“I feel sick that I did this.”

Midway through packing to leave, Spike stopped and looked over his shoulder to see Xander kneeling on the floor, staring at the stake he’d thrown down the previous night.

“You felt you had to,” Spike shrugged.

“You’re right though.  About me being a hypocrite.  I’m coming out with all this crap about learning to trust you and giving you a chance, and the first time you say something slightly provocative I’m overreacting and…and…”

“Whittling.”

Xander laughed at that, at Spike’s blunt acceptance of the whole business.

“You didn’t give a shit, did you?  You could have snapped my neck before I had the chance to give you more than a graze.”

“I gave a shit,” Spike contradicted him, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet.  “You’re sick you did that, I’m sick you had to.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“Parameters.  Very useful.”  Xander unconsciously edged a little further into the Spike zone, and the vampire was taken aback when he noticed Xander’s face, feeling his whole body respond.  “Well…bugger me,” Spike announced before clarifying: “As in exclamation, not invitation.”

“What?”

“It makes sense,” Spike announced with a wide grin.  “Something actually makes sense.”

“What?”

“There’s an expression…” Spike reached up and touched Xander’s cheek.  “It’s…  It must be about the quiet, but…you look fucked.  In a good way.  Sated.”

“I don’t…”

“It’s the relief, it must be, the noise stops and you looked very, very satisfied.”

“And it makes sense in what respect?”

“I get near you and you look like that, it’s hardly surprising there’s this association with you and sex.  I see someone who’s…”

“Fucked.”  Spike snickered at the deadpan delivery, and Xander smiled.  “There had to be a way for you to blame me.”

“Mirror.  Go and look in the mirror, and in a couple of minutes I’ll join you and you’ll see the effect.  Fucked.”

“I have one day to go until I’m brave enough to look at myself.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“Sure.  That’s the vampire-speak equivalent of close your eyes and open your mouth, isn’t it?”

Xander saw the absolute torture Spike went through to not come back with any of the obvious innuendos the remark prompted.  Instead Spike took the stake and studied it.

“Can I keep this?”

“Are we expecting that kind of trouble?”

“When this job is done and finished it’ll be a nice souvenir.  You haven’t lost your touch.”

Xander shrugged.

“Sure, keep it.  I never knew you were the sentimental type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Pet.”

“Like why you use that when it’s so demeaning.  Or maybe I just answered my own question.”

“Use what?”

“Pet.  I’ve heard you use it before: Buffy, Dawn, Tara.  Is that how you see us?  As your pets?”

“No,” Spike frowned.  “You think…  Why haven’t you mentioned this before now?”

“Because…” Xander thought, “it didn’t seem worth the aggravation.  But I’d like to know why you use it, if it isn’t to make me feel as if I should be on my perch, ringing a bell.”  Spike was both happy and intrigued at what appeared to be legitimate interest rather than antagonism.  “You don’t see humans as equals, so…”

“Didn’t.  Long time ago now.”

“Not back to vampire-speak then?”

“No,” Spike chuckled.  “It’s English not demonic.  A contraction of petal.  Long usage and quite amiable.  Affectionate even.”

“Petal?” Xander repeated incredulously.

Spike tilted his head this way and that, examining Xander.

“Suits you.  At this moment in time you’d be my Passion flower.  For the colour, naturally.”

Xander rolled his eye, sighed, stepped out of the zone, and carried on with his tidying and packing.

Spike alternated between unintentionally getting in the way, getting out of the way, and getting in the way again, albeit in some other area that had previously been safe ground.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you, Harris?  Hounding me?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Xander admitted.  “It passes the time.”

“I didn’t know you were playful.  I always saw you as a bigot and a bore.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.  At least you’re no longer a bigot,” Spike teased, the smirk being knocked off his face by a well-aimed pillow.

“That’s it?  All you thought of me?”

“Pain in the arse?  Or were you looking for something more specific?”

“I saved your life.”

“Yes,” Spike agreed thoughtfully.  “Yes, you did.  You’re full of surprises.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t kill me when you had the chance?”

“You’ve coped with what I told you yesterday, and a lot better than I could have hoped, in retrospect.”

“Yeah, well, we’re back to what I said before.  Either we get along or I go crazy.  Plus I don’t think you’d risk making a serious move, not while I’m…”

“Don’t say convenient.”

Xander hesitated, then nodded: he didn’t need to say it when it was so obvious.

“I do want to trust you,” Xander said quietly, staring at the pathetically small collection of items he’d brought from home.  “I need that.”

“Miss them, don’t you?  Your friends.”

It was possible to see the emotion well up in Xander; possible to see the hurt of pressing it back down.

“I do miss them.  Very much.  I know you didn’t like them but they’ve seen me through what could have been an impossible time.  You still don’t think I should talk to them?”

“This way is safer.  For them.”

“Okay,” Xander agreed sadly.  “Um…  Think I might meditate for a while.  Any chance you can stay quiet for a hour?”

“Not as easy as saving the world, but I’ll do my best.”

They exchanged a frank, unprecedentedly open look, Spike’s concern meeting Xander’s sense of loss, just for a split second, but long enough to offer comfort or stir determination.  Xander turned away sharply, finding himself a corner for his meditation and, as he started to kneel, Spike had the pillow beneath his knees before he got to the floor.

…

Late afternoon saw a rejuvenated Xander, ready for another round of harass the vampire; eventually Xander sat on the end of the bed that Spike had taken refuge on.

“Spike?”

“Yes, Pet…al?”

“When did you eat last?  Blood not human food.”

“A couple of days ago.”

“That’s what I thought.  You gave me the impression that Angel could find you anywhere, magic you up some blood.”

Spike nodded pensively.

“I’ve been a bit concerned, it’s not like him to let me down.  Do me a favour?  Take a look around outside, see if there’s something tucked in a cool spot?”

Spike watched Xander’s progress as far as he could, all too aware that Xander’s argument about daylight making his promises of protection worthless could be proven right in the blink of an eye if the uber-nasty decided to have a little fun with the medium.  No possibilities of plotting a way to save him here if it struck anytime soon and, if the blood wasn’t about assurance that all was well in LA rather than food, he’d never let him beyond arm’s reach, especially after that fiasco with Toby and the subsequent post-bar brawl.

As Xander came back into view he was chatting away to one of his invisible cohorts;  Spike strained to catch a few words but was unable to make out enough to judge whether it was Saul, Jesse, the return of Wayne, or one of the dozens of unidentifiable visitors that beat on Xander’s mental door.

With the appearance of a very edgy Chrissie Spike could take a fair bet, and the woman cautiously approached Xander, seeming very relieved when he greeted her with his customary warmth.  They talked for long enough for Spike to decide he didn’t like her, her problems, her living son – although that was a given – her town, or what Spike assumed were her attempts to lure Xander back to her house so she could continue to bleed him dry emotionally.

But, by the look of it, she wasn’t having much luck, and Spike revelled in her distress when Xander evidently made it plain that this little psychic fling was over.

“She ask you to go back?” Spike demanded the moment Xander set foot inside their room.

“I thought I noticed her when I was out looking for a piece of wood last night; she probably didn’t feel brave enough to talk to me then.  My face.”

“Did she ask you to go back?” Spike pressed.

“Not at first.  She’d heard the gossip about me getting beat up and I’m pretty sure she knows about Toby’s part in it.  She was trying to apologise without admitting she knew.”

“Fucking nerve of the woman!”

“I had a couple more things to pass on from Wayne, but I made it clear we were leaving.  We are, aren’t we?  We don’t have to stay here ‘cause Angel knows where you are?”

“We’re going as soon as the sun sets, that’s a promise.”

“What if Angel…”

“Can we finish with your nuisance before we get onto mine?  Weren’t you tempted to tell her how Wayne died?”

“I was.  Just for a moment.  But I thought my motives might have been wrong, so…”  Xander shrugged.  “She’s heard from Wayne, knows she’ll be with him again one day, maybe I’ve done enough and she can start to heal.”

“You’re too bloody good.”

Xander smiled.

“It’s my job.”

“Just your job?  Who are you kidding?”

“There wasn’t any blood,” Xander moved away from what felt suspiciously like fluffing, and onto something that now had both of them worried.  “Are you sure you weren’t supposed to call him, or…”

“I don’t call him, I don’t have to.  The way we work is simple: one of us is alone in the field, the other keeps tabs and supplies blood, money, whatever’s needed.”

“But if you don’t call him, how does he know where you are?”

Spike’s hand prodded at a spot on his own right shoulder.

“I’ve got this implant, and…”

“Wait.  You’ve got…”

“An implant, little bug that allows Angel to trace me.”

“What?  Like you’re a lost dog?”

“It’s practical, we’ve never had a problem with the system.”

“After the chip, the tag the military used to track you…  How can you possibly let anyone put anything in your body?”

“Are you asking for personal reasons?” Spike grinned, unable to resist.  Xander hesitated before speaking, but before he could get a reconsidered word out…  “What do you do when you do that?” Spike asked.

“Do what?”

“Sometimes, when you want to tell me to fuck off, there’s this moment, a pause, when something in you switches over from kick Spike’s arse to appallingly tolerant.”

“You’d prefer me to kick your ass?”

“Might be fun if you tried.”

Xander dropped onto his bed, stretched out, tucked his hands behind his head.

“Before I was allowed to work with the public I was given some training as a bereavement councillor.  One of the people on the course spent a lot of time analysing me and…”

“You have to be analysed before…”

“This was someone else actually taking the course, we kinda hit it off, spent our free time together, and I got…analysed.  She gave me some advice on how to deal with the kind of emotions that would lead to a vampire getting his ass kicked.”

Spike listened and nodded, slowly and thoughtfully.  Xander was hoping for an intelligent question but wasn’t surprised with the one he got.

“Nice was she?  Pretty?  You always got the pretty ones, could never figure it out.”

“She wasn’t what you would think of as pretty, no, but I thought she was beautiful.”

“What was wrong with her then?”

“Nothing.”

“So why wouldn’t I have fancied her?”

“’Cause she’d been in an accident, her face was scarred.”

“You think I’m…”

“Completely superficial, yes.  And you’re physically attractive enough to draw equally superficial women.  I’d have been jealous once but not now.  Leaves the people worth knowing to the likes of me.”

“All jokes aside, you’re a nice-looking bloke.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yes, still.”

“Gimme a break from the bull, will you, Spike?”  Tetchiness finally broke the surface.  “As far as a lot of people are concerned you were right, albeit in a different context.  I’m a fucking freak.”

“Or, generally, a non-fucking freak.”

“Not a non-fucking freak with her, but…yes.  Generally.”

Spike came to sit on the edge of the bed; Xander moved over to accommodate him.

“I thought…”  Spike gestured to Xander’s face.  “…didn’t bother you.”

“It doesn’t.  It bothers other people.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“You never look at it.”

“That’s right, I tend to look you in the eye, not the socket.  Socket: not so expressive.”

“I think we’ve got way off the point.”

“And I thought you said that you were alone because nobody could put up with you since you started keeping company with the dead dead rather than the undead dead.  Nothing to do with how many eyes in your head.”

“It’s a combination.”

“It’s you.  I bet it’s just you putting people off.  Combination of not being a freak but feeling a freak, the circus skills, the whole ‘I’m okay but really I’m not’ neurosis over the eye…”

“The problem with…the circus skills is perfectly genuine.  It’s to do with the fact that I can’t sleep peacefully, and I can’t switch off and give someone my complete attention.”

“You’re doing okay now.”

“I sleep with you.  I mean…with you I actually get some sleep, I’m not exhausted and irritable with it, the lethargy has gone, I’ve got my appetite back, my sense of humour…”

“Yeah, all right, I get the point.  Why did it work with her then?  The woman on the course?”

“It was a few weeks and no possibility of anything more.”

“Why not?”  Xander looked away before Spike could figure out embarrassed or humiliated or cross at being asked.  Bearing in mind she’d liked Xander enough to get involved in the first place it had to be something…obvious.  “Was she married?”

“I only found out when her husband came to collect her when the course finished.”

“She never told you?”

“She didn’t think she’d have to.”

“Cheeky little minx.”

Xander suddenly smiled too.

“Yeah.  She was great.  Trouble, but she was great.”

“Do you think the only people that will want you are the ones in a similar position?  Damaged?”

“Don’t, Spike,” Xander said, voice so full of conflicting emotions that the usually obstinate vampire knew he had to let this go.  He swivelled and laid alongside Xander, head propped up on a hand.

“All right.  But just so you know, you do get the completely superficial vote.”  Xander looked at Spike, trying to figure him out, inching closer for the peace without knowing he was doing it.  “There’s that expression,” Spike pointed out gleefully.  “Can’t blame me for wanting to be the one that puts it there.”

“You do.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you going to call Angel?” Xander very deliberately changed the subject.  “It could be something as simple as the implant having malfunctioned.  You don’t want to go hungry.”

Spike thought about it, unable to stop himself laying a hand on Xander’s stomach and stroking as he did so.

“I’ll give it a few more days, then…  I might have to go to LA.”

“That’s okay.”

“We’ll be really careful to keep your presence concealed, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Actually…”

“Fancy a jaunt?”

“No.  But I don’t have to go.”  Spike turned on the glare and this time Xander simply smiled.  “That’s getting way too much practise.”

“Wouldn’t you like to catch up?  Buffy might be there.  Dawn.”

Xander shifted uncomfortably.

“When this is over maybe.”

“That’s a no, isn’t it?  Now or then.  Why don’t you want to see them?”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did, just not verbally.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t, I’m only curious.  Grown out of them, have you?”

Spike watched Xander’s hand come up to his breastbone, touch the item beneath his clothing that was always worn but never seen.  Spike reached up and poked into the neck of Xander’s shirt, finding the chain and drawing out what he’d expected to be an article of faith, but proved to be a plain gold locket.  Xander let him examine it, flick it open to see, cut from a single old photo, Buffy and Giles in the left compartment, Xander and Willow in the right.  Maybe it was an article of faith after all.

“You think I could still fit in?” Xander asked apprehensively.  “’Cause I don’t.”

“Why is it about fitting in?”

“I guess…it’s something I always needed.  To feel a part.”

“You’re still a part.  When they used to talk about you…”

“Used to?”

“Been nothing much to say these last few years, has there?  ‘Heard from Xander?’  ‘No.’”

“I talk to Willow sometimes.  She asked me to write up some experiences for her, we’ll be in touch more when I send them because she’s bound to have questions.”

“They’re not interested in you because you can report back about talking to the dead.  If anything I reckon that’s an excuse of Red’s to get you to keep in touch.”

“You think?”

“That junk jewellery you sent the Bit from Africa?  Still wears it even now.  She looks like a punk with a crisis of conscience,” Spike chuckled.

“I’ll call them.  All.  When this is over.  Maybe write some letters in case it’s over when it’s over.”

“Good idea.”

“You think…?”

“And while we’re almost on the subject, what was that about never feeling safe?  You were in the slayer’s pocket and you never felt safe?”

“Did that sound as if I didn’t trust them?  ‘Cause, I did, with my life, which I have to admit paid off a few times.  But…I always understood about the bigger picture, I always knew that if it were me versus mankind…  Like now.  We’re going into this thing with Dead Guy and, if something goes wrong, I know you’ll be taking care of what matters most and I’m not fooling myself that that’ll be me, whatever promises you make.”

“Hey, I’ve said…”

“On the day it will come down to what’s needed.  If Dead Guy doesn’t make contact and all that’s left is a fight, I’m not going to turn my back ‘cause it isn’t what I signed up for, I’m going to fight, any way I can.”

“Xander, I understand perfectly, but know this: I will protect you until the end.  I’ve given you my word.”

Spike held up his hand, finger and thumb three inches apart.  Xander thought about it.

“I trust you that much.  Yes.”

“Good.”

“Despite yesterday.”

“Oh…bollocks to yesterday.”

“You shouldn’t have said what you said.”

“I know!  You think I don’t know!”

“I think you know now.”

“But I am fascinated, you do make me feel special, and you do have a beautiful ar…”

“Don’t go there!”

“Shut up, Harris!  Know what else?  I’m not playing you, I don’t want to dominate you, and – and…”  Spike stopped with a huffed expulsion of breath.

“And?”  Spike wriggled his arm out of the way, resting his head on the pillow beside Xander’s.  Xander twisted around to see him better, Spike being on his blind side.  “And?” he repeated.

“I wanted to kill those men for you.  Bring you their hearts as a trophy, their ‘nads for a joke, and decorate the room with their entrails.”

“I hope this is over before Christmas.  I’d hate to see the tree when you’re done with the trimmings.”

Spike froze.  Felt.

“Sun’s going down.  Let’s get out of here.”

Xander took one last look around, despite having been ready to ship out hours ago, grimacing as he listened to Spike’s cheerfully bastardised rendition of ‘Deck the Halls with Bowels of Toby’, complete with alarmingly enthusiastic fa la la la la’s as the vampire shrugged on his duster; ‘Don we now our gay apparel’ and Spike was helping Xander into his coat, before snatching up the car keys, gathering their luggage, encouraging Xander to ‘Follow me in merry measure’ as he made his exit.

Xander locked up the room and returned the key to the motel’s reception, slowly walking to the Mustang as Wayne joined him to chatter about nothing in particular.  Saul was asked to deflect the boy’s attention back to his family, and Xander felt a predictable sadness diluting any minor sense of achievement, the familiar wish that he could have done more.

In the parking lot Spike was waiting beside the driver’s open door, both hands on the car’s roof and drumming along with a song blaring from the radio.  Xander didn’t hesitate to do what Spike had done to him a couple of nights ago: closing in to his back, hands on his waist, leaning forward to rest his brow against the back of Spike’s head.

“Pet…al?”  Spike’s laid his hands over Xander’s.  “All right?”

“Comfort.”

“Oh,” Spike accepted gravely.  “Help yourself then.”

Xander did, for five silent minutes.

“I shouldn’t need this.  Knowing everything I know.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself.”

“And…there has to be some irony in turning to the undead for an affirmation of life,” Xander said as he made himself pull away, feeling Spike’s reluctance to let his hands go.

“Is there a right thing to say now?”

“No,” Xander sighed as he walked resignedly around the car to the passenger’s side, grudgingly accepting that he wasn’t in good enough shape to drive for what could be hours.  “Any idea where we’re headed?”

“Yeah, I do.  That surprised you, didn’t it?”

“You call Angel?”

“I called someone other than Angel.  Two days ago.”

“You’re not…  This isn’t some kind of set-up, is it?”

“No.”

“Dead Guy?”

“Not yet.  You don’t have to be so suspicious.”

“Curious not suspicious.  I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t.”

“Shame you don’t have a choice then, eh?”

Glare matched smirk; without another word Xander climbed into the car and waited to be taken…somewhere.

…

Xander dozed for the last part of this journey, coming to with a start when Spike rested a hand on his forearm, and aware of being surrounded by the dark.

“What…where…?”

“It’s a cabin, I’ll go and get some lights on.”

With a dazed nod, Xander yawned and scrubbed at his face, wishing he hadn’t slept because it was more convenient to be on Spike’s time.  As his eye became accustomed to the lack of light he began to pick out a little of their new location.  Trees, trees, lots of trees.  And…more trees.  He suspected the cabin was in the woods.

Lights caught his attention and he blinked a few times to focus on his home for the next however long: a traditional log cabin?  Xander shook his head in disbelief – Spike having never struck him as the great outdoors type – and hoped that civilisation wasn’t too far away.  Feeling the trunk pop, the slightest movement of the car as Spike removed their bags, Xander climbed out of his seat and attempted to do his own fetching and carrying, but was successfully rejected as, time after time, Spike nimbly sprang away from his hands.

“What do you think?” the vampire asked once Xander was led inside.

“It’s…”  Nothing as Xander expected, the rusticity of the outside belying the all mod cons approach of inside.  “Pretty cool.”

“Is, innit?  Nearest town’s only a couple of minutes away,” Spike assured as if he’d read Xander’s mind a short time before. “And there’s…  No, won’t tell you, I’ll show you.  Later,” before Xander could ask.  “There are two bedrooms.  Want to risk it?”

Xander considered that: no sign of the entity and he could probably deal with the voices, so…

“No.”

…and absolutely no admitting that he was making the most of having someone to hold onto at nights, someone to be held by.  A novelty he was happy to exploit, and Spike looked rather smug too as he made for the master bedroom to drop off their luggage.

Xander found the kitchen, happy to discover it was fully stocked and, after rooting through the cupboards and fridge, settling on pasta and ready-made sauce for speed.

“Everything you want?” Spike asked when he joined him.

Xander nodded.

“Okay?” he waved the sauce bottle at Spike, whose head waved in time until he managed to read the label.

“Anything hot I can add?”

Xander waved at the cupboard that contained an array of herbs and spices in small pots.

“Mind the garlic,” Xander warned, “there’s powder and salt and flakes and…some other version I’ve already forgotten.”  Spike was deliberating whether to thank Xander for his consideration and casually mention what a decent bloke he was, or if that would sound like an ingratiating, pre-pickup line, which it very possibly was, when Xander was backing away, fingers twitching.  “Okay, c’mon, Sweetie, c’mon…  Yes, you’re okay, I can hear you.”

“Who?” Spike asked anxiously, having to work very hard at not approaching Xander.  “Xander…”

“Yes, thank you.  The cousin who drove you crazy reading the stories in bad voices: is that Francis?”

“Francis?  Bugger, what did I do to deserve him?”

Xander gave a rapid shake of the head.

“His sister was Maria…”

“Maria,” they said, simultaneously correcting the pronunciation to make the i sound like eye rather than ee.

“She was older than you both and…you had a crush on her.”

“I did not!  Well, not much.”

“This is…”  Xander frowned.  “Help her, please.  …  Your aunt, this is William’s aunt.  This is…  …  Again?  …  Oh, another Maria, her daughter was named after her.”  Xander began to rub his chest.  “Something…  She died because of something to do with her breathing, or her lungs?  She’s letting me feel…”

“Nowadays we’d know it was cancer, can’t remember what the quack put it down to at the time.”

“That makes sense, yes.  …  It was you that gave Francis his interest in reading, and…and…  You didn’t kill him when you were turned, you damn fraud!”  Spike grinned and shrugged.  “The family is together and…  …  Again?  …  You were an uncle…three…four…  Go back, go back.  …  Five times over.”  Xander smiled at Spike.  “Five nieces and nephews you didn’t know, Spike, two…no…  Go back.  …  Yes.  Two boys and three girls.  The eldest boy, that’s…yes, Francis’ boy, was…  He was called William.”  Xander’s face reflected the emotion he was dealing with, but his wasn’t the only wet eye in the room.  “He missed you so much, Francis missed you, it was a long time before he stopped trying to find you, he couldn’t accept you’d just disappear, you and your mom…  …  One at a time.  …  He died, the second William died in…”  Xander groaned.  “Please don’t show me, just tell me.  …  The war.  First world war.  …  A battle at—  Okay.  …  Maria – the elder Maria – says there’s a tree growing for you, planted for William…  …  Where, again?  …  Can’t catch it, I’m losing the connection.  Saul.  …  What?  …  No, go back, what was…?”  Xander apologetically looked to Spike.  “Gone.  Sorry.”

“No, that was…”  Spike roughly swiped away the tears that had managed to escape.  “I used to think it was entertaining, people going into shock when they heard from their late lamented.  Not so bloody funny when it’s your own folk, eh?”  Swiping and wiping wasn’t working too well; Spike pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.  “Why should it mean so much?  All this time.  After all this time.”

The vampire visibly jumped when he dropped his hands to find Xander standing before him.

“You okay?”

Spike nodded briskly, exasperated by himself for being so susceptible and, naturally, taking it out on Xander.

“Do you really care?”

“Sorry?”

“If I’m okay.  Is it an automatic reaction or do you mean it?”

Spike waited for the offence taken and snapped reply, but although Xander went to speak, he stopped, thought, took his time.

“That’s a fair question,” he conceded when he finally got a few words out.

“It is?”

Xander smiled at Spike’s surprise, glad that he’d been able to take a mental step back before automatically and stridently protesting about Spike’s apparent mistrust.  His hand rose and the thumb took the last tear that had spilled onto the vampire’s cheek.

“The lean works both ways.”

“I don’t,” Spike insisted.  “I don’t lean on anybody.”

“Okay, you don’t.  But know you can.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“Because I don’t.”

“What was the comfort about then?”

“That wasn’t leaning.”

“If you say so.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

With another smile Xander moved back to the stove; as he went he perhaps unconsciously licked the moisture from his thumb.  Impossible to miss the action, and Spike took a deep silent breath, entranced by the idea of Xander tasting him, anyone tasting him, but…Xander tasting him.  Xander.  Tasting him.

“Spike!  Hey!  Baby!  Come back to me!”

“Huh?”

“Hi, where d’you go?” Xander laughed.

“Oh.  Um…thinking.”

“Parmesan.”

“No, it wasn’t…”

“See if there’s any parmesan.”

“Parmesan?  Parmesan!  Yes.”  Shaking off the stupefying effects of his intense thirty-second fantasy in which he got everything he wanted, Spike checked the fridge and poked around in the stack of cheeses until he found one that smelt like week-old socks, tossing it over to Xander before looking around to find something wet to accompany the meal.  “You like wine, Pet…al?”

“I’d prefer a soda.  I meant what I said about not drinking.”  Spike sniggered.  “No, I did mean it, you wait and see.”

“The minute Dead Guy’s dealt with, what say we go out and get blind drunk?”

“Can I get semi-blind drunk?”

“You certainly can.”

“Then it’s a date.”  Spike waited for the spluttered withdrawal when Xander realised what he’d implied, and was bemused when it didn’t emerge.  “How long until you get hungry, Spike?  I mean, blood-hungry?”

“While yet, nothing to worry about.”

“But you have to keep your strength up, we don’t know—  Do we know when this Dead Guy thing is going to happen?”

“No.  But if I need to I’ll go into the woods, drain some animals.”

The tense face belied the casual tone.

“Are you seriously worried about what’s happening in LA?”

“Thought you didn’t read minds,” Spike unsuccessfully joked.

“You’re going to have to go.”

“We’ll see.  Get you settled in and we’ll see.”

Xander didn’t seem too anxious about the thought of being left alone, Spike noted.  The human pottered around, humming to himself as he served up the meal, appearing pretty settled already.

“Do you cook?” Xander asked as they sat down to eat.

“Not if I can help it.”

“’Kay, no cooking for Spike.”  Spike grinned.  “You can clean up after me instead.”  Spike scowled.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you…  These reports I promised to write up for Willow?  Can you read over them for me when they’re done?  Just to check it all makes sense.”

“I’m happy to, I wanted to read them anyway.”

“Yeah?  Cool.  And…you’ll make sure Wills gets them if I…  If anything goes wrong and I don’t get the chance to give them to her myself.”  Before Spike had time to respond with platitudes, Xander reverted the subject.  “Will you need to take the car?  If you go to LA?”

“No, I wouldn’t leave you without transport, would I?”

“Then…?”

“There’ll be something in the garage here, car, bike, whatever.”

“If you went, you think it would be for long?  And that’s a stupid question, forget I asked it, I know that these things can’t be…”

“We’ll go out later,” Spike interrupted.  “I picked this place for a reason.”

“Yeah?  Is it…”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Doesn’t it feel wrong?” Xander taunted.  “All the teasing?  Like I’m your boyfriend or something.”

“Now, there’s a thought,” Spike replied evenly.

“Oh, sure,” Xander chuckled, “tonight’s a date.”

“No.  Apparently it can’t be a date until Dead Guy’s dealt with.”

Xander was about to pick that apart but sense got the better of him.  He dismissively waved the point away.

“You wouldn’t ask me on a date.”

“No?”

“No.  I could be a convenience, as we’ve already established.  I could be your dirty little secret, but not your date.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Imagine telling Buffy.”

“I’d tell Buffy.”

“Imagine telling Angel.”

“I’d delight in telling Angel.”

“Imagine telling Dawn.”

“She’d want to double date.”

“Imagine…”

“You as a dirty little secret.  Far more…stimulating.”

“Hey.  Not over the pasta.”

“How dirty?”

“You know exactly what I meant, you’re not turning it into some gruesome fantasy.”

“Now, about that…”

“Are we done here?  ‘Cause…surprisingly tired.  And one more word and you’ll be checking out the spare room, Baby.”

“I know it’s ironic, but every time you call me that I get more turned on.”

“Fucking.  Hell.”

“Hit the sack, shall we?”

“You keep your hands to yourself.”

Spike solemnly crossed his heart with a single finger, and Xander grudgingly accepted the show of sincerity that automatically made him suspicious because, well… Spike.  He gathered up the plates and, with one last mistrustful glance, returned them to the kitchen.

“Hands, yes,” Spike muttered in his absence.  “Can’t make any promises about the rest of me.”

…

The bedroom was swish and opulent, and Xander wished he’d had a few minutes alone to appreciate the incongruity of this haven of luxury within the confines of a rustic log cabin, but Spike was everywhere, switching on lamps and unpacking and tossing aside the aptly named silk and satin throw cushions to get to the crisp linen beneath, bouncing on the bed and offering a choice of sides.  Choosing a side felt strange, far more deliberate than how their sleeping arrangements had been until now, and Xander left the decision to Spike before belatedly realising that if Spike stayed where he was it meant he’d be on Xander’s blind side.  Xander screwed his fingers into his hair and sighed, trying to figure out how to work this around without being obvious.

“You prefer this side?” Spike asked, apparently reading his mind again.

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

“Bigger cabinet,” Spike covered, “for your book and your notepad and your water and…”  Spike shrugged, oddly awkward in his consideration.

Xander quickly unpacked, found his toiletries and went off to wash up, pleased to see that Spike had been right when he’d said the damage to his face wasn’t too bad: what had felt massive from the inside was healing well and fading fast on the outside.  Still not exactly a pretty sight, mind.

It wasn’t until he was balming his carefully shaved jaw that he wondered what message his primping was sending to the vampire, what message he might be subconsciously sending to himself.  It was almost too strange and disturbing to question too deeply, this rapidly developing relationship between the two of them.  Almost.  Xander sat on the closed toilet lid, stared at the artistically tiled floor, and did question, or at least he tried to, but each and every approach rapidly led to the sheer irresponsibility of getting involved in any way other than friendship, strictly platonic friendship.  Any more and, as a person, he didn’t want to cope with a break up, breakdown, break away, whatever it would be if they survived Dead Guy; as a medium there was a good chance he wouldn’t be stable enough to cope with what were often traumatic encounters with the spirits if he were experiencing his own emotional upset.

But how glorious not to be alone for a while, even if he was with Spike of all people – all demons – who was proving to be good company, did seem scarily decent at times, had completely convinced Xander of his desire to keep him safe, and…and who Xander looked up to find standing in the doorway, naked chest, jean buttons unfastened, bare feet; leaning on one side of the doorframe while a raised arm rested high on the opposite.  Xander’s gaze trailed over the blatantly obvious offer, wondering and what iffing.

“Xander.  TV.  Cable.  Football.  Will it disturb you?”

“Wha…T…foo…no.”

With a pleased nod, Spike was gone and the almost-peace was disrupted by the sound of a roaring crowd.  So much for the blatant offer, Xander laughed to, possibly at, himself, shaking his head and rising to risk another look in the mirror – a daring feat that should be more than enough to convince him that Spike was just fooling around with talk of dates.

…

Spike lazed on the bed, mentally switching off the game and paying attention to a more immediate need, cock rigid due to the look Xander had given him, unconsciously given him he had no doubt, but fucking hell, if that man only knew what he could stir in this demon’s breast.  And lower.

His fingers slipped inside the open jeans and caressed, balls to glans, and these weren’t his fingers, they were Xander’s, and he was holding Spike’s cock just…so because it was easier for him to wrap his lips…

“That good a game, huh?”

“Mmm.  Why don’t you come and watch?”

“Oh, sure, there’s bound to be a raincoat around here somewhere.  Maybe I could go outside and peer in through the window for greater authenticity.”

“The game,” Spike chuckled.  “Watch the game, you dirty-minded wretch.  Unless, of course, you’d rather watch…”

“I might just take a better look around the cabin.  And outside, yes, good idea, without the peering.  Is it safe to go outside?”

“Mmm.”

“’Kay, I’ll leave you in peace to enjoy your…sport.”

“Xander…”

Xander paused in the doorway, refusing to look back.

“Yeah, being careful, don’t worry about me.”

“Mind the wildlife.  You don’t want to get eaten.”

“And that’s precisely why I’m going outside,” Xander muttered as he left.

The night was cold and exhilarating and adequately shrivelled any impertinent show of interest; Xander wandered around the perimeter of the cabin, finally making sense of its science fiction outtake qualities – all the extra space inside was due to extensions that were invisible from the front of the building.  He couldn’t help glancing over as he walked past what he’d figured out was the bedroom window, and he was startled to see Spike there, leaning on the sill, watching out for him.  A ‘wait there’ gesture, and Xander sighed and obediently waited.  Barely two minutes and Spike joined him; they strolled.

“You don’t need to guard me every second.”

“I know.”

“And no way I wanted to interrupt your special time with the person you love best.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t concentrate knowing you were out here alone.”

“I’m not alone, I’m never alone.”

“Physically.”

Xander stopped and directed Spike’s attention to a seemingly mundane stretch of trees.

“There.  It’s a deer.”

Spike peered into the darkness.

“Where?”

“In spirit.  Coming this way.”

“We’ll scare it off.”

“No.  It – she - she’s not running because she doesn’t see us.  Doesn’t see the cabin.  It wasn’t here when she was.  Stay here.”

Xander walked in the direction of the deer, eventually stopping and waiting.

“Where is she now?”

“Just walked right through me,” Xander smiled, swivelling on the spot to watch the deer’s progress as it disappeared into the wall of the cabin.

“What did you feel?” Spike asked as he came to Xander’s side.

“Instinct not thought: food, shelter.”

Spike was staring at Xander rather than at the, to him, non-existent deer, and Xander met the intense scrutiny with wary interest.

“Freak?” he asked dubiously.  Spike edged closer, waiting to see if Xander would withdraw, but he didn’t, accepting with a degree of amusement Spike’s overly cautious hug.  “What’s this about?”  Xander asked kindly, stroking his hands over Spike’s sides and wondering why comfort, and why now.  “You okay?”

“You bring the dead to life.  Purely.  I don’t feel dead with you.”

Xander wasn’t sure how to respond to that extraordinary revelation; relying on actions speaking louder than words, he hugged back, completely at ease.  Feeling a tremor ripple through Spike’s body, Xander hoped he hadn’t fallen for one of the vampire’s moves, yet still not considering breaking away because the need for contact seemed genuine, however it played out.  Spike’s head turned, brow resting in dark hair tangled by a forest breeze, cold nose rubbing over Xander’s equally chilly ear.

“You okay?” Xander asked again.

“The dragon?  My mum said about the dragon?”  Xander nodded.  “She said about the losses.  When we fought it, fought—”  Spike shook his head against Xander’s.  “You don’t need all that, but it seemed wrong at the time, that only the dead survived the battle.  With the living gone, I…I lost something.  Inside.  Felt as dead as this shell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They were good people, people who can’t be replaced by the new.  But you’re not the new, you’re an original.  A week ago I’d never have considered it but you’ve been what I need.”

“Freaky?”

“Special.”

Xander hugged Spike a little harder for a moment.

“If this is a move,” he admitted, “it’s a pretty good one.”

“It’s not a move.”  Spike’s head came up; the grip loosened, he retreated, two steps.  His smile made Xander smile.  “Not everything is a move.”

Manifestation 11       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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