FEEDBACK: Love some.
ARCHIVE/DISTRIBUTION: You want this?
SUMMARY: You meet the damndest people at the airport.
SPOILERS: Through Season 6. Set fifteen years after Season 6 finale.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: Some four letter words
RATING: PG now. NC-17 soon.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, Never were. All rights to Joss, Mutant Enemy and assorted capitalist entities.
NOTES: Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are mine alone.

Midnight at LAX

by
Ahestele

Part One

Fifteen years. Fifteen years and a lifetime ago he threw a punch at that face, blinded by betrayal, humiliation and rage. The first and only time he struck someone who couldn't fight back, the first time he felt the specter of his father so close beneath his skin that he woke up from a nightmare that night and vomited. Fifteen years, and he could still place the voice, that voice, in one second: whisky and velvet, smoke and sin. "Whiskey, neat. Bring the bottle."

Turning slowly, Xander followed the English accent to its owner, and time stood still.

He looked the same, but not. Same long black leather duster, same cut glass cheekbones and slightly pouted pink mouth, lashes a dark fringe on the alabaster skin. Lit cigarette held between two fingers, tendrils of smoke rising from the tip to dissolve in the pre-digested, beery smell that most bars, and airport bars in particular, seemed to have. But the hair, god, the hair.

No longer blinding white bleached blond it fell in tousled honey colored curls, framing the sculpted planes of his face, falling over the smooth forehead. It must be his natural color and it made him seem even younger, if that was possible. The white peroxide severity of the cut before had added a brittle, hard edge to the vampire, made him a study of dizzying contrasts: blond hair, dark lashes, perfect features, scar at his brow, luminescent Dresden skin, black leather. Always black leather, with a dash of red. Death and blood.

Hasn't smelled me yet, he thought, amazed at how easily his mind slipped into Suundydale thought, thought his thirty-five year old mind chafed against after all these years. Must be rusty. But something else was awry with the vampire. Xander couldn't quite pin it down, but Spike felt off. He had spent enough time disliking the demon to know. Sometimes his dislike had bordered on rage with an ugly undercurrent of jealousy coming up the backstretch. Rage at the pale, cat graceful creature that embodied everything Xander Harris never would be. It took him some long years and lots of thinking to figure that out. Amazing what hindsight and the first sign of gray at your temples will do for a man's clarity.

But Spike wasn't that rusty, no, because he could see the instinct kick in, finally. The relaxed shoulders became still, the features a mask of calm, and slowly, slowly Spike turned to look at him, attitude oozing from every pore. They locked eyes, and Xander felt his mouth unhinge, flap in the wind to catch flies, met equal shock in eyes blue as a summer morning.

Sweet Jesus, he had a soul.

It practically shone from those eyes, more open and naked than a vampire's should ever be. It marked each orb with such a haunted, bruised look Xander caught himself wanting to reach out and shut them, as if Spike lay in a coffin, just to turn off that look His fingers twitched with the want of it. Tara would say Spike's aura had completely changed.

The memory of the sweet, shy girl he knew once, and how she died, twisted his gut in an instant. He hadn't thought of her in years; he didn't think of that time if he could help it because those memories had teeth that ripped and shredded the careful, safe life he'd cultivated in L.A. Too much of a walk down memory lane and he needed more than a shot of whiskey to sleep at night. His eyes slipped shut against the onslaught of images, fighting it, fleeing in his head until he could breathe again. When he opened his eyes once more Spike was gone.

He'd slapped a bill on the bar and sped out the door before he even registered his actions. In the milling chaos of midnight travelers he walked quickly, scanning for the vampire, not thinking of why, just acting. Goddamnit, he couldn't have gone far! Just as keen disappointment began to sprout in his chest he spied the sign for the men's bathroom.

When all else fails, hide in the John. He'd practically lived by that credo in high school.

The place didn't even have a door so he rushed in scanning the urinals and corners, ignoring the mirror. It's why he hadn't noticed Spike sitting at the bar. Nothing, but one of the doors was shut. Bending over Xander checked under the stall and saw scuffed Doc Marten, black jeans and the hem of a weathered duster that had seen better days. Straightening up he approached the closed door slowly, wondering what he planned to say. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

For long moments nothing happened. The tension got to him and he opened his mouth to say God knew what, because he certainly didn't, when a wary sigh sounded from the other side of the blue resin door. A low voice muttered, "Bugger."

"Back at you, Fangless." The quip fell out of his mouth from another time and place, and Xander shook his head. Excellent. Not ten minutes since he'd seen the vampire and already channeling his high school self.

Sounds of the latch coming undone, and Xander stepped back as the door opened allowing William the Bloody to step through. For a time they just stared at each other, and Xander wondered what the vampire saw. He saw himself every morning, but had ceased to study himself a long time ago.

He knew he had gray, but not too much. Odd strand here and there, and he'd solidified across the chest and lost the early twenties spread that had begun when the vampire last saw him. Minute lines bracketed his mouth and crinkled at his eyes, and he'd had the goatee about a year, grown on a whim. He guessed it looked okay, and he had gotten more notice from younger women, for all the good it did them, or him. He was dressed in his travel suit of jeans, a Henley tee and flannel over shirt with glasses in his breast pocket. All that research of heavy books with teeny tiny writing as a teen-ager had gotten him in the end. All in all a regular Joe. Nothing to write home about, just your average foam insulation salesman, and he hadn't attracted a demon since Sunnydale. All it took to disable his demon magnet was distance and time.

"Harris." Resigned, low voice, and he noticed for the first time the tension stretched across each muscle of the vampire's body. He was fairly thrumming with it.

"Spike." He returned. "How's the soul working out for you?"

The blond man stepped back as if Xander had struck him, shock and pain warring for dominance on those fine, fine features. He took a step forward, hand outstretched, because he didn't follow Spike for this, to one-up each other. Spike held him back with one arm, tips of elegant, pale fingers touching his chest like tiny points of ice.

"How..." And Spike had never sounded that watery, not even when Buffy took the swan dive off the tower that signaled the beginning of the end of all their innocence. "How..."

"Shouldn't that be my question?" Not one twitch at the bait. "I don't know." He admitted, not moving away from the touch that ghostly hand. "I could sense it, kind of. Your eyes..." The comment evaporated because the eyes he spoke of suddenly looked like brilliant sapphires, and holy god, Spike was going to cry....

"Spike..." His voice sounded scared to his ears and the vampire turned away, lightening quick, almost dodged past him with inhuman speed, but he moved pretty fast for a foam insulation salesman. The cool body in his arms went rigid and, hell, the chip must still be working. Spike didn't move away but his muscles quivered like a tuning fork encased in leather. Xander stared at him, arms full of vampire, wondering how he got himself in this position, and déjà vu much?

"Don't." Ragged, single word said at the wall because the vampire wouldn't face him, had his face turned so much away the tendons in the milky neck stretched and strained.

"Don't what?"

"Just don't." He thinks the body in his arm might totally shake itself to pieces at the rate it's going. "Bloody let go of me pillock..."

"There's the Spike we know and love." At which point Spike began to weep abruptly, silent quaking sobs racking through him with his head bowed down, careless, croissant colored waves and curls falling into his face. Xander couldn't be more surprised if Spike had grown wings and flown.

A group of college kids entered the bathroom and froze at the sight of them, but Xander gave them a measured, even look that dared anyone to make a smartass comment. The group dissipated, eyes averted, throats cleared and Xander eased up his hold on the man in his arms. Spike's sobs had tapered off to infrequent hitches, like after tremors, and he wouldn't look up from under his hair.

"Let's get out of here." Xander whispered, not wanting to give the frat boys more of a show than they'd already had.

Spike let himself be led out of the men's room without so much as a move to run and they had walked ten feet before Xander realized he'd had his arm protectively around the lighter man's shoulders. He held him close, guiding him around rushing people, which was probably good since Spike still wouldn't come out from behind the soft wall of curls. Xander felt huge next to the blond man, so much more there. The narrow shoulders beneath his arms felt fragile, like they would break under the weight.

Without asking he led them to the most expensive airport restaurant, deserted at this time of night. The maitre'd began to wrinkle his nose in disapproval until Xander slipped him a fifty and they were instantly led to a secluded booth. The drinks he ordered appeared in record time, and he place one in front of Spike. Alabaster fingers closed around the shot of tequila and lifted, head thrown back with the practiced air of a true expert. Xander sipped at his ginger ale and watched a hand, graceful and pale as a dove, pull the unruly curls away from Spike's tear streaked face and they were locked in each other's gaze again, and again he broke the silence.

"How 'bout those Lakers?"

Spike gave him completely vexed stare then a wry smirk began to lift the corners of his lips. It was so close to a Spike sneer Xander felt inexplicable relief. Were it not for the tragic sheen in that sky blue he'd believe Spike hadn't changed. But he had.

"Same old Harris. Still using humor as a defense mechanism."

"Worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

An awkward silence tried to insinuate itself between them and he quashed it. "So." He stroked condensation from his glass, averting his eyes in hopes it made the vampire more apt to answer. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Doesn't matter." Spike said almost without inflection, glancing around for the waiter. Xander just could not get used to that hair. It moved with every gesture, softly bouncing, and he caught himself wondering how it would feel.

"Where are you going?"

"Just got back." The vampire reached in the duster for a pack of cigarettes and lit one with a silver lighter, blowing the smoke away from him. Spike didn't know it but each gesture like that freaked him out. Pre-soul Spike would have exhaled smoke in his face and laughed while doing it. "You?"

"Burbank. Business seminar, but I think I missed my flight."

"Sir." The maitred materialized at their table his nose wrinkled up like a prune. "This is a non-smoking establishment."

"Not anymore." Xander said.

"Sorry." They stared at each other across the table then Spike dropped the stare as he looked for an ashtray. Xander didn't take his eyes off him as he reached in his wallet and peeled of a hundred dollar bill, holding it out to the wide-eyed restaurant worker.

"He needs an ashtray."

"Of course." The man disappeared and returned and Spike didn't speak again until Mr. Funny face came and went with the request.

"When did you get so solvent?"

"I do OK. When did you get polite?"

"Came with the soul."

"Bullshit." The word came out angry and he realized, belatedly, that he was. He didn't want this, man, did not want it like poison. He was too damn old and had worked too damn hard to dig up bones right now. "I gotta go."

"Don't." Snake fast grip on his wrist stopping him from getting up and Xander marveled at the cool silk and slightly rough fingertips against his skin. Fifteen years of labored forgetting and one touch could send him back to the Hellmouth in the blink of an eye. Vampires were real, boogey men did exist and the thing under your bed wanted your soul. "Why?"

Because! He wanted to yell. Because I can't watch you sit there with your pretty eyes and white skin and that look on your face, and, shit, Spike, I thought you got out. I thought that fucking place hadn't gotten you, not you, godDAMNIT....

"Where are you staying?" He asked before he could stop himself. Spike loosened the hold on his wrist and ran a hand through the dark blond waves and curls again in a gesture he hadn't had before. Of course not. The platinum blond coiffure of fifteen years ago had swept away from the sculpted cheekbones and square jaw, an uncompromising trademark held in place by tons of hair products. This loose, tousled look was almost Victorian.

"Hotel room."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet." Spike began reaching in his pocket once more and Xander moved to stand.

"Come on." The sky blue eyes looked at him rise with puzzlement and he sighed, motioning with his hand. He wouldn't let himself call the look on Spike's face gratitude. He just didn't think he would be able to take that.

Part Two

Spike rested his bag on the floor and stood in the middle of the living room while Xander walked around turning on lights and checking his messages.

He lived in a town house he'd found for a good price after seeing the description in the paper under 'Repos~ Property.' Not fancy, but all right. He'd have liked a yard, and a dog, but otherwise it suited him pretty well, and the neighborhood was middle class and quiet. He'd decorated the place all by his lonesome and felt pretty good about it. Over the years he'd accumulated better furniture and a decent stereo system, and actually purchased some framed comic art that he'd had his eye on since his high school days. Maybe other people developed mature interests into adulthood, and he had a few, but give him a good comic book any day. The living room set had a warm plaid pattern, the rug was simple burgundy and dark wood made up the tables. A collection of photos spread over the fireplace mantle and a large print of the Superfreinds cartoon series from the late seventies took up the space above.

It was to the pictures Spike walked, studying them in silence, and he joined him, taking in the eclectic array of frames. Here was his favorite picture from high school with Willow, Buffy and him laughing their ass off at something. A small pewter square held Giles in all his stuffy splendor and another had an older, shorter haired Slayer with her arms around a teen-age Dawn, both of them beaming at the camera. Almost hidden was a very small picture of Jesse he'd had to cut out of the yearbook because exchanging pictures was all girly and 'eww' during freshmen year, and then Jesse had been gone. The only Scooby not on the mantle was Oz, but Xander had framed an old Dingoes poster and it had it's own place of honor in the hall.

The pictures were his good memories, the ones he chose to have. The ones without snake demons and mind sucking goddesses. The ones he wished he dreamt about but didn't.

"Where are they all?" Spike asked, alabaster hand waving at the collection of photos and Xander shrugged.

"Around. The group fractured after Tara died. Willow went to England with Giles and didn't come back. I haven't heard from Oz in years, but I guess he's all right. Anya still owns the shop and does the vengeance thing. Buffy and Dawn are still in Sunnydale, fighting the good fight. Can you believe it?"

"And you came here." Spike surmised quietly. Xander nodded, turning away.

"And I came here."

"Was it hard to leave?" Spike asked in a normal tone and Xander got another hot flush of anger, illogical and fierce.

"Was it hard for you?" He rounded on the vampire and his anger fell in pieces to the ground at the bald pain in those eyes. Never mind that they had all treated Spike like a rabid dog. Never mind that he had wished for the bleached vampire to get gone with a manic fervency. Spike had wormed his way into Buffy's heart, and Spike hadn't had to watch her always looking up the road for a flash of leather and a whiff of cigarettes. He hadn't had to watch her hang on to hope with white knuckled faith, only to pry the fingers loose one excruciating year at a time. Xander had. It had taken him years to accept Buffy would never turn to him for anything more than platonic solace, and realizing he'd been hanging around waiting for just that had been hard and sobering.

"I never meant to stay gone." Spike whispered. "Went to get the chip removed then come back, but...."

"But?" Xander said, and yeah, he was pushing. The vampire had stirred up silt at the bottom of his carefully calm pond and he could just quid pro quo, and now.

"Wasn't listening too well, was I?" Spike laughed and it sounded like broken glass. "Bloody demon put me through the wringer promising me what I came for so I could give Buffy what she deserved. Teach me to overlook semantics. Before I could stop it he'd given me my bloody soul back. Then after...after it.... was bad." The voice finished almost inaudibly.

"Did you go to Angel? Him being all souled up and all." Xander pointed out and Spike gave that awful grating laugh again.

"No. I think he might have known something happened, felt it, but Dru found me first."

"Oh...shit." Xander said, then amended. "Or...shit? I thought she was the love of your life."

"So did I." Spike said in an empty voice. "She went insane with rage, tried to get me to remember, see what it had been like to do...what we did and I... couldn't...." The trembling had begun again and Xander lay a hand on one slim shoulder but Spike moved away, hugging himself in a brush of leather.

"I couldn't come back to Buffy after that. I couldn't. The things...."

"Where is she now? Drusilla?" Xander asked and Spike swallowed with obvious effort.

"She finally left. I was no fun, and she got tired of my asking her to stake me since I was too cowardly to stake myself. Made herself another pet."

"Spike..."

"I'm so tired." The vampire whispered, his shoulders actually slumping as if the narrative had exhausted him.

"Yeah. I'm beat, too. I have a guest room, or the couch, your choice."

"Thanks."

Xander left to use the bathroom because he had to get away from the vulnerability on that beautiful face. Behind the door he sighed, wondered what had possessed him to ask the vampire here. When he came out Spike lay stretched out on the couch, duster and all, and looked asleep, lashes shuttered against creamy white cheeks.

Walking quietly Xander fetched a quilt from the linen closet and lay it over the unconscious vampire. Or he guessed he was unconscious. Hard to tell without the rise and fall of breath, and he had forgotten that. Tucking the quilt around the slender man he debated whether to pull off the boots then did it. Placing the Docs next to the sofa he moved to go then paused again at the sight of the sleeping form.

He guessed even vampires looked younger in repose. That weird hair he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around floated around the curved cheekbones, framing them. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch the curls and he gave in, running his hand over soft, soft silk. When the sky blue eyes didn't open Xander continued, carding the sensous strands, feeling them slip into the sensitive dip between his fingers.

Xander searched for the animosity he'd felt with such intensity as a teen, then a young man, and found that well hollow. Besides, what better karma could there be? Take away a man's nature and spit him back out in the world. If that wasn't poetic justice what was?

With a last pet to Spike's head he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

*******

He woke with a pressure at his back, cool, still pressure. Blinking in the dark he turned, or tried to. Whoever crawled in bed had done so over sheets and comforter and he had to wiggle, loosening them enough to move.

Spike lay curled up, sans duster, and his head had been pillowed on Xander's back. Arms crossed, legs drawn up in a fetal position the vampire lay fast asleep, skin glowing in the night. A quick glance to the bed table showed it was four in the morning. As his eyes adjusted, despite the fuzziness, Xander looked over the sleeping body and tried to figure out what to make of this. He didn't really want to wake Spike up. Sleep hadn't relinquished its hold and, even now, warm waves of slumber beckoned him back. He'd almost drifted off again when Spike awakened. He just knew. A change in the air, a stiffness to the figure on the bed. Good to know his instincts hadn't dulled.

The sky blue eyes looked black in the dark and Xander stared at the vampire, putting the ball in his court.

"Sorry." Spike whispered and Xander waited. A myriad of emotions tripped across the aquiline features then, "I was cold."

He started to mention the extra blankets in the linen closet, and prudently ignore the redundancy of a vampire getting chilly, but the words died in his throat. Spike didn't mean that kind of cold. Pained embarrassment had begun to seep onto Spike's face and he began to get up, but Xander sighed and grasped a cool, soft hand.

"Go to sleep." He mumbled. "Get under the damn covers. I'm getting all tangled up this way."

"Are you hallucinating?" Spike asked after a moment.

"Don't be an ass." He closed his eyes, not so much pretending to sleep because Spike could probably hear the heart beat and sense his wakefulness, but to signal his removal from the decision. After long minutes there was a shuffle, lifting of covers and a fully clothed slender body slipped next to his. Xander could feel the tension like a scream, but it ebbed away slowly. He drifted into slumber again as Spike relaxed, and his last thought before sleep took him was how strange it felt to share a bed again after all these years. Strange, but nice.

MORNING

His body clock woke him up at six on the dot rain or shine, weekend or workday. Xander stretched, savoring the knowledge that he could go right back to sleep because he'd blown off the seminar and this was Saturday. The room lay shrouded in darkness from the heavy drapes he'd invested in. The key to sleeping late on weekends and holidays when your internal clock clamored for action was darkness. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer to the soft body in his arms, then froze, eyes popping open.

The night before came back to him, but he distinctly remembered clothes being present. Uh-huh, he'd been in boxers but Spike had climbed in jeans and all, he remembered that. Somewhere along the way the vampire had disrobed and acres of satiny, warm skin lay flush against him, tucked into his lap, legs intertwined. Xander blinked frantically trying to figure out how to disentangle from the intoxicating presence because other parts of his body were doing what they did in the morning, and his wake-up erection had enthusiastically woken up. Stirred by the scent of musk and ash his cock got that heaviness he knew so well. Xander shut his eyes willing it to go away, because this was so not acceptable......

The sleek hips wedged against his stomach pushed gently back causing him to gasp from the contact. A deep sound came from the vampire, throaty and languorous. Trembling, Xander tried to find a safe place to lay the hand not pinned under Spike but there was nowhere. Marble white impossibly soft body all over him and he finally lay his palm on Spike's shoulders, shuddering at the yielding coolness.

The vampire sighed, arched up into his touch with a faint moan and Xander hissed at the silky contact rubbing against his chest on the sparse hair, lushly molding to his body. He felt so hard every drop of blood must be between his legs, the erection jutting and pulsing into Spike's ass, cool globes through the thin cotton of his boxers, and it had been way, way too long since he'd gotten laid.

"Spike." He said hoarsely, shaking with the effort of reining in the desire to embrace the flesh in his arms and sink into the heavenly satin. He would not take advantage of a dream, or a borrowed memory, or whatever had the man in his arms sliding all over him like a feline. Spike stopped then a hand closed around his and moved it between firm, muscled thighs to curl around the hardness there. Xander's breath left his lungs in a surprised pant.

"Spike." He tried again, strained and trembly and the vampire half turned in his arms and finally spoke.

"Yes." The lone, whispered word undid the tenuous thread holding him together and with a groan Xander enveloped the body in his arms. His fevered face caressed the smooth shoulders unmindful of his morning shadow, his hand pumped Spike's cock light and quick, moving the foreskin up and down. The vampire began to quiver from the attention, moans and sighs finding Xander's hard on and making it leak. He gripped the slender hips in his hands and pulled them down, grinding himself desperately into the firm, rounded ass, a strangled cry escaping him. Spike's hand reached back and drew him ever nearer, god so strong, and Xander ran his lips over the perfect back, kissing shoulder blades and the line of spine, the long, pale neck.

"Please Xander, please, god, please..." The mantra filtered through his desire-clouded mind and he slipped his arms under Spikes to touch his chest in expansive strokes, his fingers rising and falling on the delineated muscle. One flicked at the stiff nipples while the other dipped to travel over hard, tight stomach dusted with hair and that cock weeping moisture all over his fingers.

"God, so beautiful..." He didn't even realize he'd been mumbling the same three words until his hand reached under Spike's hardness to the tight scrotum, rolling, and the vampire's growl cut off his voice flat.

Getting the message Xander fumbled his boxers off and reached behind him for the small tube of lubricant he kept in the drawer because only he and Mrs. Palmer's five daughters had been sharing his bed for, oh, ever. Flicking open the top with his thumb he coated his fingers and tossed the tube aside. Panting, because breathing was getting difficult, he slipped a steadying hand across Spike's chest while the other inched into the velvet fissure between the soft, cool curves.

"In me." Spikes' voice was ragged. The sound hardened him even more and he slipped a finger slowly into the tight ring of muscle, breaching then entering, and the sensation almost made him come right then. Jesus, so tight, the channel clung to the intrusion, slippery and deep and he pushed further, searching, reaching, until....Spike made a guttural sound as Xander brushed the tiny nodule of nerves, then another, and then the vampire drew up his knees, opening himself more, and Xander couldn't wait longer if he wanted to. Pulling out the invading digit Spike's whimper of protest choked off as Xander slid home in one quick thrust, the soft, gentled flesh welcoming him, clasping him so tight, oh god....

Spike trembled non-stop in his arms, breathing harsh and loud and why, he didn't need air, and Jesus GOD. Every nerve in him screamed he move, drive ruthlessly deep but he tried to control himself, not wanting to hurt the slender creature he held because, blood sucker, whatever, he could wrap his arms almost twice around the slim shoulders.

"Spike...." He whispered, the effort of holding back beading sweat on his brow. "Okay? You okay?"

"Fuck me." Very little humanity lived in that snarl and instead of scaring him it exploded all his senses into razor sharp awareness. Satin and musk and fine bones beneath his hands and hot pulsing erection in his hand and he rolled his hips, thrusting, using muscles almost atrophied, it had been that long. The smooth globes met every stroke until the sound of slapping flesh accompanied their moans in rhythm. Xander lost any thread of control. The rumbling low in his groin grew with each thrust until he had a handful of honey colored curls tangled in his left fist and he bent Spike down at the waist, yes, oh fuck, even deeper. His right hand manipulated a long, sleek limb so one leg lay over Xander's thigh and he was pumping into Spike ruthlessly, almost mindless with sensation. He saw Spike scramble to touch himself, felt the frantically jerking elbow and he groaned, the sight rushing him along faster, stronger.

"Yeah, come for me..." He moaned, not knowing if the words found voice or if they only sounded in the mass of lust that was his brain. "Spike, come, ah..."

The rapidly working elbow became erratic, disoriented, and Spike cried out, a strangled, visceral sound and cool seed splashed Xander's hand where it gripped a sharp hipbone, still pumping. Vibrations from the vampire's orgasm rippled within him and Xander wrapped his arms around the panting man, trapping him, and pushed hard, once, twice, again, then his blood exploded quicksilver and he screamed and it seemed he'd never stop shooting.

Part Three

He didn't t know he passed out until he came to on his stomach, arms stretched wide on the bed. The empty bed. Lifting himself on his elbows Xander glanced around, noted it was going on one o'clock, then the coldness began in his chest like it had done often enough the past fifteen years. He rolled over and out of bed, padding naked to the stairs, noting the soreness of his legs and arms. Good, burning soreness that only came from thorough, intense sex. Nothing felt like it. He hadn't felt either way for a while.

Still he recognized the unsettled state of his nerves for the disappointment it was and told himself to grow the hell up. What? He thought the sun would keep Spike here? It had still been dark earlier. He could have booked without injury if he moved fast. He'd had plenty of one-night stands, and been both standee and stander by turns. Spike's black duffel bag was gone from the middle of the living room and he smirked sardonically. And one fuck for the road coming right ....

"Coffee?" The amused English accent startled an unmanly squeak out of him and he whirled around to see the vampire standing there wearing a pair of black sweat pants that hung low on his hips and billowed around the ankles comically. Hey. Those were his sweatpants.

"What?" He blurted. Spike held up a mug with a quirked eyebrow and for a second he looked so Spike that gooseflesh ran up and down his arms like little mice. "You drink tea." Was the incisive comment that happened next and Spike gave a small shrug.

"Couldn't find tea."

"Oh. Yeah I don't...have any."

"Right, then." The vampire said after a moment and offered the cup again. Xander took it, the delicious smell wafting over to him and making everything much better, like that smell always did.

"I didn't think you were here." He admitted and a struggling-to-be-casual-and-failing look he decided he hated came over the vampire's face. Xander walked over very close, enjoying way the summer blue eyes took in his face and rested on his mouth.

"Want to drink this upstairs?" Xander asked now that he realized last night wasn't going to end at last night.

"Sure." Mild nod causing the curls to bob and Xander felt a stirring begin, which he severely stopped. Uh-uh, you. No more rolls in the hay until some talking is done and, shit on a shingle, was he talking to his DICK? "I'll get the paper and meet you up there. "Spike headed for the stairs sipping at his cup only the toes of his feet showing and Xander felt a silly smile stretch his lips at the damned cute sight of milky white vampire, baggy exercise pants and floppy dark blond hair. "Going for the fashion award there?"

"They're your pants, git." But the words sounded....shy? Nah. Couldn't be. "You planning on going outside starkers?"

"American ingenuity my British friend." Xander tried a horrible English accent. "Paper goes right in my door. I installed a mail slot."

"Just so your lazy bum won't have to walk down to the curb." Spike called over his shoulder, but heard the smile.

"Hey, I have damn fine bum!" Xander protested and Spike paused and turned on the stairs, an appraising glint in his eyes.

"I know." Xander's mouth went dry at the open lust and, okay, not easy walking with a hard on. Gah! He ran a hand over his face as he walked over to retrieve the thick Sunday paper. He was so out of practice with this. It felt like high school all over again, hiding erection beneath desks and under baggy clothes.

By the time he got upstairs he'd gotten himself under control, and found Spike sitting, legs outstretched and cup on his lap, a faraway look on his face.

"Where'd you go?"

"Pardon?" Spike came back from wherever he'd been with a blink and looked away, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Had that thousand mile stare going." The vampire smiled and didn't answer and Xander gave a reflective nod before flopping on the bed with the L.A. Times.

"Ay! Wanker!" Spike exclaimed, holding the coffee cup steady on the jiggling mattress and Xander laughed at the chagrin on the cut glass features. Once the bed had settled down and they each had a section to hide behind: Sunday Funnies for him, World News for Spike, he spoke again.

"Regrets?" The rustling stopped and he waited behind he colorful circular, staring at Snoopy without seeing the words.

"Do I look like I have any regrets?" Spike's low smoke velvet voice sounded this side of angry and Xander put down the comics, turning to see the News section still held up like a shield. "I bloody started it."

"About that. Why?" Total silence followed and Xander doggedly continued because, hell, he wasn't a kid anymore. He didn't do don't ask don't tell, not about this. "Because if you were horny, or lonely, or whatever, fine. I just want to know the score, all right? Forewarned and all that."

"If you want me to leave just say so." Spike's tight voice came from behind the paper and Xander reached out and crumpled it out of the way. Apprehensive blue eyes met his and he again wanted to cover them with his hand to stop the pain there.

"You can't leave. I haven't even kissed you yet." Such a look of surprised pleasure overtook Spike's face Xander felt something in his chest shift. Oh, man. He had to watch himself because that was not a good sign.

Except, who cared when the beautiful blond vampire in his bed was fixated on his mouth with singular concentration? Xander's gaze fell helplessly to the perfect pink lips, parted a little, as if they were panting. Leaning forward slowly, Xander cupped the square jaw in his hand and brought their lips together.

Chaste brush at first, giving, cool mouth and he slid his tongue along the seam, teasing. Hands fumbled at his chest, then his shoulder, as if they weren't sure where to go before sinking into his hair to mold his skull, pulling him closer, deeper, and oh. The moist cavern tasted like coffee and smoke and salt, sadness, somehow. A small sound was made, it might have been him, and he touched Spike's face, still lost in that amazing mouth. A lightheadedness began, falling, and, oops, air, forgot that, and he tore himself away with a gasp. They had ended up laying down again, somehow, the paper crumpled between their bodies, and in the middle of breathing hard, foreheads touching, eyes locked and searing, someone's stomach growled. Spike's eyebrow lifted and Xander gave a laugh of indignation.

"That wasn't me!"

Spike got a sheepish look and Xander rolled his eyes. "Busted."

"Had to try, luv. Have a reputation to uphold and all."

"Yeah, yeah." A thought occurred to him and he sobered some. "Damn."

"What?"

"I have less than no idea where to get blood."

"Don't worry about it. I do."

"Do they deliver?" He asked, half joking and Spike nodded, laying his head on the pillow but not looking at him.

"Yeah. They do."

"Well, cool." He agreed, then moved some curls out of Spike's face, more to reconnect than because it bothered him. For some reason he'd felt the vampire start to withdraw and he wanted to bring him back. "I'll have some next time."

The impact of what he said hit them both at the same time and Spike tried to roll away with a false little smile. Xander was having none of it. Refusing to drop the suddenly unreadable blue orbs he threw a leg over a hipbone and gathered the slim man into his arms, bringing them as close as possible.

"Don't do that."

"I don't...."

"Don't zone out on me. Not an option." He saw the Adam's apple on the pale throat swallow and Spike gave a tiny nod.

"Okay." He said quietly before laying a wet smack on Spike's lips.

"Showering. Order the plasma, 'kay?" Rolling off the bed he headed to the bathroom before stopping at the look on Spike's face. Tenderness and sadness and a smile.

"What?"

"You didn't look a day over eighteen just now. You know that?"

"Spike, you already got in my pants. Overkill not necessary." Xander winked before walking in the bathroom, but he had to stand inside the shut door and clear his eyes for a minute. He didn't think he could take many more of those looks. They were going to kill him.

The pounding needles of the shower felt good and he let the water sluice over him, eyes closed, images of last night, or this morning, overtaking his mind. They'd been there since he woke up. He'd been walking around half hard, and if he could release some tension here, in the privacy of his own shower, he'd be able to keep from attacking the vampire every five minutes.

Reaching for the shampoo he lathered and rinsed his hair and was in the middle of washing his body with one of those plastic scrunchies when he heard the door open. The draft from the room made his skin rash with goose pimples and he called out.

"Spike? Everything all right?"

"Fine." Came the low reply and whatever else Xander might have said fled as the door to the shower opened and Spike stepped in.

He'd felt that body in the dark, saw the hard chest and lined stomach, and his mind had developed a fixation on the curve of hipbone just above the waist of the black sweatpants, but he'd never seen the whole thing. Stepping back his eyes devoured the perfection before him as the vampire stepped under the spray, head thrown back, rivulets of water making gossamer trails in and out, down and around the muscled form. Xander lost the battle for control and his cock bobbed heavily, pre-cum already leaking from the head and all he was doing was watching Spike run his hands through the honey blond curls, sheened flat with water.

He made some sound, something inarticulate and rough and Spike opened his eyes, blinking droplets out of them. The sky blue took in Xander from head to toe but all he said was. "Shampoo."

With numb fingers he handed over the shampoo bottle and Spike lathered his hair and rinsed, eyes closed, hands moving the strands around until the water ran clear. Xander felt almost impaled, he was so hard, but at the same time he didn't want to stop watching the otherworldly creature in his shower. It was simply the most erotic, stunning sight he'd ever seen.

Spike finally opened his eyes and, looking deeply in Xander's, he ran both hands over his chest, pulling at wet, stiff nipples, over slender rib cage and hard torso and one hand circled himself, oh look, hard cock, and drew the foreskin slowly up revealing the shining tip.

Xander lost it. With a growl he pulled the vampire in his arms, kissing him deeply, moaning at his taste. Spike gripped his ass with both hands, pressing their groins together, the water making them slide sensuously and Xander had to break the kiss to moan. "Tease." He muttered hoarsely, his hands trying to feel everywhere at once, greedy for Spike, when he felt himself pushed against the cold tile of the shower hard enough to make him grunt. Spike held him there, wicked smile on his damp features.

"No, pet. I deliver." The vampire dropped to his knees before Xander knew what happened and then oh god, Jesus, GOD as Spike enveloped the head of his weeping erection with a cool, wet mouth.

Xander closed his eyes, breathing shallowly, hands scrabbling against the slick surface of the tile as Spike sucked the sensitive head of his cock, then deep throated him in a move the almost made his knees buckle. Firm hands spread his legs farther and Xander felt knowing fingers roll his scrotum around, continue south to play at his entrance. Evil, talented mouth nibbling and licking at him and he finally had to see, had been trying not to for fear he'd come too fast, but he had to. Opening his eyes he saw his cock engulfed in that pink mouth, cheekbones in high relief as Spike moved back and forth and when he thought he'd die from the sight, the starry lashes lifted and blazing molten blue looked back at him, through him. With a whimper Xander thrust his hips, back hunching over the vampire. His hands gripped wet blond hair and pulled and he was fucking Spike's mouth in fierce, scalding strokes, over and over and Jesus, it felt incredible.

"Coming, Spike, coming..." He tried to moan. The mouth on his pulsing flesh took him gullet deep and a finger slipped in his rectum, hard. The world exploded in a burst of color as he shot load after load, unable to stop, and Spike took them all.

Crumpling down the tile Xander tried to catch his breath as he sat on the floor of the shower, nerve endings still screaming from his orgasm. Reaching out he enfolded Spike to his chest, kissing the damp forehead, eyes, mouth, hands holding the sharp cheekbones. Summer blue eyes met his and widened as Xander's hand slipped between muscled thighs and found the weeping red head that made him lose control.

"Ah-hah." He whispered with a smile.

"You don't have to. 'M fine." Spike mumbled, but his lashes fluttered as Xander fisted his hand around the pulsing length, pumping.

"I want to taste you." He said in the delicate shell of ear and Spike quivered, gripping his arm hard enough to bruise.

"Not lasting....that long....Xander...." Hearing the musk and smoke voice grate out the words all disjointed began to harden him again, and Xander ignored it, pumping faster, watching the play of desire on the perfect features.

"Tell me when." His lips whispered into Spike's ear then bestowed a quick lick on the lobe, nibbling. "Tell me when you come, Spike."

"Close, uh..." The blue eyes became unfocused as Xander sped up, arm a blur of movement. "Nearly there...."

"Now." He commanded in a whisper, running a thumb savagely over the leaking head and Spike jerked his neck back, quaking as come flooded Xander's hand and wrist.

"Ye...essss." Spike's moan made the word a drawn out surrender, and Xander kept stroking until the tremors subsided and the body in his arms lay limp and boneless.

"Come on." He said after rinsing his hand on the faucet. He gently helped them both up, and caught Spike when the vampire stumbled. Actually Spike looked decidedly wan after their exertions and Xander held him close, smoothing the damp curls as they stood in the rapidly cooling water.

"Hey. You doing all right? I'm not that good."

"Fine." Spike mumbled into his chest and Xander gave his shoulders a squeeze, walking them out of the shower stall.

"Did you call about the blood?"

"Yeah. Ordered it for tonight.."

"Good." He slipped into a pair of jeans and watched Spike curl up on the still unmade bed, eyes closing, then snapping open, struggling to stay awake.

"Go on." Xander said, walking over to smooth the blond hair out of the sleepy features. "I'll wake you up when the stuff's here."

"Money in duster." Spike muttered.

"Got it." Xander said. Spike was breathing, or not breathing, deeply by the time he reached the stairs.

Part Four

Walking into the living room the tranquil sanctuary of his home settled around him and he felt simple contentment. It had taken him a long time to get over the feeling he was playing dress up with Wils: she was the mommy, he the daddy and no one yelled at little Barbie or G.I. Joe because the toys hadn't been picked up or a beer hadn't been gotten quick enough. The comfortable home was his, the well paying, steady job he enjoyed his. His father had never had any of those things, and spent much of Xander's life prophesizing Xander wouldn't either. Proved you wrong, motherfucker, he thought, before erasing any more childhood memories.

There was a reason no pictures of his parents graced his mantle.

Rooting around his cupboards for something to tide him over he found a box of vaguely stale Ritz crackers and flipped the tab on a Coke. He had to get some real food in here, man. He could not believe Spike wasn't going for his jugular despite the chip. He used to watch the vampire devour an entire pizza and chicken wings by the dozen, in addition to the blood. Spike hadn't eaten last night, and it was going on three now.

On his way to the living room he caught sight of himself on the wall mirror. Serious bed head, mouthful of crumbs and lips full and swollen from kissing. Kissing Spike.

Stone the fucking crows.

If anyone would have told him last week he'd be in this predicament he would have asked them to please not smoke that shit around him. But the feel of that firm, soft satin skin in his arms short-circuited all his reasoning. And continued to short-circuit it. He'd invited a vampire into his house for Christ's sake. Said vampire was curled up like a kitten on his bed after mind-blowing sex that still had his body walking around in a constant state of arousal. Note to self: never go more than a year without getting laid; wigs out your self-control.

The best cure for that, as far as he knew, was work. Fetching his backpack from the hall closet, because he'd never wanted a briefcase and you couldn't take those on site, he sat at the table to look over the specs for next week's appointments. When the sun dipped beyond the horizon he called in his food order, and doubled it.

His Chinese food and Spikes blood arrived within minutes of each other and he had a tricky moment as he tipped Jimmy, the delivery boy from The Shanghai Flower while the demon with the Styrofoam cooler stood in the shadows. He knew it was a demon, all his long forgotten instincts prickled like gangbusters.

"Thanks, man." He waved to the kid as Jimmy headed back to his beat to shit Toyota, and the person hiding in his bushes stepped into the light.

He would have looked human except for the pale blue skin tone and the vertical pupils. "How much do I owe you?" Xander asked, placing the warm Chinese food on the hall table. The demon told him. Xander peeled off bills from his wallet and the demon gave him the cooler. When Xander checked inside, which the delivery demon seemed to expect, he only saw two bags. "That's it?"

"Inflation, man. Talk to Geech. I just work there."

"No." Xander shook his head. He figured the price of blood had gone up, like everything else. "Is that all he ordered?"

"Yeah. Got it right here." He dug in the pockets of faded jeans and produced a yellow receipt from which he read. "Two bags O-Neg, Mr. The Bloody. That you?"

Xander gave him a mirthless smile. "No. Bring back two more."

"Don't work that way, dude. I got deliveries all over the place..."

"This dead president says you're a flexible young...." Xander surveyed him, "Guy. More if you get it here in an hour." The bill disappeared in the faded jeans and Xander watched the guy hot foot it to the moped parked at the curb. Hell of thing to carry blood in, but who was he to judge.

Setting the blood and food in the kitchen he walked up the stairs.

Spike hadn't moved from his fetal position, and Xander knelt next to the bed, smoothing stubborn curls once again off the closed eyes. Jesus Christ, he was so fucking beautiful. Had he always been this beautiful?

"Spike. Chow time. Hey, buddy." Xander whispered. Sleepy blue eyes fluttered open and the vampire gave him a vague smile before stretching like a lean, white cat. Xander bent down and caught the mid yawn in a kiss that deepened and drew him in until he had to forcefully pull away with a wry laugh. "Uh-uh. Food first. Tonsil hockey later."

"Who kissed who, ay?" Spike asked, but he sat up, scratching the pattern of rib cage before swinging his legs off the bed. Slipping on Xander's black sweat pants again Spike followed him down the stairs.

They milled around the kitchen as he found plates for the Moo Goo Gai Pan, Kung Pao Chicken, Fried Rice and Egg drop soup and Spike scared up another mug to heat his blood. They'd almost finished the meal, with Xander making good-natured faces every time Spike used the blood like dipping sauce, when the doorbell rang. The vampire started so bad he knocked over Xander's glass of soda.

"Whoah. Jumpy much?" Xander stopped the fizzy liquid from reaching the edge of the table with a napkin and Spike jumped up to grab the roll of paper towels.

"Sorry." Spike muttered, wiping up the spill as Xander rose to get the door. "You expecting company?"

"Yeah." He called over his shoulder.

Demon delivery boy stood panting at his door, another disposable cooler in hand. "See, I knew you were a resourceful boy." Xander smiled as the wad of bills disappeared into the faded jeans.

"You were right. Geech said to give you our card with my cell for faster service. We also have spell supplies. You know, Keva innards, Fyarl spleen, ...."

"And way too much of the information there, dude, but thanks." Xander took the cooler and card and nodded goodnight to a tip of Demon Boy's cap.

"Who was...."? Spike stopped as soon as he saw the cooler Xander placed on the kitchen table. Suspicion clouded his brow as Xander removed the two extra bags and he didn't like it immediately. "I didn't order those."

"I did. Two isn't enough, and you're about fade away to nothing, in case you hadn't noticed."

"One shag and you're my soddin' nursemaid now?" Xander froze from where he'd bent over the fridge to put the bags up, then stood and looked at Spike.

"No." He said patiently, as he began gathering up the remains of their meal. "A shag AND a blowjob. It's in the fuck buddy handbook. Didn't you know?"

Dead silence followed and he grabbed Tupperware containers from the cabinets and began to scoop up leftovers with jerky movements. So much for morals exing out the asshole factor.

Gentle, cool hand on his back stopped his actions. He hadn't even heard Spike move. "Xander." Regretful, velvet voice, and what kind of a lightweight was he that the sound of his name in that voice went straight to his crotch?

Firm fingertips traveled their way up to the slope of his shoulders targeting the knots in his muscles, and heat flushed through him like a full-bodied fever. The surface of the counter on his palms was suddenly the coolest thing on him apart from those mesmerizing fingers, and Xander shut his eyes at the unbelievable skill and strength in Spike's hands. In minutes Xander thought he might melt into a puddle of Jell-O on the floor, and that didn't even make sense. Hadn't they been arguing? His mind struggled to pick up the thread of the conversation that had slid away under the ministrations of the vampire's massage. Damn, this wasn't fair. And fuck, he was half hard again.

Turning, Xander slipped his arms around the slim waist and Spike's linked his wrists loosely on Xanders shoulders. They looked at each other for a while, searching for answers to questions not yet asked. So he asked one. "Is that what this is?"

"I don't...I didn't..." Spike faltered then glared at him with exasperated baby blues. "That was your word not mine."

"I'm not your nursemaid."

Spike averted his eyes, then closed them as Xander began rubbing circles in the slender lower back. He could feel the vertebra too close beneath the muscles, felt the body in his arms loosen and lean on him a little.

"I know I don't look like I did." Spike mumbled stiffly and Xander slipped a hand around a cool, pale neck.

"Hey." The sooty lashes lifted. Tracing the smooth chest down to the curve of bone that had him so fascinated Xander gripped the curvature of hip with both hands and gently swayed into Spike, breath catching at the answering hardness. He'd meant to say something, some platitude to tell Spike how beautiful he still was, how the way his skin felt made Xander want to sink in and get lost, but his throat closed up with the heat emanating from their rubbing erections. Spike lifted up on the balls of his feet, lips hovering, teasing around Xander's mouth until Xander latched onto the tantalizing lips, pulling and tasting.

And always this feeling of falling when he kissed Spike, floating in textures with the top of his head about to spin off, again with the forgetting to breathe. Laughing he pulled away despite Spike's hands cupping his face, bringing him nearer. "I'm going to pass out."

"I'll catch you." The vampire murmured, blunt teeth nipping at his lips but Xander pulled back, still chuckling, then noted the faint irritation of red around the pink mouth. He rubbed a finger on the fading blotches. By way of an answer Spike touched his goatee with one nimble hand.

"Sorry. Guess I could shave...."

"Sod that." Spike interrupted with real menace in his voice despite the smile. "Looks good on you, it does. Look like a man. I like it."

"Good." Xander said. He'd been surprised how differently people treated him after growing the trim beard, and how many tried to pick him up. To his discomfort both the men and women who had begun to notice him were extremely young. After one date, when the apple cheeked boy who'd asked him out referred to nineties music as 'oldies', he stopped accepting all THOSE propositions.

They made short work of the dishes, Xander opting not to turn on the dishwasher for the few plates and glasses and he caught himself watching Spike's ass as the vampire bent over to put away the detergent.

Dirty old guy, he chided himself, then realized the irony of that thought. Spike was, and would always be, one hundred twenty years older than himself. He would just always look twenty-something, and a young twenty something, suspended forever thanks being turned in the first flush of youth. Before the soul his age had been in his eyes, though. Hard, cynical, calculating in turns, the pale blue showed every decade if one cared to look. Something about the naked vulnerability and that damned hair made him seem much younger now.

"Wanna go to a movie?" He asked trying not to sound a trifle desperate because if he didn't get them out for some air, at least a little bit, he was going to come his brains right out of his dick, and this was getting ridiculous. Holding his eyes, Spike leaned slowly back on the counter on his elbows, the move throwing his clavicles into high definition, bunching up the muscles in his stomach to firm, marble ridges above the low, low elastic of the sweatpants. Xander's jeans tightened, again and he shook his head, looking away with a laugh. "Help me out here."

"I'll bet you have bloody fantastic cable. What d'you want to go out for?"

"Popcorn? Previews?" He approached the still leaning vampire and slipped an arm around a slim waist, running a hand over the sculpted, pale chest. "I wanna show off my hot date maybe?"

"Right." Spike scoffed, but the summer blue was soft again. It was as if he couldn't quite keep up the posing for longer than a few minutes before the façade fell and all emotion showed transparently in his eyes. "Come out to all your mates 'ave you?"

"A few." Xander shrugged, earning a genuinely searching look from Spike.

"You're serious."

"It's L.A." Xander said. "PC central. They're a good bunch of guys. After I was fixed up with all the sisters, nieces, friends and nothing took they kind of figured..."

"Didn't fancy them, ay?" Spike's head cocked and he traced designs on Xander's chest with the very edge of his fingers.

"Well, you know." Xander replied regretfully. "Was saving myself for the evil undead of my dreams."

Spike snorted but a smile curved the pink lips, a real smile, not a sneer, or a smirk, or a grin dripping with sexuality. He still couldn't get used to that. Couldn't get used to so many things. Reaching up to cup Spike's jaw with his palm he dropped a chaste kiss on those lips. "Come on. You can pick the movie."

"Whatever I want, ay?"

"Yeah." He admitted, belatedly wondering at the many dubious movies Spike could want. He could always claim not to know any porn theaters.

"Deal."

"I can't believe we watched that." Xander said as they left the crowded theater.

"Why not? Thought it was a fine film."

"For a six year old." He moved aside as a harried mother herded four kids all under the age of six out the door. The place had teemed with children and their parents and a few teen-age girls who kept giving Spike the eye. "I mean, Lilo and Stitch?"

"Listen to 'im." Spike rolled his eyes. "I lived with you, mate. Know all about your precious comic book collection under the bed."

"Hey! That's different! Those are collectors' items and....they're .....manly.....comics."

"Funny picture are funny pictures, luv."

"Listen, you...."

"Alex?" A surprised voice sounded from behind them and Xander turned in the sea of humanity to find one of his co-workers making his way towards them with a pony tailed little girl in the crook of one arm and a tow-headed boy little boy holding the other.

"Patrick. Hey." He smiled, casually nabbing the back of Spike's duster before he could fade away in the crowd. He could feel the discomfort in the vampire, but Patrick had been completely cool about Xander's bisexuality. He could see the curiosity on his co-workers face at his companion and couldn't really blame him. When he'd come downstairs from changing he'd almost nixed the whole movie idea in favor of attacking Spike anyway. The vampire had changed to new looking painted on black jeans, shiny black shirt and silver chain choker. They made a pretty odd pair. "This is Spike, a friend from back home. Spike, Patrick. We work together."

"Pleasure." Spike shook the hand Patrick held out after shifting his daughter to his left arm.

"Likewise. This is Megan and Mitch. Say 'hello' guys. You remember Alex from the barbecue."

"Hello." Mitch repeated, holding out his hand in a parody of his father, brown eyes earnest beneath the blond bangs. "You have a funny name."

"Mitchell!" His father exclaimed but Spike just grinned and shook the small hand offered to him.

"Sharp lad. It's William, actually, but don't tell anyone."

"You have a coat like that guy in the Matrix."

"Mine's cooler, ay?"

More reticent Megan hid in her father's arms and peered out shyly at the two men, a small fist partially in her mouth.

"Never figured you for a Disney watcher." Patrick laughed and Xander gave Spike a sidelong glare.

"You know me. All about feeding the inner child."

"I wanted to watch The Sum of All Fears, but he insisted on the cartoon." Spike shrugged with wide-eyed puzzlement and Xander rubbed the bridge of his nose in discretion. "He's really a big kid at heart, isn't he?"

"Got you busted now, man." Patrick kidded and Xander nodded good-naturedly.

"Yeah. My rep is shot."

After some talk about the conference Xander decided not to attend Megan began to fidget and Patrick took his leave. Waving, as they headed for their separate cars Xander scowled at Spike's laughing eyes. "You are so dead."

"Well, yeah." Throwing an arm around Spike's shoulders Xander growled and they stumbled laughing to the car.

NIGHT

Cold in the dark and he murmured, reaching out for the soft, cool body he'd gone to sleep holding.

They'd returned to the apartment later than usual due to a traffic jam and Spike drifted off in front of the late news, not even protesting when Xander hefted him up to carry him up to bed. He thought Spike got tired a lot faster than he remembered, but maybe it was jet lag, or something. He'd read in bed for a while until he got sleepy, then tucked himself around the sleeping vampire, hugging him like a pillow, and it was scary how fast he'd gotten used this presence in his bed.

Which was nowhere to be found now, no matter how far he reached or how broad his search.

"Spike?" He mumbled, lifting up on an elbow, blinking sleep out of his eyes, and there: a sound. Looking towards the bathroom he noticed the sliver of light under the door and swung his legs quickly off the bed. He recognized that sound with the immediacy and intimacy of a deeply ingrained childhood memory: his father after a four day bender, his uncle after New Year's Eve, upheaval of someone being violently ill. He thought of knocking for only a second before opening the door, and the scent of sickness washed over him in a thick wave.

Two steps brought him to the naked figure hunched over the commode, the vertebra and ribs stark in the harsh overhead light, faint blue veins visible under parchment skin. Another retch shook Spike and Xander knelt beside him, knees cold on the linoleum, and lay a hand on his back, rubbing.

For several minutes Xander just rubbed the vampire's back, soothing, slow circles like his grandmother used to do to him, and tried not to be too freaked out at the splashes of brilliant red painting the inside of the toilet crimson. Did vampire's hemorrhage? Who the hell did he call for this if they did? There was so much blood; he didn't even think Spike drank as much as had gutted out of him. After a couple of more times the vampire lay his head on the side of the rim exhausted.

"'M sorry."

"Don't be stupid." He whispered, reaching over to flush. If the blood had gone over, and he got his hands on Mr. Delivery Demon, the smurf reject was going to be sorry he ever graced his doorstep.

"It's not the blood." Spike said as if reading his mind, voice hoarse and weak, eyes shut in a face so pale it looked ashen, and that had to be hard to achieve on a vampire. "'S me. Stomach's been....acting up."

"You okay for a while? Think you can get up?" Xander asked and Spike swallowed, pushed himself off the commode with effort. He slipped an arm around his shoulders and slowly lifted the body up and, Jesus, so light. He was beginning to realize it wasn't just how much stronger he'd gotten since Sunnydale. Cool flesh almost inconsequential in it's frailty. What the hell happened to you Spike? He thought as they began to walk slowly. Why won't you tell me?

"Brush teeth." Spike said in the same raspy tone and Xander stopped in front of the sink where Spike used his extra toothbrush, thought if he lived to be a hundred he'd never get used to Spike having no reflection in the mirror.

Once they reached the bed and he set the vampire down gingerly Xander pulled the comforter up to Spike's chin, and than just knelt there, looking at the closed eyes and disheveled hair.

"Is this why you didn't want more blood?" He asked. Spike opened his eyes to slits and nodded. Sighing, Xander shrouded himself over the vampire and kissed the curls still damp from the exertion.

"You could have just told me. Why didn't you?" He whispered into a smooth, soft temple.

"'Cause I'm a git." Spike whispered sleepily. Xander couldn't disagree with that, and Spike was seconds away from sleep once more, anyhow. Crawling in behind him Xander wrapped both arms around the vampire, over the fetal position he'd taken to sleeping in, and wasn't that strange, now that he thought about it? The vampire made a sighing sound and snuggled back into Xander's lap, but his nether regions were behaving themselves just fine. The image of all that blood spurting from Spike's thin body hadn't quite left.

No more late night trips to the bathroom were necessary but it was still a while before Xander could sleep.

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