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Feedback: I’ll be your bitch for feedback, but please, no flames.


Distribution: Just ask me. After I get over the initial shock, I’m sure I’ll say yes.

Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to these characters. I’m just using them for my own twisted gratification. Thus no profit. No copyright infringement intended.

Warning: This is slash; there will be smut and a lot of naughty language. If you do not like this kind of fic, don’t read it. Consider yourself warned.

A/N: In Tabula Rasa, Anya mispronounces her name as ‘Ainya’. In order to illustrate the mispronunciation, it will be spelled as ‘Ainya’ until the spell is over. Also, this story will incorporate dialog from the show.

Thanks: To Mel for the beta and the encouragement. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d still be reading het.

Dedication: To all the girls (and guy) from Moonlight Rising: Mel, Margie, Shanna, Willa, and Eric. I probably wouldn’t have gotten my act together if they hadn’t goosed my muse.

Road to Poofdom


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Part One

Spike burst through the door, flinging the smoking blanket to the floor. He knew his get-up would cause a reaction, and he wasn't disappointed. It took a moment, though. Everyone was too busy dropping their jaws to the bloody floor.


"Holy moly," Anya commented, her eyebrows shooting toward her hairline.

"You need to give me asylum."

Xander's mouth was opening and closing, gaping like a fish. "I'll say." His eyes went from the top of the blonde head down to the toes of his high-heeled shoes. Yup. High-heeled shoes. He was wearing a long, wavy, pale blonde wig that fell past his shoulders. His eyes were accentuated with eyeliner and mascara, making them impossibly large and blue. His sharp cheekbones were accented with blush; his lips were shiny and red, as were his nails. Spike wore a black wrap-dress with a low neckline. The skirt fell to just below his knee. His legs were covered in silky stockings and ended with black, high-heeled pumps. A red, silk scarf wrapped casually around his throat completed the ensemble.

Spike was dressed as a woman. And, damn, he didn't look half-bad. Xander swallowed hard.

"No need to get cute." Spike smirked, gracefully pulling a lock of blonde hair away from his face. "One might think that you'd never seen a bloke in a dress before." He stopped and looked at the open mouths. "It's a disguise, you sheer and utter gits! And shut your bloody gobs! It's not polite to stare, ya know. Happens there's a bloke I'd rather not see just now."

Spike walked farther into the store, everyone's eyes following the sway of his hips across the room. He hopped onto the counter and crossed his legs, adjusting the skirt over his knee. "You met him, I believe," he addressed Buffy. "Toothy bloke with the baby-seal breath?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and huffed in his general direction.

Spike continued while adjusting his scarf, "Nasty fellow, him. And ugly too. He's got a mouthful of choppers just waiting to be yanked out and worn as necklaces."

"Maybe," Buffy commented, a wry smile upon her face, "but it sooo wouldn't go with that outfit. And why dress in drag, Spike? Just been dying to get in touch with your inner tramp?"

"What?" Spike exclaimed. "I do not look trampy…I'd bet! It's what was on-hand." Buffy arched an eyebrow at this, but Spike continued, exasperated, "It's a soddin' disguise, you twits! The idea is to look as different as possible. What the hell should I have done? Channel my inner watcher and don effing tweed? Not bloody likely!" Spike looked at her, annoyed, and crossed his legs the other way, forgetting in his consternation to adjust the skirt, and flashed everyone with the top of his thigh-high, black lace-topped stocking. Everyone's eyes flicked to his thigh, and Spike jumped off the counter and glared at the assembly.

Xander smiled wickedly, winked at Anya, and sidled up next to Spike, putting his arm around his waist. "Awww. Look. You got her all upset. I just can't help myself. I see a lady in need, and I just must defend her honor." He took off his jacket and made a show of putting it around Spike's shoulders before returning his arm to Spike's waist and hugging him, none too gently, to his side. "After all, he is a poor, defenseless…working girl."

Spike glared at Xander.

Xander continued, "He doesn't look that trampy, Buffy. I'm sure he'll have no trouble finding a date…for ten dollars, or so."

Spike slapped Xander's hands away, ignoring the accompanying twinge from the chip.

"Don't touch the merchandise, you poof."

"I got news for you, Spikerella; I'm not the one looking 'poofy' here. You've definitely got the market cornered on that one. And, speaking of corners, shouldn't you be out on one now, trying to drum up business?"

Spike narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to deliver what would no doubt be a scathing retort, but was interrupted by Giles.

The watcher arched his eyebrow at Xander and Spike, sighed, and removed his glasses. He began to polish them with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Well, now that we've recovered from Spike and Xander's…sartorial humor, I'll jump to the chase." He glanced at Buffy. "Um, I'm headed back to England and I plan to stay. Indefinitely." He sat next to Anya and across from Tara at the table and took in everyone's surprised look.

"Now?" Xander exclaimed, shocked. He waved his arms about, narrowly missing whacking Spike in the face. "Not now, I mean, not after…everything."

Giles put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and placed the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Yes, now."

"For real this time?" Anya asked. "'Cause honest to Pete, a young shopkeeper's heart can only take so much. I mean, not that I want you to go…"

"I can't do this," Buffy began, working up a good rant. She walked past Dawn quickly, moving towards the door, talking as she went, "I just, I don't think..." Dawn leaned against the bookshelves. She was obviously upset.

"Buffy, listen," Willow blurted, desperate to defuse the situation. She stepped from behind Tara’s chair and began to walk closer to Buffy.

Buffy stopped and turned back towards her friends.

Willow continued, "I know this must be awful for you, and I, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for... "

Buffy interrupted, "Sorry. Everybody's sorry. I know that you guys are just trying to help, but it's just, it's too much. And, and I, I…can't take it any more." She began to cry. "If you guys, if you guys understood how it felt - how it feels. It's like I'm dying, it…" Buffy stopped as she fell to the floor, unconscious.

The others fell like dominoes; Giles and Anya slumped over together in their seats. Willow and Dawn collapsed where they stood; Tara went slack in her chair. And Spike slid to the floor in front of the counter, landing right in Xander's lap.


He began to stir when the light flicked on, mildly irritated at being disturbed. He was comfy. He became aware of a soft, firm thigh that his hand was stroking gently. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was an amazing pair of blue-er than blue eyes with long, black lashes gazing into his. The eyes glanced down at his stroking hand. He followed the eyes down and realized that his hand was under the other person's skirt. He snatched his hand back as though it had been burnt, and the other person jumped away from him, startled.

"Uh, s-sorry, uh…" He scrambled up and offered his hand, while looking away. "Uh, ma'am." He looked back toward the other person as he felt their hand in his and gulped. "Sorry, uh…mister, um…lady…ugh, just sorry," his voice ended on a squeak.

Those blue eyes stared back at him as though in shock, and dropped his hand. "No worries."

The others began to stir. A redheaded girl was the next to awake. "Hey."

He said, "Hey," back. He was still reeling from having felt up a man. A really, really pretty man with soft skin and amazing blue eyes, and "Oh my God, am I gay? Not that there's anything wrong with that," went through his mind.

The couple across the room woke up next. The young woman yawned, disturbing the older man whose head was resting on her shoulder. The man's eyes flicked down to the drool on the woman's shoulder and he surreptitiously wiped it away with his hand. They looked at one another, shocked.

The girl with kinda odd, two-toned blonde hair was the next to wake up; she looked around the room in confusion, still sitting in her chair.

The older man decided to speak to the young woman at his side. "Hello?" She smiled fetchingly.

The soft-spoken greeting caused the teenaged girl to awaken. "Who…who are you people?" she exclaimed fearfully, looking around at everyone. Her eyes stopped at the blue-eyed man in the dress and she gulped.

Another girl, probably the one who’d flicked the light on, came across the room and knelt at her side, trying to comfort the cringing girl. "Don't worry."

Big, teary eyes looked up at her. "Please don't hurt me!"

The girl patted the teenager's shoulder, and said, "Oh, it's okay. I don't know anyone here either."

"Yeah? Who are you?"

"I, uh..."

The young man had had enough. He was gay, probably, had just copped a feel of some blond guy in a dress, and he had no idea where the hell he was, or for that matter, who the hell these people were. He voiced his thoughts, well, some of them. "Okay, who are you freaks?"

Everyone stood up.

The redhead spoke first. "You don't know me?"

He shook his head. "Not a clue."

"But you were just all like 'oh, hey.'"

"Well, you said 'hey' first! You're a girl; I was being polite!"

"Yeah? Well, I am a girl!" She touched her breasts to verify. "But, I'm pretty sure he's not!" She pointed at the man in the dress and continued, "I'm not sure who I am exactly, but..."

"Okay, why was I on the floor with…with…" He pointed at the blond man. "…and why are you all staring at me? Is this some kind of psych test? Am I getting paid for this?"

The older man spoke, "It's not just you. Does anyone remember anything?"

Everyone shook their head. The blond glanced over at the young man under his lashes. "Nope."

The older man continued, "Well, maybe we all got terribly drunk and this is some sort of, uh, blackout."

The teenager replied uncertainly, "I don't think I drink."

The woman next to the older man spoke up, "I-I don't see any booze. I don't feel any head bumps." She looked around. "And despite what that man is wearing, I don't see Allen Funt."

"Who?" the older man queried. The blond man simply glared at her.

The young man had really had enough. "Okay. I'm not panicking. I'm not! I'm not!" Everyone turned to look at him. "Stop looking at me like I'm panicking!"

Girl number one took it upon herself to take control of the situation and walked towards him, trying to calm him down. "Hey, hey, take it easy, guy. Okay, no one's hurt, right? And, and none of us look all hatchety-murdery..." She glanced at the blond man and swallowed. "…so we're probably safe. Here. Wherever here is."

The redhead began looking around. "Look at this stuff on these shelves. Weird jars of weird stuff. A-and weird books with weird covers, like…" She paused, picking up a book from the counter. "…Magic for Beginners." She turned around. "Oh!"

The two-toned blonde girl got up, remarking, "This is a magic shop. A-a-a real magic shop."

"Well, maybe that's it. Maybe something magic happened," little Miss-in-charge stated, as the young man had started calling her in his head. She turned back to the blond guy. "That would explain a lot."

The blond man crossed his arms and began to tap the tip of his high-heeled shoe huffily. The young man touched his elbow and gave him a soft apologetic smile. He smiled back, ducking his chin bashfully.

The older man scoffed, "Magic! Magic's all balderdash and chicanery. I'm afraid we don't know a bloody thing."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Except I seem to be British, don't I?" he continued. "Uh, and a man. With...glasses." He removed his glasses and smiled hopefully. "Well, that narrows it down considerably."

The teen began to whine, "I don't like this."

Little Miss-in-charge rushed over to the girl. "It's okay, don't worry. We'll take care of each other." She brushed a lock of hair away from the child's face. The girl smiled back tentatively.

The Brit gave his opinion to the crowd, stating, "We'll all get our memory back, and it'll all be right as rain."

The blond man finally spoke up, "Oh, listen to Mary Poppins. He's got his crust all stiff and upper with that nancy-boy accent. You Englishmen are always so... Bloody hell!"

The young man groaned inwardly. God, that accent! That deep, rich voice. Yup. He practically shivered at the sound. He was so gay. He watched as the blond man began to tick off on his red-tipped fingers.

"Sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bollocks, oh God! I'm English!"

The first Brit said, disdainfully looking the blond man up and down, "Welcome to the nancy tribe. Although it appears you're nancy enough for all of us."

The blond looked at him inquiringly. "You don't suppose you and I? We're not related, are we?"

The woman next to the Brit contributed, saying, "There is a, um, sort of resemblance."

The older Brit glared at her and she continued, "A ruggedly handsome resemblance." She smiled up at him, seemingly relieved when he smiled back.

The older man turned back to the blond Brit. "And you do inspire a, um, particular feeling of familiarity - and disappointment."

The blond man walked up to him, his heels clicking on the floor. They look at one another, scowling in disapproval.

"Older brother?" the bespectacled man offered.

The younger man scoffed, "Father. Oh, god, how I must hate you!" He turned and stalked back over to the dark-haired man, shoving his arms through his jacket as he went.

The older man was nonplussed. "What did I do?"

"There's always something; look at how I'm dressed! If this isn't a bleeding cry for masculine attention, I don't know what is. It-it's positively sodding Freudian, that's what it is! And what's with the trollop?" He pointed at the woman next to his supposed father.



"Yes, her, Daddy Dearest! I saw you! Sleeping together."

"Resting together," the man retorted. "Plus, I wouldn't exactly be pointing fingers, sonny. You were snuggled up to that hulk of a boy not ten minutes ago, and you haven't left his side since!"

The hulk of a boy in question giggled nervously. When the blond man looked at him, eyebrow arched gracefully, he shrugged and scooted even closer.

"Look! It's okay. We're engaged," the sort-of step-mum exclaimed. "It's a lovely ring." She beamed up at the man and he smiled down at her.

The blond man's chin trembled slightly and he commented contemptuously, "Oh, great, a tarty step-mom who's half old Daddy's age."

"Tarty?" the woman shouted. "You're one to talk! I'm not the one with the plunging neckline! Why don't you go listen to some Judy Garland and leave your father and me alone?"

"Old? You little twerp, I'm young enough to still get carded," the father proclaimed, discounting his son's knowing smirk.

Meanwhile, the redhead had an epiphany. "Carded! Driver's licenses!"

The glasses-wearing Brit began to pat himself down. "I'm sure I have my PFLAG membership card on me somewhere." He looked over at his son in disgust, only to receive the two-finger salute.

Everyone dove into their pockets and purses to dig out ID.

He opened his wallet. "It's me! 'Alexander Harris.' Cute picture. Hey, I exist." He held up his wallet and glanced toward the blond at his right, smiling nervously. My name's Alex, he thought to himself. I wonder what his name is? God, he's so pretty. Alex's eyes dropped down to the blond's full, red lips.

"Hi Alex," the blond man greeted him softly.

The redhead spoke next, "I'm Willow Rosenberg. Heh, Willow. Funny name."

"I think it's pretty," the two-toned blonde girl replied.

Willow smiled back and asked the blonde, "Whadda you got?"

"Tara, and look, I'm a student at U.C. Sunnydale."

"Me too!" Willow replied. "Hey, maybe we're study buddies!"

The teen frowned. "I don't have a wallet."

The girl next to her touched her arm. "Don't worry. Me neither. But here, look." She gestured to the necklace around the young girl's neck. "You're Dawn."

"Or, Umad," the girl retorted, smiling.

"I'm, uh, called Rupert Giles," the older man stated.

"Rupert," the woman next to him said seductively, batting her eyelashes.

The blond man giggled, "Rupert!"

Rupert glared at his son. "You're not too old to put across my knee, you know, sonny. Anyway, what did I call you?"

The blond didn't have a wallet; there were no pockets in his dress, and he didn't seem to be carrying a purse. He was wearing a man’s jacket that did not match his dress, with the name 'Harris' embroidered on the front. "I don't know, but it seems as though I'm wearing Alex's jacket."

Alex squared his shoulders. "Well, I-I guess that means I'm your boyfriend, then. I mean, with the way we woke up and you wearing my jacket, huh?"

The blond looked at him, surprised, yet pleased, and replied, "I'm sorry, Alex. It's just that this is such a shock; not knowing who we are 'n all."

Rupert snorted.

Alex ignored the annoying Brit and guided his boyfriend to a chair. "Here, why don't you sit down? And hey. What's that?"

The blond looked down. The hem of his dress had flipped back and there was a label sewn into the edge. " says 'Made with care for Randi.'" He looked at his father angrily. "Randy Giles? Why not just call me 'Horny Giles,' or 'Desperate for a Shag Giles'? I knew there was a reason I hated you!"

"Randy's a family name, undoubtedly." He smirked at his son. "Besides I imagine it is ever so easy to spell with an 'i' at the end. Maybe with a little heart at the top?"

Alex glared at him, his jaw clenching in anger. "Rupert is it? Look, this is stressful for everyone, and I admit to panicking a bit, but what kind of man takes it out on his own son? I know I don't remember anyone here, but I don't think I like the way you're talking to Randy."

"That is quite enough. Randy is my son, and I'll talk to him anyway I bloody well please. I don't need any points from my pillow-biting son's homosexual, yet butch, boyfriend, thank you very much."

Alex stepped forward, his eyes flashing, until Randy grasped his sleeve and tugged, gently. "Alex."

Rupert held up his hands and nodded, backing down. "You're right, of course. I apologize Randy, Alex. I let the stress of the situation overcome my sense of decorum. I will endeavor to not let it happen again."

Alex nodded back, placated for the time being.

The step-mother of sorts blurted out, "I'm Ainya!" All eyes turned toward the cash register.

She continued, "Um, this key fits this lock. And, uh, the forms next to the cash register say that, uh, Rupert and, and Ainya own the shop together.

Rupert walked over to Ainya. "This is our magic shop? Uh, well, that's very, uh, uh, progressive of me."

Dawn turned to the girl next to her. "So you don't have a name?"

The girl shrugged, replying, "Of course I do. I just don't happen to know it."

"You want me to name you?"

"Oh, that's sweet, but I think I can name myself. I'll name me...Joan. "


"What? Did you just 'ugh' my name?"


Randy tuned out the girls' arguing and studied the man at his side. He was handsome. No doubt about that. Major white knight complex. Thick dark hair, deep brown eyes, broad shoulders, muscular upper arms, other attributes, he admitted, his eyes drifting down.

But he still felt so sodding confused; he knew there had to be a reason he was in his father's shop. Dressed like a woman. With his…gulp…boyfriend. He didn't feel like a ruddy poof. But then, how would he know what a poof felt like unless he could remember he was a poof? Bloody hell. That made absolutely no fecking sense whatsoever. What did the circumstances say he was? A cross-dressing man with a hot, beefy boyfriend, and a disapproving father in the midst of one hell of a midlife crisis. Okay, then.

Part Two

"No! I just...I mean, it's so blah. Joan?"

"I like it. I feel like a Joan."

"Fine, that's your purgative."


Alex looked down at Randy. He had felt his eyes on him. Knew he was looking up at him. Despite his actions, he was so confused. He had no memory of his life, of Randy. Why did he feel so drawn to him, so protective? He wondered what Randy was wearing under that dress. He wondered what Randy looked like out of that dress. And how soon could he find out? Huh. He was feeling desire for another man. He looked around at the other women. Yes, they were attractive. He could appreciate the soft round curves. Yes, they were alluring, but none as much as the man next to him.

He wondered what Randy would look like in a tight pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Was it getting hot in here? And hey, the girls were hugging. When did that happen? Sisters? Huh.

Randy piped up to his father, pointing at the girls, "You never showed me affection like that! I'd wager."

Rupert looked at his son and rolled his eyes.

Joan spoke up, "Well, we need to figure out what's going on. We need to get help."

Randy smirked. "Looks like Joan fancies herself the boss."

Joan narrowed her eyes. "We have a kid here, Candy…"


"Whatever. A teenager. And we have no idea what's wrong with us. I think a hospital's our best bet."

Ainya was smoothing Rupert's vest, a hot, seductive look in her eyes. Rupert cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, quite right, let's, um, let's head out, shall we?" He held out his arm and waited for Ainya to take it. She grasped it and snuggled close.

Alex offered his arm to Randy. "Oh, pet. Such a gentleman, you are," Randy whispered huskily as he took Alex's arm, feeling the muscles flex under his hand. Alex blushed and surrendered a tiny smile. Everyone walked toward the door.

"Any suggestions on how we're gonna get there?" Joan asked.

Randy's lips curved up in an evil, mischievous smile as he said, "Dad can drive. He's bound to have some classic midlife-crisis transport." He pouted his lips at his father. "Something red, shiny, shaped like a penis."

"Well, son, if anyone here has a penis obsession, I'd say it was you," Rupert hissed out through clenched teeth.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Come on guys, can't we all just get along? Please?" He covered Randy's hand on his arm with his other hand and squeezed it.

Joan opened the door. There were vampires outside, snarling, flashing their fangs. They all screamed in unison. Joan slammed the door as everyone dropped to the floor and huddled together.

"Did you guys see that?" Joan asked breathlessly.

"Vampires!" Randy exclaimed, scooting closer to Alex.

Tara offered, "Maybe it's Halloween."

"It doesn't feel like Halloween," Dawn retorted.

Damn, Randy had a strong grip. Alex spoke up, "Even if it is, those guys are definitely not kids, and those are definitely not costumes. Randy's right. Looks like we have vampires."

The vampires banged on the door, hissing, "Slayer!"

Randy scooted right onto Alex's lap and threw his arms around his neck. Alex responded; in all sorts of ways. "They're definitely not knocking for candy."

Joan queried, "I thought he said his name was Randy?"

"Dear god, but you're a stupid bint," Randy observed.

The redhead rolled her eyes and said, "Okay, doors. We need to check to see if there's other doors, a-and make sure they're locked, and put large objects in front of them. Come on."

Alex set Randy aside and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'm going to help check the doors. I'll be right back, I promise."

As he stood and walked away, Randy reached up and touched his cheek in wonder. Alex had kissed him. Just his cheek, sure, but kissed him nonetheless. It was nice. He smiled.

Joan stated, "Monsters are real. Did we know this?"

"I don't know, " Tara answered, "but we n-need our memories back. We have to get to a hospital."

Rupert cleared his throat again. "As, uh, proprietor of a magic shop, I propose we fight them. We can use things here in the shop, you know, magic tricks or whatever."

The vampires began banging on the door again, peering through the window and yelling, "Send out Spike!"

"They seem to want spikes," Rupert commented.

Randy remembered seeing something in a bag next to the counter. "Oh!" He jumped up, grabbed the bag, and brought it back to the group. He reached in and pulled out a handful of spikes. "Let's give 'em these!"

Rupert smiled at his son and praised him, "Well done."

Dawn piped up, "But wait, what are they going to do with them?"

"Who the bloody hell cares, Umad?" Randy rolled his eyes at her, tucking some of the spikes in his jacket pocket.

"Bite me, Candy," she threw back.

The vamps shouted, "Slayer, come out and play!"

"'Slay her’, that's just what they said before," Tara said, horrified. "Th-th-they're gonna use the spikes to…"

"To slay someone?" Joan asked, finishing Tara's sentence. "A female someone! Who do those jerks think they are?"

"Bloodsuckers," Ainya said matter-of-factly. "They kill by sucking blood. Take it easy, Joan."

Alex and Willow came back into the room, Alex's eyes immediately sought out Randy's and he smiled. "Hey, there's some kind of weird gym in the back room. We also found a trap door in the basement; it seems to lead to the sewer."

Ainya scurried up from her spot on the floor. "Let's go!"

Alex stalled everyone. "Wait guys. Just wait one sec. Now, I may not remember much, but I do think I know this: It's night. Vampires like the night. I may want to get my memories back as much as the next person, but I don't want to get munched on while trying to do it."

"As much as it pains me to say it…" Rupert took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "…my son's boyfriend is right. We should make our way to the hospital in the morning. Now, what else can anyone remember about vampires?"

"They don't like holy water, right?" Dawn contributed, looking up at her sister, Joan, who squeezed her shoulder and smiled.

"O-oh! And they can't come in unless you invite them!" Willow called out, excitedly.

Suddenly glass exploded and a vampire began to climb in through the window. Everyone yelled and ran for the back of the room.

Alex yelled out, "Homes! They can't come into your home unless they are invited! Look, let's gear up with some holy water and…crosses! Yeah, that's it. A-and make our way to our homes."

Joan nodded. "Yeah, good idea. If we split up, we'll have a better chance. We'll meet at the hospital tomorrow morning. Oh, geez, where do we live, Dawn?"

"Hey!" Willow exclaimed. "My ID says I live on Revello drive."

"Me, too," Tara interjected.

"That must be the dorm! You and Dawn can come with us."

The vamps broke through the door, rushed into the store and grabbed Randy, slamming him up against a bookcase. "You owe us!" the vamp growled out.

"Fine! Take your damn spikes!" Randy exclaimed, pulling them from his jacket and shoved them at the vampire. They clattered to the floor.

Alex grabbed one of the spikes from the floor and plunged it into the vamp's back, dusting him. Randy looked at him in awe. Hell, Alex looked down at his hand in awe. "That was bloody brilliant, pet."

"Stay behind me, Randy," he said, shoving Randy behind him. Then he reached over and grabbed a couple bottles of holy water and a cross.

More vamps were attacking the others in the shop. Alex looked around and saw they were holding their own. "We have to get out of here, Randy. Back to my place."

Randy looked over Alex's shoulder. "But what about them?"

Alex turned and looked into Randy's eyes. It wasn't hard; the black pumps made them the same height. "You're the one who's important to me, not them."

So lost in one another's gaze were they, that they didn't notice the two vampires coming at them until one wrenched Alex away. Alex grappled with the vamp while Randy was tossed against the shelves again.

"You owe us," the monster said, looking him up and down in disgust. "I never knew you were a fruit. Wait till the boss hears about this."

"Who, me?"

"Yeah, you. You've got the boss's kittens."

"Kittens?" Randy kneed him in the groin and stepped over the vamp as he was curled in a fetal position on the floor.

Joan wheeled around and started beating on the vamp who was trying to strangle Alex. He let Alex go and started to reach for Randy.

"Hey! Stay away from Candy!" she yelled as she beat him into a bloody pulp.

"It's Randy! Randy! You stupid bint!"


She grabbed a spike from the floor and dispatched the vampire, then turned and made quick work of the other vamps in the room.

Everyone stared at her wide-eyed.


"How…how did you…"

"What did you just do?"

A slow smile came across Joan's face. "I don't know. But it was cool!" She turned around and said, "Is everybody okay? Rupert, Ainya, Willow…Candy?"



Another vamp stuck his head through the broken window and yelled out, "The boss ain't gonna like this! I'll be back. And I won't be alone!"

Joan ran forward, shut and locked the door, and dropped the metal security grate down over the storefront.

She turned and addressed the crowd, "I think I know why Joan's the boss. I'm like a superhero or something!"

"Well hoo-bloody-rah. Now what the hell are we gonna do, Superbint? And my man got one too, ya know."

Alex hurried to Randy's side.

Superbint spoke, "Okay. I've got a plan."

"I'm all ears," Alex sighed out.

"Finally!" Randy exclaimed.

"They seem to want Randy," Joan said, emphasizing the name. "And I seem to be pretty strong. Wicked strong. So, you guys go through the back room or into the sewers to get home, and I'll give the monsters a run for their money."

"That's your plan?"


"Right, then." Randy turned to his boyfriend. "Let's get the bloody hell out of here, Alex, okay?"

"You got it. I've got some car keys in my pocket; I think they're to the car I saw out back," Alex informed them.

"I'm not leaving the shop. I have to protect the cash register, and do some spells," Ainya explained.

Rupert sighed, resigned. "Oh. Well, magic might help, yes, it's worth a shot."

Joan squared her shoulders and said, "All right. You work on that then. We need to go. I'll cover you, Alex. Can you drop the girls at home, too?"

"Absolutely. Good plan. I'm ready when you are, Joan." Alex reached over and grasped Randy's hand. "You stay right next to me, okay?

Randy nodded, gripping Alex's hand firmly.

"Wait, one moment please," Rupert said. "Um, son. Come here please."

Randy let go of Alex's hand reluctantly and stepped towards his father.

Rupert put his arms around Randy and hugged him awkwardly.

Randy stepped back. "Right."

Rupert said, "Good, then," careful to not make any actual eye contact.

Alex stepped forward and put his hand in the small of Randy's back, guiding him gently towards the back. They all made it to the car; luckily, the keys worked. Alex held the door for Randy and closed it once he got in. "Ladies? Everybody settled?" he asked the others.

Joan followed him around to the driver's side and shut the door after he got in. He rolled down the window and said, "Joan, why don't you just get in the car, too?"

"No, Alex. Thanks. I don't know why, but somehow I feel it's important that I stay out here. Someone needs to fight the monsters." She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Take care of Candy," and winked at him.

"I heard that you insipid cow!"

She smiled wickedly at Randy and waved at Alex as the car pulled away from the curb.


Alex sighed in relief as he pulled up next to the apartment building. It had taken awhile to get the girls home. He’d had to stop twice and ask for directions. He turned to Randy and said, "Okay, here we go. I don’t see anything bumping in the night, but let’s not take any chances. On the count of three, I want you to run like hell into the building. Don’t worry; I’ll be right behind you."

Randy nodded. "Right."

"Okay. One, two, three, GO!"

They ran from the car towards the building. Three vamps jumped out of the bushes. "Keep going! Keep going!" Alex shouted. Randy kept going. They managed to push their way into the lobby, but the vamps were still on their heels.

"We’ve got to get to the apartment!"

They ran up the stairs, to the third floor, foregoing the elevator. Despite running in heels, Randy never once stumbled. Alex was amazed. And kinda turned on.

They reached the door and Alex fumbled with the keys, his adrenaline on overdrive.

"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up! Alex!"

Alex got the door open, grabbed Randy’s arm, and yelled, "Get in here, Randy!" They fell to the floor just as the three vamps hit the invisible barrier. Unfortunately, Alex’s foot was just outside the threshold. The vamps shot them a toothy grin and grabbed for Alex’s ankle.

Randy stood up crying, "No! Leave him alone!" He grasped Alex’s shoulders and tried to drag him into the room, but two, then three vamps had a hold of Alex. Randy never noticed when he shifted into gameface.

Randy growled and launched himself through the door at the vamps, snarling and punching and kicking, knocking two down. He turned to the other, snapping his neck before wrenching it viciously to the side, removing it completely and dusting him. As one of the others got back up he reached over and punched him solidly the face repeatedly; punctuating the hits with words, "You. Don’t. Touch. Alex!" He pulled a spike out of his pocket and plunged it into the vamp’s chest. "Ever!" The last vampire, after seeing what he was up against, scrambled up and tried to run down the hall. "Where the bloody hell do you think you’re going?" Randy exclaimed. He tossed the stake with deadly accuracy; it lodged in the vamp’s back, dusting him as he attempted to run away.

Randy turned around to Alex and said, "That was fan-feckin-tastic! Absolutely smashing! That’s what it was! Hey, Alex. I’m a super hero, too!"

Alex was scooting backwards on the floor away from Randy, shaking his head and saying, "No, no, no, no, no…"

"What’s wrong, Alex?" he asked as he crossed the threshold and knelt down next to Alex.

"Y-you’re a vampire, Randy," he said shakily, his eyes beginning to tear up.

"I am? No, no I’m not."

"Your face. Your teeth, for god’s sake."

Randy brought his hand up to his face and felt the bumps, then ran his tongue over his fangs. Damn, he was a vamp. "But I don’t want to hurt you, Alex. Not you. Never you." His face eased back into its human appearance.

"You don’t? Why?" Alex swallowed nervously.

"You’re kind to me and I think, I-I think I care for you."

"How…um, I mean when, uh…why?"

"I don’t want to bite you. I know I can’t remember us, Alex. But, I want to. I really do." He looked down for a moment then said, "Hey! I know; I must be a-a good vampire. A vampire with a soul, a-a…"

"Champion of the fashion-impaired?" Alex smiled gently at him, taking away the sting of his barb.

"Yeah, well," he said as held out his hand and pulled, "just call me super-fruit."

"But seriously; a vamp with a soul? How lame is that?"

"Well, how else do you explain it? Why am I so different?"

Alex stepped forward and cupped Randy’s cheek in his hand. "You just are. And that’s enough for me."

"God. Alex, I..."

Alex leaned in and kissed him, tentatively at first, the merest touch of lip against lip, gradually bolder, opening his mouth slowly, gently prodding his tongue against Randy’s lower lip. Randy sighed gently, opening his mouth to his lover’s exploring tongue and meeting it with his own. The kiss became deeper, rougher, more frenzied. Moist mouths crushed together, smearing the shiny, red lipstick between them, tongues twisting, tasting, wrestling for dominance.

Alex turned them, lips still joined, and began to back them up toward the couch. His hands ran over Randy’s shoulders, down his back, cupped his ass. He sank down…onto the remote.

The T.V. blared on, startling them both. They laughed together, chagrinned. Randy turned slightly and sat at Alex’s left while he fished the remote out from under his posterior and turned it off.

"A little comic relief, huh?" Alex asked with a wry grin.

"Yeah, luv," he responded. "Are you…comfortable with this?" he asked, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"Well, I was obviously comfortable enough with the whole gayness thing and with you that we woke up with you on my lap and my hand up your dress. What does that tell you? So what if I can’t remember? I will eventually, and right now, I’m goin’ with the flow. I don’t think a straight fella goes around and gives just any transvestite his jacket, ya know."

Randy chuckled, "There is that."

"This just feels right, doesn’t it?

"Yeah," Randy nodded, seemingly relieved. "Say, do ya mind if I take this sodding wig off? Bloody thing itches."

"Yup, let’s see what’s under there, huh?"

Randy pulled the wig off, sighed in relief, and tossed it aside. "So, what’s the verdict?" he asked as he rubbed his hands through his hair, messing it up so it stuck up everywhere.

"Platinum blond." He smiled and added, "Kinda messy and spikey. It suits you."

"Yeah?" he replied, pleased. He unwound the scarf from his neck and tossed it on top of the wig.

"Yeah," Alex confirmed, reaching over to run the fingers of his left hand through the spikey hair.

Randy leaned into his touch, closing his eyes in pleasure.

"I know it’s not a guy-ish thing to say, but, man you’re pretty. Just…pretty."


Alex nodded, swallowing hard, continuing to stroke the blond locks.

"What do I look like, Alex?" he all but purred, his voice husky and low.

"You have incredible blue eyes. They’re the first thing I noticed about you."

"And?" he prompted.

"And you have a scar through your eyebrow, right here," Alex mentioned, his left hand came down to rest next to his thigh while his right hand came to caress the scar with his thumb.

Randy frowned, and Alex hastened to add, "But it just makes you seem, um, dashing and mysterious."

Randy seemed placated. "And?" he prompted again, arching the aforementioned eyebrow.

Alex took a deep, steadying breath and continued, "You have incredible cheekbones; high and chiseled." His thumb moved back and forth over Randy’s cheekbone. "A-and your mouth…" His eyes drifted down, his breath catching. "You have a beautiful mouth; a full, lush, lower lip." His hand moved down, cupping Randy’s cheek while the thumb ran over that full, lush lip.

Their eyes met. The desire between them was like a tangible thing; a warm, soft, passionate thing. Randy looked down at Alex’s stained lips; the lipstick having smeared all over his mouth and the surrounding skin. He growled softly and threw his leg over Alex’s lap, straddling him, and brought their lips together once again.

Part Three

Randy couldn’t believe it. On top of being a poofter, he was also a vampire, and still this man wanted him. And he wanted this man, so, so much. At the first touch of Alex’s lips, he could barely contain himself. God, but the man could kiss. He wanted to find out what else that limber tongue and those moist, firm lips could do.

Randy leaned in further, bringing their erections together. He tore his mouth away and cried, "Alex, god!" as Alex began to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Randy ground his pelvis into his partner’s in a firm, circular motion. He grabbed both sides of Alex’s shirt and pulled hard. Buttons flew everywhere as he smirked seductively at his lover. He leaned over, his back arching, desperate to keep contact, yet just as desperate to touch, to taste Alex’s nipples. Alex’s chest was lovely; just enough hair to be decidedly masculine, but not enough to be considered hirsute. He suckled Alex’s nipples and snaked his tongue through that lovely thatch of hair.

Alex moaned at the sensations, pausing only in his explorations of Randy’s neck to draw the neckline of the dress down and apart. Then, it was his turn to lean in, drawing Randy up onto his knees so he could lick and suck and nibble, curling his tongue around each nipple in turn. He paused, rubbing his left palm over the expanse of firm, muscled chest while gripping his partner’s bicep with his right. "You are so beautiful, so perfect," he stated wondrously.


Alex was stunned at how fast they were going. He only had memories of Randy for a few hours, but he felt so connected to him. He could feel his own heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in pants. He wanted Randy. He wanted him now. Alex gave little warning: "Hold on," he said as he stood, holding onto Randy tightly. Randy locked his legs around Alex’s waist and hooked his ankles, his heels digging into the boy’s firm ass, his hands and arms wrapped around his head and neck, holding those wonderful, warm lips to his skin.

Accidentally going into the bathroom, then the walk-in closet, Alex asked in frustration, "Where is the damned bedroom?" Third room proved to be the charm. It was obviously a man’s room; king-sized bed with dark sheets, maple furniture and thick drapes, but he paid no real attention to those things. Alex placed his lover on the bed, stepped to the side and flicked on the bedside lamp. "I want to see you, is that okay?" The blond nodded. He looked down at Randy hungrily and ripped his shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it aside. He couldn’t wait to see him, all of him. Taste him. Take him.

He threw himself down onto the bed, supporting himself on his elbows and looked Randy in the eye. His eyes were wide; pupils so dilated the iris was almost invisible; the barest hint of sky blue. Alex reached down and pulled apart the dress, then pulled back so he could see his lover’s body.

Alex gasped. Randy had carried the whole cross-dressing thing from the skin – out. No bra, ‘cause, duh, no boobs. But there was a garter belt holding up the black, lace-topped thigh-high stockings. With matching panties. Black satin with a red rose at the top. It matched the garter belt, actually. But that wasn’t what made Alex gasp.

He gasped because of the picture those panties helped to paint. The scrap of satin and lace was so small that it hardly concealed much. Randy’s soft, almost hairless balls were bulging out at the bottom, his long, thick penis poked out just above the red satin rose, the reddish-purple tip completely emerged from his foreskin and pointed upwards, nearly flat against his muscular abdomen.

Randy could feel Alex’s hot breath along his cock, teasing him. "Don’t just look at it," he demanded, "do something!"

Luckily, the panties were put on last, so Alex was able to grasp them and pull them down nimpeded by the garter belt. As he backed up, pulling them down slowly, he realized something. It was a thong. A thong. The man had been walking around all day with his jewels not-so-neatly tucked inside of a thong. He balled the panties up and put them in his left pocket, leaving the garter belt, stockings and high-heels on.

He moved up and kissed Randy again, deeply, smearing the lipstick further. As he drew his mouth down, he licked his way over each of his nipples in turn, kissing them, staining them with the smeared lipstick, and then sucking it off. He felt Randy’s hands sweep over his back, shoulders, and upper arms, stopping to tangle in his hair when Alex’s teeth closed on his nipple and tugged.


Randy was panting needlessly. Alex’s teasing touches and acrobatic tongue were driving him wild. Alex’s mouth moved down to his navel, and his tongue stabbed and swirled. The dark-haired man’s chin bumped the spongy head of his erection, and the sensation caused his hands to fly from Alex’s hair and grasp the pillow under his head. And the noises Alex was making. God. Humming, ‘tasty’ noises, causing his lips to vibrate against Randy’s sensitive skin.

Alex moved, shifting farther down and staring hungrily at Randy’s twitching member.

"A-Alex are you…? Will you …? Oh, god. Alex, please!"

Alex’s tongue reached out tentatively at first, and then more boldly, his tongue stroking up and down the big vein.

Randy cried out, "Alex! Baby, yes!"

Emboldened, Alex took the tip of the erection into his mouth and sucked. Hard.

Randy cried out nonsensical, nonexistent words as he writhed on the bed, spreading his stocking-clad legs farther apart.

Alex took advantage and settled in-between his lover’s thighs, and then gamely began to suck him in earnest as he thrust rhythmically against the bedspread to get a little friction. He experimented with his tongue, lips, and fingers, finding the things that best drove his lover wild.

Randy was desperate to make it last as long as possible, but couldn’t hold out any longer. He arched his back, flinging his head to the side, and came.

Alex gamely tried to swallow it all, but wasn’t quite able. He was surprised at the taste and temperature; kinda cool ‘n tangy. His tongue swept around the outside of his mouth, catching the errant drops. He looked up and saw those gorgeous blue eyes staring down at him.


Randy arched his eyebrow, smirked, and gave a ‘come hither’ crook with his finger. As Alex scrambled up the bed, he scootched up to lean against the headboard slightly and reclined next to his partner. Randy reached over and cupped his cheek, kissing him intently and sweeping his tongue around his lover’s mouth and chin to get every last drop.

He looked down at Alex’s impressive cock. Very, very impressive cock. Spectacular, if truth be told. Long, thick, and nestled in dark, almost ebony hair that glinted and shone in the light. He got a wicked smile on his face. After all, turnabout was fair play.

Randy sat up and rolled onto his knees, and moved forward. He leaned over and took Alex’s meat into his mouth.

Alex barked out, "Randy, baby!" He ran his hands over Randy’s ass and thighs, stroking and squeezing. Randy’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, and he took his lover’s dick deeper into his throat.


God, that ass. Firm, pale globes just meant for his hands to squeeze, and caress and pinch. That cool wet mouth. That lithe tongue. As the pale blond head bobbed up and down on his cock, he grabbed the ass and pulled it over, guiding one leg over his chest so Randy was straddling him, which placed that wonderful ass directly in front of his face.

He grasped both sides, squeezing them together and then pried them apart, licking and nibbling the beautifully rounded butt. With what little thought process was left, he wondered about another thing he could taste. Would it be, gulp, icky? It didn’t seem to be, or good golly Moses, have an odor. Just smelled like the rest of him. He pulled the cheeks apart and revealed the tiny, pale-pink pucker. He touched it tentatively with the tip of his tongue. Randy stopped sucking and bobbing and gave a startled squeak. Alex could feel the rosette tense and flex. He smiled against that beautiful ass and began to flick and stroke the pucker with his tongue.


The first touch of Alex's tongue against his hole startled Randy. When the stroking and flicking continued, it was like tiny electrical shocks going straight to his dick. Alex squeezed his left butt cheek and Randy got down to business.

So did Alex.

Randy couldn’t believe the dual sensation. The thick cock deep in his throat, the writhing tongue on his anus. That’s when it happened. That tongue, that wonderful long, thick tongue stabbed in, plunging into his ass. He pulled up again, breathing hard, trying desperately to stave off his orgasm.


Thank god Randy had pulled off when he tongued him deep. He wanted this to last as long as possible, and the cool tightness of Randy's mouth had him ready to pop. Truth be told, he was kinda impressed with himself. Seems like he could really ‘delay his gratification’. Cool beans, baby. He wanted to make this wonderful creature come as many times as possible. Judging by how fast Randy got hard the second time, he had like, zero recovery time. A couple more thrusts of his tongue and deep breaths, and he had control again. Randy recovered as well and bent over to continue his task.

Unfortunately, Alex’s jaw was starting to get tired. He reached underneath and began to fondle Randy's soft, velvety balls. He felt Randy swallow against the head of his cock and knew that he couldn’t hold it off for very much longer. He was sweating and tense from the exertion and the sensations. He moved his hand from the sack to the dripping shaft and began to stroke firmly, feeling the movement of the foreskin along it. His lover’s legs began to shake, and he stabbed his tongue in as hard and as deep as he could. Randy shouted against the cock in his mouth as he came, the vibrations causing Alex to follow him into orgasm.

Randy threw himself onto his back. "Bloody hell," he said, panting. "Where’d you learn to do that?"

Alex raised his eyebrows and blinked at him.

"Oh. Right. That was absolutely smashing, pet."

Alex gave him an ‘I’m a naughty boy’ smile, and began to stroke Randy’s thigh, rubbing the come into his skin. His face flushed.


Randy looked into Alex’s eyes; hot and deep and wanting. He felt his cock twitch in response. Just his lover’s gaze could do that to him. That boy’s tongue should be declared a national treasure. Or his prick. That prick was quite a prize, too. His eyes flicked to the object of his body-part affection. If his tongue felt that bloody sensational in his ass, what would that dick feel like? He couldn’t wait to find out. He swiveled and moved up next to Alex, and faced him. "Fancy meeting you here, pet." He reached up and stroked his fingers through the sweaty brown locks. "So, how’s about a fuck, luv?"

The heat in Alex’s eyes flashed. He supposed that was a ‘yes’.

He continued to talk dirty to his lover. "Oh, yeah. You want that don’t you? Shove that great, huge prick into my tight ass? Over and over, riding me hard?" His hand began to jack Alex gently, then more firmly. Alex’s dilated eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips, watching them form the naughty words.

"Oh, hell, yeah." Alex reached into the bedside table and began to root through it. Nothing but a Vogue, a Cosmo, and a pink, frilly sleep mask. Frilly sleep mask? Cosmo? Boy, Randy was really embracing his feminine side. But, damn, the man was hot. "Check the other one."

Randy rolled over and opened the top drawer of the opposite bedside table. "Bingo, luv!" The drawer was full of lubes, lotions, oils, condoms. He dug through the drawer and discovered even more. Fur-lined cuffs, an obscenely large dildo, and…nipple clamps? Well, well, well. He really wished he could remember using those. "And what flavor would sir like his lube this fine evening?"

"Huh?" Alex was obviously distracted by Randy’s bare ass, framed as it was by the garter belt and stockings.

"It’s a bloody fruit market in here, luv. No pun intended." He curved his tongue out over his teeth and gazed saucily at Alex.

"Anything plain? The only thing I want to taste tonight is you."

Randy smiled and fished out a tube of Astroglide. "I think this will do nicely, pet." He cocked his head to one side and asked, "What about a condom, Alex?"

Alex frowned slightly and thought before answering, "I don’t think we need one, since you’re a vamp and male, and, well, we’ve done just about everything else tonight without protection. It’s up to you; whatever you want is absolutely okay with me."

"I think not. I want to feel you without a rubber on; feel every wonderful inch completely and utterly as you slide in deep."

"Jesus. Stop talking like that! You’ll make me pop before the main event."

"Stopping now, luv. Wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of you pounding into me as long as possible."

"You’re a very naughty man."

"Yes. I am. You should punish me by fucking me very hard for a very looooong time."

"Sounds like a plan."

Part Four

Randy rolled over and handed the lube to Alex.

"First things first," he said, pulling Randy towards him, cuddling him and kissing him softly. Alex couldn’t help but think that, from all appearances, they’d been together for awhile. But, since he didn’t remember that, he was going to do his very best to make sure that this time, the first time being inside Randy during his new, abbreviated memory, was as special as possible.

He kept his touches gentle and caring, hands sliding over Randy’s face, through his hair, down his back. Kissing each eyelid in turn as they fluttered closed. He ran his hands down to his partner’s ass, feeling the moisture that was still there from his tongue. Alex pulled his lover’s thigh up with his left hand and placed it over his own hip, spreading Randy for better access. He moved his hand back to the moist crevasse and stroked.


Alex was such a gentle, considerate lover. The emotions this man made him feel were surging inside of him. He undulated against the man, running his hands over the warm, tanned body, gripping his biceps. Kissing. Kissing constantly. Wet, gentle, thorough kisses. He loved the way those rough, calloused hands felt stroking him, touching him. Owning him. At the first touch of the fingertip against his hole he pulled back from the kiss, gasping, "Yes. Oh Alex, now, please. Hurry."

Alex reached over and coated his fingers with lube and continued the stroking. Randy whimpered and tucked his face into the crook between Alex’s shoulder and neck, his hand coming up to tangle in the thick mop of hair. He licked Alex’s earlobe, took it into his mouth and sucked it, then nibbled it. Moving down his neck licking and kissing. When the first finger slid into him, he latched onto Alex’s neck with his blunt teeth and sucked. He could hear Alex breathing in his ear and feel the hot breath on his neck.

The dark-haired man rolled them so Randy was on the bottom. Randy let go and admired the purpling love bite on Alex’s neck. He wanted to make more, but Alex pushed his thighs up, pushing his back into the mattress. He hooked Randy’s legs up over his shoulders and put a pillow underneath his hips. He added more lube and inserted another finger. Randy groaned and thumped his head against the pillow.


Alex loved the feeling of that tight coolness gripping his finger, the soft, fluttering sensation of the surrounding muscles, the tiny, soft grunting noises from his lover. When he rolled them, he couldn’t help but admire Randy; his garter belt had scooted down, and his hard cock lay on top of it. One of the stockings had come loose and slid down his thigh.

He brought Randy’s legs up onto his shoulders, relishing the roughness of the nylon against his skin, loving the kinkiness of the high heels, which by some miracle had stayed on. He slowly pressed a second lubed finger in and watched his lover’s reaction. His own prick was turgid and drooling, eager to be inside.

He leaned down to Randy, gently grasping his lower lip between his teeth and pulling slightly, only to release the kiss-swollen lip and move down to give the same treatment to each nipple in turn. His fingers continued to pump in and out. He scissored them, loosening the grasping channel.

God, those noises; Randy was breathing hard, whimpering, and mewling. The noises interspersed with "Alex", "baby", "please" and "yeeeesssss."

Randy’s slicked channel began to warm from the friction. He added a third finger. Harder to get the third in; it was just so damned tight. He wiggled his other fingers trying to get it in. Whoa. Big reaction there.

"Bloody hell!" Randy shouted, his back arching off the bed. His hands flew up and grabbed the maple headboard with such force that it creaked. "Do that again!"

"You mean this?" Alex asked, demonstrating.

"Ungh! Christ, yes! J-just keep doin’ that!"

"Don’t want me to put my dick in there? See how that feels?"

"Yes! Now! Hurry the bloody hell up!"

Alex tsked. "You’re such a backseat driver."

He coated his cock completely, better too much than not enough, he figured. He slid home.

Randy’s eyes rolled up in his head and the headboard actually cracked from his grip.

Alex stopped and babbled rapidly, "Don’tmovedon’tmovedon’tmove." He panted to get under control. The grip of Randy’s ass around his dick was incredible, tenacious, overwhelming. It was a whole fucking thesaurus of unbelievable rightness.

He looked down at Randy, who was struggling not to move, the muscles in his chest, arms and neck bulging from the exertion. "For the love of Christ, move," he ground out.

Alex chuckled as he pulled out and slid back in, angling himself to hit the same spot he had with his fingers. He groaned, saying, "You keep mentioning God in my presence. You a religious man?" he teased.

"What can I say, luv? Your cock makes me want to kneel down in worship."

Alex leaned forward to kiss Randy. "I feel the same way about your ass." His left hand reached under, cupping said ass and squeezing. Alex stayed in that position, pumping steadily, firmly into that glorious ass.


If everybody could feel this, the whole fucking world would be gay, Randy thought. He could feel the sweat dripping off Alex and rolling down onto him, making his skin slick. The new angle had trapped his penis between Alex’s flexing abdomen and the garter belt. The friction from the scratchy lace against his sensitive foreskin and the heat and pressure from the body above him was incredible. Not to mention the cock inside him, skewering him open, hitting that wonderful spot inside of him on almost every stroke, making him see sparks and fireworks behind his eyelids. His left leg slid down off Alex’s shoulder due to the pounding, and his shoe-clad foot bounced with each thrust.

Alex began to speed up, going deeper, plunging harder. His eyes locked on Randy’s. He felt so connected; it was almost like they were two parts of the same person. Heat. Desire. Love? Could all that really be there in Alex’s dark brown eyes?

He was so close. So close. Just. A little. More! Randy’s orgasm hit hard. He shot his load up so it hit his chest and chin and Alex’s chest. The sensation caused him to kick his leg out. The shoe flew up in an arc…and took out the bedside table with a loud crash. Alex followed, yelling out his completion.

As they lay there, panting in the dark, Alex spoke, "Was it, huh, whoo boy, g-good for you, too?" He gave a wheezy laugh.

"Bloody brilliant."

They laid in the dark recovering, basking in the afterglow. Alex pulled out gently, the sensation causing them both to moan in unison. He slid down and rested his head on Randy’s chest and took his hand in his, stroking the palm with his thumb. The phone, now off the hook, made a persistent ‘EH, EH, EH’ noise, but eventually stopped. After a few minutes Randy spoke, "I guess we should check out the shower, luv. We’re a right mess."

"Yeah," Alex replied, kissing the blond’s belly. He got up, saying, "Wait here, I’ll turn on another light. Wouldn’t want you to get glass in your feet." He felt his way around the wall, found the overhead switch, and turned it on. "It looks like the light bulb didn’t shatter; just the base is broken and luckily it’s in several big pieces. Bad news though; ding dong the shoe is dead." He held it up by the broken heel for Randy’s perusal.

"Acceptable losses, eh?"

"Most definitely."


Alex reached down and took off the other shoe, dropped it on the floor, and held out his hand. Randy took it and they walked hand in hand to the bathroom. He took a moment to figure out how the shower worked, started the water to let it warm up, and then knelt down in front of Randy. He undid the garter clasps. As he rolled the stockings down and off, lifting each leg in turn, he rubbed his cheek against the smooth, almost hairless skin on Randy’s inner thighs. He reached up and pulled down the belt and tossed it with the hose.

They stepped into the shower together, gently touching, softly kissing, but not speaking. They spoke volumes with their eyes.

After they got out, Alex went ahead into the bedroom and stripped off the soiled bedspread and threw it on the floor. He just moved the broken lamp out of the way, not in the mood to go look for the trash container. He didn’t bother to put the phone’s receiver back into the cradle; he didn’t want them to be disturbed. Finally, he made sure the heavy drapes were shut and turned to see Randy. He looked so cute; a little bit of smeared eye makeup remained around his eyes and his hair was wet and rather curly.

He turned off the light and they tumbled into bed, too spent to do anything else but cuddle and whisper endearments into each other’s hungry ears.

Part Five

A/N: This chapter contains obvious references and general misuse of Rocky Horror.

Spike knew the moment the spell had ended. The actual bloody second. He hadn’t been able to sleep; so keyed up by the emotions still stirring from his night of passion with Alex. Xander fucking Harris. He had sex…and liked it, with a stupid, idiotic, human boy. His first impulse was to jerk away, fling vitriolic abuse, and stalk out of the apartment.

But then Xander snuggled closer, spooning him. The arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him against his body tightly. Then warm breath, warm words in his ear, "Mmm. Randy." Those warm lips pressed against his neck in a sleepy kiss, a hum of satisfaction behind it. Whispered, "Love you." Spike clenched his teeth. The boy was obviously still sleeping; dreaming about their night together, if the not-so-soft prick in between his asscheeks was any indication.

It felt like his dead husk of a heart was being squeezed. Why him? Why now? He really shouldn’t be too surprised. Randy was much like William had been, sans wig and lacy knickers. William had been so soddin’ wet, he’d practically left a trail. Thank all that was unholy that the spell had lasted less than 24 hours. A couple more days with ‘Alex’ and he would have been spouting poetry. And if history was any indication, really bad poetry.

He made a decision. He’d ride this out, a really poor choice of words, until the boy woke up. After all, when was he likely to feel closeness like this again, even if it was magically induced? Not any time soon. Not from Buffy.

When he’d kissed her he had felt so much; it was like the fuckin’ ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ and ’Seventy-six bloody trombones’ all at once. But she had tasted, had felt, like greed, and sorrow, and desperation. Before tonight he could have deluded himself. But not now. Xander’s kisses were full of feeling -- genuine feeling, need, and raw desire. Even a little love, maybe?

Xander moved again behind him, rubbing his soft hair against Spike’s back. Spike sighed. So, no, he wouldn’t leave tonight. Tonight he would stay in a soft, warm bed cuddling with a soft, warm boy. He grasped the hand against his chest and held it.

He would soak up every drop of love and affection he could. He had no delusions, though; the spell was broken…over. He had no doubt that the boy would revert back to hating him, probably more vehemently than before. And the hatred would be returned. Probably.

He wasn’t a stupid vampire. He knew that loving Buffy, wanting her, was wrong. He knew that Buffy would never want him or love him. She would just use him and kick him when he was down. Dru had used him, after all. Oh, she’d cared for him, perhaps loved him in her own loony way, but Angelus always came first. He was simply made to scratch an itch when Daddy couldn’t get to it. Harm he’d used, but she had used him in return. "Wah, wah, wah, France. Wah, wah, wah, Blondie Bear." She was just a convenient, if noisy and annoying, body to fuck.

Buffy would never love him. It was funny how he could accept that now. Rather perturbing, actually. ‘Cause it meant that he had seen something better, something real, in the arms of a brown-eyed boy. He didn’t want to settle for something less. Not anymore. But could he accept it from Xander? If it were offered, that is. Not much chance of that. No, tomorrow the walls would come up and the closet would close. For both of them.


Xander became aware of the pounding on his front door slightly before the cooler-than-normal body next to him.

"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaccckkk!" he shrieked, flinging himself backwards off the bed and into the wall.

His front door burst open with a loud ‘CRACK!’ as Buffy kicked it in, and Willow, Buffy, Dawn, Giles, and Anya rushed through – right into the bedroom.

Xander only had a fraction of a second to grab a pillow and hold it in front of his groin.


"Xander!" she shrieked.

"Spike!" Xander shrieked, pointing with his free hand at the pale man in his bed who was wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary _expression and absolutely nothing else.

"Xander!" Anya cried out in surprise and horror.

"Anya!" he shouted back.

"Xander?" Willow queried, eyes wide.

"Wills?" Xander whined. Then he made a whimpery sound and slid down against the wall to the floor, clutching his pillow. "I–I–I a-a-and Sp-sp-sp…" he began to sputter, his voice getting higher and higher with each syllable.

"Do calm down Xander," Giles said, in a futile attempt to calm Xander down. "Just take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

After Xander did as Giles suggested, all eyes turned toward the lone figure on the bed. Spike arched his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and stretched. The sheet inched downward indecently, displaying the bruises and love bites scattered here and there on his torso.

Willow said weakly, "We tried to call first…"

Buffy put her hand over Dawn’s eager eyes and began to yell. It was something she was quite good at. "What the hell is going on? What did you do?"

Xander found his voice again, even if it still sounded rather hysterical, "You can ask that? Can’t you tell? I just screwed the sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania! Ha, ha!" He covered his face with his hands.

"Hot damn, luv," Spike added from the bed. "I think you’re sweet, too," he added, laying the sarcasm on thickly.

Xander thumped his head against the wall, looked up and saw Anya. "Hands! Hands in new places! Holy mother of Zeus! Why are you and Giles holding hands?" He began to wave his hands about frantically, the movement causing the pillow to shift slightly. He grabbed it back, desperate to have some sort of barrier between his family jewels and the rest of the room.

Dawn wrenched Buffy’s hands from her eyes to look at Anya and Giles. "Yeah. Why are you two holding hands?"

Anya looked up at Giles anxiously. He sighed, resigned, and began to speak, "Well, Xander, it seems there were several new developments last night, and, well, that is, to be specific..."

"Aging here!"

"Right. Anya and I have realized we have feelings for each other. We appreciate that this is not the most opportune moment to discuss it, but we are now together, and Anya intends to break your engagement."

"Yes, Xander. It’s true. I love Rupy…"

"Rupy?" the room echoed, disbelieving.

"…and he loves me. But it has nothing to do with your performance in bed."

Spike saw an opening. "Yep, at least the lad knows how to kiss." He tossed the comment pointedly at Buffy. She winced. So did Xander.

Unfortunately, Anya saw that as an opening. "Oh yes, Xander is a very talented lover. He gave me many good orgasms. How many did he give you last night?"


Anya nodded, obviously impressed. Giles began to clean his glasses. Buffy blanched. Dawn’s mouth turned up in a wicked teenaged grin, and Willow began to chew her lip and stare at the floor.

Xander groaned and thumped his head again, "I thought I said ‘no more butt-monkey’!"

"I’m fairly certain that was me last night," Spike said, twisting on the bed.

The wicked teenaged grin got wider.

"For the love of god, shut up!" Xander yelled at him.

Spike continued, "Well, as much fun as this has been, I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet. I’m going to take a shower."

"Spike! You didn’t go to bed with your makeup on did you? That’s very bad for your skin. Cosmo said that one night in makeup ages your skin seven days," Anya supplied helpfully. "However, ejaculate is full of protein and is quite good for your complexion."

Spike gave Anya a pointed look and said, "Cover your eyes, Nibblet."

Dawn covered her eyes as Spike stood up, completely naked, and walked unapologetically into the bathroom. She parted her fingers just enough to see his ass, covered with finger-shaped bruises, as he walked past. She eeped.


Spike could hear all hell breaking loose in the bedroom. He turned on the shower as hot as he dared and stepped under, hanging his head under the spray as he gripped the walls. He’d needed to get out of the room more than he needed the shower. Needed the distance. Even though he’d prepared himself, Xander’s reaction hurt him. He hit the wall with the heel of his hand and cracked a tile. Hurt. Him.

He was angry because it wasn’t Buffy he was obsessed with now; it was Xander.


Xander was numb. It was just too much. He’d slept with Spike. And liked it. A lot. Anya and Giles were together. Anya was leaving him. Just...too…much. He could hear Anya rambling in the background.

"And that’s when we realized we should be together. I’m sorry, Xander. It’s just that so much happened when we were under the spell. You’ll always be my first love and hold a special place in my heart, but, you weren’t ready for commitment. Not really. Rupert is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man; handsome, kind, loving…financially stable." She continued, "And as a bonus, like a free gift with purchase, he’s really terrific in bed, too! Joyce was right; he is like a stevedore." Her face practically glowed.

Wasn’t that just fucktastic.

"Again with the stevedore?" Buffy cried. "What the hell is a stevedore?"

Anya opened her mouth to answer, ever helpful, but Giles cleared his throat. She took the hint. Wow. He was already better at Anya-wrangling than Xander had been.

But then she started again, "But, you’re gay now. Like Willow."

He cringed.

She continued, speculating, "Is it contagious? It seems to happen a lot with you people. I’m not going to breathe gay air and all of the sudden wake up one morning not liking men, am I? Is there a pill I can take? A lozenge? Because I really like men’s penises and it would be a shame to have to learn about new equipment all over again."

"It’s not contagious, and I’m not gay."







Anya took a breath, but Giles forestalled her with a hand on her shoulder. Damn, he really was good at that.

Xander interrupted, "Where’s Tara, Wills?" He was desperate for almost any distraction from his situation at this point.

Buffy answered for her. "Tara left her, moved out." Buffy’s tone was rather clinical and matter-of-fact. Willow seemed to cave into herself.

"But, why?" he asked, truly surprised. They’d seemed so solid; so perfect for each other.

Buffy answered again. "The magic. The spell. Willow did it trying to erase my memories of my death and heaven, and Tara’s memories of her anger over Willow’s magic use."

"That true, Wills?"

Willow nodded, looking down at the floor, unable to meet her best friend’s eyes.

"Just…how could you? How could you do that to us? To Tara? To me?" He felt so betrayed.

As Willow took a deep breath, he prepared himself for the onslaught.

"I didn’t mean to Xander. I just loved Tara sooo much, and I felt so bad about what happened to Buffy, and it was all because of me! I thought I could make it better, make Buffy be happy again, make Tara stay," she trailed off. "I just wanted to make everything better."

"For you. You wanted to make everything better for you. Well, is it? Is it better?" Xander lashed out, breathing hard. He held up his hand as Willow tried to speak. "I know you’re hurting. I know you’re sorry. But I can’t deal with this right now. Not from you. I’d like you to leave Willow. I need some time to deal, and I can’t do that with you here."

Willow turned and left, dejected.

Spike burst forth from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, thankfully, with a towel around his waist. "Xan---boy. You got anything ta wear? Seems some horny bloke tore my dress off. I need some togs."

"Top drawer." Xander looked away, trying to look at something, anything else. Unfortunately, the only thing in front of him was the messy, unkempt bed. The bed in which they had… He swallowed hard, and looked down at the pillow clutched resolutely in front of him.

The rest of the room stood in silence, unsure how to react.

"Anything in here that doesn’t appear to be radioactive?"

"Second drawer."

Spike rooted through the drawer, tossed a few rejects over his shoulder onto the floor, and finally found something in a dark color without a superhero on it. He grabbed up a pair of sneakers from the floor and returned to the bathroom to change, slamming the door behind him.

Xander continued to sit on the floor, trying desperately to stop the tears that were filling his eyes. He would not cry. Not till everyone left. The others continued to stand there in silence, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and shifted from foot to foot.

The bathroom door slammed open with such force that the doorknob smashed through the drywall and stuck. "It’s been just loverly. Ta ever so for the hospitality," Spike ground out angrily. "Where’s the redheaded witch? I wanted to thank her…personally."

"She left. Just leave Spike. Please. Just leave," Xander’s voice croaked out.

Spike left with as much dignity as overly-large sweatpants and a T-shirt proclaiming ‘Carpenters like to nail things to the wall’ could provide. It wasn’t much.

After Spike left, Xander covered his eyes and asked quietly, "Could everyone please go home?"

Everyone answered in the affirmative, and Anya asked if she could gather a few things to take with her. Xander agreed.

Xander continued to sit on the floor long after everyone had left and Buffy had propped the door against the frame. He wondered, briefly, what the neighbors must think; they must have overheard. They hadn’t exactly been quiet today. Or last night.

He sat. He sat till his ass hurt from the carpet pile biting into it. He sat as the digital clock changed, counting the minutes. He sat. He sat.

He cried.

Part Six

"Do you think Xander is gonna be okay?" Dawn asked as they were walking home.

"It may take awhile Dawn. It’s an awful lot to deal with. Anya dumping him for Giles. Just wonder at that weirdness. I mean daddy-complex much? But then again, technically she is over 1000 years old, so it’s almost cradle-y robber-y when ya look at it like that..."

"Eww. I so do not want to talk about the Anya-Giles sexcapades, thank you very much. I meant about the whole Xander being gay and playing ‘hide the salami’ with Spike."

"’Hide the salami’? First you research and now you think you’re mature enough to use tacky sex euphemisms?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. She was pretty good at it; practice makes perfect. "Off-topic much?"

"I don’t know. I never thought that Xander was gay. Maybe he isn’t. He never gave off a ‘gay vibe’."

"Yeah. Lots of straight guys summon musical theater-obsessed demons."

"I don’t know, Dawn," Buffy sighed.

"Anyway, seeing Xander and Spike there, together; that was just…wow."

"Yeah, the two of them together, who woulda thunk it?"

"Well, they always did fight a lot. Maybe they had a lotta repressed sexual tension." A new thought crossed Dawn’s mind. "God, it must have been soooo hot - the two of them together."

They both stopped and stared out into space. Buffy recovered first.

"Oh my god! Tell me you aren’t thinking about the two of them having sex!"

Dawn smirked.

"You were! You so totally were! Stop it! I can’t handle you thinking about hot, sweaty, gay, man-sex!"

"Hot, sweaty, gay, man-sex?"

"Ugh! Don’t say that!"

Dawn rolled her eyes again. "Why not Buffy? We learned all about alternative lifestyles in health class, like, eons ago." She began to enumerate, "There’s analingus, anal penetra-"

Buffy interrupted, "Do not finish that thought. That leads to a whole new world of ‘ewww’. I think it’s fair to say that I can live the rest of my life without hearing you saying analingus."

"How about fellatio?"

"Ack! No!"


Buffy slapped her hand over Dawn’s mouth. "Do not finish that sentence if you want to be allowed to come out of your room before you’re thirty."

Buffy removed her hand.

Dawn huffed, "Geez, I’m just talking about it. It’s not like I’m actually doing it." She glanced out of the corner of her eye to gauge Buffy’s reaction. "Yet."

"That is it! The first thing I’m gonna do when we get home is buy you a chastity belt."

"For Pete’s sake, Buffy! I’m fifteen, not ten! Plus, I don’t think you can get those anymore."

"Betcha I can. You can find almost anything on eBay."

"A used chastity belt? Ewww."

"Hush, or I will!" She mused to herself, "Maybe a muzzle would be better."

"A chastity belt and a ball-gag? Kinky."

Buffy gave up.


Xander cried; great wracking sobs that shook his entire body. When he finally stopped, spent and exhausted, he got up from the floor rather shakily. He had pins and needles in his ass and legs from sitting for so long. He looked down at the rumpled bed. Flashes of blue eyes and tousled blond hair. He began to angrily strip the linens. Smooth alabaster skin. Tender touches, soft words; he couldn’t stop the images from rolling through his mind. He wadded the sheets up, got a laundry basket and tossed them in. He took the basket into the living room and put it next to the off-kilter door so he could take them down to the laundry room.

When he went back into the bedroom he noticed the bedspread. He began to breathe harshly, angrily. He stalked into the kitchen and got a garbage bag and stuffed it in. Xander decided he needed a shower. I gotta wash that man right outta my hair, he thought. The thought causing him to choke down another sob.

God, he felt like Sybil; emotions see-sawing all over the place. Maybe a nice, hot shower would relax him and help him to calm down his frazzled emotions. That decided, he walked into the bathroom, not bothering to un-embed the doorknob from the plaster so he could close the door.

Spike had left him a little present; the stockings and garter belt were hanging over the shower rod. Xander’s face slid into a stony glare. He ripped the stockings and belt down from the shower and all but ran into the kitchen. He forced them down into the garbage disposal with an almost maniacal glee. When he flipped the switch, his mouth turned into a mockery of a true smile. His hands gripped the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles were white. He watched and listened with perverse satisfaction as the lingerie was devoured by the disposal.


Spike was trapped in the basement laundry room. The day was too bright and Xander’s building didn’t have sewer access. The irony did not escape him. From one of the boy’s basements to another. He paced back and forth. He had to get the kid out of his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? Going from the slayer to the inept white knight. He jumped up and sat on one of the dryers. God he wanted a fag. A cigarette. He wanted a bloody cigarette. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

It never did take much for him to throw himself headlong into someone. He could remember the day when he fell for Cecily. She’d smiled at him. Saw him from across the garden and smiled, her face lighting up. Because of him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t him she was smiling at. It was Nigel Blackthorne, her second cousin, who happened to be directly behind him. By the time he found that out, it was too late; he was already smitten.

This time it was Alex/Xander. Only Alex really had been looking at him, or rather, at Randy. Fuck, this was so bloody confusing. He hadn’t thought about a man in this way since he’d been a ruddy teenager. And then, he hadn’t known what the feelings meant, just that they made him different. So, he’d latched onto any female face that he thought had looked his way.

Such feelings, such leanings towards the same sex were most definitely not accepted. Not in Victorian England. His father had been a stern man; incredibly strict. No deviation from what was ‘proper’ was allowed. He’d been told it was his responsibility, his duty, to follow in his father’s footsteps by taking over his business, and to marry in order to carry on the family name. Despite his love for his father, he’d been somewhat relieved when he’d died. It was only then that he was allowed to indulge in his love of the written word. His Mum had even encouraged it. Encouraged the whole Cecily debacle as well.

When Dru had turned him, it became a non-issue. She had saved him, made him so much more than the quiet mousy poet he had been. Over a hundred years of not thinking of a man in any way but a quick meal, and now a moronic boy had turned him into a pansy overnight. He began to pick at the red nail polish furiously.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe he was dredging up ancient soddin’ history. Christ, even Buffy hadn’t tied him up in knots like this. He jumped down from the dryer and kicked it, putting a rather significant dent in it. "A goddamned human boy!"

A young man who was loaded down with two baskets of dirty laundry dropped them in shock. "Sorry, man. I, uh, didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just, uh, come back later. Okay? Bye."

"Wait. What time is it?"

The young man, mousy and already sporting a rather obvious comb-over, froze in place. "W-what?"

"The time. What’s the bloody time?"

He looked at his digital watch. "Um, 6:33."

"Close enough." Spike brushed past the man and left the laundry room. The sun would be low enough now that he could make a dash for the sewer entrance across the street.

By the time he reached his crypt, he’d made a decision. Come hell or fucking high water, he was going to get this out of his system. He was not going to let one pretty human boy do this to him. No. No more. The boy didn’t want him? Well, he didn’t want him either. So bloody there. He went into the lower chamber and changed his clothes. Time to put on something less comfortable. He wadded up the t-shirt and sweatpants and threw them in a corner.

He couldn’t calm down. It was like there were ants under his skin. He hated feeling like this. Hated not being in control. Hadn’t been in control for a long time; bloody chip, bloody Scoobies. Going from one shitty situation to another. He punched the stone wall. Fuck. He really had to stop beatin’ on the masonry.

He found the half-empty bottle of Jack on the table. Good. Just the stuff to keep body and no soul together. He flopped on the bed and turned on the radio, not trusting himself to the silence.

Of all the things I believed in
I just wanna get it over with
Tears warm behind my eyes, but I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by

I've been searchin' deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearin' are starting to get old

Feels like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend
And I said...
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything
That I knew

You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

I used to get lost in your eyes
And it seems that I can't live a day without you

Closin' my eyes, you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light
But it's not right
Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything
That I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

And it hurts to want
Everything and nothing at the same time
I want what's yours and I
Want what's mine

I want you
But I'm not giving in this time
Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to

The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved...

Spike chugged the bottle and smashed it against the wall.

"Goodbye to You" by Michelle Branch

Part Seven

Xander had fixed the door last night. He’d felt like pounding something into submission and the front door fit the bill perfectly. He’d also done a lot of thinking.

About Anya; an odd sensation of relief there, actually. After the initial shock had worn off, he thought about it and realized something. He really did love her, but he wasn’t in love with her. She was so much fun. He loved being with her, and he thought marriage was the next step. ‘Cause that’s what you’re supposed to do; find someone, marry that someone, have everything go south, divorce that someone, move onto the next someone.

It wasn’t she who was the wrong someone. It was him. He was going to marry her because he thought he should, not because he wanted to. Plus, she was obviously happy with Giles. Definite plus there. He’d gotten up and thrown away those skeezy cheeses right after his epiphany. Had to double-bag them though, ‘cause, damn, they stank worse than his work boots.

Today he moved on to the gay thing, pushing the Spike thing way, way into the back of his mind marked ‘uh-uh, not-going-there, firmly-entrenched-in-denial, Spike-who?’ section.

So. Gay now? Not sure. Okay let’s tip-toe through the list, he thought.

Straight: Likes sports. A manly-man activity. With buff men in sweaty uniforms. Shit. Maybe that should go in both columns. Have to ask Willow her opinion. Only he wasn’t talking to her right now. So, it stays in the straight column.

Gay: Likes musicals. There. He admitted it. That’s the first step in admitting you have a problem. So he wanted to sing and dance so much he’d summoned a demon. Lots of straight men dance around in silk pajamas singing about how they’re having relationship-phobic problems with their ex-demon fiancÚs.

Straight: He’s a carpenter, a construction worker. A time-honored, hetero vocation if ever there was one.

Gay: At night he runs around in cemeteries, thrusting phallic objects into the chests of the undead populace, with his friends, all of whom happen to be female.

Straight: Doesn’t really wear the stylish clothes. Not a high-fashion kinda guy.

Gay: For a supposed straight guy, he has a hell of a lot of floral shirts in his wardrobe.

Straight: Likes the sex with women. Boy-howdy. And boobies ain’t bad, either. Definitely likin’ the boobies.

Gay: Likes the sex with men. Big gulp. But does he like it more? He thought about it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, dependent upon how you look at it, the only experience he had to draw from was Spike. Okay. Enough of this shit.

He got up and ordered pizza – the ‘Bad-breath Special’. Translation: Extra garlic. Just ‘cause he could. He plopped down on his couch, turned on the T.V., and began to go though the programs on the channel guide. No ‘Star Trek’. How can there not be ‘Star Trek’ on over 200 channels? It’s like ‘Cops’. No matter what time of the day it is, you can always find ‘Cops’ on at least two channels.

He started to surf. Click. Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes in drag. Double shit.

Click. ‘Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert’.

Click. A re-run of ‘Will and Grace’.

Click. Click. Click. ‘The Birdcage’.

"Oh, hell no."

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

"Yes. Animal Planet. Alright."

"While it is true that the urge to breed dominates most species throughout the animal kingdom, certain species of mammals will occasionally engage in what could be considered to be homosexual activity. Here we see two male lions…"

"Shit! Maybe I should just rent a movie."


When Xander got up the next morning for work, he was exhausted. Too much emotion, too much thinking, not enough sleep. He’d been tossing and turning, and every time he’d rolled over, the crack in the headboard split a little bit more and caused the bed to creak loudly. He was hoping work would keep his mind off of things.

As he got out of bed, scratching his boxer-clad ass, he stumbled over a black, high-heel shoe. He kicked it under the bed and went in the bathroom, making a mental note to dig the doorknob out of the plaster and patch the hole when he got home.

After he showered, he realized that the only laundry he’d done was his linens. He’d been planning on doing more, but one of the dryers was out of order. It had a really big dent in it and the door wouldn’t work. He sifted through the pants on the floor. The pair on top passed the sniff test. He grabbed a tee out of drawer number two, put on his work boots, and hit the door.

It was good being outside. The sun, the fresh air, the work that kept his body and mind occupied. Until Manny interrupted his happy-place, anyway.

"Well, whoopty-do, Harris. Looks like someone got a little sumpin’-sumpin’ this weekend."


"This fell out of your pocket, man. A little trophy?" The black thong with the red rosette swung from Manny’s index finger.

Xander’s eyes widened. Shit. He was wearing those pants. "Uh, yeah, thanks, Man," he sputtered, grabbing the panties from him and stuffing them back in his pocket.

But every once in awhile, over the course of the day, his hand would drift back into his pocket and stroke the scrap of satin and lace.


Xander heard a knock on his door a few minutes after patching the hole in the wall outside his bathroom. He decided to ignore it.

"Open up, Xander! I know you’re in there!"

Buffy. He sighed in resignation, went to the door and opened it only as far as the chain would allow.

"Hey, Buffster. Not really feelin’ up to you girls tonight, okay?"

"No girls, just me. And, I come bearing gifts of the chocolatety variety." She enticed him by putting the plate of brownies in his line of sight.

"You don’t play fair, do you? You know I am a tower of Jell-O against the chocolatey goodness. Hold on."

He closed the door just so he could unlock it and let her in. "So, Buffinator. What brings you by this fine evening?" he asked, gesturing for her to sit on the couch.

She gave him the patented ‘duh’ look.

"I dunno if I feel like talking about that just yet, Buff."

"Xander, it’s been, like, three days. If you don’t talk about it to someone, you’ll just stew. A-and fester. And stew some more. Stew-fester, stew-fester. It’s a vicious circle of festery-stewage. Trust me, I know."

Xander heaved another sigh. "Talk. Okay. But before the de-festerage can I have a brownie? A growing boy needs his sustenance."

"You betcha. Got milk?"

"Yep. Does a body good." Xander got up and returned with two glasses of milk and some paper towels. "A towel for milady?"

"Thanks." She unwrapped the brownies and gestured. "Dig in."

Xander dug. He took one bite. Willow. "Willow made these didn’t she?"

"Yes, she of the guilt-induced baking binge has become the official Scooby chocolate supplier. I have been given the authority to tell you that there’s more where that came from. Remember the last time a spell of hers screwed up? I couldn’t look at a cookie for months."

"So she’s moved up to brownies?"

Buffy nodded. "Chocolate fudge brownies, chocolate-chip blondies, fudgey brownies, cakey brownies. Brownies, brownies everywhere. You can smell the chocolate a block from the house. Dawn is on a permanent sugar-high."

"God, I love it when you talk dirty," he quipped, grabbing another brownie.

Buffy smiled; a genuine smile. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time. Too long.

"It’s nice to see you smile, Buff." He couldn’t help but smile back.

"No more distractions, brownie-boy. Spill."

Fortified by chocolate he began, "Do you think I’m gay?"

"Do you?"

"Don’t do that! Don’t throw the psycho-babble at me! What are you doing, channeling your inner Dr. Phil?"

"Sorry, dated a Psych major for awhile. Guess some of it rubbed off. Okay. Do I think you’re gay? I dunno. I never really thought about it, Xan. I mean, I may have slayer-senses, but gaydar? Not so much."

"I’m just so damned confused!" he said, obviously frustrated.

"Well, have you ever thought about guys before? You know, in that way?"

Xander paused, thinking. "Yeah," he said, finally. "I have."

"No big; sorry to bring it up again, but in Psych they said that it is absolutely normal to have feelings all up and down the entire hetero-homo spectrum."

"While you’re having sex with your girlfriend?"

"No way! Who?" Buffy leaned forward in anticipation.

"Who was my girlfriend or who was I thinking about?"

"Details, details, details!"

"This stays in this room, right? Pinkie swear? Everything we say tonight?"

Buffy did the pinkie swear, then crossed her heart and threw in the Boy Scout salute for good measure.

Xander swallowed, closed his eyes, and let it come out in a rush.

Buffy’s eyes got wide. "You thought about Riley when you were having sex with Anya? A-and that guy on ‘Highlander’?

"Adrian Paul, yeah."

"And the weekend bartender at the Bronze?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. You pissed about the Riley thing?"

"No. Stunned; yes. Surprised; yes. Totally wigged; yes. Pissed...big no."

He practically collapsed in relief. "There’s one more," he paused, mentally cringing. "Spike."


"Yeah, like, a whole lot of times."

"Wow. Didn’t see that coming."

"Tell me about it."

Part Eight

Spike was drinking vampire highballs: One part blood to three parts whiskey. He’d run out of the good stuff, and was now on the cheap, nasty stuff. He sat in his dilapidated chair clutching the glass in one hand and holding Xander’s t-shirt in the other. He was pathetic; sitting in the dark, drinking cheap liquor mixed with liquid Porky and wallowing. He was absolutely bloody brilliant at wallowing.

He’d reached a decision of sorts somewhere between Jack Daniels and Wild Turkey. It had happened. Acceptance. He was a shirt-lifter. A rump-ranger. An arse-bandit. A soddin’ friend of Dorothy, for chrissakes. He put the blame where it belonged; squarely on the witch. If not for her, he wouldn’t have noticed Xander. Wouldn’t have touched his skin, kissed his lips, run his fingers through the dark, silky hair. Wouldn’t have been rolling about in the sheets with his tackle hanging out while wearing stolen lingerie. Bugger.

By the time he was on the last of the Heaven Hill, a truly repulsive liquor if ever there was one, he realized he actually had feelings for that damned boy. And no matter how much he cuddled that tacky novelty shirt, it couldn’t replace how the boy had felt in his arms. It couldn’t make the boy want him. He took another swig from his glass and topped it off again with the whiskey.

The T.V. was on, casting shadows around the crypt, the volume on low. But he wasn’t watching it. Distracting yourself with T.V. was not conducive to a decent spot of wallow. He almost didn’t watch Passions today. Almost. Timmy could usually perk him up, even when he’d been chained in the bathtub. Not now, though.

He lit another cigarette from the one in his mouth, crushed the old one out, and smoked the new one. There was a pile of butts and ashes about three inches high on the stone floor next to the chair.

He couldn’t keep the boy out of his thoughts - the dark hair, waving softly. The brown eyes, dark but with flecks of a whiskey-ish color through them, he pondered, holding the bottle of cheap liquor up to the meager light. And his touch… No, fucking stop it, he chastised himself. No use thinkin’ on what you’ll never have. Bloody ponce.

A knock on his crypt door interrupted his reverie. It opened slightly, and a familiar floppy face peered in.

"Hey, Spike, whatcha doin’? Whoa, whole lotta bottles here. Ya on a bender, buddy?"

"What do you want, Clem?"

"Tonight was our regular poker night. You didn’t show. I was worried. You okay?"


"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, stepping inside and closing the door. "I brought Cheetos."


"Aww. Don’t be like that. You let me talk your ears off when Genevieve dumped me. The least I can do is return the favor. Look; got two big ears, no waiting." He flopped his ear in Spike’s general direction.

"Fine. Pull up a stone and shut the hell up."

"Okey dokey."

Clem waited, then waited some more.

Finally Spike spoke. "Something happened, an’ I dunno what to do about it."

"Something with the Slayer? She still not interested? Come on, buddy, you’ll wear her down eventually."

"Not her. Someone else."

"Moved on? Coolness, man. She was never right for you anyhow. Find a new girl?"


Clem processed for a sec, then dove back in, "Major unlifestyle change then, huh? How’s that workin’ out for you?"

Spike turned his head and looked at Clem in disbelief. "How do you feckin’ well think it’s working out for me? I’m sitting in the dark…"

"No major change there," the demon interrupted.

"Chain smoking," he continued.

Clem shrugged. "Same-old, same-old."

"And I’m drinking cheap whiskey."

"Geez, you really must be havin’ a rough time of it!" Clem exclaimed, something finally having made an impression.

"Damn straight."

"But you’re not now, huh?"

Spike grunted.

"So, who’s the mystery guy? Meet some vamp at Willy's?" Clem opened the bag of Cheetos and dove in.

"A human."

Clem choked. "Boy, Spike, when you deviate from the norm, man, you deviate from the norm!"

Spike raised his eyebrow as he lit another cigarette from his current stub and kept going.

"Someone I know?"

"Slayer’s boy."

"The carpenter?"

"That’s the one."

"Huh. Well skin-tightness aside, I guess he is pretty hot. I’m sure some, uh, people would go for a guy like that. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, dark hair and eyes, great smile. And a sense of humor; gotta love a sense of humor. Yeah. So, why the long face, huh?"

Spike looked at him like he was stupid. "He’s human. He’s twenty. And he hates me."

"Well, that last one is a problem, definitely. So, you’re not freaked by the whole gay thing? Just that he hates you?"

Spike tapped the end of his nose.

"Whoa. Way to be progressive Spike. Dealin’ with the whole homosexuality thing. Go you."

"Yeah. Go me." He took another swig of his highball.


"I just, I just dunno, Buff," Xander said.

"Okay. Let’s look at the spell. It didn’t change who we were; not really. We were still basically the same people. The only thing that changed was that we didn’t know who we were. No names, no places, no actual memory of the hellmouth-y stuff. It just gave us the freedom to be who we were without the things that would give us the hang-ups, Xan. It gave you the freedom to be, well, you. And you, no matter what your orientation, are pretty darn terrific." She reached over and took his hand. "And no matter what, even if you decide to play ‘hide the salami’ with Spike-"

"Hide the salami?"

"Hush. Let me finish. Even if you decide that Spike is the one you want, I’ll be there for you."

"You say that now, but I’m guessing I got some payback comin’ for the whole ‘Angel’ thing."

"Yep. You so do." She continued, "And, I think it’s time you forgive Willow. Or my butt is gonna be the size of Texas from all the damn brownies."

"Can’t have that, no-siree."

"Seriously, though. Xan, she’s so sad. When she’s not baking, she’s up in her room. Baking-room-baking-room-baking-room. It’s just not healthy. Plus, we really need to talk to her about the magic thing. I don’t want to not trust her. But it’s really hard. The being ripped out of Heaven thing notwithstanding."

"Have I mentioned how sorry I am about that?"


"I am, you know. It was your rest, you deserved it. I just…Wills was so convinced you were suffering in some Hell dimension…"

"Let’s just drop it, huh?"

"Okay, but just for now. You’ve been supporto-gal for me tonight. I want to return the favor. I know you’ve started to talk about it now. But, something like that: Fester, fester, stew, stew."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s a date."

"Geez, it only took me coming out of the closet to get a date with you. If I’d known that, I might have come out ages ago."

"Oh, shut up and eat another brownie."


Xander walked into the Magic Box, the bell announcing his presence. He knew it was time, but he was so nervous. He didn’t know if he was ready to see Willow. And Spike. He knew he was not ready to see him.

"Xander!" Anya greeted him happily. "I’m so glad to see you."

He looked around; it was just Buffy and Anya. He was flooded by an enormous sense of relief.

"Hey, Ahn, hey Buff." He walked over to the counter, flash of blue eye and soft thigh. He chuckled inwardly; his thoughts rhymed. He squashed the thoughts down. He had other reasons for being here today than reminiscing. "Ahn, do you think we can go in back and talk for a bit?"

"The store…"

"I’ll watch it," Buffy cut in. "Go ahead." She made shooing gestures with her hands.

Xander guided Anya into the back room and onto the couch. She sat on the edge and looked at him expectantly.

"Ahn, I, er," he stammered. "Are you happy?"

Anya’s eyes lit up and she gushed, "Oh yes! Very happy. Rupert is kind and patient with me, and he’s such a good lover. Last night he did this thing with…"

"So not wanting the details," he interrupted. "Can I ask you a question?"


"Did you ever, ah, see the inner-homo lurking within?"

"So now you admit it."


"You still sure it’s not contagious?"


"Well, for a guy, you always were kind of sensitive."

"All my friends are women. I float on a sea of estrogen."

"You’ve got a lot of floral shirts."

"Yeah, I wondered about that one myself."

She nodded knowingly, and then jumped up. "Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you." She left and returned with a gift bag decorated with rainbows. "See it’s a rainbow. I thought that was appropriate." She presented it with a flourish. "Open it! It’s your coming-out present. Like a debutante, only not so much."

"Thanks, Ahn. That’s sweet. I didn’t know coming out of the closet was a gift-giving event. I guess I need to get something for Willow, " he drifted off as the contents of the gift bag came into focus. "Anya, what the hell is that?"


He nodded.

"That’s a triple-ripple butt plug," she announced, proudly. "A butt-plug is a basic for those engaging in anal penetration. The helpful salesperson said so."

"And that?" he added in a somewhat strangled voice.

"It’s an anal probe. The original packaging said you’d be able to ‘Hit that spot!’ Quite helpful when self-pleasuring. The salesperson said so."

"Okay, so you went in a store and bought these?"

"Why, yes, of course. I simply walked in and asked the girl what kind of gift was appropriate for my fiancÚ, who had recently realized his homosexuality and needed sexual aids to help him explore the wonder of gay sex. I had to back-order some things. But don’t worry, I’m having them sent directly to you. You’ll have to sign for them though, so I told them they’d have to deliver them after five."

"You gave them my name?"

"And address."

Xander just stared, aghast.

"And phone number."


"What? Don’t you want to be informed when they get a new product line? I got you on the mailing list, too."

"That’s just great, Ahn."

"I thought so. It’s not every ex-fiancÚ who would be so understanding and supportive. Look in the bottom of the bag."

"There’s more?" He reached in and pulled out a bumper sticker: ‘I’m out and I’m proud’. It was decorated on each side by a pink triangle.

"It’s for your car."

"No offense, but I think I shouldn’t put this on my car. Something like this will probably get me beaten up at the construction site. I’m having flashbacks to fifth grade just thinking about it."

"Oh. Then I guess you won’t wear the Gay Pride shirt I ordered for you to wear to work."

"I think not, but thanks anyway, Ahn. I really appreciate how well you’re taking this."

"I am taking this well, aren’t I?" she said proudly.

"Yeah, I really think this is best. For both of us."

Anya nodded. "One more thing, Xander. Rupy said I should give this back to you." She handed him the engagement ring. "He has some stupid idea that if the bride is the one to break the engagement, she is supposed to return the ring. It’s a perfectly lovely ring. I don’t see why I should give it up," she said petulantly. "But Rupy said he’d buy me some jewelry. Whatever I want. He said it last night, just when we were…"

"TMI, Ahn."

"Oh, sorry. Do tales of heterosexual sex turn you off now? I promise to make an effort to not discuss my new honey’s prowess in bed, which is considerable by the way, or the size of his penis, which is…"

"That’s great, Anya. I really appreciate your discretion."

They heard the bell from the front door, got up and moved to the shop. It was Willow. Damn.

She took one look at him and her lower lip began to tremble.

"Hi, Wills." He held out his arms and she flew into them babbling.

"Oh Xander! I’m so-so-so-so sorry! You were right. Tara was right. I shouldn’t have done that spell. I just made everything worse. I’m a bad, bad person! A terrible witch. A-a-and look at you! Gay now!"

"Hush, Willow. I’m still kinda mad, but the spell did make me face a few things, in the most painful way possible, but still." He squeezed her and let her go.

"I’ve got brownies, lot’s of ‘em, and they all have your name on them!"

"I know. Buffy brought by some chocolate fudge ones yesterday. Thanks. You know I love your brownies. But, about the magic…"

"Oh, I have sooo totally learned my lesson."

"Glad to hear it."

"No more memory spells. There is this one spell, though…"

"Geez, Wills. You need to cut down." His eyes pleaded with her to understand.

"But, I help with my magic. I’m useful!"

Buffy interjected, "Sure, Will. Why don’t you fire up your laptop and see what you can find out about the freeze demon?"

"Freeze demon?" Xander queried.

"Yeah. Some big diamond was stolen from the museum last night and the security guard was frozen solid."

"Hey, here we go!" They turned at Willow’s voice. She was accessing the Internet through magic, using hand gestures to surf.

Xander, Buffy, and Anya shared knowing looks.

Part Nine

A couple hours later, the door burst open and Spike stalked in. He looked around the room. His eyes widened a bit when he saw Xander. Xander, who was looking steadfastly at the table. He growled and turned to Willow. "Witch. I haven’t thanked you properly for that spell the other night."

Bloody bitch. Still blamed her. Even his slayer-obsession hadn’t been as gut-wrenching as that naff boy was. He clenched his fists tightly.

Willow blushed and Buffy intervened. "What do you want, Spike?"

"Violence. I want a spot of it. Got anything I can beat to a bloody pulp?"

"Come on, we can patrol."

They left. Xander never even looked at him.


As soon as Spike came through the door, Xander’s heart had started to do double-time. He forced his eyes on to the table with an inner mantra of ‘don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook’. Spike looked good, in the one glance that he allowed himself. Or bad. Kinda tired, stressed.

He began to calm as soon as Spike and Buffy left. He felt stupid. I have the hots for Spike, he tried out in his mind. Ack. I want to bend Spike over the table. Double-ack. He had to admit it; there was an attraction there. Probably always had been. It had just taken a wonky spell for him to act on it. But, how did Spike feel about him?

That night, Xander spent a lot of time thinking about Spike. And all the nights thereafter.


"So, Spike…"

"Just don’t, Buffy."

Buffy sighed as they walked through the cemetery. "Look. You were the only one I felt I could talk to when I came back. It’s just, that kiss…"

Spike stopped and looked at her. "You never loved me, or wanted me. Not really. I knew it. I did. Just couldn’t accept it, is all. ‘N when we kissed," he paused as Buffy took a breath to interrupt. "No. Just let me finish, all right? When we kissed, I thought my heart would explode. But not yours. You didn’t feel love, or desire, or anything I thought I was feeling. Just desperation. I could tell; denied it, pretended it didn’t matter. But now it does. It does bloody well matter, ‘cause I want more. And I know that you’ll never be able to give more than that."

"You’re right."

"I am? I mean, I am."

"It’s Xander, isn’t it?"

Spike’s looked at her in shock. "What?"

"You mean Xander, don’t you?"

"So what if I do?" he asked defensively.

Buffy started walking again and Spike followed. "I dunno. I mean, I can’t be all zippaty-do-dah-y ‘cause you want Xan to be your honey. I mean, yay, no more mounds of cigarette butts next to the tree in my front yard, but does this mean you’re going to go all stalktastic on him, now?"

"No. Boy hates me."

"I’m gonna regret saying this, but, not so much."

Spike stopped in his tracks, not even caring if there was hope in his facial _expression. "Really, Slayer?"

"If I were you, I’d just wait and see. Give him some time. He was just outed out of a closet he didn’t know he was in. Just don’t expect me to be the head cheerleader in the yay-my-best-friend-is-boinking-the-evil-undead pep squad."

"That’s the big problem? ‘Cause I’m a vamp?"

"Well, it’s number one on a really long list. What about the chip? If this thing between you happens…well, what’s gonna happen when William the Bloody is back in top form? Is Xan gonna be on top of the kill ‘n turn list?"

"Not Xander. Never."

Buffy huffed disbelieving. "No?"

Spike pulled out his Zippo, lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, and began to explain. "Turning someone, it’s a bloody crap shoot, ya don’t know what you’re gonna get."

"You’re saying unlife is like a box of chocolates?"

Spike suppressed the urge to call her a stupid bint. Just barely. "No. Sometimes it’s still basically the same person, ya know? Same, ‘cept without a conscience. Evil, yeah, but not absolute, suck-the-world-into-Hell evil. No desire to do evil for evil’s sake. Just, a predator. Or, the demon can twist ‘em up. Destroy all the good qualities, magnify the bad, put the demon square in the driver’s seat, and there you have it; a true desire to maim, kill and destroy."

Buffy cocked her head at him, pondering. "I thought all vamps wanted to kill and destroy."

"Some more than others. Kill, yes. It’s what we do, well, what I used to do, to survive. Bloody soldiers. The destruction? Some of ‘em, well, it’s all they want. Others…it has to be cultivated. The desire for evil has to be fed."


"So, I will never turn someone I loved as a human."

Buffy’s eyes got wide. "You love Xander?"

Backpedaling rapidly. Shit. "I didn’t say that."

"No, you said that you would never turn Xander ‘cause you never turn anyone you love."

Fuck. Now she gets it. After a stunning revelation like that, he closed his eyes and waited for the punch. When it didn’t come, he opened them and looked down on the petite slayer. She just stood there looking at him. "I can’t say, Buffy. I don’t know that I want this. Love a human? A human boy? I’ve always been love's bitch, you know that."

"So, you really didn’t love me huh?"

"Nah, ‘twas just an obsession. You were dead-on."

"I guess we’ve reached the ‘nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah’ portion of the evening."

Spike chuckled ruefully.

"So, what makes what you feel for Xan different?"

"Dunno. Just is. Made me get over you right quick, dinnit?"

"Ya gonna go after him?"

"I’m not sure. I want to, but…"

"You don’t know if you want to risk your heart again?" Damn, she may be a blonde, but occasionally the light bulb upstairs flicked on.

She continued, "Promise me one thing, Spike. Promise me. Swear that no matter what, you won’t purposely hurt him."

"Purposely?" he asked, puzzled. This was an unexpected turn of events.

"I can’t say ‘never hurt him’, ‘cause that’s just not possible. It doesn’t matter how hard you try, at some point, you’ll always hurt the one you’re closest to."

Spike looked down into her earnest face and made a decision. "I swear Buffy. I promise that if I can have Xander, I will not do or say anything to hurt him purposefully."

"I know, Spike. You may be evil from the top of your bleached head down to the tips of your Doc’s, but you keep your promises. Thanks for that. So, still wanna pound on something?"


"Here’s your chance," she said, pointing over his shoulder.

Spike smiled and threw himself at the fledges with gusto. He had a chance. The boy didn’t hate him. Bloody brilliant.


Xander reached a decision: He wanted Spike. He’d spent the last week being careful not to look at him. He’d gotten to know the grain of the table and the scuff marks on the floor of the Magic Box intimately. They were now old buds. He kept the panties in his trouser pocket. For some reason, he just couldn’t leave them at home or toss them. Every day they were transferred into the pants he was wearing; just like his wallet and keys. Whenever he saw Spike, he would reach in and touch them. Couldn’t help it.

Buffy had told him that Spike didn’t hate him. Big plus, there. But she wouldn’t give him any details, no matter how hard he prodded. Miss thang. He was gay; he could get away with saying, er, thinking things like that now. But mostly, he thought about Spike.

Boy, oh, boy did he ever want Spike. He just didn’t know how to go about it. All of his experience was with women. He needed to find an expert. That’s when he found Horatio.

Horatio lived in 4D. They’d met on the elevator. Horatio was gay. So gay, in fact, that he made Buffy look like a truck-driving, tobacco-chewing lesbian. He was the kind of guy that made women feel awkward in their own skins, like they should be scratching their balls, or something. He made Xander feel like Butchy Butch of Butchville.

After a brief conversation, Horatio had appointed himself Xander’s fairy godmother. His very own, glittery, sparkly Obi-Wan. Spike wouldn’t know what hit him.


"Oh, Xander! I found something for you!" Anya called out as soon as he came into the Magic Box for the Scooby meeting.

He looked panicked. He tried not to, but he knew he did. Please, please, no more embarrassing sex toys.

"Thanks, Ahn. That’s sweet of you." He sat down next to Willow. She was practically sitting on her own hands. He sighed. She had finally hit rock bottom. She’d gone on a magical field trip with a de-ratted Amy, gone to some kind of funky spell-dealer, and Dawn had wound up hurt. She still looked a little shaky, even though the worst of the withdrawal had been over a few days ago. Dawn was still upset. Spike wouldn’t even look at her. Spike. He sighed again, putting his hand in his pocket.

Anya bustled to get the present and gave it to him in a rainbow gift bag. Geez, did she buy them in bulk? He opened it. It wasn’t a sex toy. Good. The last toy she’d bought him required four double-D batteries or an AC adaptor. When he plugged it in, just to check it out, it had made the lights dim. He looked up at her, confused.

"It’s a CD. Of disco. Gay men love disco." She nodded knowingly. Spike snickered.

Xander thanked her and she flounced away, pleased with herself. She paused by Spike. "Do you like disco, Spike?"

It was Xander’s turn to snicker. When an answer wasn’t forthcoming, Anya went into the stock room. He glanced over at Spike, met his eyes, and smiled slightly before looking away.

He leaned over to Willow. "She keeps doing that. Buying me things, I mean. Last week, it was ‘The Joy of Gay Sex’. Yesterday it was the Chippendale’s calendar," he whispered in her ear.

"She’s just tryin’ to be all super-support-y."

"I know, I know. I just want her to chill out a bit."

"She’s just extra-twitchy ‘cause she’s goin’ to England with Giles. She must really love him."

"Yeah. But it will give Buffy somewhere to work, running the store. She really needs the money. I know she hates retail, but damn, what else is left? The Doublemeat Palace? Even I think it’s unnatural to put a chicken patty on the same bun as a burger." He shuddered to give her the full effect of his disgust.

He saw Spike get up and move around the room, restless. His eyes followed him, his hand never leaving his pocket. He’d been ‘making nice’ with Spike gradually over the last couple of weeks; making eye contact, exchanging semi-pleasantries…nothing too big. Spike seemed to be waiting for him to make a move. Xander knew what he wanted, he’d been preparing for two weeks. Now all he had to do was act on it.

Part Ten

Spike was edgy. He’d been giving the boy time to decide what he wanted. No pressure. But he wasn’t the most patient of vamps. Two weeks ago, the boy hadn’t been able to make eye contact, or even so much as look at him. Last week, he would occasionally make polite chit-chat, nothing much, just the ‘hi, how are you’ garden-variety kinds of things. The first time it happened, Spike was thrilled. A simple ‘Hey, Spike’ had been enough to make his entire bloody day, especially when the boy made a point of looking at him when he said it.

This week, they’d had actual conversations. Well, a sentence or two, at least. He’d even made eye contact with Spike. Smiled at him. And he could feel the boy’s eyes following him around the room. But the thing that was driving Spike up a ruddy wall was that every sodding time the boy looked at him, or spoke to him, Xander put his hand in his bloody pocket. What the hell was in that feckin’ pocket?

Spike stalked around the shop, lost in thought, when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. It was Xander.


Xander’s eyes watched Spike move around the room. He was obviously agitated. Time to put his plan into action. He took a deep fortifying breath, got up, walked over, and put his hand on Spike’s shoulder.

"Spike. You okay? You seem kinda twitchy tonight."

"’M fine, Xan."

His mind began a Snoopy dance accompanied by a chorus of ‘he said my name, he said my name, not boy or moron’, he said my name’.

Xander opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Giles walked rapidly into the room, Anya hot on his heels.

"I said ‘no’ Anya. Absolutely not. What you are suggesting is not proper; it’s not sanitary for god’s sake!"

"But Rupy…"

Xander secretly thought that Giles much preferred the hated ‘G-man’ over ‘Rupy’. He chuckled.

"Please, Anya. And won’t you please refrain from calling me ‘Rupy’?"

"But I don’t see why…"

"Why I won’t have sexual relations with you while rolling about in great wads of currency? It’s positively indecent I tell you!"

"But I did that thing you asked. You know, where you spanked me with a ruler and made me call you ‘Headmaster’?"

Giles suddenly realized they had an audience. "Oh dear lord."

"Giles," Buffy began, "I think I can speak for everybody here when I say yuck much?" Everyone nodded in the affirmative.

"Quite right. I do apologize. Dreadfully sorry. Anya, darling. Didn’t we discuss the difference between private and public conversations?" He grabbed her arm and ushered her out the door. "Do lock up, won’t you?" he threw over his shoulder as they left.

"Giles sure certainly has his hands full," Buffy commented.

"Yeah, with a ruler apparently," Xander quipped, and began to walk back to his seat. He was so nervous. Maybe he should wait till tomorrow. That’s when Spike reached down and grabbed his hand.


"Gotta talk to the boy. Goin’ in the training room. Everyone piss off." That said, he hauled Xander back to the training room and pressed him up against the wall. Xander just looked at him placidly, putting his hand back in his pocket. But he could smell the boy’s anxiety. Spike’s temper flared.

"What the hell is in your pocket that’s so fucking important?" he hissed, pulling the offending hand out of the pocket. The hand holding a black and lace thong with a red satin rosette. Spike was gobsmacked. For about five seconds.

"What the bloody hell is this then? Feelin’ the urge to play dress-up with ol’ Spike?"

Xander calmly looked at him. "No." Spike could hear his heartbeat pick up.

He stepped back and began to pace. "First you ignored me, last week you make pointless conversation, and this week your eyes follow me everywhere. This being patient shite is takin’ too bloody long!" he shouted.

"I know. I’m sorry."

The ‘sorry’ stopped him in his tracks cold. The kid was apologizing? Or was he blowing him off? He stalked forward, hitting the brick wall on either side of Xander’s head, chipping off bits of brick.

"You sure are tough on walls and furniture, Spike. Seems like I’m doing repairs all over the place lately."

"Shut up," he ground out. "What the bloody hell do you want, Xander?" Spike steeled himself for the answer.


An answer he wasn’t expecting.

Xander dropped the panties and reached up to cup Spike’s face. "Just you."

It took two seconds before Spike pinned Xander to the wall with his body and his lips, kissing him deeply. God, how he’d missed this. He felt Xander’s arms wind around his torso and hold him closely. This time it was Spike’s turn to pick Xander up. He walked them across the room, tossed him unceremoniously onto the couch, and pounced. Straddling one leg, his leg between Xander’s, he began to thrust against him. He felt Xander pull his shirt out of his jeans and warm hands begin to explore the skin beneath.

"God, Spike. I missed this, missed you, so much," he said as Spike began to explore his neck with his tongue.

"Xan. Xander, luv. Need you. Need you so bloody much."

More rapid, frenzied thrusting, more urgently proclaimed endearments. They were both so wound up it didn’t take long. They both lay there, breathless, hands exploring lazily as they recovered from their orgasms.

Xander shifted a little.

"Sorry, luv. ‘M I too heavy?"

"No, stay here. Can I, can I just hold you for awhile?"

They lay there, entwined and basking, until a voice from the front room wavered back.

"Is it safe to come in there now? I left my purse by the pummel horse," Buffy called uncomfortably.

"Yeah, Slayer. All clear."

"I’m not looking, I’m not looking," she murmured as she went past, her left hand shielding her eyes. Too bad that when she turned around to leave, she could see everything. "You’re not naked. Why aren’t you naked?"

"Well, I’m sure that if you wait a minute or two, we could accommodate you, Buffy." At Spike’s remarks, both Buffy and Xander blushed. He found Xander’s blushing much more endearing. "But bugger off tonight, eh? I want my boy all to myself."

"This is me buggering off." She walked away, musing aloud, "What does ‘bugger’ mean, anyway? Still haven’t found out what a stevedore is, either. I gotta make a list…"

Spike smiled, a genuinely happy smile, and looked down at his boy.

"You’re so beautiful when you smile, Spike. You should do it more often."

"Well, I have a reason to now, don’t I? Skipping down the merry road to poofdom with my honey."

"I’m not going to have to spank you while you call me ‘Headmaster’ will I?"

"Hmmm. How’s about I spank you, luv? Get that firm bum all nice ‘n rosy?" Spike felt the renewed interest against his leg. "Found a kink, have I?"

Xander slowly sat up, trying not to disrupt Spike too much. "Let’s take this back to my place, okay? But please try to not tear the place up. It took me most of last week to repair the damage, between you and Buffy."

"I’ll be gentle as a lamb, pet," he drawled, letting his eyes communicate just how gentle he was not going to be.


Spike put his duster on and they made sure to lock up on their way out. When they reached the car, Xander opened the passenger side door for him. "I’m not some bint you have to open the door for, Xan."

"I know that, sorry. Just been so well-trained to treat my gal like a lady, I have no basis for comparison when my gal is really a guy. I just, I just don’t want to screw this up, okay?"

"S’all right. I’ll cut you some slack this time."

"That’s mighty wide of you," he said, grinning as he shut the passenger door, being very careful not to shut the duster in it.

As soon as Xander closed the door, Spike realized something. When Xan got behind the wheel, Spike asked, "Tinted windows?"

"UV protection. Thought I should," he said, blushing again. "You know. I don't know how effective it’ll be but there’s a tarp in back, just in case."

Spike was stunned. He’d never had someone do something special, just for him. Other’n his mum, of course. He reached over and gently kissed Xander. "Thank you, luv."

"You’re welcome."


Xander was practically bouncing in his seat on the way back to his apartment. He really hoped he wasn’t rushing things. By the way Spike had tossed him down on the couch and ravished him, he didn’t think so.

He resisted the urge to open the car door for him. It was a big step. When they were approaching the apartment door, Archie from 3C skittered by, looking at Spike anxiously. Poor guy; only 22 and already had the comb-over of doom.

When they got to his door, he pressed keys into Spike’s hand. "Made ya a set. Go on and try ‘em out."

Spike just stared at Xander for a moment before he used his new set of keys to unlock the door and step inside.

"I’ve done some redecorating," Xander supplied as he closed the door behind them. The apartment looked nice, if he did say so himself. "You can’t be gay and not have a stylish apartment. It’s, like, in the handbook, or something." He’d done a lot to the place, with a ton of help from Horatio. When he hadn’t been dreaming of Spike while he slept, he’d been having disjointed dreams about paint chips and fabric swatches. It was like the Spice channel versus Trading Spaces. Anyway, the place looked great. Dark, rich colors, soft upholstery, black-out blinds, and heavy drapes.

"Gotta lot of candles. Can’t be flaming without a lot of…flames." Okay. Spike was being too quiet. It was unnatural. "Say something would you? I’m all nervous-nelly. Um, forget that last comment, okay?"

"You did all this for me?" Spike asked in a hushed voice, his accent sounding almost as cultured as Giles’.

"Yeah. For us. Come here." He grabbed Spike’s hand and took him into the kitchen. He opened the fridge with a flourish. "I got you some of the good stuff. Human blood. Can’t get it all the time, sorry. But Horatio has connections."

"Horatio?" Spike asked, a hint of jealousy coloring his voice.

"He’s our fairy godmother. Kinda, sorta."

Spike just arched his eyebrow.

"I got you a set of mugs, too. All black. There’s Wheetabix in the cupboard, and…"

Xander was cut off as Spike pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hard.

When their lips finally parted, Xander said, "Well, if I got that reaction from the kitchen, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do for the other rooms."

"Show me?"

Xander took his honey’s hand again and led him through the rest of the apartment. There were several ashtrays scattered in the room. "I don’t mind if you smoke out here, okay? I’d rather you didn’t in the bathroom or the bedroom. Smoky towels and pillows are kinda gross."

The bathroom looked much the same, tile repaired, new towels, and shower curtain. The bedroom was way different. Done all in rich, almost burgundy, reds with a plush chenille coverlet, and a ton of throw pillows. New wrought iron lamps gave the room a soft glow. It was the bed that was really cool, though. He’d gotten it from Manny’s cousin, an antique dealer in the next county over who was going out of business.

"I had to replace the headboard. You kinda killed it. I got this one yesterday. The guy said it was English oak. Really strong." The bed was beautiful; dark wood with a gently curving grain. The carpenter in him appreciated it, but did Spike? He’d gone all quiet again.

"Um, one more thing, Spike," he said, nervously as he led him back into the main room and opened another door.

"I was told this was a closet, but it’s kinda big. No windows. I thought… Oh, hell! I thought that maybe you’d move in here with me, and this could kinda be yours to do whatever you want with. And it’d be safe ‘cause the sun can’t get in here, and, geez, Spike, could ya throw me a bone here?"

Spike just stood there, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Is askin’ you to move in with me too fast? Crap, of course it’s too fast. You don’t have to, you know. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything…"

Spike reached forward and gently put a finger on Xander’s lips before asking him, "Why?"

Well, that was one question he hadn’t actually expected, or even rehearsed for.


Spike was gobsmacked. He couldn’t believe that the boy had done all this. For him. He just needed to know one more thing. He brought his hand up and carefully shushed him with a finger against his warm lips.


Stunned by the question, using wide gestures, the boy burst forth with the truth, "’Cause you’re all I think about. I’ve been denial-boy for a long time, now. Way before the spell. You’d, well, grown on me. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I repressed everything and threw myself headlong into an engagement for a marriage that really would have been made in hell. The whole mass-murderer thing really helped that along, too, by the way."

He stopped and looked Spike square in the eye and said softly and sincerely, "It boils down to this: I’m different, you’re different, and I think we should give this thing between us a try. I like you. I like being with you. Just getting this place ready made me happier than I have been in months. I can’t guarantee anything, Spike. Neither can you. But, I just want to be with you."

Spike sighed and stepped forward to embrace his beautiful, thoughtful boy. "This is gonna be messy, pet."

"I can deal with messy; I’m a carpenter with a wet-vac. We’ll deal with it together."

Part Eleven

They just stood there and held each other for awhile, simply content to be in one another’s arms. After a few minutes, Xander gave Spike a squeeze and let him go.

"Let’s hang up your coat, ‘kay?" He took the coat and hung it up on a rack by the door. "Make yourself at home, Spike. It is you know…your home. Um, can I get you something? I, uh, got some Jack, well, Horatio did, but it’s over…"

The boy practically exuded nervousness all of a sudden. Now what? Spike interrupted the babble. "What’s got you all nervous, pet? You can tell ol’ Spike."

Xander blushed and looked down at his feet.

"Something I can do for you, luv? Or, more to the point, something I can do to you?" A wicked smile curved up on Spike’s face.

Xander blushed even harder, if such a thing was possible. "Yeah. I, uh… Oh god, this is so embarrassing."

Spike went over to him, took Xander’s face in his hands, leaned in, and said quietly in his boy’s ear, "Just tell me what you want, Xander. Whisper it in my ear."

Xander put his hands on Spike's hips and whispered his request, the warm air tickling Spike's ear. Spike was a tad surprised.

"You want me to do you?"

"Well, yeah. When you say it like that it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal."

"Never done that before, luv. Well, not with a man, anyway."

"Well, the only man I’ve been with is you. You seemed to enjoy it. A lot. I thought… I’d like to give it a shot. So, how about it, Spike? You wanna ‘boldly go where no man’s gone before’?" Xander said, blushing furiously.

"When you put it that way, pet, " Spike said, slinging Xander over his shoulder and slapping his ass, "…how could I refuse?"

Xander laughed from his upside-down position. "You could’ve just said ‘yes’, Spike."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Spike asked as he tossed Xander down on the bed. Spike began to fling the throw pillows off the bed. "Whose bloody idea was all these soddin’ cushions?"

"Horatio. He said it would make the bed ‘soft and inviting’. I kinda like ‘em."

"’Soft and inviting’, huh? We don’t have to just get our own kit off, we’ve got to undress the bloody bed, as well."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Xander singsonged as he stood up and began to take off his shirt. He was reaching for his zipper when Spike pounced on him, shoving him back down onto the bed.

"Tan lines. Bloody hell, you’ve got tan lines." Spike ran his hands over the breaks between lighter and darker skin greedily.

"Uh. Yeah. It was kinda hot this week, I just wore a tank." He took in the eagerness of his lover’s touch. "So, you’re really likin’ the tan lines, huh?"

Spike smirked, and began to lick along the edges of the lines. He raised his head from his explorations to say, "What do you think, luv?" He took in how dilated his boy’s eyes were; darkened with lust. He pulled back a bit and said, "Scoot up on the bed, Xander. Give a man more room to work."

Xander gasped and complied quickly. "God, I love it when you say my name," he breathed out on a sigh.

Spike took his shirt off quickly and tossed it over on top of the throw pillows. He began to inch his way up Xander’s body whispering, "Xander, Xander, Xander," kissing and tasting every inch of sun-kissed flesh on the way up. When he reached his boy’s face, he whispered, "Xander", again, and captured his lips in a fervent kiss.

Xander wound his arms around Spike’s torso and pulled him down so they had full-body contact from their lips to their toes. Xander wound his tongue around his partner’s, letting it explore the cool, wet cavern as he parted his legs so Spike could lay between them. He hooked his right leg over Spike’s left and rolled them, switching their positions.

The sounds of lips and tongues and heavy breathing filled the room, and the soft rasp of skin touching skin. Xander released Spike’s lips to kiss his way down to the blond man’s nipples, sucking and nibbling on them till they were tight nubs.

Spike panted and moaned before he said, "I dunno if I can do this, sweetmeat. Not that I don’t want to, it’s just…the chip. There is some pain involved a-"

Xander stopped and looked up, worried. "Did I hurt you before?"

Spike’s hand reached up to cup his boy’s cheek. "Only in the best way possible, pet. Vampires like a bit of pain. You made it very good for me if you remember."

Relief filled Xander’s expression. "Good. I didn’t, I don’t want to hurt you. But, I really don’t think you have to worry about the chip. And sweetmeat?"

"Fits don’t it? And why shouldn’t I worry? You’re not exactly experienced in this area."

"Well… Pull open the top drawer and you’ll see what I’m talking about." He gestured with his head towards what used to be Anya’s drawer. He blushed again and Spike was momentarily distracted by the sight of the blush spreading across the tan lines.

"Spike? Drawer."

"Right." Spike reached over and opened the drawer, and paused. "Xan. What the bloody hell are those?"

"Those. Those are butt plugs. In varying sizes. Gifts from the ex."


"Well, according to the helpful salesperson that Anya talked to at the sex shop, they can be used for stretching and getting used to the sensation of being filled. Also as a sexual aid. Anya said, and I quote, that ‘every homosexual man should experience anal penetration from both positions. How else are you going to know whether you prefer being a top or a bottom?’"

"So you’ve been trying these out?"


"That should help a bit, pet, but…"

"There’s more."


"I, uh, had a little conversation with Tara, and, boy, wasn’t that embarrassing. Talking to my lesbian best friend’s semi-ex girlfriend about taking deliveries in the back door. I think I’m traumatized for life. Anyhoo, she cooked us up a little special lubricant, of sorts. We’ll still have to be careful, but it should ‘eliminate any extreme discomfort’. That’s what she said anyway."

"So we got some ‘Sorceress’ Special Slick’, eh?"

"So, um, you up for it?"

"Definitely, luv," he said, grinding his erection into Xander’s hip.


Spike kissed his way back down Xander’s torso. He unbuttoned his trousers and began to draw the zipper down slowly while he looked into Xander’s eyes.

Xander returned the gaze, but his eyes flicked from the blue eyes to the lips drawn into a wicked smirk. He knew where he wanted those lips next.

"Please, baby. No more teasing," he said, his hands twisting in the bedcover.

Spike stood up and pulled Xander’s pants and underwear off in one swift tug. Xander’s heavy erection bobbed out of the clothing and smacked against his abdomen. He felt like his dick was hard enough to cut diamonds.

Spike’s eyes followed the prick, even down to the slight bounce it made against Xander’s belly.

"Now you, Spike. I want to see you, all of you."

"Happy to oblige, sweetmeat."

"Again with the sweetmeat?"

"Get used to it, luv," Spike said as he shucked off the tight jeans, exposing his turgid length. As Spike stepped forward, Xander stood up and reached out, drawing his work-roughened hand down Spike’s staff.

"I want you, Spike. Want you so much. Hurry."

Spike climbed on top of his boy, settling between his legs.

"Kiss me, Spike."

Spike obliged, opening his mouth and running his cool, slick tongue over Xander’s teeth and over his palate, his lips a tight seal around the warm mouth. Xander’s hands were everywhere. He ran them down the smooth skin on Spike’s back and cupped his ass, his fingers caressing his lover’s crease. God, how he loved that ass.

Spike pulled his mouth away from Xander’s with an audible ‘pop’. "Sure you don’t want to do me, luv? Save your deflowering for another night?" He took in a sudden breath when the pressure against his anus deepened, and he writhed against his beautiful boy.

"Nope. Onto the deflowering. Just love your ass. What can I say?" he asked, panting slightly between sentences. "I’ve gone from being a straight breast-man to a gay ass-man."

Spike leaned down for a quick kiss and said, "Gay ass-man?"

"Yup," he replied. "Your ass makes me all kinds of happy. Looking at it, touching it, fucking it." Xander dove in for another kiss. "Besides, we can always make tonight a double-feature. You do me, then I do you." He punctuated his statement by squeezing the cool cheeks tightly in both hands.

"Sounds like a plan," Spike replied, echoing his boy’s words from three weeks ago. He pushed himself downwards to the brown-eyed boy’s navel, flicking it with his tongue, taking the warm, thick cock in his hand. He licked along the pleasure trail and around the base of the shaft, his tongue wriggling through the thick nest of curls.

The phone rang.

"Bloody hell!" Xander exclaimed and Spike laughed.

"Don’t answer it."

"If I don’t answer it, then they’ll be over here knocking down the door again."

At Spike’s less-than-pleased nod, he picked up the phone.

"Hi. Is anyone dead? Almost dead?" He put his hand over the receiver and mouthed ‘Anya’ and rolled his eyes. "Anya. I’m going to say two words to you that I know you’ll understand. Coitus. Interruptus. Bye." He hung up and turned the ringer off on the side of the phone. "I think we can let the answering machine get iiiiiit…oh, god! Do that again!"

Spike did it again; he sucked in the other testicle and rolled them both around in his mouth. Jesus, he loved the feeling of that cool mouth and slick tongue gliding over his balls. He was almost disappointed when the blond released them, lifting them gently with his hand. His hands were so soft for a man, so smooth. He spread his legs wider. Then that wonderful tongue moved farther south, (or would that be around the equator?), as it stroked and sucked on his perineum. Which he now knew the name for thanks to Anya. She was all kinds of helpful.

At the first touch of his lover’s tongue against his hole he tensed up and grabbed the pillow under his head with both hands. Spike chuckled, he could feel the vibrations against his asscheeks.


Spike loved Xander’s reactions. Having experienced the same thing at the boy’s hands three weeks ago, he knew just how wonderful it felt. He wanted to make this good for him, because for Spike, it was all about the one he was with. Everything he had was for his wonderful boy.

"Let’s turn you over, try another angle, eh, pet?" he asked as he rolled Xander over and placed him on his knees, his bum in the air. Spike knelt up as well, running his hands and his lips over the warm back and ass. He thought back to their little discussion about spanking. Hmmm. He gave the firm butt a light smack. Xander made a cute little ‘eep’ noise. Not even a spark from the chip. Brilliant. He slapped the ass a little harder, hard enough for Xander to cry out, startled, as he wriggled his ass.

"Like that do you, sweetmeat?"

All Spike heard was a muffled, "Oh Jesus, Spike, please", as Xan’s head was pressed into the pillow.

"Gonna teach you why they call us pillow-biters, luv. Hold on." Spike grasped the buttcheeks in front of him and held them apart while he stabbed his tongue into the hot channel.

Xander, indeed, bit the pillow. "Baby, yes! More!" he cried as he turned his face away from the pillow.

Spike continued tounging the tight ass furiously, curling his tongue inside the spasming passage. He had a very long tongue, and he put it to good use. Xander’s hole quivered and grasped at the slick muscle as Spike savored the earthy essence of his boy. He reached under and took the dripping cock in his hand and began to stroke in time with his tongue. The boy’s legs began to quiver and Spike felt his balls begin to tighten. He pressed hard with his tongue and slapped the boys arse with his other hand. Xander came hard, shouting out Spike’s name and shooting his come out over the blond’s hand and the bedspread.

Xander keeled over, panting and shaking, and Spike spooned behind him, lightly stroking his arm and thigh with black polish-tipped fingers. "How was that, then?"

Xander replied, his chest heaving, "Absolutely smashing, to borrow a phrase."

Spike chuckled, reminiscing, "That’s right, luv. Absolutely. Ready for round two?"

"J-just a minute, baby. Gotta catch my breath."

Part Twelve

"Got all night, no need to rush. Why d’ you keep calling me baby? I am more than a hundred and twenty years your senior, Xan."

"Dunno. Just a pet name, I suppose. Why? Does it bother you?"

"I suppose I can put up with it," he said giving Xander an exaggerated sigh. "I’m not giving up calling you sweetmeat any time soon."

"You did call me baby before."

"I like sweetmeat better."

"Well, I can try something else. Um, poopsie?" At Spike’s glare, he added, "Sweetheart?"

"Nope. Too close to sweetmeat. Try again."

"Love-muffin? Pumpkin? Um, cookie-face?"


"I’m grasping at straws here."

"I suppose I could put up with baby until you come up with something better."

"That’s very magnanimous of you."

"Ooh. Big word pet."

"Willow got me a word-a-day calendar. Did you know coming out of the closet was a gift-giving event?"

"Clem gave me Cheetos."

"Geez. I gotta get something for Wills. Say, you still mad at her?"

"About the memory spell? No. I suppose I could be magnanimous about that, since she helped bring us together ‘n all. Still hurt the nibblet, though. Right pissed about that one."

"You’re right, but she is trying Spike. Could you make an effort, for me? Please?"

"I just love it when you beg. Gets me all a-tingle, it does."

"Really?" Xander queried. "Please, baby, do it for Xander. Pretty please with sugar on top?" he asked huskily, turning in Spike’s embrace so he faced him.

Spike captured Xander’s lips in a soft kiss. The boy was a bloody fantastic kisser. Could kiss him for hours. Would, too. But not tonight. Kissing was just the cherry on top of the sundae. And speaking of cherries… "Ready to get the show on the road, sweetmeat?" he asked against kiss-swollen lips.

"Yesss," Xander hissed out as he stroked the marble-hard cock in front of him.

"How do you want to do this then, luv? What position?"

"Well, the ‘Joy of Gay Sex’…"

"’Joy of Gay Sex’?"

"Another Anya-gift. Anyway, it said that, um, spooning is a good position to start with," he continued, his hand never ceasing in its rhythm. "I can’t believe you haven’t come yet. Doesn’t it hurt?" he asked, looking down at the relentless hard-on in his hand.

"A little, but I want to wait till I’m inside of you. ‘Sides, it’s not like I haven’t been wanking away like a soddin’ teenager all week."

"Thinking of me?"

"No one else, sweetmeat. I think your ‘carpenters like to nail things to the wall’ t-shirt is done for."

"Wow. And eww."

Spike chuckled and prodded the relaxed boy next to him. "Turn over luv. Now, where’s the magic grease that the little blonde witch cooked up?"

"It’s the kinda sparkly stuff in the same drawer as the, uh…"

"Gotcha. Hold that thought." Spike reached over Xander, and he took advantage of the situation by grabbing that pale ass for a quick squeeze. "Now, now, luv. Let’s not get distracted," Spike suggested.

Xander waggled his eyebrows and said, "I'm a very bad boy. You should punish me by sliding that hard cock inside my hot ass over and over until I scream."

"Oooh. Little boy thinks he’s a contender with the dirty talk," Spike said as he resumed his position behind Xander on the bed.

"Been practicing. Do you have any idea how long it took before I could say something like that and not giggle like a hyena?"


"So not discussing that right nowwwwww, oh geez, Spike, please," Xander hissed out as Spike began to glide lube-slicked fingers along his moist crack.

"Bring your leg up, Xan," he said, the cool air puffing against Xander’s ear, his body snuggled close.

Xander brought his leg up and Spike pressed one finger into the balmy heat of the boy’s hole. Xander threw his head back, nuzzling Spike’s smooth cheek with his own, slightly stubbly one.

"Spike, god, Spike, that feels so good. More, baby," he demanded enthusiastically.

Spike responded to the demand by sliding in another finger, and spreading them gently. Xander was so ardent in his passion, so demonstrative. He knew he could never give this up. Never would want to. His boy. His.

He pressed the magic spot inside of Xander and the boy cried out, spurting forth nonsensical utterances, utterly devoid of any meaning other than ‘yes’! He whispered urgently in his boy’s ear, "Tell me Xander. Tell me you’re mine."

"Yours, Spike. God, yes. Yours, only yours," he rasped out desperately.

Spike brought his mouth forward to Xander’s and seized it in a zealous kiss. "Oh, luv," he breathed out against his boy’s neck licking and sucking it, listening to Xander’s grunts and moans. He slid in another finger, fueled by a burning need to be inside him, to be as close as he could be. The finger slid in with relative ease, so he tried for a fourth. He wanted to make sure that Xander was relaxed enough. Even with the ‘special sauce’ as he had dubbed it in his head, he didn’t want to risk hurting his Xan.

"You ready, baby?" Spike asked, panting in Xander’s hair.

"Now, yes, now. I want to feel you inside of me."

Spike’s erection hurt, throbbed painfully. He’d put off his orgasm for so long, he’d be damned, (again), if he’d go off before his lovely boy did. He took a deep breath and held it as he slid his cock into Xander.

"Oh my god, Spike!" Xander shouted, grabbing Spike’s arm and pulling it around him, clasping their hands together in front of his chest.

Spike rolled his forehead against Xander’s shoulder and said, "So warm, so bloody tight." Then, in wonder, "I can feel your heartbeat surrounding me."

"Please, please move. I need you. I need to feel you."

Spike began to move slowly, thrusting leisurely. He wanted this to last as long as inhumanly possible. He could feel his own prick warming up from the friction and from the heat surrounding it.

"Spike, hold me, hold me tight," Xander pleaded.

Spike tightened his hold and sped up his thrusts. "Am. Never gonna stop. I'll hold you forever, Xan."

As Spike’s thrusts became even more rapid and deeper, they both lost all ability to speak, merely moaning and grunting and whimpering. Spike could feel the sweat roll off Xander’s back; his hair was damp, his skin slick. He was desperate to come, but the boy had to come first. He tried to pull his hand away so he could give Xander’s dick some much-needed attention.

"No, don’t let me go," he begged.

"’M not, here hold my other hand. I need to touch you luv." He brought his other hand down from where it lay under Xander’s head on the pillow and took a hold of the empty hand. He let his other hand, now released, begin to stroke Xander’s shaft.

Xander came hard and fast, clamping down on Spike fiercely. Spike cried out loudly, his eyes rolling back in his head as he shot his load deep into his boy. They lay there, breathing harshly, still joined together, but reluctant to lose any contact. Spike could feel Xan’s ass throbbing around his sensitive prick, could feel the boy’s heart pounding through his back like a drum.


Xander brought the hand that he held to his lips and began to kiss each fingertip in turn. "That was wonderful, baby. And hey, you called me ‘baby’, too."

"Yeah. Well, it’s a back-up endearment. Sweetmeat’s still the first option. Doesn’t get you out of coming up with one for me."

"So. Let me get this right. I still have to give you a pet name, but we share custody of ‘baby’?"



Spike smiled and kissed his shoulder. He pulled out of the boy carefully, saying, "Don’t want you to get too sore, sweetness."

"Unh, oh," he said softly. "Sweetness?"

"Variation on sweetmeat."

"You’re really pushing the bar high on this pet name thing."

Spike chuckled and rolled onto his back. Xander rolled over and snuggled into his side.

"So, what’s the verdict?" Xander asked.


"Yeah. Which do you prefer, bottom or top?"

"Do I have to choose?"

"Well, no. It would just be nice to know what you like better. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do, or feel uncomfortable doing," he said, drawing random patterns across Spike’s muscular torso with his fingertips.

"Liked both, really. T’was amazing; you inside of me, pounding into me hard. Bloody terrific, that. Bein’ inside you was lovely, too. Wonderful feelin’ that close to you. But I felt so connected to you when you were inside ‘o me, as well." He sighed, "I suppose I liked you on top the best, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to roger you on a regular basis."

"A bottom with option to top?" Xander smiled and laughed lightly. "Yeah, I really liked what we did before, too. I guess as the act itself goes, I liked that best. Still liked tonight, though. Really, really liked it. But I think that what made it extra-special tonight was that it was you. Not that it wasn’t before," he hastened to add. "It’s just that this time I was Xander and you were Spike. I’ll always remember what we did as Alex and Randy. But tonight was just us, no magic; nothing was in the way."

"I wouldn’t say there was no magic, Xander. I certainly felt it. Bein’ with you…I’ve never felt this close to anyone. Ever."

Xander swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them and looked into Spike’s, his eyes were filled with unshed tears. He reached up and touched Spike’s face. "I know this is sudden, but, I, I love you, Spike."

Spike’s eyes flew wide open in astonishment. "God, pet. If you only knew… I love you, too, Xander. So bloody much. I’ve waited several lifetimes for someone to say that to me."

"Drusilla never…" Xander trailed off disbelieving, his thumb caressing Spike’s lower lip while he spoke.

"No. Not the official words. Danced around them a bit, but it was all for Angelus." He sucked the thumb into his mouth, swirling around the tip with his tongue.

"I’m sorry."

Spike released Xander’s thumb to speak. "None o’ that, luv. It’s all water under the bloody bridge, now."

They kissed languidly, sweetly, whispering ‘I love you’ over and over while slowly mapping out one another’s bodies with their hands. Both too worn out from the sex and the emotion to do much more than that.

"Just think, Spike. This all began with a pair of black satin panties."

"Yeah, still got them don’t you?"

"I thought you got them out of my pocket."

"Nah, luv. You had ‘em."

"Oops. Musta left them in the training room."

"Eh, we’ll get ‘em tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow’s good."

They drifted off to sleep in the rumpled bed, each holding their love in a cuddling embrace.


The next morning, Buffy opened up the shop. Anya said she’d have to get used to it, but it sucked getting up this early on a Saturday. As she walked into the training room, her toe caught on something. She looked down.

"Eww. Panties?"

The End

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