out early. It was obvious that the two of them were slowly going insane stuck here in this room.

"Xander, you've only been allowed to get out of bed for what, three days now, you're still very weak. You are not up to any strenuous activity." A harsh glare at the both of them. He didn't want to think about what the two of them might be considering trying now that Xander had been allowed to walk. Two sets of completely innocent eyes looked back at him. **This isn't good**

"Doctor, I'm perfectly aware of my limitations." Xander managed to keep the grin off his face and out of his voice only with a huge effort. "Trust me, I'm not doing anything strenuous."

"Of course not, pet, you let me do all the work." Spike smirked over, and Xander couldn't help smirking back. That was true, Spike had been very gentle, very cautious, they hadn't done anything more than kiss and touch one another.

Dr. O'Rourke just sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Just, try to keep it under control, gentlemen. Try not to shock the nurses." He regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

"Don't know about that, mate, I think they would rather appreciate the show. See enough with that camera, now, don't they?" Spike grinned up at him, thoroughly enjoying the blush that was stealing up the man's face. "What about it, luv, don't you think they appreciate it?"

"I know I would," came the amused reply.

The doctor just shook his head. "Look, one week. Then you can go home." With that he fled the room.

Xander and Spike grinned at each other, excitement building. One week, one week and they could go home. Spike's eyes narrowed at that a little, and he glanced over at the clock. 8:15 p.m.

"Pet, I've got somewhere I have to be."

Xander's eyes widened at that, Spike had pretty much refused to leave the room until the day before, when he had left for about an hour while Xander was receiving respiratory therapy. He still had problems taking deep breaths due to the depth of the stab wound.

"Oh, that's fine, when will you be back?" Xander tried to keep the worry out of his voice. Spike quickly leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

"About an hour, maybe an hour and a half, not quite sure. Do you want me to call when I'm on my way back?" He traced a finger down Xander's cheek, calming his lover.

"Please, I'll feel better. Where are you going?" Xander cursed himself. **Acting like a child, probably going to kill something, make him feel better**

"It's a surprise," came the reply. Spike leaned down, kissed Xander's cheek then left.

Spike took one last look around the hated room, making sure they had everything. Buffy and Willow had already checked, moving the stacks of books and the other various and sundry items that had accumulated over the two weeks Xander had spent in the hospital. **Clothes, books, cds, my lighter** The room was empty. He moved back to the door and took Xander's hand.

"Right, let's get the fuck out of here," Xander said, dying to leave. He felt much better, still weak, but better. The incision had healed well, but was still sore to touch. His stamina wasn't very good, but he had been given a clean bill of health. He wasn't allowed to return to classes yet and he and Spike had received a fairly incoherent lecture from Dr. O'Rourke, the gist of which seemed to be that resuming sex was fine just not to overdue it. Which was very, very bad news because all Xander could think about was getting Spike into bed. Not just for sex, he craved to feel Spike's arms around him as he slept.

"Right." Spike tossed one last look back over his shoulder, then they walked out, joining the rest of the gang waiting to see Xander off. They moved down the hall, Willow taking his other hand. They reached the elevator and Xander ceremoniously pushed the button for the ground floor. They walked out into the night and Xander grinned when he saw his Jeep sitting parked right in front of the building.

"So, I get to drive," he started happily for the door, but was gently pulled back.

"Not exactly, pet." Spike settled him into the passenger's side, buckling him up as everyone else piled into the back.

Spike carefully pulled away and Xander suppressed a grin. Usually, driving with Spike was an adventure, but now he was cautiously signaling and turning left. Left.

"Um, Spike, where are we going, the apartment's the other way."

"Is it?" Spike continued driving, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Spike, what are you up to?" Xander knew what that smile meant and it usually meant no good.

Spike just shrugged, as he made a turn off to the right. Xander quickly became lost as they took a few more turns in rapid succession. Xander realized they were now in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Sunnydale.

"Spike," very quietly, very calmly. "Where the hell are you going?"

Spike just grinned as he pulled to a stop in front of a gated driveway.

"Home." With that, he leaned out the window and punched the security code into the box next to the gate. The gate swung open and Spike pulled in, pausing to make sure the gate latched behind them.

Xander shot another glance over as they curved around some tall trees. Then, he saw the house. A long, low Spanish style ranch house greeted his gaze, lush plantlife running along the driveway which curved to a circle in front of the house, a small fountain in the center. The landscaping continued along the front of the house, small spotlights shining up. Spike gently pulled the car to a stop in front of the door and looked over, beaming.

"Surprise."

Stunned silence filled the Jeep. Xander just stared.

"When, why, Christ, Spike," he finally started, having no idea what to say.

Spike just laughed, got out of the car and walked around the front, pulling Xander's door open. He helped Xander out, then slung an arm across his shoulders.

"No fucking way you were ever going back to that place," Spike whispered quietly in Xander's ear. "Thought you might like a change of scenery, pet. Saw this place awhile ago, thought you might like it." That part said loudly, for the sake of their friends who were spilling out from the back.

That was true, he had an eye on this house since he first came across it during one of his late night prowls a few months before. It had been empty and some demons had been living there. After Spike killed them, he had wandered through the house, admiring the spaciousness and proportions of the rooms. He had known, as soon as he had been assured that Xander would be fine, that they would not be returning to the apartment. He couldn't bear the thought of it and he would never allow Xander to be reminded of what had happened. He made some calls, arranged for the purchase, for the furnishings, to have them moved, again amused by how the promise of cash could ease anything.

The rest of the group stood there, openmouthed.

"Spike, goddess, this is beautiful, is this really yours?" Willow said, looking at the house.

"Sure is, Red, why, you like?" Spike grinned down at her, seeing the confusion in all their faces.

"Seriously, Spike, how did you do this?" Buffy's slightly awed voice next to him. "Where did you get the money, you did buy this, right?" Buffy's eyes narrowed at that. "Thought you were broke."

Xander began to laugh at that, then Spike joined in until they were leaning against the Jeep, nearly falling into each other.

"Not exactly, Buff. Blondie here is a bit of a liar. You should see the portfolio on him. And I don't mean that in a sexual way." Xander managed to gasp out, grabbing his side. "Ow, don't make me laugh like that."

Giles shot them a look. He had had his suspicions about that. "Well, it is lovely." He turned, noticing for the first time that a low wall surrounded the property with what appeared to be newly installed electrical wires at the top.

"C'mon, luv, don't you want to see inside." Spike grinned, pleased with himself. If the Jeep had been a good idea, then this, this was a fabulous idea. They moved up the steps and Spike handed Xander the keys with a bow.

"After you."

Xander felt like his face was going to split in two from the grin he knew was plastered there. He opened the door, eyes widening when he saw chandelier hanging down, saw that the house was fully furnished. Turning back, he pulled Spike in after him, noticing that Spike entered with no hesitation. **Of course not, idiot, his house, our house, already been invited**

"Come on in," he called to the others, Spike shooting him an amused glance. They came in, jaws again dropping at the sight of the house. They had entered into a large open entrance hall with a peaked cathedral ceiling. Hanging down was a chandelier, its arms spreading out, appearing to hold candles on the ends. The floor was tiled in a colorful red and yellow sunburst pattern. Low benches ran along one wall with doorways heading in all directions. They could see that there was another set of doors on the other side, leading into the back yard.

Anya wandered off to the right, shaking her head. She always knew Spike had taste, he was with Xander after all, but this was so unexpected. Everyone followed her as she stepped down a step into a large living room. Again, it was fully furnished, a soft ivory couch running in a curve along one wall, a low glass table in front of it, plants everywhere, endtables with small lamps casting a warm glow, the television against the wall in front of them. She noticed absently that heavy curtains were on the windows, then resumed her study of the room. Three smaller leather chairs in the same ivory faced the couch. A bar ran along the far wall with a pool table in front of it. A small bathroom was set in a corner next to the bar. Willow let out a low exclamation of delight.

Buffy walked through the next doorway, coming into the large dining room. A long table ran the length of the room, the dark wood in contrast to the lightness of the walls. Three lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the small flower arrangements set on the table. Continuing forward, she entered the kitchen. She flipped on the light and stepped back, startled. It looked like something from a magazine. The kitchen was bright and cheery, the same red and yellow tile scheme continuing through here. A central island with stools was in the center, with a huge, professional looking stove behind it. A large, three-basin sink was off to one side of the stove, while a coffee maker sat on the counter on the other side. Off to the right was a breakfast area, with a bay window, again with heavy curtains, a bench seat running under the window with a table in front of it. The refrigerator was off to the right, blending into the cabinets. A rack hung over the island, with pots and pans hanging down. It looked like Emeril was going to come out and start cooking any minute.

"Xander, Spike, wow, this is, wow, too bad you don't cook."

"Actually, Slayer, I'm quite the cook," came the amused response behind her as Spike pulled a speechless Xander in behind him. Buffy just shot him a look. "Well, I am. I would tell you to ask the whelp here, but, well, cat's got his tongue."

Spike couldn't help it. He was thrilled. He had finally gotten a chance to find a place appropriate for Xander and it appeared that his friends were suitably impressed. **About time they realized how he should be treated** He gently tugged Xander around. "Want to see the bedrooms?" He leered suggestively, earning him a whap.

"Yes, but later for the rest," Xander said, finally breaking out of his stupor. He could not believe the house, could not believe it was his. Could not believe Spike had found the time to do this.

"Spike, when did you do all this," he asked as Spike herded everyone back to the other end of the house.

"You were asleep a lot and, well, that's why they invented the telephone. Can do anything by phone nowadays." **Especially when you know the right people** Spike had ended up calling in a few favors, but it was worth it. The hardest part had been trusting that it would be decorated properly, but he was relieved to see that Cordelia had been right in her recommendation. Passing through the entranceway, they entered a long hallway. Two bedrooms were to the left, a large bathroom connecting the two. Another bedroom with an attached bath was on their right. Then a study, bookshelves lining the wall, a desk facing the windows into the backyard, the computer glowing softly. Next, a larger room, set up as a training area, various pieces of exercise equipment grouped around a large mat with a heavy bag in the corner. Finally, Spike stopped as they reached the end of the hall.

"Right, our rooms, no need for you to see that." Ignoring the protests he cocked his head. "Wouldn't you rather go out back and see the pool? Oh, and did I fail to mention that there's a hot tub." He watched as they took off back down the hall, Xander following. Spike started to follow when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up to see Giles staring at him.

"Spike, this, this is very, well, quite much," Giles began. "I couldn't help but notice that there is a wall around the property. And that it seems to be topped by an electric fence."

Spike just shot a glance over. "Wouldn't bloody let me put in the moat now, would they?" Giles just looked back, knowing that Spike wasn't entirely joking. "Nothing will get in here, Watcher. Not while I'm still here." The words hung in the air.

Nodding, Giles followed Spike back down the hall. "I was sure of that." They heard a squeal, then a splash. Sighing, Giles shook his head. "Shall we see what the children are up to?"

Walking out the back entrance, they found that Anya had already pushed Willow into the pool with Tara not far behind. Buffy had gone to help them both out, only to find herself tugged in. A huge water fight had ensued and Xander was just standing there, grinning madly. Spike walked behind him, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist.

"So, do you like?" Spike quietly asked, a little concerned.

His only response was a soft kiss on the cheek. They stood, watching as the splashing continued.

They were finally alone. Spike and Xander had taken them back to the hospital to pick up Giles's car. Then, they had returned to the house, Xander paying closer attention to where they were going. They pulled back in and Xander found his heart in his throat once again as they pulled in front of the house. He owned a house. He OWNED a HOUSE. He had never even considered the possibility. They sat there for a moment, lost in their thoughts. Finally, Xander leaned over, resting his head on Spike's shoulder.

"Must love me or something."

"Something like that."

"This is, I love it, it's perfect. I can't believe you did this." Xander leaned back up, got out of the car and carefully stretched. They walked back in and, as soon as the door was shut, Xander pinned Spike to the wall.

"Really love, can't wait to see our rooms, particularly bed," he rumbled into Spike's ear as he began to kiss down Spike's neck, moving directly for the spot halfway down that he knew drove Spike insane.

"Figured you would," Spike managed to push them off the wall, then down the hall, walking backwards so that he could watch Xander's face, could lean up for quick kisses. They reached the doors at the end of the hall.

"Close your eyes," whispered Spike. Xander quickly complied, excitement of all sorts racing through him. Spike pushed the doors opened, then led Xander in.

"Open your eyes, Xander," Spike gently commanded.

Xander opened his eyes, looking around in awe. Their bed was along the back wall of a large room, lit by soft light coming from the lamps in each corner. Another couch was under windows on the far side, a television next to it, visible from the bed. Dark chests stood along the other walls, with candles on top of the one nearest the bed. Off to the right was a huge walk in closet. Off to the left was the bathroom and Xander could just make out a separate shower and bathtub. His attention, however, was directed almost entirely on the bed.

"This is great, explore it later. Bed now." Xander pushed Spike across the room, focused only on the almost painful longing to be a part of him. It wasn't just how long it had been, it was the need to be together, to feel a part of each other, to reassure each other that they were still one.

Spike groaned as Xander pushed him down, relishing this. It had been all he could do not to just throw everyone out, but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was capable of taking care of Xander, that his love was safe with him.

Xander slowly leaned into Spike, covering that cool body with his own, careful to rest on his forearms which were on either side of Spike's head, still not able to tolerate much pressure on his chest. They kissed long and slow, building the passion gently, carefully. Neither wanted this to be over quickly, they wanted to take their time, to enjoy the luxury of truly being alone.

Spike reached up, running his hands over Xander's back, the familiar body now thinner, a little more frail. He leaned up and gently turned them on their sides, knowing that Xander's arms would quickly tire. He moved his mouth down, trailing along Xander's jawline, down his neck, lingering on the scar from his mark, licking his tongue around the twin wounds. Xander moaned and thrust his hips into Spike's, their groins coming into contact, their erections straining against each other.

Xander reached his hands under Spike's shirt, running a flat palm on Spike's nipple, feeling it immediately harden. He moved his hand down, his other entwined in Spike's hair, tracing each ripple of Spike's perfect abdomen. He heard the familiar moan, the automatic tilt of Spike's hips, relearning the flesh, remembering just where to touch to see Spike's head tilt, exposing his throat. Xander bent down and began to suck at the hollow of Spike's throat, feeling Spike's thrusts quicken, a low growl begin to move through the vampire. Xander leaned back and pulled Spike's shirt off just as Spike did the same to his own.

Spike pushed Xander flat onto the bed, seeing the clean edge of the incision next to the rougher one from the stab wound. A quick flash of pain glimmered across his features, then Spike bent down and began to slowly lick his way up each wound, taking care not to hurt, but needing to taste, to become part of the pain.

Xander's eyes closed at the trace of Spike's tongue. The coolness of it eased the pain, the itching that had started as the scars began to form. The feel of it was driving him mad, the way that Spike was worshipping his body, cleansing the wounds, trying to lap them away. Xander felt himself growing harder and harder, until he was nearly in pain from the tightness against his zipper. He pulled Spike up, kissing him deeply, as he reached down to unbutton Spike's jeans. Spike took the hint and quickly returned the favor, easing the pressure.

Soon, they were naked, flesh pressing into flesh. They lay there, entwined in one another, lengths pressed together as they cherished just this, just the feel of being in one another's arms. Soon, too soon, the heat overwhelmed them, and they began to rock together, each touch pushing them further towards completion, tongues circling one another.

Spike pulled back and reached out for his duster. He pulled the small tube out and pressed it into Xander's hand. Xander took it, then leaned back, looking at Spike. Spike just nodded, then rolled onto his back, pulling his legs to his chest.

Xander opened the tube with shaky hands. Usually, Spike was the one to penetrate him. He was still a little insecure about fucking Spike, not positive he was doing it right, not sure if he was bringing pleasure to the man beneath him, even with Spike's assurances to the contrary. But something in Spike's eyes told him he needed this, needed Xander to fill him, needed to know that they were one, needed that connection. Xander carefully reached down, then pressed a finger forward. There was some resistance but not much. Xander watched Spike's face the entire time, seeing Spike's eyes begin to haze over, feeling Spike begin to move in time with the rhythm. He searched, found the spot, and was rewarded by the sight of Spike grasping the sheets, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"There, again, just like that, Xander, Xander," the words came flowing down from above. Xander pulled out, inserted another finger and began to move just like Spike had told him, just like Spike did to him. Quickly, Spike began to relax beneath him, began to open fully and completely. A third finger entered as Spike began to thrash on the bed, pushing down as Xander's hand pushed up. Finally, Spike began to beg.

"Xander, in me, please, part of me, need it, need you, love you, please, please, love you."

With that, Xander placed the tip of his cock against Spike's opening and entered him, the tightness and the coolness grasping him. Now it was Xander's head that snapped back, Xander's voice that broke as he began to move in time with Spike's rhythm.

"Spike, love you, never leave, love you, part of you, feel me, in you, love you," the words like music to Spike's ears. He was impaled, truly impaled. The heat of it burned into every pore of his body, bathing him in its pureness. It was like nothing he had ever known, the feel of it driving through his very being. He craved it, wanting more and more. Spike began to move faster, drawing Xander in deeper and deeper. He cared nothing for his own release, he just wanted this, wanted to feel Xander come deep inside him, wanted to know that Xander was a part of him. Then he felt a warm hand grasp him, felt the pull as Xander pumped in time with their thrusts.

"Together, please together, see you, want to see you," Xander's voice panting above him. Spike managed to open his eyes. He saw Xander's face, contorted in pleasure, the thick dark hair sweaty and falling around his face, the golden skin glowing above him. Spike felt himself begin to slip over the edge, the vision of it combined with the feel of Xander filling him proving too much.

"Can't wait, now, Xan, love you, Xander," with a furious cry, Spike came, bucking into Xander's hand, his muscles clutching the prick buried deep inside him.

With a strangled cry, Xander came, the expression on Spike's face pulling out his own release. He felt strong hands holding his hips, holding him inside that coolness. He felt himself begin to collapse, only to be caught and gently cradled into Spike's chest.

"I love you," he managed to gasp out.

Spike just kissed the top of his head, holding him as tightly as possible. Finally, Xander pulled up, sliding out of Spike, causing a small whimper of protest from his lover. Xander settled into the crook of Spike's arm, content to his very core.

They lay quietly, both fading off to sleep. Automatically, Xander turned on his side and Spike curled into his back. Xander just hummed, an echoing purr coming from Spike. This, this was what had been missing during those long days in that damn hospital bed.

"Hmmm," came the sleepy reply.

"Thanks for the house."

"Glad you like."

"Only one thing."

"We're going to have to have a discussion about exactly what I meant by small gifts." The grin was apparent in Xander's voice.

Spike just let out a quiet chuckle, "You should've seen the place I really wanted."

Xander just laughed in return and snuggled in tighter. They quickly drifted off, at peace for the first time in days.

They moved like a dark wind through the trees, their white heads turning in tandem, their pale faces shining with rage. Gone were the quips and laughter. Only pain remained, only a vicious need to destroy. They were silent, deadly, the only sounds the occasional grunt or howl when they were knocked into something. No toying, no playing, just focused hatred. Occasionally, one of them would snap and whatever vampire or demon was unfortunate enough could hear the murmured words as pain wracked through its body right before its death. "Bastard, fucking coward, motherfucker will pay, bathe in his blood." Muttered over and over as dead eyes stared into the victim.

News quickly spread that Sunnydale was no longer safe. Not that it had ever been before, but now the Slayer and the Vampire seemed possessed, were working as a team, had become the predators and not the prey. Only the foolish would cross their paths now. And only those with a death wish would make any move towards the dark haired man that accompanied them, that they kept protected at all costs. Even one step in his direction would ensure that all attention would be directed towards the offender. In that case, it was best to pray that the Slayer noticed, for she would simply and efficiently kill whatever had been so unwise.

But if the being was unlucky, then the Vampire would see. Death would be slow in coming. The railroad spike would appear in his hand, pulled from one of those deep, deep pockets in the black leather duster he always wore. He would set to work, causing such pain as had never been dreamed of in all the depths of hell. He would keep at it for hours, his eyes pools of rage and pain, cutting his fury into the flesh of the offender. Then, when he was satisfied that the being could not move, could not harm his consort in any way, he would hand the stake to his lover, watching as the man set to work, a look of pride crossing his face as his lover moved to take over, as he gave quiet instruction, as he heard the howls of rage drop from the man's lips until finally, finally the merciful release of death. Word spread fast. Don't harm the man. He was off-limits, he was the Vampire's and the Slayer's. And his own bloodlust was the equal of both.

"no, no, please, no NO NO NO" The screaming began as Xander jerked awake, jumping from the bed, eyes glassy as he felt the hands moving on his body, felt the kicks into his flesh, felt the tearing begin. He backed into the wall, slowly sliding down as his eyes lost focus.

Spike knelt next to him, hands ghosting across Xander's body, careful not to actually touch him, merely seeking to let Xander feel his presence. His heart twisted as he watched Xander's head jerk back as if being slapped, heard the begging spill from Xander's lips, saw the absence in his eyes.

Xander slowly curled into a ball on the floor, shaking as he felt the penetration begin, heard his father's voice echoing in his ears. **You disgrace, should have killed you a long time ago** The words pounding into his mind as he saw the hand rise, saw the gleaming edge of the knife, felt the vicious pain as it slammed into his flesh. He rocked back and forth, trying to calm himself, hearing Spike's voice in his ear.

"Just a dream, just a dream, I'm here, you're safe, it's fine, here, we're home, he's not here, just a dream," the words dropped into his mind, cooling the heat there, rippling through the ocean of hate. "I'm here, don't worry, safe now, safe now."

Slowly, slowly the panting stopped and Xander felt cautious hands reach out to pull him into Spike's lap, his head resting there while strong hands ran down his back, trying to loosen the tight muscles. Xander shuddered once, an automatic reaction to the feel of flesh touching his own. Spike stopped, leaving his hand there but not moving. Swallowing hard, Xander reached an arm around, draping it across Spike's legs, forcing himself back to the present, realizing that the touch was his lover's, that he was here with someone who would never, ever hurt him, would never allow him to feel pain again.

Spike resumed his stroking, beginning a low, comforting purr, trying to lull Xander back to sleep. The nightmares were getting worse and worse, and he was becoming increasingly frightened by Xander's inability to sleep. The worst part was that Xander refused to tell him what the nightmares were, refused to speak of them. Spike didn't know if that was good or not. All his studies were contradictory. Some texts recommended forcing the issue while others stated flatly that only harm could come of premature revelations. Spike had decided to strike a middle note, asking each time what the nightmare contained, letting Xander know he could say anything, but not forcing him to do so.

"Sounded bad, luv. What was it?" Spike's voice low and calm, the stroking never stopping.

Xander swallowed again, then slowly turned over, moving so that he was lying face up in Spike's lap, able to see those beautiful eyes.

"Just, stuff," he shuddered, not willing to discuss how he could still feel his father's hands.

"Sure, pet, you can tell me, you know. I want to know." Again, quiet and calm, no trace of the rage that Spike felt growing in him at the fact that the bastard was still alive.

"Yeah, I know. Don't want to talk about it." Xander slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. Spike stood, reached down and helped Xander to his feet.

"How about some hot chocolate, then? Got marshmallows and everything." Spike ran his hands along Xander's arms, still feeling the faint trembling there.

Xander gave Spike a small smile, knowing full well that this was Spike's ultimate comfort food, the taste of it somehow making Spike content. They headed down the hall to the kitchen, Xander yawning hugely. He was so tired. Over the last three months, his sleep had become more and more fragmented. It seemed the healthier his body became, the more his mind attacked him. He had almost completely recovered, spending his time training with Buffy and Spike. He had quickly gained strength and agility, focusing on learning how to protect himself. He had finally convinced Spike to return to patrol after about a month, knowing that Spike desperately needed the relief of violence. Spike had initially resisted, flatly refusing to leave Xander alone. Xander had pleaded over the space of a week, finally reaching a compromise. Spike would patrol with Xander accompanying him. However, Xander was not allowed to fight and Spike stayed within five feet of him at all times. Xander had readily agreed, and, slowly, Spike had given Xander freer rein, gradually allowing him to fight the smaller fledglings. He still refused to allow Xander out of his sight, however. Not that Xander minded. He didn't feel secure unless they were in each other's presence either.

Spike and Buffy still were furious, still tried to talk him out of his plan for revenge. They wanted immediate gratification, Spike, in particular, growing more and more frustrated with each day that passed that Xander held him back from simply ripping out his father's throat, no matter what the chip did to him. Buffy was barely better, vowing that she would take his father, bring him back to Spike and Xander's house, act as Spike's hands as Spike told her exactly what to do. The only thing holding either of them back was Xander's promise that soon, soon, they would act. No matter how frustrated either of them became, they both understood that it was Xander's right to take revenge.

Xander had focused all his attention on training and learning the various arts of torture that Spike was only too happy to teach him. Their morning discussions were no longer theoretical. Now, Xander took an active part in discussing just how his father would suffer. His mother had managed to bail his father out of jail, how, Xander didn't care. The trial was about four months away, and Xander had begun steeling himself for the testimony he would have to give. Giles, Willow and Tara were working on finding some better way to protect Spike from the sun so that he could accompany Xander to court without having to sneak in under a blanket through a side entrance.

They made their way into the kitchen, Spike continuing to purr softly, seeing that Xander was beginning to relax. He wished Xander would take the sleeping pills he had been prescribed. Xander flatly refused, however, stating that he didn't like the loss of control. Spike knew that Xander needed control above all else, so he had relented.

Spike turned to the refrigerator and reached for the milk while Xander opened the cupboard and removed a small pan. As he turned to place it on the stove, he caught the side of his arm on the corner of the open door, scraping it along the rough edge of the open door. His eyes shot open as the old, familiar sting ripped through his body. **OH SHIT, so good, so good, more, want more** He raised the arm to his mouth, twisting it so that he could lap up the blood. His hands began to shake as the taste ran through his body. He felt the desperate longing suddenly rise to the surface, no longer able to deny want he craved. The desire had been burning in him ever since he regained consciousness in the hospital and every day it was becoming harder and harder to resist that siren call. He stared at the knives on the counter, moving closer and reaching out, blocking out everything but that need.

Spike's head shot around at the sudden scent of blood. **What the hell** He saw Xander with an arm to his mouth, saw his eyes suddenly darken, saw the hands reaching for the knives. With a strangled cry, he wrapped his arms around Xander, yanking him away. This was what he had feared, what he had been waiting and watching for. Too much had happened for Xander not to fall back to this.

"Let go." Xander growled out, unable to focus on anything other than the need.

"No, Xander, please, no, don't. . ." Spike began, as Xander suddenly began to pull against him. Tightening his grip, he fought back the pain that hit as he frantically tried to restrain Xander.

"Fuck you, what do you know, let me go, bastard, fuck you, can't help me, don't understand," the vicious words poured out as Xander fought those strong arms. Turning quickly, he threw Spike across the room.

Panting, he yanked the knife from the block and placed it against his wrist, feeling the cold, cold glint of steel. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, savoring this moment, knowing that peace was nigh.

Suddenly, he realized that the room was quiet, that he could hear no sound from the vampire. He looked down and went perfectly still. Spike lay on the floor, head at a peculiar angle, blood dripping from his mouth. The knife clattered to the floor as Xander's ran over, kneeling at Spike's side.

"Spike, Spike," Xander desperately called out. "Oh shit, Spike," he began to shake Spike, frantically trying to get any response. Nothing. Xander glanced around, realizing that Spike's head had struck the edge of the counter.

"Spike, please, I'm sorry, oh fuck, please," Xander keened, his hands roaming over Spike's body. **His neck, I broke his neck**

Spike suddenly let out a groan. "Bloody hell, why did I ever teach you that?" He opened his eyes to see Xander just staring down.

"Spike, can you move, please tell me you can move, can you feel this?" The relief at hearing Spike's voice was fleeting as Xander began to press at Spike's arms and legs.

"Ow, shit, Xander, what are you doing?" Spike yelped out, feeling the pinching all over his body. He pulled himself up, Xander closely following, then leaned against the counter, rubbing the side of his head. "Think you got your strength back there, luv."

Spike shook his head, clearing his thoughts, then suddenly struck out, grabbing Xander's wrists. He flipped Xander's arms over, inspecting the flesh. Nothing, no lines. His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, inhaling deeply, scenting for the blood. Only the ragged edge from the accidental cut yielded any trace.

Xander stood still, allowing the inspection, head down, shame washing over him. He deserved this, he had broken Spike's trust. He kept his head down, unwilling to meet Spike's gaze.

Spike let out a shaky breath, then pulled Xander over to sit under the window. He had been expecting this, knew it was coming, didn't blame Xander, though he knew Xander would blame himself. He sat down, then settled Xander onto his lap, gently pushing the table aside.

"Luv, I'm fine." No response. He pulled Xander tighter. "Xander, I don't blame you. You've been through a lot, it's only natural that you would need that." He tightened his grip as he felt Xander begin to shake. "Just because I understand doesn't mean that I'm going to stand by and let you, but I won't get mad at you for wanting it." He heard the sudden inhale of breath then felt Xander begin to relax, just a little. He started purring again, knowing this would calm the man in his arms.

Xander stayed there for a few moments, then pulled back, reaching up to feel the rapidly healing bump on Spike's head. "Sorry, just, hit me, you know." He tilted his head, the realization suddenly striking him. He pulled back, looking deep into Spike's eyes.

"Is this what you feel like, wanting to go after that bastard?" They had long since quit referring to that beast as his father.

Spike stared back, nodding slowly. That was why he couldn't be angry with Xander, this was why he understood the bloodlust. It was all he could do to respect Xander's wishes, all he could do to not just destroy that which had harmed what was his.

Xander's eyes darkened. How could he have not realized the pain he was causing his lover, his friends. Enough, it was enough.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize." He licked his lips, leaned down and placed a light kiss on Spike's lips. "No more. It's time. I'll call Buffy. Tomorrow night."

Spike just stared back. "Are you sure?" He felt a cruel smile cross his lips. **About bloody time**

"Fuck, yeah." A matching smile on his mate's mouth. They stared at each other, then Spike released Xander, allowing him to stand. He reached over, grabbing the phone from the table.

"Here you go, luv, you call, I'll make the hot chocolate. Want to get to sleep soon," his eyes narrowed, "It'll be a busy night tomorrow."

Xander nodded, hitting the speed dial. He looked at the clock. Just after midnight, Buffy should be home.

"Hello," the quick reply.

"Buffy, it's time."

"When." He heard the rage immediately slam into her voice.

"Tomorrow. Meet me here at noon so we can get set up."

"Fine. About time." Spike nodded, hearing her from over by the stove.

"Yeah, that's what Spike thinks, too. See you at noon. Spike will get the stuff together while we're gone."

"'K."

With that he hung up and moved to sit by lover at the counter, the knife long forgotten as he thought of just how sweet the next night would be. Spike slid over a cup, marshmallows floating on top. They drank quickly, then headed off for bed. Spike was right, they would both need their rest. None of them would be sleeping for the next few days.

Willow shot another worried look down the street as Xander fit the key into the lock.

"Are you sure they aren't home?" she asked for the fifth time since they had arrived. She was eager to get started, but, at the same time, a little concerned. What would happen if they were interrupted.

"Yeah, the car's gone, besides, even if they were here, they're too drunk to notice." Xander quickly opened the door, smiling bitterly at the fact that they hadn't even bothered to change the locks. He shrugged, if they were so stupid, they deserved whatever they got.

Buffy and Anya followed Xander, Willow and Tara into the basement, carrying a large trunk between them. Xander looked around, face tightening as the memories struck him. He took a deep breath, concentrating only on the good. **There, right there is where Spike first drank from me** Pretty much every thing was the way he and Spike had left it, the couch still there, a thick layer of dust over everything.

"Where do you want this," Anya called over. "It's getting kind of heavy." Buffy just rolled her eyes at that.

"Just put it down anywhere, doesn't really matter." Xander moved over, opened the trunk and began pulling out the heavy black drapery. Meanwhile, Willow began setting small bowls around the room while Tara took out a small mortar and pestle and began grinding herbs. Buffy and Anya quickly tacked the hangings over the windows, while Xander pulled the table into the center of the room. He pulled the bolt of black silk out, draped it on the table, habitually spreading a circle into the center of the fabric, the movements of the ritual coming automatically. He took out the candleholders, set the candles in place, then stepped back. Nodding, he looked around the room, satisfied that all was ready. He watched as Buffy pulled the couch and chair back, replacing the recliner with a tall, high backed chair. She coiled the rope by the legs of the chair, then she, too, stepped back, satisfied. They looked over at Willow and Tara.

"We can begin now, just take a few minutes," Willow said as Tara began sprinkling the mixture into the various bowls. "Why don't you just wait outside."

Anya led the way out the door and they stood there, listening to the soft chanting. A few minutes passed, then Willow and Tara came out the door.

"All finished, no one will be able to hear a thing, he can scream all he wants." Xander had never seen Willow like this, had never seen such a look of hatred curling across her features. He grabbed her in a quick hug, then they left, Anya going with Willow and Tara, Buffy accompanying him.

"What time are we leaving," her hands were twitching, anticipating the blood that was soon to flow.

"The second the sun goes down, you would not believe what I had to do to convince Spike that he couldn't just wait in the back until the bastard comes home." Xander glanced over, feeling the anticipation build.

"I can imagine, no, wait, actually, I don't want to imagine," Buffy said with a small grin. She began to bounce up and down, the tension building. "Do you think Spike will let me help him pack up the stuff?" she asked hopefully.

"Doubt it, probably already done, he was up when I left." Xander smiled at the thought. Spike had followed him to the door, reluctant to let him leave, they had only been apart for a few hours at a time since the attack. However, Xander had planned ahead and had accounted for the half-hour or so that it would take them to say goodbye.

"Ohh, she said disappointed. "Well, well, what are we going to do until we leave?" **Seven hours, only seven hours more**

"Spike's making lunch."

Buffy just raised her eyebrows at that. "What's he making, blood pudding?"

"No, lasagna."

Buffy just shook her head at that. Spike, making lasagna for a Slayer. Her life just got odder by the day.

The pounding continued. "I said, just a minute. Fucking idiot." Xander's father bellowed out as he stumbled to the door. "What do you want?" he growled looking down at the small girl he vaguely recognized as one of his bastard son's friends.

His only response was a sharp kick which caught him along the right side of his face, knocking him back into the hallway. Buffy strode in after him with Xander right behind.

"Spike, why don't you come in?" Xander held out his hand as he extended the invitation.

"Happy to, luv."

"What's going on out here?" Xander's mother called as she came around the corner, eyes opening wide when she saw her husband lying motionless on the floor, some woman staring down at him with hate, a white haired man next to her with ever more hate on his face. She looked up to see her son standing in the doorway.

"Hello, mom." The words snapped out with contempt. "Came to pay dear old dad here a visit."

Xander skulked over, grabbing her as she turned to run. "Oh, I don't think so. Think you're going to call the police? You would call the police for him, not for me. Just lovely. No, I don't think so. Besides, I have the feeling that they wouldn't be too quick to come to that thing's rescue." He pulled her over into a chair, Spike right behind him.

"Stupid bint, letting him do to that to your child, well, time to pay the piper, ducks." The voice hissed in her ear as she felt cold, cold fingers press against her throat. "Much as I want to kill you, your precious child there won't let me, so you're just going to have to sleep for awhile." With that, he stepped back, letting Buffy have her turn.

"You bitch." With that, Buffy swung, knocking Xander's mother out cold. They quickly tied her to the chair, then Buffy pressed the cloth over her face.

"Sure that will be enough," Spike asked quietly.

"Yes, Giles said that would knock her out for at least three days."

"Good," Xander's voice rang through the air. "Let's get the bastard downstairs."

"Same way as last time, pet?" Spike walked over, ready to help, eager to feel that flesh beneath his hands. The pain was bearable, there, but bearable.

"You bet." With that, Xander grabbed his father's feet and began dragging him down the basement stairs, once again making sure that he rammed his father's head into any and every thing he could find.

Spike followed, ready to help should Xander show any signs of being tired. Buffy grabbed the small duffel bag Spike had dropped to the floor, closed the front door and followed them down the stairs.

Xander's father's eyes slowly opened, taking in the odd vision before him. He was tied to a chair, in some room. A low murmur reached his ears, some stupid song. The room was shrouded in black, a table in front of him covered in black silk, two candles on it, a lockbox in the center. He shook his head, confused. He looked up, only to find himself staring into three cruel, cruel faces.

"Oh, look, he's finally awake." The girl's voice, mocking and cold.

"Finally, thought we were going to have to do something drastic," the words in a British drawl, even crueler if possible.

"No, that's for later." His bastard son's voice.

"What the fuck is this, what the hell do you think you're doing, you fucking faggot."

He heard a sharp intake of breath, then his head snapped back as the blonde viciously slapped him.

"You don't get to speak. Not to Xander, not now, not ever again. You asshole, if I didn't plan on hearing you scream I would just cut your tongue out right now." Buffy stood there, fists clenched visibly trying to keep from lashing out.

Xander reached over, pulling her away. "Maybe later."

Xander leaned down, staring his father in the eye. "Did you really think you would get away with it, did you really think that I wouldn't get my revenge? You must be stupider than I ever thought. You know, you were right, one of us is a disgrace, one of us should have been killed a long time ago. Just not me." He leaned back up, reaching out to take Spike's hand.

"I don't think you were ever properly introduced. This is William, my lover. My partner. My mate. He's also known as Spike. Do you know how he got the name Spike?" Xander paused, wrapping his arms around Spike's waist, leaning his head on Spike's shoulder.

Xander's father just glared back, disgust in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but never got to speak. Buffy reached out, hand moving quicker than he could see, grasping his tongue.

"I thought I told you not to speak." Her voice was low and calm, but her fingers never let go. The bastard's eyes began to water as the pain rolled through him. She tugged a little harder. "Please, Xan, it'll be fun."

"No, later, I said I wanted to hear him scream."

Reluctantly, Buffy let go, running an edge of her fingernail across the top of his tongue, the blood beginning to drip down. "Hope you learned your lesson," she whispered in his ear as she moved away.

"As I was saying," Xander resumed, running a hand through Spike's hair, "Do you know how Spike got his name? No, didn't think so. You see, Spike is infamous for torturing people with railroad spikes, rusty railroad spikes at that, so, he started to go by Spike."

Xander leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lover's cheek, seeing those blue eyes burn into the bastard's, holding him trapped in his gaze. "Oh, yes, one more thing, did I happen to mention, he's also a vampire."

At that, Spike morphed into gameface, relishing the fear that suddenly radiated from the sack of shit in the chair before him. He leaned down, grasping Xander's hand as the pain began to build, snarling, fully exposing his fangs.

"Right, mate. A vampire. We are real you know. And you touched what's mine. The penalty for that is death."

Xander's father began to shake, squeezing his eyes shut. It was a nightmare, not real, not real. His eyes shot back open as he felt another kick, this one to his ribs, this one harder then before. He felt the snap as they broke, heard the sick, sick noise.

Xander caught Spike as he fell, dragging him behind his father. There was no way that he was going to let his father see just how much it hurt Spike to exact his revenge. Spike lay on the floor, shaking, then nodded slightly, biting down hard on the towel that Xander had placed in his mouth to muffle his cries.

Buffy had moved to take Spike's place in front of Xander's father, luxuriating in the whimpers now coming from the man. "Oh, you think that hurt, that's nothing, nothing compared to what's coming." With that she again pulled his mouth open, pouring salt over the cut on his tongue. He began to scream as the agony hit. Louder and louder, knowing someone would come. Buffy just laughed, leaning in closer. "Scream all you want, no one will hear. You see, there's so much that you never bothered to learn about Xander's friends. Like the fact that his partner is a vampire. Like the fact that I'm a vampire slayer. Like the fact that Willow is a witch. We made sure that no one will hear you scream, you just go right ahead. Music to my ears." With that, she hit him again, throwing all her strength behind it, hearing the snapping of his jaw.

Xander moved back around to face his father, seeing the blood drip down, hearing the moans and whimpers coming from the bastard.

"You're probably wondering what all this is for," Xander cast his hand around the room. "Well, when I told Buffy and Spike that they couldn't just make you eat your heart, I had to give them a better idea. You see, I found a way to help ease the pain from all the times you raped me." Xander never took his eyes from his father's face, watching as his words beat into him. "I used to cut myself. Over and over and over again. Sometimes not for months. Sometimes several times a day. What you see now is how I used to best deal with the pain, the ritual I used to perform." Xander leaned in closer, grabbing his father's jaw, hearing the scream as he crushed the broken bones together. "The last time I did this was the night after you raped me a week after Anya left. I went a little too far, cut my left arm open. Almost died. Spike found me, saved my life. I want you to think about that, a demon without a soul cared for me more than you did. What does that make you?'

Spike slowed came around, moving to stand next to the table, reaching into the pocket of his duster and pulling out a key. He handed it to Xander, who nodded a quick thanks.

"So, after you tried to kill me, after you stabbed me then raped me, when all they wanted to do was kill you and let me drink your blood, I told them no. You see, that was too simple, the easy way out. Then, you would be dead and it would be over. You wouldn't have to have nightmares almost every night, you wouldn't have to flinch whenever someone touched you from behind, you wouldn't try to hurt the person you love when they try to stop you from hurting yourself. No, you would be dead. And no one would know what you had done. This way is much better."

Turning his back to the howling man before him, Xander walked to the table. He reached down, unlocking the lockbox, pulling out the box with his knife. Buffy moved over, joining Spike on either side as Xander slowly opened the box, slowly ran his finger across the blade, longing visible in his face. He slowly smiled, and the three of them turned back around.

"I'm going to do to you everything I did to myself. Then Buffy is going to have a chance to beat you like you beat me. Then Spike, well, Spike is going to teach you just how he got his name. But we aren't going to kill you. No, you're going to live. Then you're going to trial. And I'm going to tell the world just what a sick fuck you are. Do you know what happens to rapists in jail, do you? Do you know what happens to rapists who rape their own sons, do you? It's going to make this seem like heaven."

With that, Xander reached down, looking straight into his father's eyes. "And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, then I will let them do what they want. Nothing will be able to stop them."

"You bastard," the words spilled out from blood drenched lips.

Buffy slapped his father, making sure to hit on exactly the site of the break. "Scream all you want, but I told you, no speaking. You will never speak to him again."

Spike merely leaned down, pulling off the bastard's shoes, then removing his socks. He reached out, yellow flickering in his eyes, hands shaking from the pain shooting through his mind, but able to control it. He and Buffy had spent hours doing this, Buffy standing still while Spike hit her or tried to hit her, building up his tolerance for the pain. He pulled a knife from his boots, cutting the clothes off, until the bastard was sitting there, naked.

Xander turned, picking up the piece of glass that was lying on the table, reluctantly putting down the knife. "I was fourteen when I first learned how good it felt. You beat me, raped me, left me for dead. Crawled through broken glass, felt the sting. It was so pure. Let's see what you think." With that, he grabbed his father's right forearm, dragging the sharp edge up the arm, mouth opening when he saw the blood begin to flow. His father began to squirm in the chair, muffled cries coming out from his rapidly swelling face. "Oh, you like that, do you?" Xander continued to carve, adding another line next to the first, careful to not press too deeply. He didn't want to cause scarring, saving that for later.

"Glass is good, when you can get it, but sometimes you have to take what you can find." Xander put the glass back on the table, this time reaching for the jagged piece of metal lying there. "Anything sharp will do in a pinch. Now arms are the best, feels the best, the greatest relief. But, if you don't want anyone to see, then you have to be more careful."

With that, Spike finished untying his father's arms. Spike held them in a firm grip over the bastard's head as Xander leaned over and began to run the edge along his father's waist. "You see, this is good," his voice faded as he moved around the body, feeling his father trying to squirm away. Buffy came over and held the struggling man still. "This way, you feel it all day long, whenever you move." Slowly, slowly he moved, savoring every drop of blood that fell onto his hands, drinking in the hysterical note to his father's cries. Finally, he finished, dropping the metal to the floor. Spike immediately tied his father's arms down while Buffy moved to release his feet.

His father weakly kicked out, catching Buffy across the cheek. Xander immediately punched him in the ribs, aiming directly for the same spot Spike had kicked.

"You are stupider than I thought, fuck, you think you could really fight us all." Xander just shook his head. He felt Spike's hand on his shoulder, felt the weight of Spike's knife pressed into his hand. Spike and Buffy moved back to their positions flanking Xander's father, ready to stop him should he lash out again.

"A knife really is best though, cleaner edge, more control," Xander bent down and picked up one of the feet. He began tracing lines down the sole of each foot, the involuntary gasps and moans filling the room. He moved onto the top of each foot, carving a circle there. "This, this is great because when you walk you can't help but feel it. And speaking of walking. . ."

Buffy nodded, then untied the bastard's legs while Spike again untied his arms. Buffy moved to hold onto the man, seeing how pale Spike was, knowing that the pain must be excruciating. Buffy turned him around so that his back was to Xander. Xander kneeled down and placed the tips of the knife behind the left knee. "If you want to feel it when you walk, do this." With that, he yanked the blade down, delighting in the shrieking that began. He moved back and forth, one leg than the other, seeing the flesh part. Finally, he motioned for Buffy to sit him back down.

"Just tie his legs, make sure they are apart so I can get at his thighs" he murmured to Spike, who dropped a quick kiss on Xander's temple, pride filling him. Xander had learned well, knew that pain alone wasn't the key. No, it was this cut by cut description of what Xander had suffered that would cause the most agony.

Xander leaned down, running his hands along his father's thighs. "If you aren't going to be getting naked around anyone anytime soon, the thighs are always good too." He cut the lines, careful to keep them precise and even, each line exactly the same length. Finally satisfied, he leaned back up.

"Lift his arms in the air." Buffy quickly complied and Xander moved to straddle his father. "If you don't want to bother with blood, then you can just do this." With that, he began to rub the knife along the man's sides, rubbing the flesh raw. "Really hurts when you're wearing cotton and it sticks." He moved slowly, Spike forcing the head down so that Xander could see exactly how much agony he was causing.

When both sides were rubbed raw, Buffy let his arms down, tying them flat to the arms of the chair. With that, Xander moved back to pick up his knife, twirling the blade in his hands.

"I bought this for one purpose and one purpose only. To open my own flesh. Seem to have finally found a better use for it."

Xander began running the blade slowly, so slowly along the flesh of his father's right arm, his breath coming faster and faster. Each cut slightly deeper than the last until ten perfect lines appeared. "This is what I did that night, this is what you made me do, for no reason, I never did anything to you. I thought for years that I had caused it, that there was something about me. There wasn't. It was you, always you, nothing about me." The strangled cries were louder and Xander felt hot tears drop on his shoulder. "Oh, does that hurt. Really, you know what, think I know that."

He moved to the left arm, began hacking away, feeling the rage begin to slip, listening to the screaming coming louder and louder. Finally, he cut the arm free, pulled it into the air.

"And this, this is how I almost died."

He pulled the knife down his father's arm, careful not to go as deeply as he had, wanting the blood to come out but not pour down. There was no way he was going to let the piece of shit die. No, he wanted him to live a nice, long, unhappy life as someone's bitch. Done, he watched the blood drip down.

"One last thing, the most desperate of all. If you truly, truly need it and want to make sure no one knows, there's always this." With that he ran the very tip of the knife along the length of his father's penis.

The screams cut off as his father passed out. Panting, Xander pulled away, drenched in blood.

"Why don't you get cleaned up. Make you feel better." Spike's voice in his ear. "Looks like he will be out for a little before Slayer gets her chance. Don't like to see the bastard's blood on you." Xander nodded and moved for the shower, grabbing a towel from the bag along with the spare set of clothes Spike had packed.

Spike and Buffy stood over the chair, gazing down. Finally, Buffy looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Is that what happened, he cut himself, almost died?" Buffy was shaking, she hadn't known, Xander hadn't told her just why he needed to use the knife.

Spike nodded. "Yes. If I hadn't come over that night, he probably would have died." His eyes closed as the sight of Xander's still body came to him. **Over, it's over, never again** He couldn't help it though, he moved back to check that Xander had left the knife. A sigh escaped him when he saw it there. He listened closely, hearing the sounds of the shower, the memories spilling into him. He turned back, eyes blazing yellow.

"Spike, gods, Spike," Buffy stopped, unsure of how to continue. "No wonder you were so angry, how could we have never seen?" She stopped, turning her pain into the rage she felt growing.

"Because he didn't want you to, Slayer." Spike forced the words out. "He knew what he was doing."

"Does he still do it?" Buffy asked, wincing as she saw the pain cross Spike's face.

"It was a near thing last night. That's why we're here, why he finally decided it was time."

Buffy just nodded, watching the face of that thing in the chair, seeing the head toss back and forth. It was coming back to consciousness. Good. Her turn.

Xander emerged from the bathroom, wearing one of Spike's shirts, the scent of it helping to calm his shaking. He moved to stand next to Spike, reaching out for his hand. He did feel better, calmer, the rage dying down, replaying the scene in his mind. He supposed he should feel guilty, but he didn't. No court could ever extract the proper kind of justice.

They watched as the bastard slowly opened his eyes, watching them widen in fear as he saw Buffy standing directly in front of him.

"Wish I could think of something witty to say. Can't. Wish I had done this years ago. Wish he would let me kill you." With that her fist lashed out, knocking his jaw the other way, hearing the snap. She laid into him with vicious cries, striking out again and again, first with her fists, then her feet, clawing red lines down his face, pulling out tufts of hair. She methodically moved up his body, driving the toe of her boots into his groin, making sure to connect with the cut there. Spike finally reached out, pulling her back, ignoring her cry of protest, ignoring the pain in his head.

"Slayer, he's unconscious again. Don't want to break too many bones, now, has to live remember."

Buffy spun for one last kick, striking the ribs on the opposite side from Spike's kick. She moved over, throwing herself into Xander's arms, the tears falling on them both, the pain and rage pouring out. Xander just held her, knowing the was weeping for them both, for the pain that Xander had endured. Finally, she calmed, pushing away and leaning up to place a gentle kiss on Xander's cheek.

"I am so sorry." Nothing was enough, nothing would ever make up for their ignorance of his pain.

Xander kissed her forehead, then moved to stand next to Spike who was just staring down with a feral look in his eyes.

"You sure you want to try this?" Xander was concerned, the echoes of Spike's head striking the floor when the seizure had overtaken him ringing in Xander's ears. Being back in the basement was causing all the memories to surface, each of them clear and true.

"Bloody hell, yes." There was no way that Spike could stop now.

Xander nodded, moving back to the bag. "Have the blood right here, just, remember, Buffy gets to pull you off if I think it's gone too far."

Spike just nodded, sensing consciousness returning to the body in front of him.

"Slayer. It is time. Untie him." The tone of authority rang out. Buffy moved quickly, releasing the man, then bending him over the chair, tying his hand together then tying that rope to the couch. She spread his legs wide, tying each one to the bars that had been placed in the basement earlier in the day.

Spike knelt next to the chair, the pain from the chip serving only to fuel his fire. He saw those eyes open and stared straight into them, yellow eyes burning madly.

"Now you will know pain. I can do things that you have never imagined. I can make it last for days. You will beg to die and I will not allow it. I will never allow it. If my mate would let me, I would turn you and keep you alive in the torments of hell forever. But he is more compassionate than I. Pity, that." The words rang out, Buffy and Xander taking an involuntary step backwards. Neither had ever seen this, never experienced Spike in the full power of his fury. He reached out, pulled the spike from his coat and moved to stand behind the man.

"It's a pity you are so weak, there is so much I long to do." With that, Spike began to slowly work the end of the spike underneath the skin at the base of the bastard's skull. The screaming began in earnest as Spike dragged the spike down, so so slowly, tracing the line of the vertebrae.

"You see, done correctly, I can remove your spine, one vertebrae at a time and show it to you. But, no, I won't. Want you to be able to move, to perform for whoever wants you as a toy when you get to prison." Finally, he reached the base of the spine. Curving his hand, he began to trace lines into the skin, starting right below the mark on the man's waist.

"My mate learned well, not that I had much to teach him. You made sure of that." Spike's hands were beginning to shake, his vision beginning to blur as the pain grew and grew. The cuts grew more ragged as he moved quickly. Stepping back, he took several deep breaths, allowing the pain to recede slightly. He sensed Xander beginning to move towards him and he held up a hand. Not yet. Just a little more. Reluctantly jettisoning the remainder of his plans, he proceeded directly to his ultimate goal.

"So, you like giving it. Let's see how you like taking it." Pressing down on the cuts on the back, he placed the tip of the spike against the bastard's anus and began to shove it home. Howling erupted as the blood began to flow. Spike felt the seizure hit, felt Buffy's hands yank him away, saw Xander run over, a cup in his hands, felt his head being lifted, the cup held to his mouth.

"Drink, you need it drink," Xander's voice. He opened his mouth, prepared for the rich taste of Xander's blood. He swallowed and his eyes shot open. Not Xander's. Buffy's. Slayer blood, the purest of all. He felt the power pour into him, the blood instantly stopping the pain.

He sat up, staring into Buffy's eyes. "Slayer." The word breathed out, shock in his voice.

Buffy just stared back. "It was the least I could do," she said quietly. "The only apology I had."

He just nodded, turning back to the body on the chair. Xander had pulled the spike out, knowing that going deeper would only cause a tear that could kill his father. He meant what he said. There was no way he was going to let him die. The torment of living would be much worse.

He was unconscious again. The blood slowly stopped pouring down. The trio just watched, unmoving, unblinking. Spike scented deeply.

"He'll live," disapproval clear in his voice.

"Good," the flat response from Xander. "Let him suffer. They'll kill him in prison."

Buffy just nodded. She moved forward, untied him, let the body slump onto the floor. She went back upstairs and quickly returned carrying Xander's mother in her arms. She placed her on the floor next to Xander's father.

"She should get the message." The flat tone of her voice betrayed nothing of her emotions.

Xander looked at his watch. 3:30 a.m. He quickly stripped the cloth from the window, Spike moving behind him, helping clear the room. Quickly, everything was packed back into the trunk. Buffy hauled the trunk up the back steps, carrying it out to the car.

Spike stood next to Xander, just leaning into his shoulder. Xander sighed, exhausted. He felt something press into his hand. He looked down, curious as to what it could be.

It was the knife. He looked over, stunned. Spike just stared back. Without a word, Xander walked to the table, lifted up the box, put the knife back in, closed it, walked back and handed it to Spike.

They headed out into the night, wanting nothing more but to go home and go to sleep.

"All rise."

With that, all in the courtroom stood, Willow reaching out to take Tara's hand. The trial had started three days earlier and they had all been there every day, arranging themselves in a row behind the prosecution. Willow had been unable to tear her eyes away from the thing that was Xander's father, feeling her eyes fill with tears as she was forced to change all her memories of the man. All those years, all that time and she had never known, had never suspected a thing. She still couldn't forgive herself, couldn't believe that she hadn't felt something, hadn't known that something was horribly, horribly wrong. It destroyed her to know that Spike had discovered, that Spike was the one to whom Xander now immediately turned. She turned her head slightly to see Spike leaning on the wall in the corner, the one place that the sun didn't reach as it moved past the windows. They had been unable to find anything to protect him, so he simply drove in with Xander, watched him walk through the front doors then took off under a blanket for the side door that Giles had arranged to have open for him. Each time he would begin to smoke slightly, but he refused to stay behind.

Xander had testified for a day and a half. It had been devastating. He had calmly and clearly set forth in detail exactly how his father had abused him. As long as he could remember, his father had hit him. It wasn't until he was eleven that his father had begun raping him, too. Half his life. For almost exactly half his life his father had used him. Xander hadn't broken down once, not even under the intense cross-examination. The only way that Willow had been able to tell that Xander was hurting was the way that he locked eyes with Spike. Willow could feel the electricity between them, could nearly see the bond between them. When Xander had finally left the stand, he went immediately to stand with Spike. Their hands had locked and they stood there, still as statues while the officers who had responded to the alarm told how they rushed into the apartment, how they heard the sounds of flesh against flesh, how they saw Xander being violated, how they pulled their guns and demanded Xander's father stop, how they had finally been forced to shoot. During it all, Xander and Spike hadn't moved. Willow wasn't even sure that Xander had breathed. At the end, they simply turned on their heels and left. That night, blood had poured as they patrolled, all of them pitched to a killing rage. Luckily, some trolls had decided that the Slayer would be distracted and had attempted to set up home in the remains of Sunnydale High. They shortly learned their mistake.

Willow glanced over at Tara, feeling the warm hand in hers. She had never seen her love like that, the blood rushing to her face as they chanted, setting free the spell they had been working on for weeks. It worked, ensuring that the trolls would live through the worst that Buffy and Giles could do. Spike and Xander had simply watched, eyes burning bright, as the rest set to work. Willow had never wanted Tara more than the moment she glanced over and saw her girlfriend covered in blood, the remains of some unrecognizable body part in her hands. Willow knew that she must have looked the same, for Tara had suddenly walked over, grabbed her and kissed her hard, right in front of the others. Tara. Shy, reserved Tara, marking Willow as her own. They had barely made it to their room before falling into each other's arms.

"The prosecution now calls William Bredon."

Willow's head shot up. Bredon. So that was Spike's name. She had never realized before that this was the first she had heard it. She watched as the heavy blinds were closed. When the district attorney learned that Spike had actually witnessed Xander being attacked in the months before the murder attempt she had insisted that Spike testify. The prosecution was attempting to make a case of attempted first degree murder and any testimony which could establish a long standing, pre-existing pattern of violence would be helpful. Spike had readily agreed, he was only too eager to see Xander's father put away forever. He had gone so far as to call Angel and arrange for one of Angel's contacts at Cedars-Sinai to provide a detailed explanation of Spike's photophobia, ensuring that the courtroom would be blocked from sun. Angel had been stunned at Spike's daring. By doing this, Spike would officially exist, would have an identity beyond that which he had created. It had come as a shock to everyone except Xander that Spike had a fully documented past. Education, driver's license, medical history, green card. All of it seemingly authentic and all in perfect order.

Spike gave a last squeeze to Xander's hand as they walked to the front of the courtroom. Xander slipped down on the bench to sit next to Willow, who immediately took his hand. She sent a quick prayer to all the gods and goddesses she could remember that the silicon they had used to coat Spike's hand would protect him as she saw the bailiff place the Bible in front of Spike.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"Yes." Willow breathed a sigh of relief. A quick flinch back at the mention of God, a small, almost undetectable wisp of smoke, but nothing else.

"Can you please state your name for the record?"

"William Patrick Jonathan Bredon."

"And you are originally from England?"

"Yes. London."

"And you moved to the United States, when?"

"In 1991, obtained my green card in 1994."

Willow tilted her head, there was something different to Spike's voice, something odd to his accent.

"And your relationship to Alexander Harris?"

Willow saw Spike's eyes glance over to Xander, the small smile cross his lips momentarily. Then gone, back to staring straight at the woman in front of him.

"I'm his partner." Spike was unable to keep the pride from his voice and Willow could see the smile on Xander's face.

"I see. Now, you are currently living with Mr. Harris, is that correct?"

"Yes." Again, the note of pride.

"Was there ever a time during which you resided with Mr. Harris when he lived at Defendant's house?"

"Yes." Again, the curious note to Spike's voice. Finally, Willow figured it out. It was his accent. His accent was almost completely different. Gone was the almost cockney growl. Instead, this accent was cultured, educated, upper class. Willow's eyes narrowed. Maybe there was a lot more that they didn't know about Spike.

"And during that time, did you ever have occasion to see the Defendant strike Mr. Harris?"

"Objection, leading."

Spike closed his eyes briefly as he heard the lawyers start to argue. His hand still burned from touching the Bible, but it was bearable. Actually, it was good as it gave him something to concentrate on, somewhere to focus his mind so that his control wouldn't slip. He carefully avoided meeting Xander's gaze. They had talked about this, Spike warning Xander not to be hurt if he didn't look at his lover the entire time he testified. Spike wasn't sure if he could maintain his human guise if he had to see Xander's face while he told what he saw.

"You may continue, Mr. Bredon." So strange, he hadn't heard that name in so long.

"Yes." The simple one word answer. They had gone through his testimony time after time, the prosecutor stressing that he was to only answer what he was asked, not to volunteer any information.

"Can you please tell the court exactly what happened?"

Spike took a deep breath, concentrating on the mechanics of it in order to calm him. **Right, just, tell what you saw. Leave out the part about trying to rip out his throat. Remember what you told her**

"I had been having some problems with where I was staying and Xander was nice enough to say I could stay with him. I had been there approximately two weeks when I went out to run some errands one night. I returned after two hours to find Xander face down on the floor, blood everywhere. His father," it was only with a fierce concentration of will that he was able to keep the snarl out of his voice, the yellow from his eyes, "was in the process of raping Xander." He stopped, taking another deep breath.

"And what did you do then?"

"I ran down, grabbed the man and threw him into the wall. Checked to see if Xander was still alive. He was. I helped him up and then took him to the hospital."

"And how did you know it was Xander's father?"

"I was familiar with him from seeing him on prior occasions. I also recognized his voice."

"Was his father saying something when you entered?"

"Yes." Spike's eyes closed again as he heard the words. "He was saying 'Oh yeah, you like it, you always like it, you know you want it'."

"Could you identify the man that you saw?'

"Yes, the defendant sitting right over there."

Xander closed his eyes, the events of that night coming back to him. He slowly ran a thumb across his right wrist, remembering the terror of the night, how sure he had been that Spike would die, how Spike had tasted his blood for the first time. That was the beginning of everything, the start of their love. Now, here they were. Spike, sitting in a courtroom, testifying for him. Creating a record of his existence that could not simply be erased. Xander listened idly, not really hearing the words but just the general tone of the questioning as the prosecutor took Spike through to the events of the night of the final attack. He had heard this story again and again as they had been prepared for their testimony and each time it tore him to hear how Spike had returned to find the police. Finally, the questioning was done and the defense attorney began to try to rip Spike's testimony apart.

Xander's head came up as he listened to the exchange between his partner and the lawyer. Spike stayed completely calm, completely unflappable, parrying each thrust with ease, not falling into any of the semantic traps into which Xander was sure he had fallen. He, too, noticed the change in Spike's accent. **So, I was right** A smile flicked across his face. During the past sixteen months, give or take, that they had been living together, Xander had slowly realized that Spike had been downplaying just how intelligent he truly was. But it came out in little ways. Like how Spike was better than any thesaurus, always knowing the right word. The sarcastic little comments as Xander discussed what his various professors said in class. The way Xander could rely on Spike to help organize his thoughts as he wrote his papers. How when Spike was exhausted he would fall back into this accent, sounding suspiciously like Giles. Now, Spike was going toe to toe with the attorney and was easily winning every round. And Xander was quite sure it wasn't just because the lawyer was obviously not very good.

Finally, Spike was allowed to step down and he came immediately to Xander's side.

"Move down, you silly gits, can't sit on his lap here, now can I." The familiar drawl was back. Everyone moved over so Spike could sit down. Spike's testimony had taken nearly all afternoon and the judge glanced over at the clock.

"We're going to call it a day here. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I stress once again that you are not to discuss this matter with anyone, nor amongst yourselves. We will start tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. I would like to see counsel as sidebar." Again, everyone rose as the jury was led out. Xander glanced at his watch as they headed for the door.

"Still light, I'll wait for you in the Jeep." He glanced around and then quickly leaned over for a chaste kiss.

"Be right there, Red, blanket in the same place?" They had found that no one ever looked behind the trash can just inside the side door.

"Yes, I checked after lunch." Willow called out as she left with Tara, anxious to get home so that she could cry, not wanting to do so in front of Xander, seeing how he had remained so strong.

Spike nodded, concentrating on the conversation behind him. He could clearly hear every word.

"Mr. Davies, Ms. Traxler, any further discussions on a plea?" The judge's voice sounded down from the bench.

"Your Honor, my client is determined to show these scurrilous allegations," began Mr. Davies.

"Look, leave it for closing. Even without the other testimony, you have three police officers who had to shoot your client to get him off his son's body. Ms. Traxler, do you have an offer."

"Your Honor, we feel that we can clearly show pre-meditation," She too was cut off.

"Again, leave it for closing. You have a confrontation in Wal-Mart a week before and that's it. According to the victim and his boyfriend, they didn't even see the defendant for nine months before that. Make an offer."

"Attempted second degree, assault with a deadly weapon, rape - 30 years, eligible for parole in 15."

"No way. Attempted third, assault with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault. 15 years, parole in 5."

Spike went still. They were going to let that beast out of jail. They were bartering over what they had done to HIS Xander. He shifted into gameface without realizing it, his hands clenching and unclenching. **You know this is how it works, you're a man of the world. If they deal, it'll be over and Xander won't have to testify again** Xander hadn't actually slept more than three hours at a time since the trial began, running purely on adrenaline and caffeine. Spike hadn't fared much better, being up during the day was wreaking havoc on his body.

"You have got to be kidding. Your client raped his own child for eleven years. The least he can do is that much time." Spike nodded once, hearing the contempt in the lawyer's voice. "Attempted second, rape - 15 years, eligible for parole in 10."

"My client will never agree to any deal with rape in it."

"Then we're going to verdict."

The judge stepped in then. "Mr. Davies, I am sure you have fulfilled your obligation to your client and have told him the repercussions he's now facing. Right now, he's looking at the potential of life in jail. As a rapist." The judge leaned over, his voice growing firm. "Just so we have all the cards on the table, if the jury comes back guilty on any count, I will not be inclined to be lenient. See if you can't talk some sense into your client. Otherwise, see you tomorrow."

Spike quickly ducked into the hallway, his chest burning. **At least the judge has some bloody sense** He retrieved the blanket and ran to the Jeep.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor."

Spike could hear the crinkling of the paper as it was unfolded, as the judge read the verdict. He could hear the space in between each beat of Xander's heart. The judge looked up.

"On the charge of attempted murder in the first degree - guilty."

The court filled with the sudden sound of exhalation. Spike absently noted that Xander's mother had begun to weep. He had paid her no mind the entire time of the trial. To him, she no longer existed.

"On the charge of assault with a deadly weapon - guilty."

"On the charge of first degree sexual assault - guilty."

Xander just leaned back into Spike, fighting back the tears. Over, it was over. The rest of the counts went by but neither of them heard. It was over.

"Defendant is remanded back into custody. Sentencing in two weeks." Almost over.

Xander felt himself be engulfed by arms. Willow's, Anya's Buffy's, Tara's even Giles's. Their support there, solid. They knew and they hadn't left. They knew and they didn't think he was evil. He basked in the glow until a cold voice knifed through his comfort.

"You happy, now, you ruined him, you lied and you ruined him, you freak, you sick freak, he's your father, how could you," the hysterical sound of his mother's voice as she tore everyone away from him.

Buffy managed to grab Spike and slam his face against the wall as he instantly moved to protect Xander.

"Not here, can't explain, hate her too, Xander can deal," Buffy muttered as she held the struggling Spike. The only downside to their training was that Spike could now fight back, at least somewhat, before the pain overwhelmed him.

"Kill the bitch, blaming him, should have killed her when we had the chance," the returning mutters as Spike struggled to get free. "Nothing will ever hurt him again."

Xander just stared down at the furious woman with contempt. He reached out, taking Spike's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back, trying to calm the vampire.

"You know it wasn't a lie. You know it was the truth. I did nothing to him. Now, if you'll excuse me, my mate and I are leaving. Don't ever speak to me again. You are nothing to me. You are dead to me. Spike, we're leaving."

With that, they walked out the door. This time, Xander ran with Spike under the blanket.

Xander groaned as he slowly swam back awake. He and Spike had driven straight back from the courthouse and walked directly to bed. For the first time, it wasn't for sex. It was to sleep. They were both exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. Spike, in particular, as not only had he been forced to be awake during the day, he had stayed up to calm Xander when the nightmares hit. Xander had surfaced a few times to use the bathroom, jealous of Spike the entire time he was awake, jealous that Spike didn't have this petty problem. Spike had just slept like a log. Xander looked at the clock. 9:47. He couldn't tell if it was morning or night due to the blackout curtains over the windows. Hell, he didn't even know what day it was. He kicked Spike, hard. If he had to be awake, he sure wasn't going to be alone. A return groan reached his ears.

"Shouldn't feel this bad without drinking first." The words were muffled by the pillow.

"Uh huh, not right."

They groggily sat up, blinking slowly at each other. A warm smile crept over Spike's face.

"Pet, you didn't have any nightmares last night, did you?" He thought this might happen, that the finality of the verdict might calm Xander, start the healing process.

Xander opened his mouth to answer, then thought back. No. He hadn't woken screaming, couldn't remember any horrible images.

"Nope," Xander grinned himself. "Maybe that wasn't so bad after all. How long do you think we've been asleep?"

"No idea, luv. Hungry, though." Spike was ravenous and was having trouble concentrating as he could see the artery on the base of Xander's throat pulse. Hungry in all kinds of ways.

Spike pushed himself off the bed and staggered to the kitchen. He pulled out some blood, quickly heating it. He heard Xander behind him pouring out some cereal. They sat comfortably in silence for a moment before the phone started to ring.

"Harris's house of horrors, how can we disembowel you?"

"Xander, hey, so you finally woke up." Buffy's way, way too cheerful voice boomed into the room.

"Yeah, just now. How long were we out, anyway?" Xander yawned, stretching out the kinks in his back. Spike just stared, entranced. He loved it when Xander stretched. Especially when his back was to Spike so he could stare all he wanted without being hit.

"Let's see, last saw you on Tuesday around 2:30 in the afternoon. It's now almost 10:00 on Thursday night. Please tell me you've been asleep this whole time. Lie if you need to." Buffy really did not want to contemplate the other reasons they could have been holed up for the last two days.

Xander's jaw dropped. They had been asleep for nearly 2 ½ days. That had to be some kind of record. "No, just asleep. Not lying." He gulped as he felt Spike's mouth close on the back of his neck. "Of course, we're awake now. Gotta go." With that, he disconnected the line, turning the ringer off for good measure. They had long since gotten rid of the phone in the bedroom after Spike had forgotten to actually hang up one day and Willow, in a display of deviousness neither had known she possessed, had taped the ensuing events. Then played the tape at that night's Scooby meeting.

"So, it's Thursday, is it?" Spike muttered, his lips still tracing along Xander's spine, searching for that spot, right there. He was rewarded with a tremor which ran through both their bodies.

"According to Buffy," Xander managed to get out, trying to turn around. Spike held him fast, refusing to let him move.

"Hmm, don't seem to remember having sex on Tuesday, don't seem to remember Wednesday at all, and it's very late on Thursday. That means three days without you, Xan. That's just not acceptable."

Spike continued his long, meandering journey down Xander's back. He loved Xander's back, loved to trace the muscles there, loved the way it both tickled and aroused Xander, loved to drive Xander insane while not allowing him to touch Spike, loved the frustration of it. He was hard already, but he wanted this to be long and slow. Needed this to be long and slow. Over. It was all over but the final details. They could put all this behind them and start their lives together without any cloud over them. Spike could feel the weight lifted from them and he felt like it was all new, that this was the mark of a new chapter in their life. And he would be damned if he was just going to take Xander quick and dirty on the kitchen floor. As wonderful as that sounded.

Xander just shuddered. "No argument here." They never went this long without sex. Some days it was a miracle they made it out of bed at all. And some days they didn't. And now that mouth, oh, the things that Spike was doing with that mouth, could do with that mouth, would do with that mouth. Xander pulled himself together. Not yet. It was over, it was all over. They could finally start anew. The old life was over and the new life was beginning. The house had been the start of it, he knew that, but now, now he was on his way to truly being free. His secrets were all gone. Everyone knew about his father, about his cutting, about Spike. And they all still cared for him, still wanted him around.

"Spike," he started, then stopped. He meant it to be firm, not husky, not sounding like he was begging Spike for more.

"Yes, sweeting?"

Spike only ever called him that when they were making love and the sound of it drove him insane. **Think calming thoughts, calming thoughts. Willow. Willow. Willow and Tara. Not good. Not calming. Let's see. Giles in a Speedo. Ok, that's better**

Xander pulled away with a yank, ignoring the growl of protest. "Spike, just, in a minute, need you too, but, want to talk to you, first."

Spike just reached out, eyes glazing over. "Sure, pet, anything you say."

Xander batted the hands away, cursing himself as he did so. "No, really. Talk first. Just a little. Look, just, wanted to tell you, you've been so good to me, helped so much, and well," **shit, you can tell him you love him from dusk to dawn, in front of Giles and everyone and can't say THIS** "just, thanks. Means a lot."

Spike just nodded, hearing what hadn't been said. He reached out, taking Xander's right hand in his.

"You know, we never even thought about this scarring." He traced a finger along the short, pale line running just on the inside of Xander's wrist. They both looked down as Xander's fingers curled around Spike's palm.

"I did." Xander kept his eyes on Spike's hand. "I wanted it to. Even before I knew anything else, I wanted it to scar. Wanted to remember what you did. How you saved me."

Spike's hand moved down and clasped Xander's and they stood there for a moment, feeling the shift, standing on the edge of something new. Then Xander raised their hands to his mouth and began to suck on their fingers. Spike's eyes rolled back as that clever tongue began running over, around and between their fingers, down their palms and back up again, very, very slowly.

"Done talking now. Race you to bed." With that, Xander took off down the hall, knowing full well he wasn't nearly a match for Spike's speed. Spike caught him as they entered the living room and threw him on the couch.

"Too far away. Naked. Now." With that Spike ripped off his shirt and yanked away his boxers and Xander did the same. Spike threw himself back on top of Xander and they began to thrust against one another, tongues licking everywhere they could find. Xander began to lick up the column of Spike's throat while Spike traced the shape of his ear with his tongue. They knew each other so well now, knew exactly where to be gentle and where to be firm. Xander pulled Spike down on top of him, kissing him slowly, deeply, sucking that cold tongue far into his mouth, the coppery aftertaste of blood lingering there. Xander swallowed the moan that came from Spike, even as he felt their hips begin to rock in the familiar rhythm. He began to pull Spike up, moving his mouth lower and lower, lingering on those collarbones, nibbling from one end to the other and back again. Slowly, slowly, knowing he was taunting Spike but unable to care, he moved back up Spike's throat, feeling the hands wrapped in his hair, thrilled at the purrs and growls he was causing. After all this time, it still aroused him to know that he aroused Spike, that he could do things that drove the vampire right up to and over to the edge. He leaned up to capture Spike's mouth again, only to feel his arms grabbed and roughly yanked over his head.

"My turn, luv. Two can play at this game you know," a rough voice panted into his ear. Xander simply arched his neck, letting Spike feast on the expanse. Spike took his turn in caressing every inch of Xander's neck with his tongue, lingering over the bite marks. They both sighed deeply, both wishing Spike could bite Xander again. However, every time they tried it only hurt Spike more. Not even all the preparation for attacking the bastard had helped. Occasionally, Xander would purposefully knick himself while shaving and Spike would lap it clean, but, other than that, no other biting. Xander sighed, knowing they would come up with something. Spike turned his attention to Xander's nipples and Xander arched up again, the tugging almost too good, almost too much. Forcing himself up, he grabbed Spike's shoulders and managed to push Spike onto his back on the other end of the couch.

"My turn again," Xander panted, flipping Spike over. As much as Spike loved to kiss Xander's back, Xander loved to kiss Spike's more. For some reason, it drove Spike insane, especially times like now, when he allowed Xander to pin his arms down, when he gave up all control and just let himself be ravaged. Maybe it was just that, the loss of control, however fleeting, that did it, but this, this drove Spike mad. Xander worked his way down each vertebrae, the bones so clearly outlined, so thin, so pale. Xander traced his way along each rib, feeling the shudders underneath him. He rubbed his cock just along Spike's ass, not seeking entrance, just teasing, letting the heat burn into Spike, watching the white of the one eye he could see in Spike's profile, basking in the inarticulate words. Spike began to thrust upwards, trying to impale himself on Xander. Xander simply pulled back, kneeling between Spike's legs so that the only parts of him touching his lover were his hands on Spike's wrists and the very tip of his tongue. He continued to travel down, ignoring the begging coming from Spike, enjoying his power, the way he could taken them higher and higher. Finally, he stopped, right at the base of Spike's spine, just above his ass. He leaned down and bit. Hard. He began to suck, hating that the mark would fade so fast. He heard the sudden gasp, the uncontrollable buck as Spike jerked straight up. Luckily, he had been prepared and simply rose along with the movement. Spike yanked his arms up, turned and pushed Xander back down in one fluid motion.

"That's not playing fair." Spike was in gameface now, needing all his control simply to stop from coming then and there. Xander just laughed, leaned up and kissed him.

"Never said I played fair."

Spike growled in response and shook his head, trying to pull back. He wanted Xander in his mouth and there was no way to do that with his fangs down. Xander pulled back slightly, rubbing a calming hand down Spike's arm, breathing deeply himself. Spike's human face finally dropped back into place and he immediately dived down, intent on tasting Xander. Xander, however, stopped him just before he could take the tip into his mouth.

"Me too, want to taste you too," he managed to pant out, losing himself into the deep pools of blue staring up at him.

"Sure thing, pet, but, not sure," Spike leaned up on one elbow, frantically looking at the couch. "Not enough room. Fuck."

"Floor then." With that Xander tumbled them both down, Spike falling on top of him. He quickly turned on his side, propping his back against the couch. Spike quickly maneuvered around and paused, their mouths both breathing down on the other. A quick nod and then their mouths descended in unison, fire and ice, hot and cold, all tangled together. Pumping together, moving as one. Xander's eyes closed as he imagined the picture they must make, dark and light, an ourubus twining onto itself, perfect unity, wrapped together. He began to pump into Spike's mouth, the thought driving him mad. One. They were one. He felt his orgasm coming from far away, but couldn't tell Spike. Not when he was taking that perfect length as far down his throat as he could. Not when he was trying to reach up to push a finger into that impossibly tight ass. Not when he could feel Spike's prick twitching in his mouth. Not when he could taste that cold, salty taste pour down his throat. He swallowed hard, knowing that Spike was doing the same, that they were coming together, were one, truly one.

They slowly pulled apart, Spike turning to rest in Xander's arms. They sighed, content.

"Food, now?" Spike twisted his head around to catch Xander's lips.

"Well, don't really want to eat. Something else?" Xander raised his head just enough to ask the question, feeling a familiar stirring in his groin. **Wow, so that's the key, take a few days off, improve recovery time**

Spike grinned, rocking his hips back into Xander, hearing the appreciative response. "So, you have other ideas."

"Oh, hell, yes. But bed this time. Need the supplies."

Spike laughed, stood, reached out a hand and pulled Xander to his feet.

"Race you." With that, he took off down the hall.

The stacks of books surrounded her, growing taller and taller by the day. The room smelled of dust and decay and sheepskin. Streams of paper curled down from the tops of the piles, with only a small space in the center of the circle existing, a tiny path through which the witch could enter to sit and resume her desperate search breaking the perfect wall of books. The head bent down, large tome open in her lap, eyes skimming quickly down the page, searching, frantically seeking a solution. The red hair was dull and her clothes were musty. She had ceased caring about trivial things such as eating and sleeping days before, only this mattered, it was all she could do.

"Willow," Tara tremulously sounded out, careful to keep her voice low. "Willow, come on, you have to sleep."

Tara was beginning to seriously worry. Ever since Xander had revealed what had happened to him, Willow had been obsessed with finding some way to make it up to him for her failure to protect him during those years she was his best friend. The long conversations that Xander had with Willow during which he explained to her that the reason she didn't know was that he had worked hard to keep it from her had done nothing to calm her. She still blamed herself. Nothing anyone could say could keep the guilt from eating Willow, from tearing into her soul. Tara sent yet another quick prayer of thanks to the goddess that Willow had chosen to turn to her for help instead of pushing Tara away as Tara had so feared. That was the only sign of hope as Willow began to collapse, the fact that she not only allowed Tara to stay but turned to her for support gave Tara some assurance that Willow would find her way back from whatever dark place into which her lover had descended.

"Can't, busy." Willow muttered, rubbing distractedly at her eyes.

"Willow, please, the sentencing is tomorrow and you know that Xander will be upset enough without seeing you look like you haven't had any sleep in a week." Tara felt a twinge of guilt at using Xander as blackmail but ignored it. She knew that Xander would have happily told her to use him if he only knew how bad it was.

Willow carefully marked her place, sliding a silk marker into the volume she was reading and obediently came over to Tara. Tara had discovered that this was the one thing to which Willow would respond. Anything Tara mentioned that could possibly hurt Xander was instantly eliminated. Willow stretched carefully, trying to work out the kinks in her back. Tara came over and started to rub her shoulders and Willow let out a huge sigh.

"Sorry I've been so, so away lately, just, feel so bad about everything and Xander's hurting so much and I want to help, but I can't find what I'm looking for, don't even know if it exists, but I have to find it, it's the only thing I can think to give him, have to help him, have to make him better," Willow stared to babble as the gentle, loving hands roamed over her back. "You've been so sweet, putting up with all of this, I've been such a bad girlfriend, haven't told you how much I love you,"

Tara cut off Willow's exhausted ramblings with a firm kiss. "Shh, it's fine. I know you love me. I know you need to do whatever it is that you're doing." Tara reached down and took both of Willow's hands into hers, gently pulling them over to their bed. She settled Willow down onto the mattress, running a hand through her hair, trying to work out the tangles. Willow still looked beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes and messed up hair, unwashed face and three day old clothes. Still as beautiful as always. "I just wish you would tell me what you're looking for so that I could help." With that, she dropped a quick kiss on Willow's forehead.

Willow was nearly asleep, her body finally overruling her mind. "Just, a spell, curse, something, gotta help him, keep them together, make him . . ." Willow's voice died off as sleep swept her away. Tara carefully undressed her, smoothing Willow's favorite nightgown over her body, then curled into bed with her lover, pulling her close.

"I know you'll find it, you always do. Sleep." Tara settled her head into Willow's shoulder and joined her partner in dreams.

Spike glared over at the people in their living room, trying to blot out the buzzing noise of their voices. Spike had assumed that once the guilty verdict had been rendered, that would be the end of their dealings with the prosecutor. He had been furious to learn that, no, his Xander would be forced to relive it all yet again for some ridiculous thing called a Victim Impact Statement. What the fucking hell impact did they think it would have on Xander to have not only been beaten and raped for over eleven years but then to have his own father try to kill him. Xander had been forced to tell about the nightmares and the difficulty sleeping, how he still started whenever anyone came up behind him, how sometimes just the smell of Jim Beam was enough to make his hands shake. Spike had merely paced furiously back and forth across the living room, smoking cigarette after cigarette, knowing that Xander would collapse once the stupid people left.

They had finally left after four hours, four hours during which Xander once again ripped open his soul. Xander remained sitting still on the couch, shaking, for hours after their departure, eyes dead, seeing nothing but the visions in his own mind. Spike had left him alone, knowing he needed to come to his own decisions. He had remained in the room, however, never more than a few steps away. Xander looked terrible, looked like he was at the end of his rope. Spike knew it was bad when Xander stole a cigarette, plucking it straight from Spike's lips. Spike let him smoke it, then handed him another, then another, his worry over Xander's quietness overwhelming his fear of Xander starting to smoke. Xander finally looked up at him, eyes burning bright with pain.

"It'll never be over, will it? I'll always be fucked up. Gods, no wonder you fell in love with me, must remind you of Drusilla, just as insane as her." The bitterness of his voice destroyed Spike.

Spike immediately sat next to Xander, stifling his pain as Xander automatically flinched away for a moment. He pulled Xander to him, ignoring the tenseness of Xander's body. He turned and grasped Xander's face in his hands, forcing his love to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me and listen well. You are not fucked up, there is nothing wrong with you. You are strong and pure and brave and that's why I love you. You are NOTHING like Drusilla." Spike watched as Xander just shook his head, ignoring all that Spike said. He let out a low growl then moved his hands to Xander's shoulders, unwittingly beginning to shake him.

"Do you remember how much I loved Dru, do you?" Spike paused until Xander realized that he was to answer, that it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Yes," came the quiet response, Xander's voice still dead.

"Right, then. I never loved her like I love you." Spike swallowed hard then let out a long breath. "You have no idea what you do for me. What you've done for me, what you will always do for me. You take the best of what I was when I was William and the best of what I am as Spike and you make them one, you make me whole. You let me feel what it must be like to stand in the sun again. You've given me back life. Not an eternal unlife of darkness and pain, but a life. You've given me a reason to continue. Bloody hell, I don't even care about the chip anymore, do you realize that? I don't care, I'm glad. It gave me you, it gave me you." Spike let out another deep breath, trying desperately to pull Xander into him.

Xander finally locked eyes with Spike, feeling like he was coming back to himself, feeling the love and pain mingling in Spike's embrace. He let out his own deep sigh and suddenly relaxed, trusting all his weight to Spike's firm embrace, letting himself feel secure, feel loved, listening, truly listening to what Spike was saying.

"So, you don't think I'm nuts?" The question was nearly indiscernible as muffled as Xander's voice was with his head buried in Spike's shirt.

Spike grinned at that, relief spreading through him. "Now, didn't say that, did I? Just not nuts like that, you are sleeping with a vampire after all." He let out a yelp as Xander suddenly bit him through his shirt. "Not fair, can't bite back."

"Poor baby, I feel so bad for you," Xander murmured as he moved to rest his head on Spike's shoulder. "So, think maybe I should talk to somebody about all this shit?" Spike had been mentioning that maybe Xander should find a counselor for months, but had grown more insistent recently.

"Yes, I do. Doesn't mean you're weak or anything, just, there's some things I just can't help you with, I mean, can't really rip your dreams to shreds, can I?" Spike rubbed his hands soothingly over Xander's back, hope growing in him. Xander had been flatly refusing all such suggestions. Spike hated going to anyone for help, but he was nothing if not realistic. This was beyond him. Xander's nightmares were becoming more and more violent and something had to be done.

"Will you come with me?" Xander sighed as he leaned back, hating this, hating the drama, wishing it would all just end.

"Of course, pet, anything for you, remember?" Spike forced himself to remain calm, forced himself to sit still instead of rushing Xander out the door before he changed his mind.

"'K then, we'll call Giles in the morning, sure he'll know someone." Xander felt a weight begin to lift, felt some light come back in the darkness. The ceaseless questioning from the various lawyers had battered at his defenses until he felt there was nothing left, nothing keeping him for falling straight into the darkness that had always surrounded him. After they left, he had merely sat there, falling deeper and deeper into himself, the familiar and hated pulling away. He couldn't stop, couldn't keep from the descent. He knew, however, that this time, this time, there would be someone to pick him up, a reason to come back. And when he heard Spike's words, when he finally believed that Spike truly thought he was sane, thought he was pure, then, then he knew that he would come back. He let out another sigh, it would be hard, but it would be worth it.

"I'm tired, it'll be a long day tomorrow, let's go get some sleep." Xander stood and then reached out a hand, pulling Spike after him down the hall.

The judge glared down from the bench, the distaste on his face plain. He listened as the prosecutor asked for the maximum penalty, citing the long history of abuse and the heinous nature of the crime, stressing that Xander was probably only alive due to his quick thinking in hitting the alarm. The defense attorney then responded, attempting to raise sympathy for his client by explaining his history of alcoholism and his own past of abuse, stating that Xander's mother would probably now be forced to go on welfare, would lose her home as she had no marketable skills and wouldn't be able to work. The judge had seemed unimpressed. He shuffled some papers in his hands and then looked back down.

"Well, Mr. Harris, do you have anything to say to this court?" The contempt was clear in the deep voice.

Spike watched as Xander's father rose, feeling Xander's fingers clenching deep into his hand. Xander was focused on the clock, watching the seconds tick past. Every second was one second closer to the end, to the time when it would finally, finally be over. Xander had slept soundly the night before, in no small part due to Xander finally agreeing to take a sleeping pill. They both knew it was the first step, the first acknowledgment that this was something beyond them both. Spike squeezed back as Xander's father began to speak.

"Your Honor, I'm, well, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I ever did anything to hurt my son, I love him. It's just, I was drinking so much, didn't really know what I was doing and when I saw him with that, that man, the one who twisted him like that, I just snapped, couldn't think straight, never really meant to hurt him." His father sat down then, looking down at his hands, trying to appear repentant.

Xander just glared over. Even now, the bastard couldn't even apologize, wouldn't take any responsibility for what he had done. He glanced at his mother, sitting there, crying, trying to wring an ounce of pity out for the beast she chose to marry. He supposed he should feel sorry for her, but he didn't. She made her choice. Now she would live with it.

The judge just looked down, staring at Xander's father. "Over the last few weeks, I have had the chance to review the testimony and evidence in this case at length. Additionally, I have before me a copy of the Victim Impact Statement filed by the prosecutor that clearly outlines the continuing effects, both physical and mental, of Defendant's treatment of his son. Mr. Harris, it was only your son's own actions that kept you from succeeding in killing him. Your apology here was remarkable for the lack of any admission of guilt or culpability. From what I've seen and heard, that man you referred to is the only one who has shown your son any kind of care or consideration. The fact that your child has managed to maintain any kind of normal life is a testimony to his own strength and clearly not due to anything his family has done for him. I must say that the evidence presented makes it clear that the only appropriate punishment is the maximum penalty available to me. I hereby sentence you to life in prison with no possibility of parole, with confinement in a maximum security prison, sentence to begin immediately. Defendant is remanded to state's custody. Court dismissed."

Xander looked up in a daze as the prosecutor came over to shake his hand. It was over, his father was going to be locked away forever. He was dimly aware that the rest of the gang had gathered around him, unsure of how to react. He glanced down and caught Willow's eye, seeing the tears streaming down her face. He reached out and caught her in a firm embrace.

"Wills, please, don't cry, it's over, it's all over, everything will be fine, I'll be fine." He vaguely heard Buffy squaring off with his mother, registered the sound of a slap, closed his eyes, hoping it wasn't Buffy taking his mother's head off, then heard the bailiff dragging his mother out the courtroom doors. He ignored it all, trying to comfort his oldest friend.

"Xander, I'm so sorry, I should have stopped it, I would have, you should have told me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you," Willow hated herself for breaking down, hated forcing Xander to comfort someone else when they should be comforting him. She pulled away and turned into Tara's waiting arms. "I'll make it up to you, I'll make it up to you."

Xander just rubbed her back for a moment before Spike gently tugged Xander away, anxious to get out of this hated place. They walked into the hallway, not speaking, not touching, just walking side by side out the side entrance.

"That's it, we are never coming back here," Xander sighed as they finally pulled away, Spike carefully tucked under a blanket in the back seat.

"Don't know about that, pet, did you look at the windshield?" Spike asked, a hint of a smile in his voice for the first time in days.

"Oh, bloody fucking hell," Xander groaned out, seeing the parking ticket. "Fine, we'll just mail it in, it's only an extra twenty bucks."

They both began to laugh as they turned onto the road for home.

"G, G, Giles," Tara managed to stutter out as she walked over to him at the counter in the Magic Box.

"Yes, Tara," Giles looked up, startled to hear Tara call his name. No matter how much they tried to reassure Tara that she was a part of their family, she was still horribly shy around them, preferring to let Willow be the bold one.

"Um, it's just, well, there's something wrong with Willow and, well, I don't know what to do." Tara stood there wringing her hands and biting her lower lip.

Giles eyes grew wide and he removed his glasses, automatically polishing them. Whatever it was, it must be quite serious for Tara to have approached him directly this way. "What is it, how, how is she acting?" He moved around from behind the counter, drawing closer to Tara.

"She's just, she's obsessed, she has been since Xander was in the hospital, but, since the sentencing last month, it's gotten worse, she's got all these really, really ancient spell books and she just keeps reading them. She's been cutting classes and she hasn't been sleeping and she hasn't been eating and she won't tell me what she's looking for and I'm, I'm really, really scared." Tara looked up at that, taking Giles's breath away. The pure look of fear there was almost palpable.

"Where is she now?" He bustled about, gathering together his car keys, a few spell books, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"In, in our room, I didn't mean to interrupt, but, well she hasn't moved in two days. Just keeps reading and muttering," Tara practically whispered as she followed Giles out the door. They headed straight for Giles's car and he took off for the dorm, heart sinking. He had expected something like this, for one of them to snap. He honestly had expected it to be Spike, had expected a drunken vampire on his doorstep demanding some amateur brain surgery to remove the chip so that Spike could track the bastard down in prison and kill him then kill Xander's mother. But Xander and Spike seemed to be doing better. He had arranged for them to meet with a particularly open minded therapist who had some experience with supernatural beings. They went religiously twice a week and Xander seemed to be doing well. Buffy had channeled her rage into patrol and Sunnydale was as safe as it had ever been. Willow, Willow had been strangely absent, but he had simply chalked it up to all her responsibilities as school. He cursed himself for not noticing something amiss sooner.

Tara led him into their room and Giles stopped, stunned. Tara had, if anything, downplayed the seriousness of the situation. The room was dark, the only light being the candles around the room. It was almost impossible to walk as practically ever surface was covered by books of all shapes and sizes. Paper was strewn everywhere and the only indication that there was anyone in the room was the sliver of red hair barely visible through the wall of books.

"Willow, Giles is here, came to visit you, you haven't seen him in a few days, I, I thought it would be nice." Tara gently made her way through the books and placed a hand on Willow's cheek. Willow smiled slightly, turning her head to absently place a kiss on Tara's palm.

"Hey, Giles," Willow called out, still not looking up.

"Willow, Willow, what, what is all this?" Giles was unable to keep the shock from his voice as he reached out to move a stack of books out of the way so that he could sit and see Willow's face. Her head started up as his hands settled on a stack and a hand clamped onto his forearm.

"Don't move those, I haven't gone back through those yet, you'll ruin it, they're in order."

Giles just stared at Willow, the frantic tone to her voice frankly terrifying. Gently, he reached out and pulled the book she was reading from her hands. Willow tried to tug back, but Giles was persistent, finally succeeding in getting away from the witch. He turned it around, curious as to what it could be. He caught his breath. It was an ancient spellbook, over 300 years old, containing spells for petrifaction.

"Willow, what, what are you looking for, Tara is quite concerned, and I must admit, so am I." He remained crouched down, trying to look in Willow's face. She was pale and gaunt, unkempt and, frankly, smelled. Nothing like the sprite he knew.

"I have to find it, there has to be something, I have to find it," Willow started as Tara sat behind her and pulled her close. "Have to do something, have to make it up to him." With that, she burst into tears. "Just let me look, please, I have to find it."

"Willow, calm down, we'll help you look, you just have to tell us what it is and we'll help." Tara rocked them both back and forth as Willow's sobbing increased. Giles just looked on, feeling completely helpless. The exhausted cries continued, Willow's body shaking, her lack of food and sleep overpowering her.

"Have to find a way to make him immortal, have to give that to him, have to keep them together, have to, all I can do now," the words were almost a chant, repeated over and over as they rocked. "All I can do, have to find it, has to be there."

Giles reached out, wrapping his arms around the witches, his heart breaking. "Willow, who, who do you have to make immortal? Why is it all you can do?"

"Xander, have to make it up to him, keep them together," the words trailed off as Willow finally collapsed, her body giving way. Tara pulled away as Giles carefully lifted Willow, stunned again by how light she was. He placed her on the bed where Tara immediately sat next to her and began to rub her hands along Willow's arms.

"She's trying to make Xander immortal, I should have known," Tara felt tears welling up in her own eyes.

Giles just nodded, looking at the small frame, which was still twitching, even in sleep. "Do you know why?" He began to move around the room, carefully organizing Willow's notes.

"She blames herself for not seeing what, what happened before, she thinks she should have stopped it. She keeps saying she has to keep them together. I think," Tara looked up, catching Giles's gaze. "I think she's trying to find a way to make Xander immortal so that he can be with Spike forever."

Giles sat down heavily. He had never expected this. Xander himself had shown a curious interest in research ever since he and Spike had been together. Giles, while thrilled, hadn't really questioned why. It made sense, however. Spike couldn't turn Xander and it was clear that the two were obsessed with one another. Giles took off his glasses yet again, routinely reaching to polish them. Not obsessed. Loved one another. It was still difficult for him to believe that a vampire could truly love anyone, especially a human. But, if he was honest, it was plain that Spike did love Xander. And Xander loved Spike. And it must be difficult, at best, to know that while Spike had at least the chance to love eternally, Xander did not.

Tara watched Willow as she slept, running a soothing hand along Willow's forehead as her lover tossed and turned. At least she was sleeping, that was good. She just wished that Willow had told her what she was searching for sooner so that she could have helped. She may not have known Xander for very long, but he was Willow's best friend and Willow loved him and that meant Tara loved him too. Besides, they had all accepted her after the incident with her family and that meant more to her than she had let them know.

"We have to help her," Tara began.

"Of course, I'll call the infirmary, she really should be looked over." Giles reached out, searching for the phone.

"That's not what I mean," Tara leaned over, pulling the phone from Giles's hand. "We have to help her look. There has to be some way, something we can do. Xander deserves this, deserves our help."

Giles stared up at Tara, seeing the determination there. For as quiet as she was, when her mind was made up, she was as immovable as stone. He nodded, knowing it was true. Xander deserved this, deserved any chance for happiness he could have. Besides, maybe then the guilt would fade, at least enough to let him sleep without a large glass of Scotch each night, without going over all the signs that he had ignored, without dreaming of what could have happened if Spike hadn't found Xander, if a soulless vampire hadn't protected Xander, if a demon hadn't seen what they all ignored. He nodded again, then turned back to the books.

"Right, should get started, this could take a long time. Do you have any idea what these piles mean?"

Tara just smiled and moved to join him on the floor. "No, for once she wasn't babbling all about her grand plan. Maybe we should wait until she wakes up?"

"No, I would like to at least read her notes, see what she's reviewed to this point, determine the best way to divide the research, see if there's anything she may have missed."

Their heads bent down and they started to work, moving the books far enough to make room for them both in the circle.

"Coming, coming, hold onto your horses," Xander yelled as he padded out to the front door, wondering which one of them it was. It could only be one of the gang as they were the only ones who had the code to the gate. He glanced up at the monitor next to the door, a little surprised to see that it was Giles, Willow and Tara, carrying large bags and some kind of basket.

"Hey guys, to what do we owe the honor, sorry for the mess, we're going away tomorrow, just packing, you know." Xander automatically leaned down to kiss Willow and Tara as they came in the door.

"Going away, where are you going?" Willow asked, eyes narrowing a bit.

"Not quite sure, Spike won't say." Xander grinned slightly. Their two year anniversary was the next day and Spike had turned into cryptic guy, refusing to give any hint as to where they were going. When Xander asked what he should pack, Spike handed him a list. Of course, it was a list of sex toys and Xander had hit him over the head with the paper.

"Where is the bleached wonder, need to talk to both of you," Willow continued, voice firm.

"Asleep, it is noon, you did notice that, you know, sun high in the sky, yellow shiny thing, turns vampires into dust?" Xander followed them into the dining room, watching as Tara began setting out various small bowls and what looked like a gong.

"Xander, do you, do you think, perhaps, that you could, could wake him?" Giles asked, looking even more intent than usual.

"Um, guys, is everything fine, you're, well, I'm getting this weird vibe, there's not another apocalypse or something is there?" Xander was worried, whatever this was, it didn't look good.

"No, goddess, no, nothing like that, just, have something I want to tell you, and I want to tell you both at the same time. Actually, it's good news, well, I think it's good news and I think you will think it's good news, and I know Spike will think it's good news, so," Willow paused to suck down a breath, barely able to contain her excitement.

Xander jumped into the pause, recognizing the beginnings of full Willow babble coming on. "Wills, might want to consider decaf. If it's that important, I'll go get him." He set off down the hall, shaking his head slightly in fond amusement. He and Willow were finally back to near normal, though Willow had been conspicuously absent the last few months, saying she was working on a big spell. Working on a big spell with Tara at that and Xander knew what that meant. He didn't mind, he was just happy to see her happy.

"Yo, blondie, time to get up, visitors." He belted Spike on the ass with a pillow, taking the chance to cop a feel since he was in the vicinity.

Spike reached back and yanked Xander down onto the bed with him, nuzzling Xander's neck. "Hmm, those lads from Stud finally get here, bout time, service these days is slipping."

Xander laughed and slapped Spike's hands away from him. "No, they were here earlier, but you looked so tired I kept them all for myself. Seriously, though, Giles, Willow and Tara are here and Willow looks like she's about to burst, she's so excited and whatever it is they want to tell us both, so get your sexy undead ass out of bed and into some clothes."

"No, wanna sleep," Spike pouted, even while throwing on his jeans and black t-shirt.

"Tough shit, look once they're gone I'll come back to bed with you, deal?" Xander followed Spike down the hall, hands on Spike's waist.

"Deal, do I get something special if I'm nice to the Watcher?"

"Hmm, yes, but I get to pick what it is. And I get to decide if you were nice."

They entered the dining room and Spike plopped down next to Giles.

"So, what's so important the whelp woke me up in the middle of the day, and not for a shag I might add, rude, that." Spike just smirked as the blush moved its way up Giles's neck.

"Why don't I let Willow tell you," Giles replied, eyeing the witch with a practiced eye. She was about to burst and it was best to simply stay out of the way.

"Well, I wanted to do something to apologize to Xander, to make up for him for all the, the stuff and, well, the only thing I could think of was to find a way to make him immortal so that you guys could be together forever, really. I looked and looked and couldn't find anything, then Tara and Giles started to help and they were a lot of help and I should have asked sooner and Tara, I'm so sorry I scared you like that, I didn't mean to, and I know you know I didn't, but I'm still sorry. But we couldn't find a way to make you immortal, I'm sorry, then Giles had an idea and we researched that, and, and we found something that will work pretty much the same way. It's a binding spell and as long as one of you is alive the other is alive and it'll stop Xander from aging so he'll always be the way he is now, his body won't age, but you can still get hurt, Alexander Lavelle Harris, and don't think you can't. And Spike can still get staked or go out in the sun or any of the other things that could kill him. But you would be together, for as long as you could keep each other alive and I know tomorrow is your anniversary and I want to do this for you, so happy anniversary." Willow sucked in a huge breath and looked at them, pride shining out her eyes.

Spike and Xander just gaped at her, trying to make sense of all she said. Surprisingly, it was Xander who came to his senses first.

"Wait, you found a spell that will make me immortal, but not really, and you want to do it for our anniversary, as a present to say you're sorry for all the other, the other stuff?" As best as he could make out, that was the gist of what Willow had said.

"Very succinct Xander, Willow you might want to consider phrasing things that way in the future," came Giles's dry response.

Spike turned to him, mouth still slightly open. "You know about this, Watcher, and you approve?" He stood quickly, beginning to pace. "A binding spell, should work that, should have thought of that myself, going bloody senile in my old age." The pace quickened as Spike quickly reviewed all he had ever learned of binding spells. He whirled back and stalked quickly to lean over Giles.

"Are you sure there are no catches, nothing like, oh, I don't know, a happiness clause, or us both growing antlers or the like?" Spike battled down the happiness growing in him. A binding spell. So simple, so elegant, so perfect. He knew the catch. The spell was simple. Bind the two beings together, then, when one died, the other instantly died as well. It didn't mater to him, he would die the second Xander did anyway, just a matter of staking himself or waiting for the sun. This would save him the effort.

"Quite sure. We found the spell a month ago and have been checking ever since. Willow was quite right. The spell will, well, it will, bind you together so that your existences are permanently intertwined. When one dies, the other dies. Until then, however, you both remain as you are when the spell is cast. For Xander, that means that he will never age, never change from his appearance as it is now. His body can still get sick, but he won't get any of the diseases associated with old age. However, that means, Spike, that you can never, never, well, the chip will never come out. It will be permanent." Giles looked down at that. This was the sticking point. Willow had been ecstatic when she found the spell, sure it was the solution. They had checked every aspect of the spell, calling all of Giles's contacts, making sure there were no hidden defects. There was nothing, nothing other than this. If they did this, Spike would have to agree to keep the chip.

"That's it, mate, you sure. No problem, that, let's get on with it." Spike was bouncing on his feet, thrilled.

"Spike, seriously, are you sure, um, Spike, come on, let's talk about this," Xander dragged Spike into the kitchen, still in shock from the news. He could be with Spike forever, really forever. It was all he wanted and now he could do it. But not if Spike had to keep the chip. He knew how much Spike hated the chip and he would never, ever ask Spike to keep it forever.

"Xander, bloody hell, what's there to talk about, this is perfect, can't believe I didn't think of it. Bugger." Spike tugged at Xander's hands, anxious to get started.

"Spike, no, stop it. Seriously, Spike, is this what you want, really, think about this, this is a big deal. You'll always have the chip, and, I, I would never ask you to do that, okay? I wouldn't want to make you have that forever, don't want you hating it, hating me, three hundred years from now. We don't have to do this, I won't be mad," Xander started, only to find himself pinned to the kitchen wall.

"What, don't you want to, afraid you'll get tired of me, is that it?" Spike tried to sound furious, but only came out sounding desperate. **He doesn't want this, doesn't want me, that was his out, he knew he would leave, leave me, doesn't want me**

Xander reached up and traced a finger along Spike's lips, clearly seeing the insecurity in Spike's eyes. "No, afraid you'll get tired of me. Spike, if we do this, you'll never feed off a human again, do you understand that? I would never ask you to give that up, not just for me." He stared into Spike's eyes, hardly daring to imagine Spike's response. To have what he wanted more than anything in the world so close and not be able to take it was pure torture, but he would never force this on Spike. He closed his eyes slowly, waiting for the inevitable.

Spike just threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, pet, now I remember why I put up with you." Spike tilted Xander's head up and kissed him gently on the lips. "This was supposed to be a surprise for you for our anniversary, but, hell, now seems like the perfect time. My gift to us this year is simple. I'm going to give up trying to have the chip removed." He watched as Xander's eyes grew wide.

"You, you're serious," Xander whispered, leaning in close to smell along Spike's neck. He had discovered that whenever Spike was serious about something, he gave off a particular scent that even Xander could recognize. He inhaled deeply, the pungent odor of truth crashing into him. "You are serious, when, when did you decide this?" His knees felt weak as the truth sank in. Spike wanted this, was going to give it up anyway, no sacrifice, nothing to taint their future. Just them, forever.

"Don't know really, few months ago. I just, didn't want to ever even be tempted again, didn't want to do anything you would hate. Thought our anniversary would be the perfect time to tell you. Besides, got me out of shopping, didn't it?" The familiar sarcasm, the beloved quirk of an eyebrow.

"So, you won't hold it against me a millennium or so from now," Xander knew he had an idiotic look on his face, but he couldn't help it. This was too good, too right.

"Well, not that, might hold other things against you though," Spike started, then pulled back to move to the entrance to the dining room.

"Oi, Watcher, when you saw we stay the way we are now, you do mean that we won't age and all that shit, not that we can't, you know, have physical reactions that allow us to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh." Spike smirked at the sudden blushes on the faces at the table, knowing full well that, in this instance, the euphemism was filthier than bluntness could ever be. He watched in delight as Giles began to furiously polish his glasses.

"No, no, that's not it, you just won't age. Your bodies will still react to, er, stimulus, as usual," Giles managed to choke out as Xander wrapped his arms around Spike's waist.

"Yeah, and you can still get hurt and you'll heal like usual. That means no playing in traffic, Xander. You can still get sick and die like that. Or hit by a bus. Or a plane crash. Or choke to death, or," Willow added helpfully, smiling up at Xander.

"Thanks there, Wills, those are all such happy thoughts." Xander yanked Spike back into the kitchen. "So, we gonna do this thing?"

"We gonna do this thing," Spike replied. They just stared at each other, then burst into laughter. It was too good to be true. This was it, forever. Always. Xander couldn't imagine anything better. They stumbled back into the dining room, still laughing, still thrilled.

"You sure there aren't any hidden secrets," Xander managed to ask when he regained his breath.

"Positive," Giles answered. "I take it you would like us to, to cast the spell."

"Fuck, yeah" came the practically shouted reply.

"Right. Then, all we need is some blood from each of you. Spike, you sit here, Xander you sit here," Willow grabbed them and pushed them down into two chairs in the middle of the table. Unwrapping a slim package, she handed Xander a knife. She put a small silver chalice in front of each of them. "Not a lot, just a few tablespoons."

Xander looked at Spike, then silently handed him the knife, turning his left arm over, baring the skin. Spike looked deep into his eyes, then slid the blade along the white line that only his vampire eyes could still see on Xander's arm. The blood welled out and Xander let it run into the chalice. Spike, in turn handed the knife back to Xander, baring his left arm. Xander leaned down, gently placed a kiss on the inside of Spike's wrist, then cut. Spike's blood quickly poured into the chalice.

"That's fine, enough from both of you," Willow's matter of fact voice called from next to them.

Spike reached over and licked Xander's wound clean, savoring the taste of the blood. The cut quickly stopped bleeding and Spike turned to cleaning his own cut.

"What now, how do we know it worked," Xander asked, fascinated by the preparations of the others.

"We cast the spell, if it works right, a brand will appear on the insides of your right wrists, now, be quiet, I have to concentrate," Willow answered.

Xander watched, intrigued, as Tara ground some herbs, dumping them into a bowl. Other herbs were added, then some kind of liquid that made a small puff of smoke rise from the bowl. The room quickly filled with the smell of something burning and various scents began to compete in the air. Willow began chanting, soon joined by Tara. Finally, Giles's voice joined them and the soft, lilting words began to grow stronger, more powerful. With one final call, Willow tossed the contents of the bowl over their heads. The potion drenched them and they started. They hissed as a burning began on their wrists, as the air in the room began to swirl. Suddenly, it was over, the pain ended and the room was clear.

Xander slowly placed his right arm on the table as Spike did the same. They turned them, palm up, then with a slight nod from Spike, looked down. There, right on the inside of each of their wrists, was the symbol for infinity, glowing gold in the light of the room. Xander let out a fierce cry of joy as Spike leapt up, swirling Willow off her feet and spinning her around the room.

"Always liked you, Red, always knew you were a right fine chit. Girlfriend's cute, too."

Xander leaned over and kissed Tara on the cheek, then threw his arms around Giles, enjoying the embarrassment of the other man.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no idea, this is, you just don't know," Xander babbled. Forever, he could promise Spike forever. He turned and grabbed Willow from Spike's embrace.

"Wills, gods, Wills, thank you," he felt the tears well up, could sense them in Willow as well. "You didn't have to do this, you never had anything to make up to me, but thank you, just, it means everything," the words fell into her hair as he held her tight.

"Had to, for me, had to give you something to make up for what you lost," Willow sniffled out, thrilled it had worked. "Now you can't say I never did anything for you."

They both laughed at that, remaining locked in each other's arms for a moment. Then, Spike grabbed Xander and kissed him, hard, slamming him back into the wall. They became lost in each other, not noticing the rest gather their things, not hearing the quiet good-byes, enraptured in the taste of each other. Forever, they had forever. They would always be one. They could taste it in the other's mouth, more true even than the brands. Their tastes had altered, becoming richer, purer, more intense. They couldn't get enough. Forever wouldn't be enough.

"Spike, where are we going, please, tell me?" Xander tried yet again from the passenger's seat. Spike had insisted on driving as he was the only one who knew where they were going. Xander had tried everything he could think of to get Spike to tell him, but Spike hadn't cracked. Xander had briefly considered withholding sex, then realized that if Spike wasn't having sex, then HE wasn't having sex either and that was just not a good idea. So he had fallen back on being annoying. He figured another five minutes and he would start with "are we there yet, are we there yet." The classics never went out of style.

"Almost there, and don't even think about asking are we there yet," Spike growled out, shooting a glare over to Xander. Xander just stuck his tongue out, still thrilled. Everything looked different now. He had never realized just how much the fact that someday he was going to die and leave Spike had affected their lives. Now that it wasn't an issue, everything seemed clearer, brighter, better. The sex the night before had been unbelievable and that was the real reason Xander wanted to get to wherever it was they were going. He couldn't wait to see if it was a one-time experience or if this was how things were going to be from now on. He suspected it was the latter.

"Fine, spoil my fun." Xander went back to looking out the window, watching for signs along the road. That was always good too, read all the signs out loud. Very annoying. He saw the sign looming ahead.

"Right lane, exit for Monterey. . ." his voice trailed off as he realized they were taking the exit. "Monterey, we're going to Monterey, I've always wanted to come here."

Spike just nodded, concentrating on remembering the directions he had so stupidly not written down, sure he could remember them. After all, he had just been here thirty years or so before, so surely he would remember. He sighed in relief as he saw the turn he wanted. He glanced over quickly. Xander's eyes were wide, taking in the curving road and the spectacular views of the ocean. Spike followed the road for a few miles, Xander finally quiet, awed by the sights. He saw the sign he was looking for and pulled into the hotel, coming to a gentle stop. He leaned over, kissed Xander quickly, then hopped out. Xander followed him a few seconds later, eyes going wider as the hotel loomed over him.

"Spike, wow, this is, wow," Xander breathed out, the majestic hotel looming over him.

"It's something, I'll give you that, even I think it's impressive," Spike answered, dragging Xander inside, then quickly retrieving their keys, checking to make sure they were in the suite he requested. The bellhop followed with their luggage while the valet parked the Jeep. Xander just blindly followed Spike who seemed perfectly at home in the opulent walls. The bellhop threw the doors open and Xander gasped again when he saw the suite. It looked like something out of a magazine. Spike walked in, cast a look around, seeing that the heavy curtains were in place, then tipped the bellhop. He grinned when he saw Xander's face.

"So, I take it you like?"

Xander just nodded, "I like, I like a lot." He turned and grabbed Spike's hands, pulling him towards a door. "Think that's the bedroom, want to see that, sure it's nice too."

"Of course, luv, unless you want to go out on the balcony," Spike teased, stumbling after Xander.

"Balcony, later, bed now." They tumbled into the room, barely managing to kick the door shut.

Xander followed Spike down the path running along the top of the bluffs. After they managed to untangle themselves on the bed, Spike had insisted that they go for a walk. Xander had just nodded, agreeing quickly. A walk would be nice, in fact, if they went near the ocean, it would be perfect for what he had in mind for Spike's present. They had gotten dressed quickly, Spike insisting that Xander wear a thick sweater, "Can get really cold with the wind, luv, can't have you catching anything." Xander just rolled his eyes, realizing that this was something he would have to get used to, that Spike would now be his usual overpossessive self for a long, long time. Xander dressed quickly, then grabbed his messenger bag, checking to make sure the box with Spike's present was still there.

Spike pulled Xander along behind him, carefully watching their footing. Rounding the corner, they came to the spot Spike had been heading for the entire time. Xander drew in a sharp breath as the vista unfolded in front of him. They stood on the edge of a huge cliff, a steep drop off directly in front of them. Below, sharp rocks jutted from the sea, rising steeply into the air. The waves crashed into them, tossing spray high into the air. Beyond that lay the ocean, stretching as far as the eye could see. The sky was clear and the moon shone, full and heavy, glistening in the waves, a silver path running across the water. The stars looked so close that Xander thought, for one second, they could reach up and touch them. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

Spike moved behind Xander, wrapping his arms around his waist. "This is what I wanted you to see. Found this a long time ago with Dru. She used to dance here and listen to the stars. I used to watch her and think there could never be anything better. Found out I was wrong. Wanted you to see it, wanted to see you here, wanted you to know that this, this is how beautiful you are to me."

Xander nodded, drinking in the sight. Finally, he set his bag down and pulled Spike around, turning to face him. He leaned down and unzipped the bag, pulling the wooden box out, seeing the silver of the moonlight trace over the design.

"You gave me your present, now it's my turn to give you mine. Here." With that, he handed the box to Spike. Spike looked down, tilting his head slightly. He opened it slowly, seeing the knife resting in its bed of red velvet. He looked back up, waiting for Xander to continue.

"For all the pain the chip brought you, it gave you me. For all the pain the blade brought me, it gave me you. I never thought that anything good would ever happen in my life. I was wrong. Everything good has happened. You happened. I never thought I could have anything good. Now I have you, I have you forever. I don't need the blade anymore. You're willing to keep the chip forever. I'm willing to get rid of the blade forever. I don't need it. I have you." Xander stopped, looking deeply into Spike's eyes. "I don't need it, I will never need it again."

Spike nodded, unable to speak. He knew exactly what the blade represented, knew what Xander meant. Wordlessly, he removed it from the box and handed it to Xander. He leaned up, kissed him deeply then set the box down. He turned and stepped back, moving to give Xander room.

"William Patrick Jonathan Bredon, I love you. Forever."

"Alexander Lavelle Harris, I love you. Eternally."

Xander nodded, then reached his arm back. He threw as hard as he could, putting all his strength behind it. He threw high and true, sending the knife sailing into the deep. They watched as the blade sailed far, finally sinking into the sea, swallowed down into the deep blackness, forever cast aside, leaving only the two of them, the moonlight shining down, casting its glow upon their faces, bathing all about them in its silver light.

End.

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