Precious Jewel

by
Eyezrthewindows

Part Four

Xander let go of the vampire and sat up. He started to pull on his pants but Spike held fast and shoved him back down. He straddled Xander and imprisoned him in a grip he knew he'd never hope to escape.

"Do you know me?" Spike repeated, expression intent and guarded.

Xander swallowed. "Yeah," he whispered, finally.

Spike blinked, then his eyes narrowed. "You weren't going to say anything, were you? All this time and you weren't going to tell me. I spilled my guts to you and...Christ!"

Xander looked away.

Spike growled, eyes briefly flashing yellow. "I knew there was something about you. Felt off...skin crawled when you were around at first, then I got used to it because I've felt weird shit like this before. Felt deep down like you were pulling something over on me. You're going to tell me everything you know and you're going to do it right bloody now."

Yeah, thought Xander as he looked up at a very familiar Spike -- a pissed off Spike with no chip -- he was in deep shit.

It was no wonder he'd never done the revenge thing before. He really sucked at it.

So, Xander explained things. Not everything and only what he wanted Spike to know but he did tell the truth.

Spike took it surprisingly well. He socked Xander in the jaw hard enough for his head to snap to the side and for him to see stars and wonder if he'd still be able to eat solid foods but Xander figured he deserved that.

Eventually, he sat on the bed rubbing his throbbing face while he recounted the tale and Spike sat brooding beside him.

"So, this Angel twat saw me resurrected and shuttled me off to be whored out to anyone with enough money because he's a jealous git and wants no competition in the do-gooding vampire with a soul contest?"

"Apparently. He always was an asshole."

Spike shook his head, eyes trained on the floor, unseeing, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Xander had tucked himself up against the headboard, staying away from the volatile vampire until he settled down.

"I burnt up saving the world, eh? I have a soul that I went and asked for? Fighting for the side of good despite me being a killer and with no obvious rewards or perks...sounds like a ruddy soap opera plot. Not a very good one, at that," Spike mused, though he looked like he believed everything Xander told him.

"Yeah, it does, now that I think about it. Look, Angel is an ass. He always has been. He knew about your soul and everything. He's always wanted to be the biggest and the best and apparently he couldn't kill you because of your soul so he sent you away to get rid of you. He took the cheap way out. I always knew I hated him for a good reason."

"Huh," Spike grunted. "You'd think sacrificing yourself to save the world would reap benefits. I think I got royally buggered."

"Being forced into sex slavery sucks, huh?"

Spike finally looked at him, one eyebrow rising. "You've got a gift for stating the obvious, git."

"So, how are you going to get me out, eh?" Spike's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "I assume those bints that disappeared were your doing? Jerick was right pissed and took most of his anger out on me so I think you ruddy well owe me one, don't you?"

Xander bit his lip, feeling vaguely guilty and looking it. "I do have a way..."

"Then let's get to it!"

"I didn't bring the spell components with me. I quit after the second session with you."

Spike stared at him. "You knew who I was, you knew you could get me out, yet you quit bringing the one thing you knew could get me out? You're worse than any of the blokes that've had me since I been here."

Xander had long since gotten dressed because the time for sex was very much over and Spike probably wasn't going to allow him to touch him ever again but he felt strangely naked and vulnerable when betrayed blue eyes seared into him that way.

"Yeah, well," he bit out, anger igniting. "You did a lot of bad shit to me and my friends before the soul and one selfless act wasn't going to make me forgive and forget, all right? You deserved a lot worse, you undead tea-bag!"

Spike's gaze was calculating, then it turned amused. He punched Xander in the shoulder nearly hard enough to hurt and Xander supposed that was on purpose. "You've got a mean streak in you," he said, admiringly. "Imagine I did deserve a lot worse...but you know what?"

"What?" Xander asked warily, rubbing his arm. He was going to have a bruise there, too.

Spike shifted closer. "I haven't minded these last few weeks. You've made my confinement here a bit better. Looked forward to your visits."

"Oh," Xander said, frowning at the sudden change of tone.

Spike leaned back and scratched his thigh absently. That brought Xander's attention back to his nakedness and the semi-erect cock that had yet to go down in his presence.

Spike leered at him. "Since you've not brought your goodies...why don't we have one more go, eh? Next time you can bring your mojo and get me out of here."

Xander couldn't and wouldn't refuse one more for the road, so he didn't say anything and let Spike come to him.

Spike showed him how much pain he could take that night and when he left he had -- more -- bruises and couldn't walk straight.

Xander was nervous but Spike seemed strangely at ease when he turned up the next afternoon with the proper ingredients in his pocket.

Spike had evidently had faith in him returning to free him. Xander had very nearly skipped out and left him there but in the end his conscience had eaten away at him and he couldn't do it.

Damn it.

The portal spell Willow had made up for him was essentially a homing device; it took the person using it back to where the anchor was set up which told it where they wanted to go. Normally, he put the anchor in his hotel room so they'd end up there. He'd give the slayer some clothes, let her take a shower, gather up his things and then use another spell to ship her off to Watcher central and a separate spell for himself, designed to take him to his next destination.

Gotta love Willow's ingenuity and her intelligence for figuring this shit out. Xander couldn't make head or tail of it and was just about able to make the spells work to get the job done.

This time, however, was different. He wasn't sending a slayer to England and he wasn't going off to a new gig for a few more weeks. He was rescuing Spike.

Spike watched him with unreadable eyes as he took the stuff out of his pockets with a shaking hand.

"I've got to get your collar off first. Jerick would be able to find you wherever you went, otherwise."

Spike affected a bored expression, raising his chin and baring the supple line of neck Xander had enjoyed nibbling his way up and down for the past few weeks. "Do what you gotta do. I just want out of here."

The vampire had been dressed when he'd entered the room. The term dressed was to be used loosely, though. He was wearing satin sleep pants that were nearly transparent and mostly indecent for the lack of underwear and a matching shirt that flowed over his skin, open down the middle because it had no buttons.

It was the only outfit that covered most of his skin and it wasn't doing that very well.

And now Spike sat on the bed staring at him, waiting, wearing that outfit and Xander's fingers twitched with the need to take those skimpy things off him.

But he didn't.

He spoke the spell with a slightly unsteady voice, tossed the herbal mix on the lock of the collar and it snapped open. Spike rubbed his neck, faintly pink with irritation, and gave him a grateful look.

Then, Xander forced his gaze away so he could continue his task.

He said the next chant, held up the talisman and there formed a portal.

Spike looked at him and Xander couldn't help but stare back. Spike shrugged and Xander walked through first. Spike followed closely behind and the vortex snapped shut behind them.

When Xander took off the glamour, Spike stared at him, mouth open.

Xander stood there uncomfortably, twisting the amulet in his hands, wishing he'd had the foresight to tell Spike about it because he'd honestly forgotten. He hadn't taken the damn thing off since he'd begun to regularly visit the vampire because he'd been afraid he'd forget to put it back on or that the man Spike saw would somehow vanish and he'd never get the right one back.

Finally, after walking around him and narrowing his eyes, poking and prodding him with pointy fingers, Spike said, "You're younger than I would've imagined. Fitter than your...magic made you appear. All the stories you told, all the shit you've been through...seems wrong for someone so young to have been through all that...endured it... Don't know how you're not ruddy well out of your tree, really."

Xander blinked and eventually gave up trying to twist the necklace into something unrecognizable with his fidgeting fingers. He cleared his throat and went to the bathroom to hide it deep in one of his bags -- he wouldn't be using it again. When he returned, Spike was still staring at him but he refused to look back.

"Yeah, well...sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't think about it. I'd gotten used to wearing it all the time and didn't even realise..."

Spike waved a hand, lips twisting a little as he flopped down on the queen-sized bed -- the only bed in the room -- and reached for the TV remote like an old pro. "We all have our little secrets, don't we?"

Xander watched him for a moment, and Spike occasionally looked up as if to make sure he was still there and that he still looked like Xander and not the other man he'd known all this time.

Xander took a seat in the chair and dialed room service. He needed beer and lots of it. And maybe some food. But mostly beer.

Spike sedately channel surfed, sometimes pausing on something before snorting or grimacing and flipping the channel again. He wiggled his bare toes on the bedspread.

Apparently, even with the amnesia Spike still remembered how a TV worked and what shows he considered crap.

The next days were spent in the hotel room in silence. Really thick, uncomfortable silence.

Spike watched daytime soaps and anything else that took his fancy, rediscovered his love for smoking, drinking and tight, black clothing -- all of which Xander provided without a word while trying to ogle him discreetly -- and generally pretended like nothing had happened.

Xander was waiting for a big blow up. Spike had to be pissed about him not getting him out of there sooner and keeping the truth from him for so long. He just didn't know what the hold-up was.

Waiting for something to happen was always the worst. He just wished Spike would go ahead and rip him a new one so he could finally relax, lick his wounds and get on with his life.

Xander brooded outside on the little balcony at odd hours, having been upgraded to a bigger suite across the hotel from his old one because the other had been stifling -- mostly for him because Spike seemed not to even notice him most of the time.

He kept telling himself he was out there because Spike's smoke bothered him, or the TV was too loud or playing something truly obnoxious, or that the blood was disgusting and made his stomach turn, but those were nothing more than excuses to distance himself.

His big plan for revenge? Totally bit the dust and he was flailing. He was such a pansy.

Spike hadn't said more than a few words or really looked at him since they'd left the bordello and that was highly unusual for the vampire who never really shut up.

Oddly enough, a butcher was just around the corner and accepted orders for delivery, and that was how Spike ate.

Xander, on the other hand, found he'd lost his appetite and had to force himself to eat something every day that passed. On a good note, he lost a few pounds, not that he'd had much fat to lose since after the big apocalypse -- he worked too hard and was usually in remote areas without fast food.

Spike eventually began to stare at him, slight frown between his eyebrows, smoke curling up from the cigarette almost permanently attached between his fingers. Xander didn't know what the staring meant but he couldn't care less because he was too concerned with the ulcer forming in his stomach.

One day when Xander was showering, he felt a waft of cool air breeze over his wet skin and suddenly Spike was in there with him; he could just sense it.

He dropped the soap, hit his shin on the faucet, knocked his forehead into the shower head and nearly busted his ass when he slipped. He nearly drowned himself getting the rest of his body clean, cursing under his breath all the while, so he could turn his undivided attention to the vampire who'd come in for some reason.

Looked like old clumsy doughnut boy was back in the building.

His travels had taught him nothing that couldn't be completely lost after a staring contest with a cranky, amnesiac vampire that pretty much owned his ass.

After he finished showering, he took a deep breath and pulled back the curtain to get a towel. There stood Spike, wearing the inscrutable expression that had become very much a fixed feature over the last few days, watching him, unblinking. This time his hands were empty of cigarettes or a drink or the remote control and they fidgeted at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them.

Xander looked at Spike, desperate to wipe the water dripping into his eyes but not wanting to ruin whatever the hell was going on. Spike merely looked back, and he finally grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist to shield himself from some of the intensity of that gaze.

He shivered.

Spike turned around without a word and glided back into the other room on socked feet, painted on jeans just this side of illicit cupping bunching buttocks and swaying hips.

Xander's hard-on vanished almost as immediately as it had appeared because, after he dressed and went into the next room, Spike was ordering from the room service menu and using an emery board on his nails while he watched some reality show where they made people eat ground up organs and dunk for pig's feet in cow's blood; it amused Spike, the things people would do for a few minutes on TV. He ignored Xander with little effort.

Xander never could deal with blood and guts, not unless he was fighting a demon and they were unfortunate side-effects. The sight of someone drinking a maggot shake really set his stomach on edge.

Spike didn't say anything about the arousal that was probably pouring off him in those little cartoon wavy lines but he knew the vampire could smell it with his super senses.

He couldn't seem to control himself. His dick had never been good at following directions from his brain.

Xander didn't know what he'd do when Spike left, because the leaving was inevitable. He'd gotten used to having him around and the hum-drum life of an errand boy for the Council didn't have the same ring to it that it had before he'd discovered Spike's resurrected status and how good a companion he could be.

Before he'd found out the truth, that is.

Spike had lost his words, lost something, and Xander was left in the dark.

And then, when they were watching Dr. Phil one day -- Spike liked to see Phil yell at people and tell them they were 'dumber than a sack of rocks' or that they were 'pumping sunshine' out of their asses -- he finally broke his silence.

It was almost unsettling to hear the husky accent after just clipped phrases thrown at him for days. And that was only when they absolutely needed to communicate.

It was hoarse from disuse and quiet, but Spike asked suddenly between commercials, "Are we married to this hotel or can I get the fuck out of here? Don't think I can stand it another minute. Want to be away from here as soon as possible and as far as I can get."

Xander swallowed, after his heart stopped slamming erratically in his chest from shock.

Yeah, this was it. Spike was leaving, possibly going to kill him beforehand, and that would be all Xander Harris wrote.

He wondered if Willow would give his eulogy and what she'd say about him.

Spike continued, flipping back and forth between Dr. Phil and something loud and grating with lots of gyrating near-naked women and men on MTV2. "You got a place?"

Xander started. "What?"

Spike finally looked at him with an expression other than the one he'd been using for what seemed like forever. He rolled his eyes, looking slightly annoyed. "A flat, a house, anything to call home."

"Oh. Yeah. I'm never there but the Council pays to keep it up for when I do get to go back, which is mostly to do my laundry and make sure the maid's not stealing what possessions I leave there...why?"

Spike shut off the TV and stretched, then relaxed against the pillows he'd shoved against the headboard and laced his hands over his belly. "Is it anywhere near here?"

"No."

"Then, I say we go to your place."

We? Spike wanted Xander to take him to his place?

Well, at least that meant he didn't have plans to murder him horribly -- or maybe he'd wait until they were settled in and then kill Xander and take over his house.

Xander blinked and stared at the blank TV screen. That wasn't what he'd been expecting, not even in the slightest.

"Umm...okay. If that's what you want."

Spike nodded. "It's what I want. C'mon, pack and make reservations. Call your sugar daddy and have him wire you some cash or get things ready...want to leave tonight."

And just like that, Xander obediently picked up the phone and called in a few favours from Giles, who was ever expedient and generous and so very much not Xander's sugar daddy.

And just like that, Spike went home with Xander.

Part Five

The flight seemed way too long and was...tedious. Xander couldn't say that it was boring, though.

Spike hassled the two flight attendants working the private plane, flirted with them and coaxed more booze than they should've given out of them, along with phone numbers.

Xander sat against the wall, Spike at his side despite the rows of empty seats, and wished there was a window just so he could look out and ignore Spike by pretending he was engrossed in the passing scenery.

Instead, he had to pretend to read a three year old YM magazine with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez on the cover with announcements of their engagement in big, white, eye-catching headlines. He did this for more than an hour before he finally gave up and shut his aching eyes.

Spike had fun. Xander did not.

Spike got drunk. Xander really wished he could have but he needed to be sober. He couldn't have handled being in Spike's presence if he was thoroughly lubricated on alcohol and he might've done something stupid like strip off and beg Spike to let him fuck him again, to forgive him; not necessarily in that order.

Spike would've gotten lucky had the plane been bigger with more private areas; not that it should've stopped Spike in the first place, considering what he'd been doing for the last three plus months. Xander couldn't have gotten attention from the stewardesses had his life depended on it -- he could've been on fire and they'd have just ignored him to flirt with Spike some more -- and would never get laid again, he figured sourly.

The larger than average private plane made record time but it wasn't quick enough for Xander. He tried to sleep, even faked it for a while but knew deep down Spike wasn't fooled.

Spike never said anything, though, just sat there being obnoxiously charming to the women who kept coming over and offering him things that he didn't need. He didn't look at Xander or even acknowledge his presence. He kept accidentally -- or maybe 'accidentally' -- brushing against Xander despite all the room they had and it was driving Xander up the wall.

Xander fought back a pout and crossed his arms and told himself he wasn't being sullen or jealous or any number of things he knew he was.

Finally, the plane landed, they got off, the girls waved at Spike and he waved back and Xander was left to the task of hauling his luggage to the car that Giles had ordered for him that had pulled right onto the tarmac.

Spike leered at the girls, phone numbers from both stuffed somehow in the tight pockets of his jeans, and left Xander to get his bags as well without so much as an offer to help.

That didn't really surprise Xander.

It was really late, or very early depending on the way you looked at it, by the time Xander was on the road to home. He drove a little on the fast side because Spike probably wouldn't appreciate bursting into flame...not because he was uncomfortable and wanted to get out of the close confines as quickly as possible.

Or he kept telling himself that because, no, it really wasn't still five hours until sunrise and a little under two hours to his house.

"So, you live in Wisconsin? The state with all the cheese and dairy products a man could dream of... Bit cold, innit?"

"Not now, it isn't. It's pretty nice most of the time. Gets pretty damn cold in winter but...I don't think I could live anywhere hot anymore. I got enough of that in Sunnydale and all the countries I visited that were so hot they could melt the eyeballs right out of your skull. Dripping sweat got really old. So did the lack of deodorant and bathing facilities. Most of the time you were lucky to get drinking water. Bathing was...sort of an afterthought."

Christ, he was talking too much about something really damn stupid.

Spike grunted and yanked out the newly heated cigarette lighter. He puffed a cigarette to life and slammed the lighter back in place, then began to punch buttons on the radio.

Static, static, commercials, country, polka, static, latin, opera, soft rock, static.

He finally stopped on an alternative/rock station and left it there. They didn't really talk after that. Xander drove and Spike smoked with the window open just enough for most of the acrid stench to get sucked out on the wind and squinted out into the darkness at the blurring trees and road.

Xander was glad he zipped his lip because all he could think to talk about was how the weather was good and there were few tornadoes, how there weren't hurricanes and it didn't get anywhere near the one hundred and twenty degrees it seemed to always be in those backwater countries he'd had to trudge through, and if he had the urge to do so he could just zip across the border and head to Canada for really cheap beer and comic books.

An hour later, Xander pulled into his secluded driveway. It was surrounded by trees and a tall, thick, iron fence -- electrified -- and a gate he had to punch a code into to enter.

Yeah, he was paranoid but that didn't mean there weren't people and/or demons out to get him.

The tires crunched up the gravel drive, the music low enough not to cover the noise. Xander drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, impatient to get home even though he couldn't even really call it that because of the small amount of time he usually spent there.

He wondered if Andrew had remembered to keep the housekeeper on to prevent the dust bunnies from taking over. It appeared that the landscaper was still doing his job. The house looked nice from the outside, at least.

Who was he kidding? Xander knew damn well Andrew would take care of him in any way he could. Andrew was just...

Yeah, the little bastard had a crush on him, still nursing it since Sunnydale, but it was nice to have someone take care of him for a change, despite their possible ulterior motives for doing so.

Xander winced a little when he remembered he'd forgotten to call Andrew to have the fridge and freezer stocked. He'd just have to do that himself, then. He had the numbers to call, knew the people.

He really should stop depending on Andrew for so much, even if it did make life easier.

Spike shuddered suddenly, breaking Xander from his mental babbling, scratching the back of his neck and looking uneasy. "What the hell is that? Feels like ants crawling all over me, biting me. Started when we entered and it's gotten worse. It's not a ruddy good feeling."

"Oh, yeah. That's the, umm, set of wards I had a friend cook up. It ensures no one knows about this place and even if they did they couldn't enter unless I want them inside. Magical defenses are set off, depending on my reaction to whoever it is trying to get in. Gives any unwanted guest a nasty surprise." Then he added, "Don't worry, it'll get better in a little while. The crawling ant thing, I mean."

Spike raised an eyebrow but looked a little more relaxed after a moment. "Bloody scared of your own shadow, aren't you?"

"If you remembered all the crap that's happened...you wouldn't twitch an eyebrow at all of this."

The vampire shrugged. "Whatever, mate. Just seems like a bit of over-kill, is all, but I get it. The world's big and bad and it's out to get you. Gotta do what you gotta do to protect yourself and whoever's under your roof."

Xander sent him a look but didn't say anything more. He parked outside the garage beneath the car port situated behind the sprawling two-storey house that seemed too big for just him, now that he thought about it, and grabbed his bags. He unlocked a door just to the side of the multi-car garage and headed inside.

Spike followed silently then gave a muffled 'oof' and an 'oi' when he realised he couldn't enter after he slammed face first into the invisible barrier he hadn't known about.

Xander turned around, biting back a snicker. His hand convulsed around the handle of one bag. "Oh, yeah. Vampires need invites to enter private residences."

"Could've mentioned that bit, you know." Spike rolled his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then poked at the invisible shield, fascinated. "Well?"

Xander sighed. "I guess you're invited in, Spike."

"Ta muchly, git," Spike growled from behind his hand, glaring at him as he stepped over the threshold after picking up his small bag.

Xander stepped aside hastily as Spike nearly ran him over and then shut the door. He watched the vampire poke about in his kitchen, opening empty cupboards and an almost empty fridge -- it only had baking soda and some old soft drinks from who the hell knew when.

Definitely going to have to order something in.

"Cupboards are bare. What's poor Mother Hubbard to do? Not a bleeding bone in the joint." Spike slammed a cabinet door shut, looking a little peevish. "What the hell's a vampire to do? I need blood and all that... I don't suppose I could order blood take-away...?"

"Yeah, you can." Xander stuffed his keys into his pocket and started for his bedroom upstairs, back straight, arms straining against the weight of more clothes and accessories than he remembered bringing with him. It always seemed like his stuff mated and had babies when he was hauling it from place to place. He was surprised his house wasn't filled up with random crap he'd brought from countries he'd visited.

"We'll get take-out. Don't worry, the Council has contacts. We won't go hungry."

"That's good to know," Spike said, voice faint as Xander moved farther and farther away.

Xander heard footsteps follow him up the stairs eventually, after he'd gone to the bathroom and begun to paw through his bag and throw wrinkled clothes this way and that because it was tradition that he immediately make a tornadic mess wherever he laid his head at night.

"So, where's my room?" Spike asked from just inside his doorway.

"Next door to your right. It's just past the connecting bathroom," Xander mumbled, trying not show how startled he was at Spike's silent appearance as he searched for a charm he'd picked up in Ethiopia -- not a magickal one, per se, just one he thought looked neat that he hadn't been able to wear while sporting the charmed glamour amulet. It was a favourite of his.

After a moment of studying him, Spike left the room to explore the one Xander had offered him.

Xander was overjoyed he was finally out of the vampire's proximity.

He sighed and sat down on the bed, ignored the big mess he'd created in a matter of seconds and buried his face in his hands. His need for the charm dropped to zero.

How did his kick-ass plan for revenge turn out so far from what he'd intended?

Maybe pre-soul Spike had been right. He wouldn't have made a very good vampire.

"You know, I like how you look now better than how you did when you were using that magickal doohicky."

Xander jumped, having somehow fallen asleep sitting on the end of his bed with his head propped up by his fists. He blinked gritty eyes at the vampire now standing in his doorway until his gaze uncrossed, focused and Spike was no longer blurry.

"Huh?" He moved his hands and rubbed rough knuckles over eyes that felt like they'd been rubbed with sandpaper. He surreptitiously wiped at the corner of his mouth where he'd drooled a bit in his sleep.

Spike rolled his own eyes and moved further into the room, side-stepping piles of clothing and books and CDs and other things Xander had picked up on his travels.

"I didn't know the other you was fake, but he didn't seem real to me. Not like you do right now."

"Why are you bringing this up now, anyway? It's been days, almost weeks." Xander frowned, standing up unsteadily and rubbing at the tight, red pressure spot that had formed on one cheek when he'd been sleeping propped on his fists.

Spike shrugged. "Been thinking about it for a bit, is all."

So, that was why Spike had constantly scrutinized him with those piercing blue eyes of his, making him feel like he was something lower than shit on Spike's shoe.

That, somehow, didn't make him feel better. Knowing why Spike was acting the way he was didn't necessarily make the situation any different.

Xander pursed his lips, one shoulder lifting. "It was a disguise because I had to return a lot for the slayers. A new appearance every time to keep suspicions down," he admitted. "I kept the last one because..." He trailed off.

Spike's eyebrows rose, he tucked one thumb in the front belt loop of his jeans and his cupped fingers just happened to frame the ever-present bulge encased in tight denim. "You kept it for me."

Xander looked away. "Yeah," he said, quietly.

"So's I'd recognize you when you returned?"

"Yeah, mostly. I...was going to get you out eventually, I swear, but..."

"You saw an opportunity for a bit of free slap and tickle and decided to let me stay there while you went on your merry way, visiting and tupping me whenever and however you wanted?"

Xander blinked. "Mostly, yeah."

Spike blew out a breath. "Figured as much." He smirked suddenly, cocking one hip. The dead weight of his hand caused his jeans to pull down in the front in a really distracting sort of way. "Sexy bloke, am I? Made you cum your sad little brains out, didn't I? Enough to make you forget about your little cowboy good guy mission?"

Xander flushed. "Maybe."

"Can't say I fault you for it. Probably would've done the same. You're a pretty little boy. Might've kept you metaphorically chained -- or possibly literally -- some place so I could have my wicked way as much as I wanted."

The flush spread to other areas, areas that started swelling and tingling.

Spike's posture changed, nostrils flaring. He backed up a few paces, abruptly. "So, dinner? Starving, here. Those bitty peanut packages did nothing to curb my bloodlust, obviously."

Xander blinked at the sudden segue into a subject that was so far from the sex both his little and big brains were agreeing they needed that he couldn't immediately respond. He wondered if there was any blood left in the rest of his body.

When he did manage to speak, his voice was a coarse, raspy whisper. "Oh, yeah. I'll...call it in. Think you'd like some Chinese? I'm in the mood for sweet and sour...something."

"Could do with some..." He frowned. "Get some of those dumpling things. Might dunk them in my blood. Sounds appealing, vaguely familiar."

Xander groaned, arousal banked for the moment. "And you don't even have your memory. It's amazing."

"What?"

"You dunked human food in your blood...before. Was the most disgusting thing...well, ever. I think you did it to freak us all out."

Spike looked amused, tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth. "Sounds like fun, that. But, it does appeal to the taste buds, the dunking thing."

Xander sighed and skirted around the vampire. "I'll just go order stuff."

"And I'll be showering in that posh bath connecting our rooms. Towels?"

Xander's arousal ratcheted back up and he stumbled a little in the doorway. "They're in the cabinet in the bathroom. Convenience and all that."

"Right."

Xander went downstairs and ignored the faint sound of water and muffled thuds he could hear echoing through the house. He tried not to think of how naked and wet and soapy Spike probably was at the moment.

He ordered both kinds of food, ample supplies for future consumption, and waited with money from the petty cash box Giles always said to keep handy -- there was a few thousand in cash for groceries and other stuff Xander might want to pick up and it was replenished every few months.

Sometimes, it was a pretty good thing to work for a bunch of rich, uptight British guys. They were generous with their money -- hazard pay.

Spike came out of his bedroom smelling of the body wash Andrew had no doubt supplied -- it smelled faintly fruity and surprisingly good. He had a towel that looked smaller than Xander remembered buying wrapped around his body. Andrew had probably bought the towels, as well.

"Why are you out here naked? Aren't there clothes in your bag in there?" Xander raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-step on the stairs. He shook himself mentally to get his eyes to stay on Spike's face. "I was just coming to see if you were done. Food's here. Hot and waiting downstairs so we might want to hurry before it gets cold and I know how you hate when your blood clots, said it sticks in your teeth just like those little green onions and peppers they put on pizza, which you also don't like, by the way -- and you left your dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, didn't you?"

"You can really babble. Didn't even hear you take more than two breaths. Impressive." Spike crossed his arms over defined pectorals, causing them to bunch and twitch; Xander's eyes followed the movements. The nipples were erect and there were water droplets on his skin. "How did you know I left my kit on the floor? And so what if I did?"

"Never mind." Xander sighed, shoulders slumping, forcing his eyes away from pretty, rosy nipples and the tiny freckles scattered almost invisibly over Spike's supple, pale flesh. "It'd just be nice if you picked up after yourself. At least where we have to share space. You can fuck your bedroom up all you like because it's not likely that I'll be going in there anytime soon."

Spike's gaze sharpened, became predator-like and a little heated. His chin raised, his pink lips parted. "Who says you're not?"

Xander's pulse raced, he gulped. His fingers began to slip on the banister, palms sweating. "Uh...food?" he said, dumbly.

Spike grinned and stepped back into the guest room.

Xander watched his hips twitch, his thighs bunch, his calves flex and that sweet ass ripple beneath a towel he was probably going to either have to throw out...or sneak into the laundry later and steal so he could use it as a masturbation aid.

He listened to Spike dress and pointedly not go back into the bathroom to pick up his clothing and didn't even care that he'd be the one to clean up after the vampire later.

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