“Are we there yet?”

“Don’t.  Start.”

“I was only asking…”

“Don’t.”

Pause.

“Spike, I’m bored.”

“Find something to amuse yourself.”

“I did.  You almost crashed the car.”

Pause.

“Go back to sleep.”

“No.  I didn’t like the dream.”

“Which one?”

“This was the one where I discover you and Buffy in my bed at home.”

Spike glanced curiously at Xander.

“You don’t think there’s anything there, do you?  Her and me?”

“Not since she blew your car up, no.”

With a thoughtful nod, Spike patted Xander’s thigh.

“Good.”

“But I don’t like it.  Forgive me for sounding a little too like my favourite vampire, but you’re mine, the bed’s mine…”

“Ever consider joining in?”

“I—”  Xander stopped to think about that, and shifted uncomfortably.  “You’d want me to?”

“I’m amazed you have to ask.”

“Buffy wouldn’t want me to.  Even if it’s only a dream, Buffy…”

“You get in and we kick her bony arse out, all right?”  Spike threw Xander a wicked grin.  “Let her do some of the watching.”

“I’m better than her.  For you.”

“Yes.  You did believe me?”

“I just like to hear you say it.”

“You’re better.”

“Say…I’m best.  Ever.”

“Best.  Ever.”

“Say…”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“But it’s fun, and you’re sincerely great at fake sincerity.  Say…”

“Your life is flashing before my eyes.”

“Say…pin me on the bonnet and root me till I yodel.”  Spike couldn’t resist laughing, and he wouldn’t have resisted the suggestion if this journey wasn’t about Xander being safe.  “And I guess this is where you change the subject,” Xander accurately predicted.

“You guess right.”

“So…?”

“I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with…F.”

“Huh?”

“F.  Get on with it.”

“There’s nothing to see.  The road is black, the countryside is black, the inside of the car is black except for…”  He peered at the dashboard.  “Fuel gauge?” he offered.

“Nope.”

Xander pointlessly gazed around.

“F.  F…F…F.  F.  How about…fuck knows, that’s an F.”

“Give up?”

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Yes.”

“Pathetic.”

“F?”

“You’re not even trying.”

“F?”

“It’s obvious.  The futility of existence.”

Xander gawped.

“That’s – no – wait – no – I mean…  No.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t see the futility of existence!”

“Wanna bet?”  Spike struggled to keep a straight face.  “Still my go, then?”

“Not your go, you damn cheat.”  Spike waved Xander on.  “’Kay,” Xander grumped before resentfully taking yet another look about himself.  “I spy, with my remaining eye, something…something…  Something beginning with…V.”

“V.”

“V.”

“Is that really the best you can do?”

“V.”

Spike sighed, offering flatly…

“Couldn’t be…vampire by any chance?”

“No, it couldn’t be,” Xander said smugly, and Spike perked up and took notice, determinedly assessing his surroundings.  Assessing and reassessing.  “Wow, Spike, have you finally noticed that there’s nothing to see?” Xander asked with cheerful sarcasm.

“I can see in the dark.”

“And you don’t see how my not being able to see what you can see might have made what you can see not what my little eye is seeing?”

“You’re not about to whip a vol-au-vent out of your pocket?”

“No, I am just pleased to see you.”

“Then it has to be…” he glanced outside the car and upwards, “…Vulpecula.  My go.”

“Vu-wha…?”

“The Vulpecula constellation.  Good spot, now…”

“It’s not the Vulpaculpawhateveryousaid!” Xander snapped.  “It’s in here.”

“Vodka.  I wish.”

“Nuh.”

Spike’s gaze flicked over Xander.

“Voyeur.”

“We both wish.  Give up?”

“Bollocks.”

“That’d need to be vollocks.”

“How about…vizard?”

“As in…the vunderful vizard of Oz?”

“As in…mask.”

Spike gestured at the eyepatch that sat on the dashboard.

“You’re making this up.”

“I was a scholar, y’know.  Try to imagine a time before school consisted of chasing skirt and inhaling the Mexican spliff-mountain.”

“You at school,” Xander mused.  “Did you have to wear short trousers?  Really short?  Did you keep ‘em?  And can you still get into them?  How about if we coat you in oil?”

“Vacuum.”

“In the car, Spike.”

“It is in the car.  There.  Right between your ears.”

“Nah.  If it’s me, then you’re thinking veeeeeeeee…vacious.”

Vivacious: pretty close to the mark for this minute’s Xander, and Spike, having seen so many of the man’s desperate moments, revelled in it.

“Vivifier,” he told Xander, enough affection in his voice to prevent the potential objection.

“Which is?”

“A vivifier causes something to come to life.  Something…or someone.”

“This isn’t fair.  You shouldn’t inspire such intense smushiness when there’s no possibility of a smooch.  Can you hear my heart pounding?”

“Thought it was thunder.”

“Fucking hell, I love that you can do this to me.  Mutual vivi…vivi…”

“Vivification.”

“Vivification.  I’ll never remember that.”

“Viking!” Spike suddenly exclaimed as the thought popped into his head, giving himself a drum-roll on the steering wheel.

“No,” Xander dismissed scornfully.

“Yes.”

Spike flipped down the passenger sun visor, tapping his nail on the mirror.  Xander smacked the hand away and slapped the visor back up.

“No.”

Best suggestion squashed flat, Spike didn’t so much concede defeat as couldn’t be arsed to continue.

“C’mon then.  V.”

“Give up?”

“With bells on.”

“Vampire.”

“But…!  You cheating git!”

“Not cheating.  It’s a…a gesture.  A symbol.”

“Of what?”

Xander paused for a self-satisfied sigh.

“The existence of futility.”

…

A nudge brought Xander out of his doze, and he stretched and yawned, left hand dropping onto Spike’s head when he finally slumped.  He stroked the vampire’s crunchy hair as he peered out of the side window.

“’Nother motel?”

“I can find a house if…”

“No, this is fine.  Where are we?”

“Not telling you.”

“Is there a chapel near here?”

“No.”

“Is there anything near here?”

“Nothing that should lead you astray.”

“Oh, good,” Xander said meaningfully.  “That will give us hours of uninterrupted talk time.  Hours and hours.”

“Threats won’t work.  We’re staying put.  No more dead kids or kidnapped girls, no more…”

“Being me.”

“Yes, being you, you bloody trouble-maker.”

“At least you won’t need this shit on your hair if there’s no-one around to see you.”

Spike threw Xander a caustic look and shook the petting hand away, leaving the car and heading to the office to book them a room.

Xander stood in the parking lot and studied his surroundings, relaxing his meagre mental defences and, for once, smiling at the soaring level of voices.  It all felt positive if a little sad – so many voices with no loved ones to listen – but there was none of the recent undercurrent of trauma and that was a vast relief.

As he had at every opportunity for the last two weeks, Xander listened carefully in case Spike’s mother was attempting to make a connection, at the same time staying alert to the possibility of Edmund returning.  One welcome, one not, and only the first would be automatically offered to Spike.  Not at all ethical to censor communications, but Xander felt protectively justified in this case.

“What now?” Spike asked apprehensively as he approached.

“Now?” Xander thought.  “Bed, sleep, wake, breakfast, talk, talk, talk.”

“Is the chairman accepting any additions to the agenda?”

“As in…bed…”

“Sex…”

“…sleep…”

“Sex…”

“…wake…”

“Sex…”

“…breakfast…”

“Sex…”

“…talk…”

“Sex…”

“…talk…”

“Sex…”

“…talk…”

“Sex,” came the adamant conclusion from Spike.

“Bet no-one ever accused you of being single-minded, huh?”

“And God forbid anyone should suggest that I’m saying what you’re thinking.”

“No, that’s not true: my ass would forbid it.”

“You can top.  Exclusively.  Now till…Sunday.”

“My ass wouldn’t necessarily approve of that either.”

“Your arse never shuts up, does it?”

“Want to rephrase that?” Xander sniggered, and Spike rolled his eyes before collecting their luggage from the Cadillac’s trunk and herding Xander to their room.

Once inside and unpacked, Spike went to Xander, gently caressed his face with chilly hands, and kissed him.  This wasn’t anything to do with the first semi-scheduled bout of sex and Xander immediately sensed that.  He wrapped his arms around the slim body and held determinedly on.

“What?  What’s wrong?”

“Feeling…itchy.  I need to get out and let off some steam.”

“Without me?”

“Without you.”

“How did it go?” Xander said unhappily.  “A bottle of Jack, a fight for your life, and a…”

“Just the fight,” Spike assured.  “Not about to get drunk, or fuck around and make you feel bad.”

Xander nodded glumly, having no reason to doubt Spike’s word but not feeling much better for it.

“Where will you go?”

“Just…” Spike shrugged, “…out.”

“Hunting?”

“Maybe.”

“People?”

“No.”

“Then…”

“There are bears around, big cats…”

“You’ll chance getting ripped to shreds for the sake of feeling itchy?”

“Yeah.”

“Killed?”

“Won’t come to that.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause I can out-fight or outrun any one of them, any species, any breed you care to name.”

Good answer.  New tack:

“You’re happy to leave me alone here?”

“If you’re happy to be left.”

“What if we were followed?”

“We weren’t.”

“What about the entity?”

“I did say if you…”

“Is this about the talking?”

“More about…I think…the anger.”

“You can stay here and be angry with me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Spike…”

“No.  Listen.”

“But…”

“Listen.”  Xander fell silent; Spike hugged him hard.  “There’s violence inside me, Petal, and I need to let it out, away from here, away from you.  Can’t talk until I do.”

Xander didn’t want to understand but did, although he had to force himself to admit it, even internally.  He also respected Spike’s decision, and was resentfully grateful that the vampire was taking the potential havoc to a location other than this.  However, understanding and appreciation couldn’t make him like or want this, feeling pretty itchy himself at the thought of Spike versus Grizzly, and even more so if he considered the entity paying a visit during the vampire’s absence.

“Can I call you if I get worried?” he asked quietly.

“Course you can.  I’ll set the phone to vibrate and tuck it somewhere sensitive.”

“Seriously.”

“Yes.  Seriously.  Any sign of that nasty and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“If…y’know…  If it’s like before…  Don’t hurt me too much.”

“Not going to happen.  No nasty, no need.  Stop thinking about it; try to get some sleep.”

“Alone?  You have that short a memory?”

“Try.”  Xander shrugged, and Spike chuckled as he kissed the man’s non-cooperative mouth.  “Kiss me, you git, or I won’t think it’s worth coming back.”

“You’ll be back,” Xander growled against Spike’s lips.  “Not over, is it?”

“No, but…  If there’s still no definite date for the Dead Guy event after Christmas we’ll have to take a good hard look at this situation.  You can’t live like this indefinitely, can you?”

Xander’s tight hold loosened, and Spike immediately wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, if practicality was enough to have Xander, symbolically, letting him – them – go.

“Guess not,” Xander said quietly, looking anywhere but at Spike’s face.

“But it’s…been fun.  One way or another.”

“Yeah.”

“And, maybe…if it’s still fun…?”

“Like you say, after Christmas…”

“Wait till then.”

“Sure.  Though…I have my work, and you must have commitments to get back to that are more urgent than…”

“No,” Spike said firmly.  “You’re…”

Their eyes met and the words – the growing sentiments – were too hard to express.

“Going to save the world?” Xander eventually volunteered.

Spike hugged Xander hard, kissed him harder, and left without looking back.

As the outer-silence settled around him, Xander made a slow three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn, taking in the room, unconsciously studying the walls for bugs.  And when that study became conscious, he allowed himself a single shudder before making a determined effort to turn the sterile surroundings into something a little more homely, pulling across the partition that divided the main area into two cosier rooms, unpacking and distributing their possessions as he sang Christmas songs to keep himself from thinking too much.

Walking in a winter wonderland wasn’t cutting it; he placed the laptop on the kitchenette counter and booted it up, going straight to the media player and choosing something loud and cheery to fill the room.  Better.  A little.  Always content to dance alone, he filled half-an-hour with some energetic boogying, and the subsequent thirty minutes with mawkish sentimentality, fuelled by a selection of music that he’d filed under ‘Bronze’.

Inspired by this environment’s Spike-sized void, Xander pulled a stool across and sat at the counter, his attention on the laptop, on a folder that Spike was expressly forbidden entry to unless Xander was the one over when this was over.  Spike had agreed to that, and willingly, so Xander suspected that the vampire had already read the entire contents, but he carried on with his letters to his friends and pretended this was all completely private.  More pertinently, he began his difficult, painful, virtually impossible to compose, goodbye letter to Spike.

…

Xander stirred when Spike returned a little before dawn, dozily alert if such a thing is possible, sensing the presence and feeling safe, smelling foliage and soil, and wet fur and metal, and thinking he should wake up, really, yes, wake up, and check Spike out in a ‘concerned for well-being’ rather than sexual way.

He was waiting, casually propped in the bathroom doorway, when Spike left the shower; the harshness of the fluorescent light emphasised the damage that Spike’s body had sustained, and Xander fought to suppress the inclination to panic or fuss, choosing instead the option he knew Spike would prefer.  Without a word Xander examined the extensive array of cuts and bruises, still at a distance, still casually propped, remaining silent as Spike held out his arms and rotated on the spot, allowing the man to catalogue every healing wound.

This was Spike, Xander accepted.  His lover, deserving of his respect.  This was Spike, and Spike didn’t care that Spike was black and blue, torn and bloodied.  This was Spike, and the peace on Spike’s face said that Spike’s condition was a positive resolution to a negative situation.

Xander made himself look past the damage, just see Spike, his facial expression, his body language, his overall attitude, and the longest gaze passed between them, carrying understanding, consideration, reassurance.

“I think,” Spike eventually said, “that you’re going to tell me how you feel about what happened.”

“I hadn’t planned on doing that now, but…  Are you asking me not to?”

“No.”

“You want to know?”

“I need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you’d be my guide and I’m feeling a little…lost.”

With some difficulty Xander ignored the urge to smother Spike with hugs, affection, apologies, and hours of diverting sex, and instead he returned to what he now thought of as the living room, sitting on the edge of the ‘day’ bed, composing his thoughts as he waited for Spike to join him.

Spike stopped off in the designated bedroom, choosing to dress for comfort in a pair of Xander’s sweatpants, eventually joining Xander and pulling the armchair around to face him before sitting and staring expectantly.  No pressure there then.

“Guiding you doesn’t mean telling you what to think,” Xander began, “I don’t want you to listen to how I feel and think you should feel the same.  Although…”  Xander shrugged.  “I know what I want for me, and I know what I want for you.”

“Common ground?”

“There should be, yes.  Unless I screw this up.  Or unless you’re a much better person than me.”

Spike frowned at that, and Xander leaned forward to smooth the creased brow with his fingertips.

“You shouldn’t touch me.  Exorcising the violence has left an almighty void that wants filling with one truly titanic shag.”

“Perhaps we should get that out of the way before we talk.”

Spike backed out of Xander’s touch.

“No.  I’m better off believing that I have to listen to you before I can have that.”

“And horny men make such great listeners.”  With a smile that appeared to be one of insincere sympathy, Spike sat back and waited for Xander’s words of debatable wisdom.  “Okay,” Xander braced himself.  “Okay.”  A further pause.  “Remember I was talking to you about the principles of spiritualism?  About tolerance and acceptance?  I believe in those principles so strongly, I know how wrong it is to judge, and that I’m in no position to do that.  But…I can’t help it, not where this guy is concerned.  See, I’m in the same position as you, I know how things are supposed to work, I know what I should and shouldn’t do or feel.”

“You’re not like you were,” Spike interrupted, giving in to the unquestioned need to defend Xander, even from himself and the truth.  “You’re not the man you were back in Sunnydale.”

“Yes, that’s true, I was unreasonably judgemental back then, and I’ve had to fight to get over that.  The first time I wondered aloud about whether every spirit deserved a voice I got slapped into line so fast and reminded that I’m a – a vessel, not a judge.  I’ve had to deal with that part of myself and I’ve learned it was about false security and emotional defensiveness, and getting this far has been very hard.  I’ve tried to move on as a person.”

“You have.”

“Yes, I have,” Xander agreed.  “But it doesn’t stop me looking at this situation and thinking that you were justified in snapping Koga’s neck.  I’m judging him, and condemning him; it goes against everything that I’m trying to be, and frankly…I can live with that.”

Spike gaped wordlessly at Xander’s face, taking in the resolve but unable to credit what he’d just heard.

“No,” he finally managed to exhale.

“Yes.  Look at what he did to Tania, and she’s the last of too many.  Too many, Spike.  It had to end.”

“You’re…  You’re going to try to justify this?  You?”

“You’re not the only one who’s spent hours thinking about what happened.  If I was nothing to do with this case, and had seen a news broadcast about this guy and they said he’d been killed by a vigilante, I’d’ve thought – known – he’d got what he deserved.  Maybe even got off lightly, because you know how someone like that gets treated in prison.”

“Yes,” Spike softly acquiesced.

“Right, and I’m glad to see you’re jumping into my corner now.  Think of the amount of lives that have been saved by me interfering and you doing what you did.  No us, and…  Tania wouldn’t have been the last, Koga wasn’t going to stop until he got caught, and the cops didn’t have the first clue about him, about where he was taking the girls; they weren’t going to find him without a bizarrely lucky break.”

“You’re telling me…I’m allowed this one?”

“Hey, I’m the one with the long-term soul and this is a simple case of…  Vengeance.  Vengeance, and maybe that isn’t right but in this case it’s just.  Try to find someone in this state who isn’t happy that piece of shit is off this plain.  You or a lethal injection, and I’m voting for you.  He was an evil man and he died too many years and too many bodies too late.”

“I killed a human, something I had promised myself…”

“You didn’t kill him,” came a protest of complete conviction.  “You forced him out of this stage of existence, into the next stage where he’ll be a danger to nobody.  One day, when he’s fixed he’ll be grateful to you too.”

Spike studied Xander speculatively.  The man’s standpoint and vehemence were shocking, but also very touching, with his unwavering support and…  It reminded Spike of how he’d be in similar circumstances, defending Xander to the last.  But that was because of certain…feelings.  And, as far as he knew, Xander didn’t have those certain…feelings.  Did he?  With that question buzzing around his head, he could barely hang onto the topic in hand.

“Xander…”

“I get that this might be easier for me because I know mortal death is not the end, but…  Shit, Spike, I have felt terrible over Koga’s death, but not for him.  I’m so scared about your state of mind, your future, the repercussions of what I’ve done to you.”

“Don’t think of that.”

“How can I not?”

“Because I’m telling you.”

“I’m torn.  Between…hating that I put you in a position where this could happen and…and…”  Xander hesitated and Spike encouraged him with a look.  “And…wishing you’d met Koga when you had no soul and no chip.”

“Fuck,” Spike whispered breathlessly, gazing at Xander with scary adoration.

“I know that’s wrong, but…  Despite being a judgemental bastard, I’ve always had very…selective morality.  Or is that because rather than despite?”

“Because.”

“Y’know, way back, even when I was horrified at what Willow did to Warren, even when I was making the appropriate noises in company, in private I would think of Tara and…way to go, Willow!”

“Yes.  Yes, I agree, I understand, but when I fought for this soul…”

“C’mon, Spike!  The soul wasn’t about making you a saint.  It gave you a conscience that is as flawed and flexible as a soul needs to be to progress through life without being such a burden that it’s impossible to carry on.  It allows you to make the choice.  You made the choice, Spike, and if you’re damned for it then I deserve to be too, because I know you made the right one.”

“You can live with that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?  I mean…how?  Why is this so much easier for you?”

“Probably because I can be realistic.  I have no expectations of myself that I can’t live up to; I’ve had a lifetime to learn about me and come to terms with what you, relatively freshly souled, would consider my failings.”

“Relatively freshly souled but…I still enjoy the violence,” Spike confessed.  “You think…”

“That you’re a demon, yes.  Being realistic here.  Join in.”

“Angel’s a demon, but I see his conscience, what he does out of necessity not personal satisfaction.  He wouldn’t…”

“I can’t believe you want to emulate him.”

“He’s the only comparison I have, isn’t he?”

“Comparison, yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to be like him when the two of you are so completely different, and got to where you are through totally different circumstances.”

“We’re both…”

“I won’t listen to you hold Angel up as some kind of shining example.”

“But…”

“No!”

Xander fumed and Spike appreciated his anger, glad of the baggy pants because his excitement at Xander’s defence of him would possibly have poked a hole in his old jeans.

“Angel and I are so different because…?”

“Let me think.  Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” Spike agreed, gaze following Xander admiringly as he paced, deep in thought.  “Are you up to me fucking you, Love?”

“Not now.”

“’Cause I need to.”

“Not now.”

“Soon.”

“But not now.  Gimme two minutes.  Two uninterrupted minutes.”

Spike sighed and waited, resisting the urge to touch either himself or Xander and trying to concentrate on where they were headed.  He glanced at the clock in the kitchenette.

“That’s more than…”

“Okay.”  Xander came back and sat facing Spike once again.  “You and Angel?  It’s obvious, but it’s been taken for granted, and I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, so feel free to stop me and we’ll move onto dealing with that.”

Xander gestured toward the vampire’s highly apparent show of desire, tugging his t down over his boxers in a vain attempt to disguise his own lustful response.

“Talk.  Talk fast.”

“You are never going to be Angel, with Angel’s conscience, because his soul is a curse and yours is simply a soul.”

“Right,” Spike accepted, rising and grabbing Xander in one smooth move, throwing him further up the bed and pouncing, grinding their bodies together as his head disappeared under Xander’s baggy t-shirt and his mouth found a nipple to torment.

“Yeah, right,” Xander gasped, “and your soul is…fuck, Spike, just…  Normal.  Your soul is normal, and as prone to…to…to…bad as…good as any…one’s.  Oh, that’s…that’s…”

“Glorious,” Spike announced as he stripped away Xander’s boxers.  “Bloody glorious.”

“And…Ang…Ang…oh, God, I love what you do with your mouth…”

“Mmm?”

“Yeah.  Uh…  Angel, cursed, he’s going to feel everything acu…acu…tely because surely that’s the…fuck!…nature of a…a…curse.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Normal versus abnormal, and you…have to…have to…  Stop.  You have to stop.”  Spike reluctantly slid his mouth off Xander’s cock and nuzzled his balls instead, catching hair between his lips and gently tugging.  “Am I wasting my time?” Xander panted, tugging Spike’s head up by the ears.

“No, I was listening.  My soul’s pukka and the old gits is a curse in the truest sense.”

“It makes sense and, like I said, it’s obvious.  Soul-wise…you’re Joe Average.”

“Sod off, I don’t want to be Joe Average.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I do?”

“If the alternative is Angel’s way, you do.  Would you want to be Angel?  I wouldn’t want to be Angel.”  Spike fell still and thought.  “Getting there?” Xander prompted.  “You with the practical, all-purpose, twenty-first-century-friendly flexi-soul, no more using Angel as an example, ‘cause…”

“Actually, I was wondering if there was any chance of you going down on me.”

“I—  Seriously?”

“Yeah.  Sorry.  No, not sorry, who am I trying to fool?”

“I thought this stuff mattered.”

“It does.  We’ve reached a point where I know what you think, and I know what you think I should think.  I’m…guided.  The rest is up to me, isn’t it?”

“Hmm.  Put like that…”

Spike was already on his feet and stripping off the sweatpants.

“Can I have you, Love?  One way or another?”

Xander tearing off his t and throwing it aside as he repositioned himself on the bed was answer enough.  He gestured Spike to where he wanted him, confirming Spike’s hopes that the chance of a blow job was fairly excellent, a further unsubtle hint being the whole ‘grabbing Spike and manipulating him into a mutually beneficial position before wrapping his lips around the vampire’s knob’ manoeuvre.

“Tell me,” Xander mumbled around Spike’s cock, “tell me what you want.”

“Bit hard if I’ve got my mouth full.”

Spike slid his lips over Xander glans, and relaxed his jaw as, instinctively, Xander thrust.

“Horry.”

“Ss ho-hay.”

Unable to concentrate on what was in his own mouth while Spike was being so expertly distracting, Xander was more about enthusiasm than skill, and that suited Spike just fine; he rejected the unwanted notion that there might not be time to hone that enthusiasm into something more refined, and for now this was so much more than he’d ever expected.

Xander, however, had other ideas.  He forced himself to slow down, pay attention, refusing to let himself get off on the knowledge of what was happening here, although that would have been easy enough.  Aside from the irresistible forays into foreskin manipulation that Spike obviously couldn’t match, Xander assumed that Spike was taking his own advice and doing what he personally liked, so Xander diligently copied the vampire’s pattern of licking, sucking, near-biting, the nifty little wriggle of his tongue that sent a vibration all the way to Xander’s spine, and the moment Spike figured out what was happening the eroticism of the whole experience turned up a notch.

Erotic, yes, to be dictating his own pleasure in such a way, but Spike couldn’t help teasing Xander with impossible to replicate moves, and when Xander eventually did a little figuring out of his own and growled warningly around Spike’s cock, Spike gave in and chuckled around Xander’s.  Xander released Spike and leaned up to glare.

“I was wrong.  You’re a very bad man.”

Xander swore in horny alarm as Spike wickedly flashed golden eyes at him, knowing the effect that would have, and especially when the vampire’s efforts to bring Xander to climax redoubled.  The man had seemingly no resistance, and as he gasped and shuddered and delivered his orgasm to order, he was able to accept this particular frailty with the stoicism of the well-blown.

“Don’t you bloody dare pass out, Xander!”

“Huh?  Oh.  No.  No…  Damn, you’re good.”

“Good and horny.  Will you just…”

“Hmm?” Xander politely enquired as his mouth enveloped the vampire’s impatiently waiting erection.  Spike groaned a protracted groan.  “Hmm?” again from Xander.

“The heat.  Extraordinary.  And when you—  Fuck.  That.  Do that.  And…”

Spike wriggled with pleasure, spreading his legs wider in encouragement as Xander fingers tickled their way over his perineum and between his cheeks, caressing his opening with teasing brushes.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, yeah.  You have me.  You should be in me, fucking me.”  Xander nodded, paused, shook his head, all with Spike’s cock at his mercy.  “Much more of that…”  Xander’s naughty snigger had Spike tugging at his hair, and there was a whole second when Xander thought about pulling away and bringing Spike off with his hand.  A whole second before he shook his head again, dismissing both Spike’s grip and his concerns, a combination of action and knowledge that ensured a swift conclusion.  “Xan, gonna…” emerged the last, strangled warning before Spike was vigorously encouraged to a little less thought and a little more action; an automatic shift to prevent Xander gagging, and he yelled as he filled Xander’s persuasive mouth with spurt after spurt of semen.

Xander was pretty pleased with himself.  Not just for leaving Spike in a boneless heap, but for coping with the whole situation, bearing in mind his recent apprehension.  And now he’d discovered that he could cope, he was looking forward to fulfilling a little request of Spike’s.  He grabbed the floppy vampire and hauled him up the bed, cuddling into him and kissing him deeply, sharing their flavours.  Spike sprang from semi-conscious to enthusiastically alert, returning the kiss with breath-taking passion.

“Wow,” Xander managed on a post-smooch, whooped intake of oxygen.  “That’s…  That’s…hot.”

“Told you so.”

“That’s really…hot.”

“I know.”

“I would so fuck you now if I were in any way capable.”

“Poor feeble human willy,” Spike faux-sympathised as he fondled the limp body part in question.

“Now you’re going to be a kind, considerate sex fiend and put the poor feeble human willy down.  Sleep.  We have to sleep.”

One of Spike’s swift moves found them repositioned – human back to vampire chest and heads sharing a single pillow – in seconds.  Xander’s fingers linked with Spike’s and squeezed.

“Mmm?”

“You okay?  With what I said?”

Spike considered.

“I’m…thinking about it.”

Xander pulled at Spike’s arm to bring him impossibly closer.

“Okay.  I guess.  Thinking.  That’s…okay.”

…

“I brought you something back.”  Xander glanced over to where Spike was turning an indiscernible object over and over in his hands.  “Can’t make up my mind whether you’ll accept it as it’s meant, or simply…”  Spike shrugged.

“Can I see?”

Spike shrugged again and, filled with curiosity, Xander went to him, finding immovable fists closed around the mystery item.  He vainly scrabbled at the clenched fingers for a few minutes before grudgingly accepting the futility of it.

“I thought we’d go out later,” Spike said, abruptly cheerful, “get your pressies.”

“I want this one.”

“I’ll put the money in your pocket, you can forget it’s anything other than your own.”

“No, I can’t.  But I appreciate that.  And give me this.”

Scrabble, scrabble.  So much for grudging acceptance.

“There’s a mall in the town, stays open late, I checked it out before…”

Scrabblescrabblescrabble.

“Gimme this!  Spike.  Spiiiiike…”  At the prospect of a full-blown whinge, Spike’s fingers gradually unfurled to reveal a large claw, stump and tip streaked with blood.  Xander stared at the claw, and Spike stared at Xander.  “Is this what I think it is?” the stunned man asked in due course.

“Depends.  What do you think it is?”

“Is this…a bear claw?”

“Yes.”

“A bear claw.  From a bear.  A big bear.  Big as in…big.”

“Fair size, yes.”

Xander shuddered as he had a mental flash of this vicious-looking item tearing through the flesh of Spike’s bicep, leaving the wound that was taking twice as long as the others to mend.  He reached out and gently stroked the damaged flesh.

“I hate the thought of…”

“I’m fine, Love.  Better for it.”

Xander made himself accept Spike’s assurance, and got back to…

“How is it meant?”  Spike cocked an eyebrow in question.  “You said about me accepting it as it’s meant.  How is it meant?”

“It certainly wasn’t meant to turn you white as a sheet.  Shall I chuck it out?”

“No, you shall answer the question.”

“It’s…a token.”

“A token?”

“Of my esteem.”

“Of…of…  That’s…”  Xander gave up trying and, flushed with pleasure, went for the simplest, if woefully inadequate, acknowledgement.  “Thank you.”

“If I clean it…”

“Yes, I’d—  You mind doing that?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Great.  Thank you.  Again.  Thank you.  And again there.”

Xander flung his arms around Spike and hugged.

“Thought you’d give me a hard time.”

“I’m pretending that once you ripped that out of its paw the bear hobbled away and is presently recovering from the encounter in a cosy woodland grotto.”

“Very astute, that’s exactly how it happened.”

“And you’re better for it.”

“For the fight.  For the way you behaved when I got back: not the sex, the lack of fuss.  And, on consideration, the sex.”

“And for what I told you?”

“And for what you told me.”

“Does my reaction to Koga shock you?”

“It did.  At first.  Then…”  Spike drew back and grinned approvingly at Xander.  “You made me so bloody horny; natural justice and an appetite for revenge, so…admirably primal.”

“Just your average guy,” Xander grinned back.  “Scrape the surface of civilisation and…”

“You don’t have to tell me.  I live it, don’t I?  Los Angeles,” he grimaced.  “Almost makes me miss the Hellmouth.”

Another hug and a kiss, and then Xander withdrew a little, an uneasy expression usurping the smile.

“That’s average guy covered.  How about…un-average vampire?”

“Still thinking.”

“Not giving yourself a hard time, I hope.”

“Thinking.”

“Okay.”  Xander nodded and backed away in the direction of the door.  “I’ll check for a duffel, you wash that claw for me, and then we’ll…”

“Eat, shop, talk.  We’re bloody girls.”

Xander laughed and left; Spike went to the bathroom to scrub the claw clean, marvelling over the fact that Xander hadn’t freaked at its general gruesomeness and liberal coating of both ursine and vampire DNA.  The human still had plenty of surprises for him, that was nice to mull over.  Mulling: somehow, much nicer than thinking.

…

They returned from their shopping trip with piles of presents – piles of piles, in fact; the words ‘Spike’ and ‘self-restraint’ had no right being in the same sentence.  Xander was delighted and humbled by the vampire’s generosity, dealing nonchalantly with Spike’s cheeky asides about him being a kept man, and abandoning his parcels and bags to dance with Spike in the motel’s parking lot, car radio supplying the music.

“‘Oh it’s such a perfect day’,” Xander sang along with Lou Reed, unquestionably sharing the sentiments.  “‘I’m glad I spent it with you.’”  He rubbed his icy nose over Spike’s.  “I am.  You know that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Hey, how do you think we would have been if the sex hadn’t happened?”

“I think…we would have been how we are now, but without the sex.”

“You really think so?”

“Not quite as close, naturally.”

A kiss from Xander.

“Naturally.”

“And, early glitches aside, we were ready to be friends.”

“Glitches, huh?  There were times I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“So, yeah,” Xander laughed.  “I guess the fact we’re both still alive – in any sense – proves that we were ready to be friends.  That’s…that’s nice.”

Spike smiled.

“Yes.”

“‘Just a perfect day,
You made me forget myself.
I thought I was someone else,
Someone good.’”

“I think they’re my lines, Love.”

“Something else I want to know: tell me…”  Xander stopped to giggle.  “Tell me exactly how much were you not looking forward to this mission when Giles mentioned my name.”

“Oh…marginally,” Spike lied, straight face cracking as Xander’s infectious giggles turned to doubly infectious full-blown laughter.

A circuit of the car to the end of the song, and they collected their parcels and took them inside, heaping them onto the day bed before falling instantly into one another’s arms, clumsily negotiating the partition, and kissing and groping their way across to the bed that potentially held far greater delights.

“This time I really am getting the camera,” Xander insisted, starting to move away but instantly tugged back.

“Every time we try that something happens.”

“Not this time.”  Kisses.  “And I want pictures of us.  Many, many, happy, horny pictures of us.”

“Me too, but…”

“You just concentrate on looking hot and available.”

Xander finally managed to extricate himself and went straight to the table where the computer and its peripheries were piled up.  Peering around the partition wall, Spike watched with full-on suspicion, and justifiably so.  Xander’s hand was two inches from the camera when it fell still and as Xander’s body froze, Spike sat heavily on the bed amid a flurry of choice expletives.

“Always know bloody best, don’t you?  Won’t ever listen…”

“Edmund,” Xander said quietly, and Spike’s whingeing came to an abrupt halt as he automatically sprang to his feet, practically standing to attention in the presence of his father.

“My—  Are you sure?”

“Yes.”  Xander returned to the bedroom, listening intently as Spike anxiously waited, and within seconds the medium’s head was shaking.  “I was wrong and you were so, so right, Spike.  You don’t need this.”

“What?  What’s he saying?”  Xander continued to shake his head.  “What can he say about the nothing I was that’s so bad?  What can’t you repeat?”

“Spike…”

“C’mon, Xander, I’m ready for the old bastard.  William was a harmless fellow, Edmund can’t…”

“He recognises what you are, what you became after William.  He’s talking about Spike.  You.”

“How does he know about Spike?  No-one else…”

“Chose to know?” Xander suggested.

Xander shook his head again, taking a few jerky steps away as if attempting to avoid the contact.

“Tell me what he’s saying,” Spike demanded.

“He’s simply…ranting.”

“He always did, and usually way out of proportion to the subject at hand.  Scared me as a boy.  Boy and older,” Spike sheepishly admitted.  “That was without most of it being directed specifically at me.  Now…tell me.”

“You don’t…”

“Yes, I do.  I want to hear it, I need to.  Tell me, Xander.”

Pain flickered across Xander’s face as his fierce desire to protect Spike was overwhelmed by a combination of the vampire’s insistence, and his own need to honestly convey the spirit’s message.  One last pleading look and Spike – looking far less certain than he sounded – waved Xander on.

“He, umm…”

“Xander!” Spike snapped, “Just say it.  I can imagine…”

“Abomination,” burst out of Xander’s mouth.  “Vile, godless, abomination.  Whore.  In…  …  Abhorrent…whore in body and spirit.  No redemption, no salvation, you will face the pits of hell and…and…”  Xander paused, breathless and nauseated as he listened and steeled himself to repeat Edmund’s vitriolic words.  “All heaven will rejoice at the fearsome destruction of this abomination, this…repugnant creature, this…”  Another pause, another gulp of air that had turned thick and sour.  “Foul and murderous whore, grizzled remnants of…  …  I can barely follow this, Spike, I’m sorry.  Fucking hell, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be listening to this.”

“What else?” was shakily enquired.

“Let Saul…”  Spike waved aside Xander’s beseeching look, and Xander shuddered as he concentrated.  “When…  …  When all that is holy is made corrupt, when His image is besmirched, no foul torment can be sufficient, no dire…  …  Repulsion is all…  …  Monstrosity, you tarnish all that is…  …  Evisceration and conflagration will…”  Xander jerked away again.  “No.  No!  That’s it, no more.  Saul, please, get rid of him.  Saul…?  …  Thank you.  Thank you.  Bless you.”

A welcome return to the familiar, harmless murmuring that he constantly lived with, and Xander turned to comfort Spike, only to find himself alone in the room.

“Spike?” he called softly, hoping the vampire would choose to come to him rather than force any kind of decision his way.  “Spike?” again, but no answer, just a barely audible sniffle from the direction of the bathroom, leaving Xander with the choice of giving Spike some space to recover, or taking a chance on his presence being welcome and offering a little, admittedly inadequate, comfort.

A few more agonising seconds of hating Spike dealing with this alone, too aware of the emotional collapse that Edmund always seemed to instigate, and Xander was easing the bathroom door open, trying his very best to be unaffected.

“Hey, Baby,” he whispered in affectionate greeting when he found Spike scrunched on the floor against the far wall.  Spike flicked a miserable, embarrassed look in his direction before burying his face in his hands.  “Want me to leave?”  Spike gave a firm shake of the head.  “Want me to…”  Another shake before Xander could finish his sentence.  “What do you want?” Xander asked, and Spike’s head rose once more before a twitch disturbed the too-solemn, tear-streaked features.

“Don’t reject me, don’t think I’m—  Please, Xander.”

“What do you want?”

“Need me.”

“I do.”

“Fuck me?”

“Love to.”

“But…?”

“That was the general area I was considering, yes.”

“There’s no but?  You’d love to, but…?”  Xander gave a shrug, a gentle smile, and shook his head.  “How…  How can you want me?” Spike implored.  “I’m pathetic.  A Master vampire and I’m cowering in the bathroom, hiding from a bloody ghost.  Pathetic.  I’m pathetic.”

“Says my guy who faces up to hell gods and dragons.”

Spike barely managed to choke down the emotion that simple address stirred.

“Your guy?”

“And you shopped with me.  It’s impossible not to acknowledge that kind of heroism.”

“Xander…”

Another nervous twitch, full-body this time, and Xander dared to move closer, sitting by Spike, shuffling to his side, sliding his arm around the vampire and hugging hard.

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I…I kinda think the world of you too.”

“I—”  Whatever protest Spike was about to make was quickly set aside in favour of a simple, “Thank you.”

Xander pressed a kiss into the hair at Spike’s temple.

“There’s nothing that Edmund can say to change that.  The opposite in fact.  The crueller he is, the more I admire you for surviving him.”

“Really?”

“Do something for me?  Please?  Believe me when I say that you’re a good person, even if it’s going to take Edmund an eternity to see it.  Right now, your past only matters in respect of what you’ve overcome, whether that’s Edmund, or your history.  You’re a fine man, and I need you to believe that, Spi—  William.  Believe me, William.  Believe me.”

Spike twisted within Xander’s grasp and urgently kissed him; this was more than his right, it was presently his only comfort.  His strength.

“I am going to believe you,” Spike promised as the close contact allowed him to calm down a little.  “Sooner or later.”

“I guess I’ll settle for that.”  More kisses, gentler now, less frenzied.  “Want to come to bed with me?” Xander coaxed.

Spike peered suspiciously at the door.

“I feel like he’s still in there.”

“He isn’t, he’s gone, I swear he’s gone.  Saul won’t let him back now.”

“Ever?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“That’s…that’s what I want.  He has no right.”

Pause.

“He is gone, Spike.  You want to…?”

“Stay here for a bit, eh?”  Xander agreed with a kind smile, and a visibly relieved Spike huddled against him.  “Just for a bit,” Spike whispered as he nuzzled Xander’s neck.

“Sure,” Xander whispered back.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  A stifled sob against his skin sent a tremor through Xander and he held Spike tighter still, murmuring further reassurances as he briefly, sadly, contemplated just how many of Spike’s friends had been lost and the scars that remained.  “I promise you I’m not going anywhere,” Xander firmly reiterated before, with professional care and deepening personal concern, he delicately set about consoling his disturbed friend.

Manifestation 27       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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