Fire and Rain

I've seen fire and I've seen rain

I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end

I've seen lonely times where I could not find a friend

But I always thought that I'd see you again

Xander turned off the radio as the song came to an end, the soft, haunting melody echoing the way he had been feeling over the last several months. It had been six months, almost to the day, since the Hellmouth imploded, wiping Sunnydale of the map of California forever. Six months since Anya had given her life and was buried in the remains of the town. Six months since whatever Spike had done closed the Hellmouth forever, saving them all. Six months since they had stared down into the crater and joked about going to the mall, instead of dealing with the deaths of so many.

God, life sucked.

They had driven to the nearest hospital, finding instant fame as the only ones to survive the freak gas main explosion that took out the whole town. Xander still found himself rolling his eyes-or eye, since he only had one left-at the things people will choose to believe over the truth. Then again, he often found himself wishing that he was one of those people, so maybe this pain that he carried would go away. Instead of forever drawing him back to the place where he had grown up, love, lost and almost died. Even now, as he drove down the darkened highway, the soft strains of the James Taylor song looping through his mind, he wished he had never found out that vampires and demons were real.

As he got closer to the sight of the final battle against the First, he could see the shadows of the construction equipment on the horizon. The state of California had decided, instead of building a new town, to just rebuild the road. Xander had briefly considered joining the crew, but decided against it once he realized that they weren't going to try to find the bodies trapped beneath the dirt. They were just going to level it out and lay the road, with no regard to the lives that had ended underneath. He did realize, that it would have been a herculean task to try to sift through the miles of dirt, brick and mortar to try to find any of the bodies. But the thought of Anya, not to mention the other SIT's, and even Spike, trapped under tar and gravel for eternity depressed him. Granted, just getting out of bed these days depressed him.

He pulled to a stop in front of the crater just as the sun dropped below the horizon. This was the time of day he liked to come here, when construction was completed for the day and he was assured to be alone. He got out of his used, SUV (his car had been buried along with the town) and grabbed the flowers he had brought with him. The sound of his boots echoed around him as he walked through the rocks that had yet to be cleared. He could see where they were starting to fill in the town's grave with fresh dirt, to make it level so they could lay the road. Reality hit him then, that this was it, this would forever be Anya's final resting place.

A tear slid down his face as he came to a stop at the edge, staring down into it just as he had that day six months before. No jokes fell from his lips this time, no praise of a job well done. Because the job wasn't well done. If it had been, he wouldn't be alone now, cut off from the others because he refused to leave her. He had left her the day she died, he wouldn't do it to her now.

The battle's done, and we kind of won, so we'll sound our victory cheer.

Those words, more than any other, came back to haunt him often. They only kind of won. The first was an entity that couldn't be defeated. And the lives that had been lost, in Xander's opinion, weren't really worth the battle. Many times, in the middle of the night, he thought that he would have rather of laid down and died WITH Anya, then live without her. Sure, they were broken up when this last crazy year of their lives started, but, he had held out hope of them being able to work it out once this was all over. And now it was over. Really over. There was no going back. For any of them.

They had scattered afer that day. Buffy, Giles and Dawn with several of the surviving SIT's headed out on the school bus to find other Slayers, to help them come to terms with who and what they were. Willow and Kennedy had gone of to England, so Willow could learn more about what happened to her during the spell. Faith had stayed by Wood's side in the hospital, surprising everyone with her fierce protectiveness of him. Xander wasn't entirely sure where they were now. Every once in a while, he would get a post card from some city or the other that said 'Surprise' on it. He figured he wasn't in on the joke.

He had been the only one to stay. The only one that couldn't seem to shake the dust of what had happened off. He talked to Willow and Buffy, at least once a week. Each time, they would try to convinced him to leave. To come with one of them and move on. He remembered Buffy's silence when he asked her if it had been that easy for her. Since then, she had left him alone about it. Willow was a little harder to convince, but, she didn't bring it up as often anymore.

So, here he was, living in a tiny one bedroom apartment, tending bar at a night club, since he couldn't find a construction company willing to hire a one eyed worker. Something about the insurance would be to high with him around. Everything he had worked for and wanted were buried with the city of his birth. He didn't feel the need to run away from it.

"Hey there." He said quietly, kneeling down at the edge and staring into the dirt. He was glad that no one came down here besides him. He figured he looked like quite the nut talking to a crater. His hand clenched tight around the flowers he was holding, his vision becoming blurry as the tears flooded his eye. He sniffed and wiped them away, wondering if the pain would ever stop. "I still miss you, you know. I hope where ever you are, it's a happier place than I'm in. I just can't seem to get it together anymore, An. Everything, is so. . .fucked up. I wish. . ." he took a deep breath, trying to force back the grief that could still clog his throat when he was here. "I just wish, you were here." He wiped his hand across his face again, then reached out to place on a high mound of dirt, to join the others he had put there before. Then, in a moment he would forever akin to Carrie, a hand shot out of the dirt to wrap tightly around his wrist.

A scream ripped from his throat as the hand started to pull on him, dragging him towards the massive grave. He dug his heels in and tried to wrench the fingers off, his mind cursing the luck that always had stuff like this happening to him. By chance, his gaze slipped from the hand trying to break his wrist, to the spot where the arm was protruding from the ground. Only, it wasn't just an arm anymore. Just barely, he could see the top of a head. A head that seemed impossibly familiar. Before he had time to stop himself, he was no longer pulling at the hand, but digging in the dirt to help the person emerge from under it. Sweat poured down his face as he dug, his fingers bleeding from the jagged rock.

This can't be happening his mind told him, even as he pulled the last of the rock from around the face of the person trying to free themselves. The person gasped in a great gulp of air, before their gaze landed on Xander, the blue of orbs staring at him wild. Xander felt his heart stutter in his chest as his own stunned gaze met the other man's.

"Oh my god, Spike."

Fire and Rain cont

a/n-I forgot to mention in the first part, that, let’s just imagine that we didn’t see Spike go ‘poof’. The light from within, the burning hands fine. But, not the poof. Pretend that instead of the camera doing that horrible pan out while he dusted, that they left it with the scene where he’s standing there, arms thrown out and the light shooting through him. Kay? Good. Oh, and it seems that this is going to be longer than I thought, cause, hey, it seems to actually have a PLOT. Wow. Now, on with the story.

Part Two

Xander drove silently, every so often casting a wary gaze at his passenger. His heart had finally slowed from the shock it had encountered, seeing the blonde emerging from the destruction of Sunnydale. They hadn’t said a word as they worked to get him free, and now, Xander didn’t know what to say. Spike seemed content with that. He was hunched in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window, his eyes closed. A thousand questions were zipping around in the brunette’s head, each demanding to be asked and none of them coming off of his tongue. He had now seen a total of three people come back from the dead, one of them twice, but it never ceased to surprise him.

Xander took in the vampires appearance as casually as a guy with one eye could. Since he had to almost completely turn his head to look at him, there wasn’t’ much of a way he could make it look less obvious. Good thing Spike wasn’t paying attention to him. He had to admit, for a guy that had been consumed in a light that was burning from the inside of his body, he looked pretty good. Maybe a little thin and his hair had that backwards skunk appearance again. But, all in all, there were no visible scars and only a few scratches on his face and arms. He was filthy. However, he had just crawled out of a pit filled with dirt and crushed buildings. His clothes were torn and coated with a layer of grime and he had apparently lost the duster somewhere in his ascent to the top. The fact that he had made it was a testament to the vampires strength. The fact that he wasn’t a raving looney after months of being buried was a miracle.

Twenty minutes later, Xander pulled in front of his apartment. After he parked and pulled the keys out of the ignition, he turned to fully look at Spike. He hadn’t moved and his eyes were still closed. He hoped that Spike wasn’t asleep, since he didn’t feel like explaining to his oh-so-nosy landlord WHY he was carrying an unconscious man into his apartment. His neighbors thought he was weird enough, why give them fuel for the fire?

"Spike?" The sound of his own voice caused the brunette to jump. Spike didn’t move. "Spike?" He said again, this time reaching out and shaking his shoulder. The vampires eyes popped open and he turned his head to look at Xander. "We’re here. Home sweet home, if you can call it that." Spike turned and looked at the building, still saying nothing. Xander sighed heavily when the vampire slid out of the car with barely a glance back at him. He watched as the blonde moved towards the entrance, then stopped to wait for him. With another sigh, he got out, locking the SUV and walking quickly to join Spike.

The sounds of their footsteps echoed loudly through the brightly lit, white stairwells. Spike followed Xander as he led him up three flights, then stopped outside a door set on the right side of the stairs. It was after the third try at the lock that Xander realized just how nervous the silent vampire was making him. Finally, he managed to get the door open and walked inside, flipping on the light as he did so. It took him a minute to realize that Spike wasn’t behind him.

"Shit, sorry Spike. Come in." The blonde stepped past the barrier as it dropped, without even a blink of acknowledgment. This is going to be interesting, Xander thought, as he watched Spike move around his apartment. "You want something to eat?" As soon as he said it, he realized that he didn’t have a drop of what Spike needed in the house. Well, except for the liquid vampire nutrients rushing through his own veins and he wasn’t in the sharing mood. Spike turned and looked at him, his light eyes seeming to stare straight into his soul. It put Xander on edge. He suddenly felt the need to escape, and going out for blood was just the thing to get him out for awhile. Of course, he had no clue if he could even find any blood in this town. But, he had to try if he didn’t want to wind up a main course.

"Listen, you make yourself comfortable. I’m going to go out and get you some blood, ok? The tv’s right there, if you want to watch it. Sorry to tell you that Dawson’s Creek went off the air. But, hey, Joey chose Pacey. Of course, Jen died, and that sucked. Oh, and Doug, Pacey’s brother. He really WAS gay. And he was with Jack." He knew he was rambling, but the way the vampire was staring at him was unnerving. He thought he saw the faintest of smiles pass across Spike’s face, but it was so quick, and so fleeting, that he decided he had imagined it. "If you want to get out of those clothes, you can wear something of mine. Bathroom’s in the bedroom."

The barest of nods was his answer and Xander reached for his keys once more. Spike was standing next to the patio doors, the moonlight washing over him and making him seem to glow. An odd pang burst in the brunette’s chest, making him frown. He shook if off after a second and started toward the door.

"I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?" He waited a second to see if Spike would answer him, but the blonde had started staring out into the night, as silent as ever. "Well, bye." He said, walking out the door and closing it with a soft click.

Spike listened as the sound reverberated in his ears. He didn’t feel the lone tear that slid down his cheek, or the slight tremble that ran through his body. He was too preoccupied with listening to Xander walk down the stairs and outside. He didn’t know how, or why, but his already enhanced senses seemed to be multiplied by ten. He could hear the fly walking on the lamppost a block away. He could smell the fast food chain they’d past as they entered town. He could see the outline of the construction in the distance. He had thought that it was just his imagination, while he was working his way out of the remains of Sunnydale. But, apparently, he had been wrong.

All those months, digging through the rock, clawing and ripping through the stone slabs of dead buildings. Living on the cold blood of the corpses he came across. Fighting the pressure of the weight on top of him. When he’d realized that he hadn’t died, that he was still alive and buried under tons of debris, a deep despair had fallen over him. He had laid like that for at least a week, growing ever hungrier and weaker, until finally, he couldn’t stand himself anymore. He had dug himself out of his own grave once. He would do it again.

That’s when the process of getting out began. He dug his fingers raw on the jagged rock, pushing and pulling to get out. The darkness pressing around him. The first body he had come across, he couldn’t see the face. He was thankful for that, as he sunk his teeth into her flesh, realizing immediately that it was a Slayer. Even though she had been dead for while, her blood was still potent enough to give him the strength to push further. He went on like that for weeks, until the corpses he found were already to the point of decay, that he couldn’t get any blood out of them. Again, despair threatened to take him over, but, he wouldn’t let it. He had gotten this far, he would make it the rest of the way. All he could hope, was that the sun wasn’t out when he finally got to the top. That would kind of make all this effort pointless. The closer he got to the top, he realized the he could hear things from above. He could hear the construction equipment, the sounds of tires. A couple of times, he had even thought that he had heard Xander talking.

That had thrown him. He had thought he was just hallucinating, that hunger was starting to work its will and drive him insane. But, if had been imagining things, WHY would he think he was hearing Xander? Why not Buffy? Or Dawn? Or hell, even Giles? But, Xander?

But, then, after he realized that he WAS hearing the man, he used it as a focus. Every night, around the same time, he would hear it and he would work harder to get out. His perception of time was back, he could smell the day now, over the death and decay surrounding him. So, he knew that it was only at night that the brunette came. Each time he would hear him, the sadness in his voice would pull at Spike, urging him upward, faster. It was exhausting and more than once he had to stop to rest, the time it took to regain some strength longer than it had been the last time. But he still pressed on. Each time he heard the man’s voice, hope flared in him. He HAD to get out of there.

Now that he was out and standing in Xander’s apartment, he had no idea what was next. So many months, his focus had been on getting out and now that he was, it was like his focus was broken. There was nothing pulling at him to keep him going. There was nothing but a huge void. He didn’t know why and he certainly didn’t know how to fill it. He was kind of surprised that his first instinct wasn’t to find Buffy. But, then, he remembered that she thought he was dead. Her life was hers now. She didn’t need him around to muck it up. He would have to find a way to make sure that Xander didn’t call her, as he would probably want to do. Even though they had formed a tentative truce before the final battle, they were never what could be called friends. He was sure that the brunette would try to get rid of him as soon as possible.

Well, he’d just have to make sure that he healed himself up quickly and headed out before Xander got the chance. He didn’t know where he’d go. And he was too tired to figure it out right now. But, he would come up with something.

With a sigh, he turned to go to the bedroom and find something to wear so he could take a shower and wash the evidence of his ordeal away from his skin. He only wished that there was some way to wash it from his mind as easily.

~*~*~

An hour later, Xander walked back inside to find Spike stretched out on his couch asleep. He carried a bag full of cartons of pig’s blood. It had been just as hard as he expected to find, and he had had to go to three butcher shops and two grocery stores. Finally, at the last place, he was able to buy some without coming up with a lame excuse for what he needed it for. He had thought, when he cut himself off from the others that he wouldn’t have to deal with this sort of thing again. And he kind of resented having too now.

He glared at the prone form on his couch and walked into the kitchen. Once there, he went about putting it away and heating some of it up. He wasn’t the least bit quiet about it.

Spike woke with a start, forgetting where he was momentarily until he heard Xander muttering to himself in the kitchen. All the lights were out, except the kitchen, and he had to fight the claustrophobic feeling that the dark caused in him. Taking a deep breath to keep it at bay, he opened his mouth to call out to Xander. Nothing came out. Confusion momentarily outweighed the panic as he tried again. This brought the panic back in full force and he pushed clumsily off the couch to stumble into the kitchen. He hadn’t wanted to speak before, hadn’t felt up to it. Now that he was, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t.

Xander turned around in time to see Spike walk into the room, his eyes wild. He vaguely realized that the vampire had taken a shower why he was out, since he was now clean, his two tone hair a crazy mass of curls on his head. He would have thought it was funny that his clothes practically swallowed the vamp, if it weren’t for the panic written so obviously on the blondes face.

"What’s the matter?" he asked, forgetting his ire. Spike slapped a hand against his throat and violently shook his head. "What? Does your throat hurt?" Another wild shake told him he’d guessed wrong. Finally, it was all the shaking and pantomiming that Spike was doing that finally clued Xander in. "You can’t speak?" A nod this time told him he got it right. "Okay, calm down. There’s got to be some reason why."

A ‘Yeah, no shit,’ look was his response.

"Alright, here. Let’s get some paper and a pen. You can write, can’t you." The look he got then told Xander that the blonde would like nothing better than to hit him right then. "Sorry. Sheesh." They went back into the living room so Xander could hunt through a small desk by the door for what they would need. Once he had it, he handed it to Spike. "Okay, while you were. . .you know. .digging out, did anything happen to your throat?" Spike shook his head. "You’re sure?" Nod. "Could something have gotten lodged in there, and you not notice?"

Not likely. I can still choke, even if I can’t die from it. Came the scrawled response.

"Okay. Uhm, I don’t know. Maybe you just haven’t used your voice in so long, you forgot how." Spike scowled at that. "I don’t know what to tell you, man. I’m not a doctor and even if I was, you’re a vampire. I don’t think modern medicine can help."

Fuck.

"Yeah. I can always call Angel." Wide, horrified blue eyes met his.

You do, and I’ll bite you.

"Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion." Xander threw up his hands in frustration and stalked back into the kitchen to finish putting the blood away. "I got you some dinner." he called to the vampire, his voice testy. Spike appeared back in the kitchen a second later.

Sorry. Xander sighed at the note laying on the counter and glanced up at the blonde.

"No, it’s alright. I should know better. Neither one of us can stand Dead boy." Spike snorted in agreement, then his face took on a pained expression. "What?"

Buffy, is she in LA? Spike didn’t know why he asked. He had swallowed enough pride when it came to the two of them. But, he just had to know. Xander looked up at him, handing him the mug in the process and actually gave a sympathetic smile.

"No. She’s not. She’s with Giles and Dawn somewhere across the country hunting down Slayers." A look of relief flooded the blondes face. He then nodded, raised his mug in thanks, and went back into the living room. Xander busied himself for the next few minutes, putting away the rest of the blood and basically avoiding going into the living room with the silent vamp. He didn’t know what to do. Calling Buffy crossed his mind, but he didn’t know if that would do more harm than good. He knew he didn’t want to deal with this. He had his own baggage. But, for some reason, he couldn’t just turn on the vampire he had hated for so long.

After he had finished cleaning the tiny kitchen, and there was nothing else to do to keep him in there, he sighed heavily and walked into the other room. Spike was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the half empty mug in his hands. He looked extremely lost and sad right then. The need to comfort rose up in Xander as he looked at him, the feeling so odd in regards to Spike, that he hastily pushed it away. He shoved an agitated hand through his hair and walked over to the couch, hesitating briefly before settling next to the blond.

"So," he started, not exactly sure what he was going to say. "I thought you were dead." The second he said it, he wished he could pull it back. The way those blue eyes rose to meet his, their depths swirling with a pain that Xander could only imagine, made shame lace through him at a painful rate. After Buffy had died and come back, he would have thought that he would have known better than to just blurt the first thing that came to his mind. But, then again, this was Xander Harris. King of the ‘Open mouth, insert foot’ syndrome.

If Spike had really died, who knew where he had been. Was he resentful that he was back? Xander didn’t know if he could handle a vampire bent on self destruction if that were the case. And if he had died, why was he back? He wondered if Buffy had convinced Willow to do a resurrection spell, but quickly dismissed it. Buffy wouldn’t wish what she had gone through on anybody.

He had been so absorbed in his thoughts, that he didn’t notice Spike was writing something, until he tapped him on the shoulder and held out the paper. Despite the voice telling him he didn’t want to read what was on the sheet, Xander reached out and took it, his lone eye quickly skimming the page.

Didn’t die. Thought I had, until I woke up under tons of rock and dirt.

"It took you all this time to dig out of there?" Xander asked, his voice horrified. Spike had gone back to staring into the depths of his mug, but he did nod slightly. "Jesus, Spike. I. . .Jesus." He didn’t know what to say. The idea of spending all that time, squirming, digging and forcing his way up out of the ground was a horrific one. Spike sent him a look that told him he concurred with that. "Well, I guess you can stay here for awhile. Get healed up, then decide what you want to do." Xander’s brain was screaming at him, demanding to know what the hell he was doing. But, his mouth didn’t seem to have a problem making the offer. Spike’s brows drew together in confusion and he tilted his head to the side as he studied the man sitting next to him. Xander couldn’t take the intensity of the gaze, so he looked away, shrugging as he did so. "Hey, don’t get all weird on me. It’s not like it’s a marriage proposal. I mean, you did save the world and all. It’s the least I could do."

Spike continued to stare at him as if he had never seen the brunette before. So, with an exaggerated glance at his watch, Xander stood and headed towards his bedroom.

"Uhm, I guess just make yourself at home. I have to work tomorrow night, but you should be alright here by yourself. I got enough blood to last you a couple of days. Just let me know when you’re running low. I guess we should go out and get you some clothes, or whatever. We can do that before I go to work if you want." Spike quickly wrote another note and rose to give it to him.

I can just wear your stuff. A bemused smile curved Xander’s mouth. He looked at the way the flannel shirt swallowed the vampire, and the way the jeans bagged terribly. Granted, if he had thought about it, he would have realized that’s the way they looked on him, now, as well.

"I dunno, Spike. Don’t exactly think flannel is your style."

Don’t want to be a bother.

"Oh, you’re right, giving me twice as much laundry to do wouldn’t be much less of a bother than getting you your own clothes that you can wash." He had meant it to be a joke. But for some reason, his voice sounded much harsher than he had intended, and the effect they had on Spike appeared in the jaw that the vampire clenched. "Shit, ignore me. I don’t care if you wear my clothes. They look better on you anyway." He turned away then and walked into his bedroom, leaving the blonde to stare after him in confusion. But the sudden need to cry came over Xander so fast and so unexpected, that he just had to get out of that room.

As soon as the door was closed, he pressed his back to it and let the tears flow. He had no idea what he was crying for, but ever since that day, this was not an uncommon occurrence. He slid down the door and buried his face in his hands, trying to hold in the grief that just wouldn’t be contained.

Spike stood outside the door, tears sliding down his own cheeks as he listened to the heartbreak in the other room. He had the urge to go in there and do what he didn’t know. But the sounds of ragged sobbing was pulling him to the door.

However, knowing that his presence wouldn’t be appreciated, he pushed back the urge and went to sit back on the couch, turning on the tv to drown out the pain that called to him.

Part Three

By the end of the week, Xander was pretty sure that he was going to go crazy. It wasn’t that the vampire did anything particularly annoying or nerve wracking, but, his silence and general quietness of movement made it seem like he was living with a ghost. More than once, the brunette would be in the kitchen, and he would turn around to find Spike behind him. He would then let out a yell and drop whatever he had in his hands. If things kept up like this, he would need to get more dishes.

The first night he had gone to work, he had been a little apprehensive leaving the vamp to his own devices. He wasn’t exactly sure why, or what he expected. But, he couldn’t quite get the memory of all the people he had killed when Spike was under the influence of the First out of his mind. He knew, that the trigger had been deactivated, and the First had skulked back to where it had come from. He just had a hard time forgetting that his house guest was a dangerous creature.

After a couple of days, though, he started to feel more at ease. Spike was the perfect house guest. Which, after his last experience living with him was a surprise. He had pretty much gone back to normal, save for the silence. He had readily accepted the cigarettes that Xander had brought home for him and had headed out on Wednesday in search of some bleach. He always picked up the towels after he took a shower. He rinsed out his mugs when he was done with his blood. He even did laundry. That was the part the Xander really appreciated. His idea of doing laundry was dumping everything into one load and washing it all on hot. Spike actually seemed to know what he was doing and Xander had never had clothes that smelled so April fresh. And, besides the feeling that he was living with a ghost, because of how silent the vamp was, the brunette didn’t really have any complaints.

But, that didn’t mean he wanted this to be permanent.

Each night, he would head out to work, by way of the Sunnydale remains, relatively content with the situation. By the time he came home, he was convinced that he should call Buffy. He didn’t like the intrusion on his life and he wanted nothing more than to go back to his solitary existence. So, on Friday night, he came home with his mind made up. It was time to call the Slayer and return her vampire to her.

Xander walked into the darkened apartment, not bothering with being quiet since he knew Spike was still awake. As usual, the blonde was spread out on the couch, an ashtray perched next to him on the coffee table. The tv played quietly, the flickering images of whatever movie he had found casting an eery glow around the room. With a sigh, Xander closed the door and prepared himself for the conversation he was about to have.

He was nervous. That alone surprised him. He had never been nervous about saying anything to the vampire before. In fact, he’d been pretty bold with opinions. But, since he had been sharing his space with him for the last few days, he seemed have acquired a new empathy for the silent man. Reminding himself that all he wanted was his quiet life back, he walked over to the couch and settled on the coffee table.

"Spike." He waited until the vampire turned to look at him, his blue eyes shadowed by the dim light. "I have to call Buffy." he said in a rush of breath. An emphatic shake of the head was his answer. Xander huffed in frustration, and berated himself for thinking this would be easy. "She needs to know you’re alive. And besides, this place is too small for the both of us." Again, a head shake was his answer, followed by the scratch of a pencil on paper. When he was done, Spike shoved the hastily scrawled message under his nose, the look on his face defiant. Xander had to tilt the paper towards the tv to read it.

She thinks I died. She’s free.

Six words that said so much, but really proved that Spike didn’t have a clue. Sure, Buffy was enjoying the closest thing to a normal life she’d had since she was a young girl, but, she wanted someone to share it. And for some reason, Angel no longer fit that bill.

"Listen. Don’t you think she deserves to know?" Another shake, but this time, it was done with less enthusiasm. "Isn’t that a little selfish?" He got a glare this time, and a setting of the jaw, but no shake. "I mean, don’t you think that if by some miracle Anya were to come back, that I wouldn’t want to know?" He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe it was the flare of jealousy that Buffy had not one, but two boyfriends come back from the dead. Or, supposed dead, since neither vampire technically died. Or maybe it was the pain he felt just looking at Spike, knowing that Anya would never come back. Hell, even Spike knew what it was like to have the love of his life return from the dead. Whatever the reason, the understanding and sympathy that filled the bright blue orbs staring at him pissed him off. He didn’t need sympathy from a creature that spent over a century killing. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s better off without you."

The fresh pain that effectively wiped out the sympathy didn’t make Xander feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse. "Just forget it." he pushed up off the coffee table, fueled by a need to get away from the blonde. He stalked into the kitchen, slamming cabinets as he made coffee he didn’t really want. He didn’t hear Spike come in behind him as usual, so, he jumped when he felt the cool hand touch his elbow. Water from the carafe sloshed over him, the counter and the floor. The resulting anger caused him to rear on the vampire. He forgot what he was going to say when he saw the note the blonde was holding out to him.

You’re too thin.

A bitter laugh escaped Xander’s lips at that. Whatever he had expected, it hadn’t been that. All the bitterness and anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling tired and empty. He put down the coffee pot with a sharp click and slumped against the counter before looking up to meet Spike’s gaze.

"Well, that’s the thing about not eating. Not buying food saves money, but it’s hell on the figure." Spike scowled at the lip remark. "What? Don’t like that? Well, how about this? I’m not hungry. I haven’t been hungry since Andrew told me that Anya was dead." His voice cracked on the final word, the reality of it as sharp as a needle in his heart. "Plus, I thought the scurvy look would go with the eyepatch." Another short laugh escaped his throat with his lame attempt to cover the emotion he was feeling. He really didn’t like this whole ‘share with Spike’ thing he had indulged in twice tonight. Especially since the vamp wasn’t doing so in return.

Spike scowled once more, telling him the joke didn’t work. Not that Xander cared. He didn’t care about much anymore. He glanced down at the next note that was handed to him and a real laughed erupted from him this time.

I like the eyepatch. Gives you that dangerous look.

"Well, thank you, Spike. Nice to know that I appeal to the undead." Xander figured that Spike was going for the record in eye rolling, since his blue orbs went ceiling ward again, but a smile was playing around his mouth this time. A responding quirk appeared on Xander’s mouth. Then, when their gazes locked, grins broke out, followed quickly by snorts of suppressed laughter. Finally, they didn’t bother to repress anymore and they were soon guffawing like a couple of mental patients. Neither could have said what they were laughing about, since there was nothing even remotely funny about their situation. But, once they started, it was like a floodgate opened, allowing everything they had built up inside escape in the guise of gasping laughter. Tears ran down their faces and they were clutching their stomachs as they sank to the floor once their legs couldn’t keep them upright anymore. The water on the floor seeped into their jeans, but they didn’t notice that their butts were getting decidedly wetter by the second.

A short while later, they were both leaning against the cabinets, Spike’s head resting on Xander’s shoulder, the extremely damp denim finally registering.

"We should probably changed." Xander started through bursts of chortles. "Although, I hear that pruned asses are in this year. Goes well with a thong." Spike snorted again and nodded, but neither moved to get up. Xander rested his head on the cabinets behind them and closed his eyes, content for the moment to just sit. Even if he was sitting in a puddle of water. He found it amazing, and a maybe a bit guilt inducing, that he felt so light inside at the moment. And that he felt a strange comradery with the blonde next to him, that was currently using him as a pillow. Normally, such a thing would annoy him to the point that he would say something hurtful to the vamp, but not this time. He didn’t want to say that it felt comfortable having the blonde’s head on his shoulder. Or that their closeness was soothing. So, he chose not to think about it at all and just sit.

His eye popped open not a second after that thought however, when he felt tentative, cool fingertips slide over the back of his hand. A strange tingle started in his skin, zinging up his arm and making him feel suddenly warm. He hazarded a glance over at Spike and was glad to see that the blonde seemed intent on studying their hands and not his reaction to the touch. Although, he knew that Spike could sense the increase in his heart beat and the definite warming of his skin. He knew he should be upset by this, and the intimacy of Spike’s fingers sliding through his. But, he couldn’t quite work up the energy to get offended.

He had only ever felt this way once before. Once, long ago, when he took that trip for the summer just driving. He had done things on that excursion that he had only ever been brave enough to dream before. After all, there was no way he would have ever felt brave enough in Sunnydale to willingly walk into a gay bar. It had been a joke at first, a kind of thing to check off on his list of un-Xander-like things to do. After all, he was as ungay as you could get. Or so he had thought. Where he had reacted in horror when Larry had hit on him, when a man with the most incredible blue eyes he had ever seen asked him to dance, he found himself saying yes. That dance led to another. Then a kiss. Then a night in his hotel room that he would never forget.

After he had returned home, he’d been in the most amazing crisis of identity he could ever have. And when Willow had started dating Tara, well, he had a brief trip into psychosis thinking it was contagious. However, when he’d gotten together with Anya, and realized that he still loved having sex with women, he assumed that his heterosexuality was firmly in place and that what had happened on his trip was a fluke. A one time thing. A memory he could take out from time to time but never act on again. In fact, he was sure of it when he never experienced being attracted to another man again. Until now.

Another man with incredible blue eyes was touching his hand so lightly, that he thought he might scream from the contact. He found himself, like Spike, studying the differences in their hands. The length of finger, the width of palm. The slight differences in skin color and texture. He was fascinated by Spike’s long, slender fingers. They were definitely masculine, but they seemed more suited to an artist or musician, than a vicious vampire with more than a century of blood behind him.

Without realizing what he was doing, he thread his fingers through the blondes. He didn’t notice the shiver that raced across his skin at the contact. His gaze traveled from their loosely entwined fingers over a pale, muscular arm to the slope of a corded neck, over the sharp planes of the vampires face and finally, to the icy blue eyes that were staring at him intently. Xander’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered erratically in his chest at the heat in the gaze. They were dark as midnight now, swirling with a hunger that thrilled and terrified him at the same time. It seemed to him, that if he didn’t look away, the air around them would ignite, scorching them both. It was already so thick he could barely breathe.

He couldn’t say who moved or even if either of them did. Spike’s upper body seemed closer, more angled towards him. If he had stopped to think about it, he would have realized that it was his thigh soaking up water instead of his butt. That indicated that HE had turned as well. But, there was not time to think. Every nerve, sense, cell was centered on the creature sitting in front of him. All time had stopped to hang impossibly on this never ending second. No sound penetrated the blood rushing in his ears, no thought could penetrate the haze clouding his mind. Xander knew something very critical was going to happen. Something that would change everything. Something he was powerless to stop.

Slowly, almost in perceptively, Spike started to lean towards him. Some part of Xander’s brain recognized that the blond was giving him plenty of time to put a stop to whatever was going on between them. But, there was no way that he was going to stop this. He needed to know. Whatever this was, it was strong, intoxicating. He just couldn’t turn away from it.

Spike’s gaze never left his, even when they were barely a breath a part. He felt the cool tickle of Spike’s unneeded breath on his mouth and impossibly, it set his blood running even hotter. He was practically salivating at the thought of the blonde’s mouth sliding across his, their tongues tangling in an erotic dance. He thought he might scream if Spike didn’t close the distance and give them what they both wanted more than anything, right now.

He let out a sigh of relief, followed by a sharp intake of air when finally, Spike’s mouth brushed across his. There was hardly any pressure and it could hardly be called a kiss in even the loosest definition of the term, but it set a fire under his skin that threatened to incinerate him. He itched to pull the vampire to him and ravage the lips teasing his, a desire he gave into after the next, slight pressure of Spike’s mouth against his. A low growl of approval emanated from Spike’s throat when Xander’s free hand fisted in his hair and their lips came together in a kiss that was neither soft nor gentle.

Unexpected passion broke free as they feasted on each, their tongues immediately dueling for dominance. The newness of the taste inflamed them, the excitement of that newness left them aching for more. They came apart only when Xander needed to breathe and that was only for the barest of seconds. Xander felt his body come alive for the first time in months under the expert kiss of the vampire. Images of naked skin, limbs entwined swirled in dizzying speeds in his brain. Nothing mattered beyond this instant in time. He felt Spike’s fingers sliding along the exposed skin of his arms and he moaned low in his throat, leaning ever closer to encourage more contact.

Another moan, this one full of confusion and disappointment exploded from him when Spike pulled back. Their gazes locked, their eyes a quagmire of desire and frustration.

"What?" The brunette gasped, searching the other man’s face for some indication as to why he had stopped. It took a minute, but he finally realized why there was just the slightest thread of defiance in the man’s eyes. He had already been used once by Buffy. He wasn’t going to let it happen again, no matter how much he wanted it. And in that second of realization, Xander came to fully understand what the hell had been happening. He was sitting on the cold floor, his jeans soaked, kissing a vampire. The very same vampire that had tried to kill him and his friends and had nearly raped Buffy. Disgust started to penetrate his desire hazed brain. Not disgust towards Spike, believe it or not. But towards himself for losing control.

Spike pulled completely away as soon as he saw the disgust fill the brunettes dark eye. A familiar pain lanced it’s way through his chest and he fished around in his pocket to get a cigarette. The bitter taste of the tobacco did nothing to dispel the bitter taste of rejection, but, he was used to it. Xander wouldn’t be the first to come to him for a bit of cold comfort only to go running once reality set in. So, he was in no way surprised when Xander practically scrambled backwards across the floor away from him, finally standing once he got to the door. He didn’t turn to look when he felt the brunettes gaze on him. Instead, he focused on the glowing orange tip of his cigarette, listening as the brunette turned and walked away.

Part Four

Won’t you look down upon me, Jesus

You’ve got to help me make a stand

You’ve just got to see me through another day

My body’s aching and my time is at hand

And I won’t make it any other way

The alarm clocked blared loudly the following morning, waking Xander from the few minutes of sleep he had been able to get.

“Great. This song. Again.” He slapped the clock so hard that the objects on his nightstand jumped, then flopped back against his pillows. It seemed to him that, whenever he turned on the radio anymore, that song was playing. It was starting to get more than a little annoying.

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and pushed out of bed, willing his mind not to think as he made his way, naked, to the bathroom. He’d spent enough time doing that the night before. He splashed some cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. The hours of sleeplessness were etched firmly on his face, dark bruises marring the hollows beneath his eyes, making the eyeless socket look even more ghoulish.

He was used to seeing his face sans eyepatch, since it was uncomfortable to sleep in and unwise to get it wet. He wondered vaguely if Spike would find the way he looked without it revolting. Then he scowled, not liking that he would even care what Spike thought. Plus, he didn’t want to think about Spike right now. After all, Xander thought sourly, it was the blonde vampire’s fault that he hadn’t been able to get any sleep.

Damn vampire, he thought, turning off the water with a snap then turning toward the shower. He knew in the back of his mind, at least, that Spike wasn’t the full reason he was now suffering the effects of a night of insomnia. It was just easier to blame the blonde than to admit that he was a full and willing participant in the kiss from the night before. It was easier to believe that Spike had forced it on him, against his will. Easier, but not right, as his inner conscience kept telling him.

He scowled again as he stepped into the bathtub and let the warm water slide over his face and shoulders. It slid silkily over his body, the warmth of the spray like tiny fingers massaging the tension away from his muscles. While the water worked its magic on his body, the thoughts he had been trying to keep at bay the night before took advantage of his relaxed mind to rear up full force.

He gasped at the speed with which his body reacted, his rushing blood making the water suddenly too hot and his throbbing erection nearly painful. Without realizing it, he reached out and turned off the hot water by half, cooling the spray. He shivered unconsciously, leaning into the tepid water. His lips parted on a hiss when it slid over his rock hard shaft, turning the images in his head to something far less innocent than a kiss. The remembered feeling of Spike’s lips on his own, his hands sliding over the skin of his arms, heightened his sensitivity, causing a moan to slide from his throat.

He braced a hand on the wall and leaned forward, arching his back to let the water cascade over his chest. It was torture to feel the coolness on his skin, reminding him vividly of Spike’s touch. The spray caressed his over-sensitized body, heightening his desire instead of squelching it. His knees went weak as his mind supplied images of the blonde, pale and naked and glorious, with his hands, lips, and tongue exploring every inch of Xander’s willing body.

Guilt and disgust were trying to penetrate his haze, but, for once, he wouldn’t let them. The idea of having the vampire and the vampire having him was too potent, too intoxicating. His eye closed and rolled back in his head and his lips emitted a sob of relief when his hand wrapped around his erection. The coolness of his palm from the water sent shivers skittering over his nerves, making him whimper. His cock jerked in his hand as he stroked it hard, his mind’s eye playing the images of him and Spike screwing each other into oblivion. He was so turned on by then that it only took a few pumps over his turgid flesh before Xander was throwing his head back with a cry of pleasure. His face was twisted with ecstasy as his shaft pulsed thick, white streams of cum onto the floor of the tub.

“Oh God, Spike! OhGod, Ohgod.” he mumbled over and over incoherently. His knees buckled and he sank bonelessly to the floor, heedless of the now cold water running down his face.

~*~*~

The sound of Xander’s cries pulled Spike out of his own restless sleep with a start. He lay completely still, listening to the brunette’s voice gasping his name, his own body responding to the sound of it. A low growl started in his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to go in there and do things to Xander that would elicit more of the delicious sounds, but he didn’t allow himself to move. Right now, Xander might have allowed him in there, but, too soon, after the haze of sexual satiation wore off, he would turn those disgusted, hate-filled eyes on him and boot him out, telling him the whole way what a disgusting, vile thing he was.

He was through being a walking vampire blow-up doll. His relationship with Buffy had been, except for that final night before the battle in the Hellmouth, riddled with dysfunction, to say the least. It still hurt that, even though he had gone to get his soul for her, that that was the only way she could accept him. God knew, he loved her, would always love her. But the scars were still there and they still ran deep. He wouldn’t allow anyone to use him again for comfort.

Which was part of the reason why he wouldn’t allow Xander to call her. He couldn’t, wouldn’t put himself through that again. Or put her through it. Their connection had always been there, but she wouldn’t admit it until he had the soul. He resented it, and her a little, to think that she could so easily deny him but then accept him fully when he turned into Angel, part deux.

You don’t really believe that, the voice in the back of his mind told him. He was feeling rather put out at the moment and didn’t want to admit that, no, he didn’t. Xander’s rejection from the night before had pulled dark, nasty memories to the surface, making him wonder why he was always attracted to the ones who would run away. The ones that would look at him with disgust one minute, only to try to crawl inside his skin the next. Angel, Dru, Buffy, and now Xander. Each had wanted him, but none wanted to keep him.

With a sigh, he tried to block out the sound of Xander’s labored breaths as he recovered from his orgasm and got out of the shower. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying hard to push away the memories of the dreams that had plagued him throughout the night. Sensual, silky dreams that began with him and Xander exploring each other thoroughly and culminated with Buffy sliding between them, taking them both in. The perfection of that final image, the three of them entwined in passion, was imprinted on his brain, making his hips thrust forward to grind his hard length into the cushions of the couch, searching for some relief. The fact that he was wearing Xander’s clothes only made it even more sexy, and he whimpered deep in his throat.

The soft fleece of the sweatpants he was wearing rubbed against his hard length, dimming his senses. Faster his hips thrust, the friction shooting little darts of pleasure along his nerves. In his mind, he was sliding deep into Xander’s yielding body, relishing the heat surrounding him. The Xander in his mind turned his head and looked at him with eyes that were nearly black with desire and he pushed his hips back, taking Spike in fully. They moved together in his mind in a frenzy of motion, racing for the climax hovering just out of reach.

It was when the image of himself in his mind vamped and leaned forward to sink his fangs into Xander’s bared throat that Spike’s release surged over him. He shuddered violently as his cock pulsed, thick streams of cum coating the inside of his sweats. He gasped for breath as he recovered, blinking back the tears of frustration that sprang to his eyes.

His body went rigid when the door to Xander’s room opened. Luckily, he was facing away, so the brunette had no way of knowing that he was awake, or of the mess he’d just made of himself. He listened intently as the human walked into the kitchen to make his morning cup of instant coffee before he went out to do whatever it was he did during the day. A few minutes later, the microwave dinged, followed by the sound of the microwave door opening and closing. A second later, Xander’s footsteps came back into the living room, crossing the floor to the couch. He was careful not to move as he felt Xander standing over him, the man’s gaze beating into his back. He heard a soft click as something was set down on the coffee table, then the sound of footsteps once more.

He rolled over as soon as the front door closed, letting him know that Xander was gone. He ignored the sticky discomfort in his pants to search for whatever the man had left on the table. There on the edge was a mug, filled to the brim with warmed blood, and a box of Weetabix.

Spike felt his undead heart do a little flip in his chest at the implication. Xander hadn’t done this since his first night there, and then it was done as a chore. This . . . this showed that he cared about what Spike liked. He swallowed, glanced at the door, then reached out for the mug and the box. He took out a biscuit and crumbled it into the thick liquid, using a finger to stir the mixture. He figured it was just his imagination that had the blood tasting better than anything he’d ever had before. Well, except that one time that he and Buffy were under a spell and engaged. He realized it was the fact that it was made for him, just the way he liked, that had it tasting so sweet.

He quickly drained the mug, his mind a swirl of confusion, his heart conflicted. He didn’t know what to make of this, what it meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

You’re going to make yourself bug shagging crazy, he told himself, getting up to put the mug in the sink. He suddenly had the urge to do something for the brunette, a conviction that became stronger each time his mind told him he was being a git. Ideas swirled around his head, rolling over each other until he thought he might scream with frustration.

He pushed it all away, deciding to take a shower first, and worry about his stupid ideas later. With that in mind, he went into the bedroom, the smell of Xander’s release hitting him full force as soon as he walked through the doorway. Without thinking, he stripped out of the sweats, then padded naked to the bed, hesitating only slightly before sliding between the sheets. All thoughts of doing something for the brunette slipped out of his mind as his scent surrounded him, blanketing him in warmth and comfort. The fatigue from a sleepless night pulled at him, the human’s essence soothed him. Within seconds, he was deeply asleep, his arms curled around Xander’s pillow as if he were cradling a lover.

~*~*~

When Xander returned a few hours later, the last thing he expected to find was a bleached-blonde vampire asleep in his bed. Naked. He stood gaping, his eyes riveted to the smooth expanse of pale back that curved into the firm globes of Spike’s buttocks. His mouth was still hanging open from when he was going to yell at the vampire and tell him to get the hell out of his bedroom. But the blonde had shifted in his sleep, pulling the sheet down to expose more skin, leaving Xander speechless.

He hungrily took in every inch that was revealed by the sheet and felt his body respond. Despite the looseness of his pants, his zipper dug painfully into the erection that was now tenting the front of his jeans. Blood raged loud and thick in his ears, blocking out all rational thought except Must, Have, NOW. The bag he was holding rustled slightly as he lowered it to the floor, his eyes never leaving the body wrapped so cozily around his pillow. Without thinking, he pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it to the floor. The dark material was quickly followed by his shoes, jeans, and boxers.

When he was done, he moved slowly to the opposite side of the bed, his mind devoid of the thoughts that had pushed him to run from the vampire last night in the kitchen. Now there was nothing but this overwhelming lust that consumed his very being.

With great care, he slid as quietly into the bed as he could. A tiny voice in the back of his mind asked him what the hell was he doing; waking a dangerous vampire from a deep sleep was probably not the wisest thing he’d ever done. And as he looked at the sleep-softened lines of the blonde’s face, he realized that he didn’t WANT to wake him up. It looked to him like Spike was finally getting some decent rest, something that had eluded them both for a long time.

With just the slightest twinge of regret, Xander ignored his rampaging hormones and settled as close to the vampire as he dared. He gingerly laid a hand across the bare hip exposed by the sheet, tightening his grip when Spike shifted just a bit closer. Then, with no further thought to the fact that he was willingly lying in bed, naked, with a vampire, he closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for him to join Spike in slumber, and he was soon enjoying the most restful sleep he’d had since the first SIT showed up on Buffy’s doorstep.

~*~*~

Slowly, and with great reluctance, Spike started to awaken. His sleep-hazed brain registered that the lingering warmth in Xander’s bed had intensified. He now seemed to be cocooned in it, and he instinctively snuggled closer. It was when the arm that was draped across him tightened and his buttocks bumped against the body behind him, that he became fully and abruptly awake.

He went very still, taking a careful breath to make sure that the warm, naked body behind him was indeed Xander. A low growl of pleasure erupted from him when he realized that, yes, it was. As carefully as he could, he rolled over, not wanting to disturb the arm that was possessively curled around his waist or wake the brunette. He hissed in a breath of unneeded air when their cocks brushed lightly together, the sensation making his own spring happily to life. He cursed inwardly, searching the brunette’s sleeping face for signs of his waking.

When no sign came, he took the opportunity to study his bedmate. He scowled a little when he realized that the natural hue of Xander’s skin was almost as pale as his own, a sure sign that the brunette didn’t walk in the sun enough. He hadn’t lied to the human when he’d told him he was too skinny. He could plainly count the ribs through the skin of his chest, and his stomach was flat, without benefit of the muscle that had rippled through it when he was a construction worker. His cheeks had thinned and hollowed and his mouth had fine lines bracketing it that a man his age shouldn’t have. If he looked closely, as he now did, he could see a few strands of white flecking the dark sable of the man’s hair. It seemed to Spike that Xander had aged a lot in the last few months, making him look closer to thirty as opposed to the not-yet-twenty-five that he was.

Without thinking, he reached up and pushed an errant strand of hair off Xander’s forehead, his fingers lingering over the soft texture. Xander jerked a bit at the touch, but didn’t wake up. In fact, his arm contracted around Spike’s waist, pulling him closer. Spike had to bite back a moan when their bodies came into even more intimate contact than before. His hard length rubbed over Xander’s quickly hardening phallus; their chests were pressed tightly together and their faces were now bare inches apart. All he would have to do would be to tilt his head just ever so slightly to claim those pouty lips of Xander’s.

Every nerve in his body tingled as he contemplated doing just that, the memory of how the man tasted flooding his brain. In an effort to relieve the pressure building in his cock, he shifted his hips slightly, rubbing their erections together. His eyes widened when Xander instinctively reciprocated with a thrust of his own.

“Fuck” he hissed between his teeth, too caught up in the sensuality of their positions to realize that he had actually spoken. He had to use every ounce of his control not to touch any more than they already were. He didn’t want a fearful Xander on his hands. He wanted an eager, fully aware Xander, but that wasn’t what he had right now.

His breath hitched again when the brunette let out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward with more force. Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his orgasm building at a ridiculous rate and it was all he could do not to take the human. A desperate whimper exploded from him when he felt Xander’s hand slide down his back to his ass, those long fingers of his playing gently along the cleft between the cheeks. He didn’t see the dark eye that popped open because his own eyes had closed tightly in desperation. His undoing came when one of Xander’s fingers slid easily into his anal passage. The unexpected intrusion pushed him over the edge, and, with a roar, he splashed his cold semen between them, coating their stomachs.

Spike was gasping for breath and trembling from the force of his orgasm, oblivious to anything going on around him. When soft, warm lips touched his, he opened to them eagerly, sucking in the tongue that swept along his bottom lip. After a second, however, he realized that something was wrong and he pulled back. Xander lay staring at him, his dark eye swirling with arousal, his lips swollen from their kiss.

“Xander?” he gasped.

“You talked.” Xander said, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth. Spike’s brows drew together from confusion. Had he talked? How had that happened? Why wasn’t Xander trying to kick his ass for being in his bed. Why was Xander in bed WITH him, just as naked as he was? And most of all, just why the hell was Xander still steadily pumping his finger into his body, while pressing his still hard cock into Spike’s thigh?

“I guess I did, at that.” The talking thing was much easier to deal with right now, he decided. But as his shaft started to grow hard again due to Xander’s ministrations, he had to ask. “What are you doing, pet?” His voice was rough and gravelly from disuse, the huskiness sending a shiver over the brunette’s skin.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly, offering the vampire a weak smile. “Do you want me to stop?” His answer was a moan and a slight shake of the platinum head.

“I won’t be used.” The seriousness in Spike’s voice surprised him, and his finger paused its motion. Spike watched the human’s face as he considered what Spike had said. Rational thought seemed to have managed to cut a path through their lust and he could practically see the wheels spinning in the brunette’s head. When it took too long for him to answer, Spike heaved a deep sigh and disengaged himself from Xander with a lot of regret and no resistance from the human. He looked down at him, cursing himself for not taking what the brunette so desperately wanted to give. The cock that angled up, purple and angry looking from not finding release, practically begged for Spike to take it into his mouth. The sight of his cum, glistening and thick on Xander’s stomach, caused a small fire to break out in his own abdomen, but he resisted it. His dignity was all he had left. And that was in shreds as it was.

“Let me know when you figure it out, luv,” he said finally, his rough voice made even rougher by the emotion clogging his throat. Then, with a long look at the man on the bed, he turned on his heel and went into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click. Xander had no choice but to watch him go, his mind a tortuous quagmire of guilt and lust.

Part Five

Two nights later, Xander lay awake-again-listening to Spike prowl around the apartment. More than once, he sensed that the vampire had stopped just outside his bedroom door. Two days had passed. Two days of avoiding each other like the plague. Two days of fighting the lust that seemed to intensify each time they accidentally were in the same room together. Two days for Xander to fight with dreams that started out sensual, and ended with Anya’s accusing and angry face. Guilt warred with whatever he was feeling for the blond vampire, threatening to drive him over the edge that even a lifetime on the Hellmouth had been unable to do.

Spike wasn’t much better off. He didn’t have guilt for fantasizing about the brunette, but his anger at him for being the same old Xander was gnawing at him. He had a feeling that, if he just went into the bedroom, he would have no trouble gaining access to Xander’s bed. But he also knew that it wouldn’t last. It would have to be Xander that broke the silence that existed between them. It would have to be Xander that made the first move.

And then, there was Buffy. God, every time he closed his eyes she was there. Calling to him, asking him to come to her. A couple of times, he’d almost said ‘bugger it all’ and rifled through Xander’s stuff to find her number, but then he would stop and remember. She thought he was dead, and that’s the way it would stay--as long as Xander didn’t open his mouth in hopes of ridding himself of Spike.

So, here they were. Two days after the brunette had found the vampire asleep in his bed, each tortured by his own inner demons. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that maybe Spike should stay somewhere else. It would have been an easy solution to a complicated situation, but neither of them thought of it. And, if they had, it was pushed away, almost as if they both knew it was only a matter of time before whatever was happening between them came to a head. Literally.

The ringing of the phone jarred Xander out of his thoughts. He cursed inwardly, getting up and pulling on a pair of pants before heading out to the living room to brave the prowling vampire. The cordless handset usually sat on his bedside table, but it had been left off too long and had needed to recharge. Spike stopped dead still as soon as the brunette emerged from the bedroom, his jeans slung low on his hips. Xander ignored the sight with great difficulty, and snatched up the phone just as the answering machine clicked on.

“‘lo?”

“Oh, God, Xan. Did I wake you?” Buffy’s voice rang through the phone, loud and clear. Xander hazarded a glance at the blond, sympathy tearing through him at the look of anguish on Spike’s face. That look alone let him know that the vampire knew just who was on the phone. Quickly enough, however, the look was replaced with steely determination, and Spike mouthed the words “Don’t tell her I’m here.” Xander scowled and turned away.

“Hey, Buff. How’s life on the road?”

“Ick. Tiring. Let me tell you, why I thought it was a good idea to hunt down a bunch of ‘tweens and teens is beyond me.” Xander chuckled a bit, but it didn’t sound very convincing. “So, how’s things?” Her voice turned serious and he could hear the worry. He practically choked on it.

“I’m fine. Just working.”

“Well, that’s good. Have you heard from Will?”

“Not since last month.” As they talked, Xander could feel the blue fire of Spike’s eyes burning into his back. It was annoying and arousing him at the same time. He shifted on his feet and tried to ignore it, but the sound of the vamp pacing again distracted him. “I’m sorry, Buffy. What did you say?”

“Wow, I know I’m not as big with the witty euphemisms as I used to be, but at least you could PRETEND to be listening,” Buffy teased.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his dark hair. “I haven’t slept very well the last couple of nights.” He said this low, not wanting to give Spike the satisfaction, but he knew it was a moot point. The vampire could hear a pin drop in the next state.

“Well, maybe you should get out of there for a while. Come visit me and Dawnie in our oh-so-exciting trek across America,” Buffy suggested hopefully.

“Thanks for the offer, really, but I have a lot going on right now.”

“Really? Like what?” Xander’s mind scrambled to come up with something, anything that would cover his flimsy excuse. Finally, his eyes settled on just what would do the trick. It had suddenly occurred to him that here was his out. Tell Buffy ‘Spike’s alive,’ and he could go back to getting some sleep and remembering Anya. Alone.

Spike must have read his mind, because he stopped pacing and turned to fix the man with eyes so intense, it made him forget to breathe. Slowly, the blond shook his head, touching a finger to his lips as if to say ‘shhh.’

“Y-you know. Work and stuff.”

“Oh.” The Slayer sounded disappointed, but came back a second later, her voice cheerful again. To Xander, it sounded a little forced. “Well, that’s just . . . great. Sounds like you’re really moving on.”

“Yeah. Guess you could say that. Hey, listen, Buffy. I hate to cut this short, but it’s really late.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I guess I was feeling a little homesick. I didn’t even realize the time.”

“It’s cool. I’m glad you called.”

“It’s been too long, Xan.”

“Yeah. I guess it has.” He was staring straight at Spike when he said this, their eyes locked as the meaning behind Xander’s words slowly hit them.

“I still miss him.” Her soft admission was as effective as ten cold showers. Xander watched Spike’s jaw clench tight, saw his hands curl into fists and could practically feel the pain that radiated off the vampire. He realized then that Spike was just as crazy to want anything to happen between them as he was. Not when the women they had loved still loomed so big. But, in Spike’s case at least, he still had a chance. Buffy was alive and kicking and loved him just as much as he loved her. What the hell was his problem?

“I know, Buffy. I know. But, hey, Angel returned from Hell. You never know what might happen.”

“I don’t think so, Xander. You didn’t see him.” No, but I see him now. And he’s miserable. Spike had resumed pacing, this time, not looking at the brunette. He listened as the Slayer took a shaky breath and sniffed lightly. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll let you go. Love you, Xander.”

“Love you, too, Buffy.” Spike had stopped in front of the window and was staring out onto the street, his back rigid as Xander hung up the phone. He felt the brunette’s stare on his back but didn’t turn to face him. “You’re an ass, you know that?” If it were possible, Spike’s body went even more straight as Xander’s words hit him.

“Thanks ever so, whelp. Coming from you, that’s the pot calling the kettle names, now, isn’t it?”

“Don’t compare yourself to me.” The brunette’s voice was filled with that old righteous indignation that Spike had actually thought they had moved past. Nice to know, add one Slayer to the mix, and they would revert right back to where they had been.

“And why not? You’re every bit as pathetic as me. Sitting here alone while your friends move on with their lives. For what? The love of a woman that wouldn’t WANT you to sit around like some kind of martyr?” He finally turned to face Xander, his face a rigid mask of failing control.

“Now who’s the damn pot? Anya is DEAD! Buffy is not. And, for some reason, she seems to want you. YOU. Not Angel, not me. YOU! And you sit there, pretending to be noble. ‘I’m dead to her.’ What a crock of shit.” His voice broke as he yelled at the blond, his body starting to tremble with the force of what he was feeling. Anger, guilt and just the hint of jealousy all raced around in his veins. He took a step closer, the moonlight coming from the window cutting a path across his angry features, the result stealing Spike’s unneeded breath.

“Don’t you get it? I finally do. Me and Buffy, we’re wrong. Totally and completely wrong.” He was desperate now. Desperate to make Xander understand. Desperate to make himself understand.

“Yeah. I got that a long time ago. Somewhere around the time you tried to rape her.” Spike reared back as if slapped, raw pain and anguish flooding his sharp features. Xander felt a sharp stab of remorse but pushed it back. After all, it was the truth.

“Fuck you, Xander,” Spike snarled, his eyes flashing gold in the dim light. “You have no idea what happened between us before that. I have never--would never--have done such a thing. Even at the height of my bloody history, that particular evil was beneath me.” He stalked over to the coffee table and snatched up his crumpled pack of cigarettes and fished one out, lighting it in one easy movement.

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” Spike stared straight at him, contempt and pain swirling in his deep blue orbs. His voice, while still raspy, had smoothed out to its more sensual tones, even when coated with heartache.

Xander returned the stare, his dark eye piercing, reflecting his own anger.

“Well,” he started, then paused, deciding that bringing up the past was probably not a good idea. For either of them. Spike was right. There was too much that had happened between the slayer and the vampire that none of them knew. And while he didn’t think any of it would justify rape, he was pretty sure that his image of Buffy would be forever altered for the worse. And he just couldn’t deal with that right now. “I guess this just proves what a coward you really are then, huh? Sitting here, in MY house, avoiding Buffy, but not leaving. You still want some connection to her, even if that connection is through me. Through fucking me.” He tossed the words out, ignoring the bitterness coating his tongue as he said them.

“’s that what you think? That whatever is going on here between us is because of my feelings for her?” Xander shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. It didn’t work.

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just trying to work your way through the Scoobies. After all, you fucked Buffy and Anya. Why not me? But, you know, I think you’ll have a bit of a problem with Willow. Of course, you could always work on that rape thing again.” Each word was like a knife slash in the air, stabbing them both. Xander had meant the words to hurt, even though he wasn’t entirely sure of his motivation. But, whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t suddenly finding himself pinned against the wall, a cool hand curled around his throat tightly enough to hinder his breathing, but not hurting him. Yellow eyes and gleaming fangs flashed at him in the light from the street lamp outside, sending an unexpected thrill singing through his veins. He saw Spike’s nostrils flare as his vampiric sense of smell kicked in and picked up the trace of Xander’s arousal. Shame flashed bright through him that he wanted this creature. Despite everything, he still wanted him.

“You know what I think, boy?” Spike growled, leaning in just a bit to press his lean form against the brunette’s, letting Xander feel the ripple of each muscle beneath his clothes. Another shot of lust surged through him and he had to bite back a moan. “I think you’re just a scared little boy who talks to much. You don’t know me. You don’t WANT to know me. But you sure want me inside you, don’t you? You want to feel me over you, sliding into your body, taking you. You want it to be me that does it, so you can pretend afterwards that I’m the monster you always said I was. That I ‘raped’ you, even if you’re willing and writhing beneath me. Well, guess what?” He leaned even closer, their faces a bare inch apart. His demon visage melted smoothly back into the handsome face that had been keeping Xander up at night, his cool blue eyes searching the brunette’s face.

“M’not going to give you the satisfaction. You want it--and I know you do--you’re going to have to come and get it. And it won’t have anything to do with Buffy or Anya or whatever other excuses you can come up with. You’re going to have to BEG.” He dropped Xander so quickly that he almost lost his footing. He managed to keep himself upright and watched as Spike gave him one last, burning look, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment, the resounding door slam causing the neighbor downstairs to pound hard on the ceiling.

~*~*~

The next few days found them playing another round of ignoring each other. This time, however, they both made sure never to see each other. Awake, anyway. If he thought about it, Xander would think it was amusing how the vampire managed to cocoon himself in his borrowed blanket until only the white top of his head showed. He realized, on some level, that they were both acting like children. At the moment, however, it seemed like a pretty good plan.

After Spike had left the night of their fight, Xander had taken a long time to go back to bed. His mind had been a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts an images. It was so bad that, when he finally fell asleep as the sun crested the horizon, his dreams were filled with contrasting pictures of sexual situations involving everyone--him, Anya, Spike, Buffy. Hell, even Cordy put in a special guest appearance in some kind of mental mind fuck. Each person accused him of something, and each person had been right.

Anya accused him of breaking her heart, then still expecting a relationship. Buffy accused him of being so closed-minded that she’d had to use a soulless vampire to feel connected, instead of being able to tell her friends what she was going through. Spike accused him of being a hypocrite, which Xander thought was the most accurate of them all. And Cordy. Dear, sweet, acerbic Cordy had told him to get over it already. All of it. He’d seen too much in his young life to carry all the resulting baggage around and not get crushed by the weight of it.

After he’d awakened, he had thought about all the people he’d loved in his life.

His parents. The first people he had ever loved had also been the first people to let him down. Majorly. He had grown up listening to them fight, their drunken rows scarring him more than he ever wanted to admit. How many times had he heard that the only reason they had gotten married was because of him? That he was a mistake? How many times had his father told him he had ruined his life? More times than he cared to count or think about.

Willow. A smile curled his lip when he thought of the redhead and everything they had been through together. If there was one constant in his life, it was her. Even so, hers had been the first heart he had broken, by choosing Cordy over her. Then, he had run back when things started getting scary with Cordelia--like ‘real love’ scary--and they had both wound up hurting the people they had loved the most, besides each other.

Buffy. He had to sigh a little as her beautiful face swam in his memory. The first girl he had fallen hard for. In fact, if he was honest with himself, the one he was still in love with. Maybe not in the same way he had been at 15, where most of his feelings had been driven by hormones, but it was still there, buried deep in his pile of ‘what ifs.’ She was still the woman that embodied perfection for him, despite--or maybe because of--all her imperfections.

Cordelia. If anyone had told him that he would find himself involved with the most popular girl in school, he would have laughed in their faces. She was unapproachable, beautiful and had a healthy mean streak. But he had found out that under all that regal ire was a heart of gold. And boy, had he fucked that up. Cordelia Chase had fallen in love with him. HIM. Xander Lavelle Harris. Class clown. Certified outcast. And she had wanted him. God, he was a moron.

Anya. The one he had wanted to marry. At least, with the loom of world endage, it had seemed like a good idea. How was he supposed to know that he had been carrying so much baggage resulting from his parents’ miserable relationship? And now, she was gone. Not like Willow and Buffy and Cordy. Gone, as in dead. Never to come back. There was no hope of getting back together, no hope of making his wrongs right again. No hope at all.

God, this was depressing.

He tried to imagine how Anya would react if their places were reversed. Would she sit around for months, mourning the shoulda, coulda, wouldas? Or, would she move on, remembering him fondly (if that were possible) and have a full, rich life? He wished he knew. He wished he knew what the hell was going inside of him. WHY was this happening now? With Spike? Who had enough baggage from the last hundred or so years to give Samsonite a run for their money. Why had Xander been the one to find him? Was this some sort of cosmic joke? Here, have the vampire you hate as a house guest. Oh, and by the way, you’re going to want him like you have never wanted anyone before.

He knew that, the way things stood right now, starting anything with Spike was a mistake of apocalyptic proportions. They were both damaged, and still very much enmeshed in their unresolved pasts.

Although, Xander wondered, did love really have to be a part of it at all? Did emotions, other than, maybe, the affection that came with friendship, have to enter into the situation? Couldn’t they just help each other?

Where this line of thought was coming from was a mystery to Xander. He had never faced a situation quite like this before and had certainly never contemplated a sexual relationship based on mere friendship. Ever. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. How many times had he fantasized about Buffy coming to him for comfort, and then to have it turn sexual? Countless times, if he was going to be honest, but this was different. Or was it?

God, he was so screwed up. No answers, tons of questions. His brain was starting to hurt from thinking about it. He cursed the day he had found Spike, again. Before that day, his most troubling thought had been about not making it to the site before he had to go to work. His situation was not nearly so simple anymore. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t get away from it. Not at work. Not when he was out of he apartment. Not at the Sunnydale gravesite. It was always there, waiting to blindside him when he least expected it.

And the most disconcerting thing was that his desire for the vampire didn’t lessen. Not one bit. In fact, the memory of Spike, fully vamped and pressing him into the wall, sent a thousand little darts of pleasure singing along his veins. Unbidden, that night he had spent with the beautiful stranger would rear up, only his face would be changed to that of the vampire. The images would torture him until he closed his fist around his cock and jerked it until he came.

He was going crazy. Plain and simple.

It was during the fourth night of silence that Xander finally snapped. He had been at work, trying his best to do his job without screwing up the orders. A girl at the end of the bar with blonde hair and wide blue eyes had been flirting with him and, unlike the other times this had happened, he’d encouraged it. He’d pushed all his guilt aside and smiled winningly at her. His humor soon had her laughing, clutching her sides while tears slid down her cheeks. When he’d told her his break was coming up, she had coyly suggested that they head outside for some fresh air.

The next thing he knew, he was pounding her into the wall out in back of the bar, racing towards the most unsatisfying orgasm of his life. He consoled himself that at least she seemed to have enjoyed it. He’d merely nodded when she’d said she’d see him again. He’d gone through the rest of the night like a zombie, moving on autopilot to close up the place and reconcile the till.

Now, he was climbing the stairs to his apartment of hell, knowing he stank of the girl, knowing that Spike would know before he even got through the door. If he was home, that is.

With each step he took, determination grew in the brunette. He was tired of this. Tired of not knowing which way was up. Tired of not sleeping. Tired of living in the past. Hell, he was just plain tired. This was ending tonight. One way or the other. If Spike wasn’t home, he’d wait. They needed to talk. Not yell and accuse. Talk. And they were going to do it. Tonight. Whether Spike wanted to or not.

Now that his decision was made, Xander felt a bit of the weight on his shoulders lift. Not much, but it was a start. His steps were less dogged as he walked towards the apartment door. His key slid easily into the hole, the click of the lock echoing loudly to his ears. He pushed open the door and stepped inside in time to see Spike coming out of the kitchen, holding a mug of blood in his hand.

Xander knew the instant Spike smelled her. His nose scrunched up in disgust, and his eyes turned accusatory.

“You stink,” he said, without preamble. Xander squared his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, his lone eye raking over the lean frame of the blond.

“I know. I guess the question is, what are you going to do about it?”