Sunday Morning Coming Down

by
Crazydiamondsue

Part Seven

Xander slammed his apartment door behind him, heard it bounce against the door jam and turned and slammed it again. That felt really good, so he jerked it open and slammed it one more time. From across the hall he heard faintly, “Knock it off, asshole!”

“Knock yourself off, asshole,” he answered back to his empty apartment, and then looked around nervously, as if the empty pizza boxes, beer bottles and piles of dirty white socks were going to mock his passive aggressive comebacks.

He leaned over and ripped at the laces on his work boots, yanking them off and tossing them and the latest in a long line of grimey socks into a pile with their brethren. He quickly tore at his t-shirt, tossing it to land over a lamp, as he started clawing at his chest. God, he felt like he’d stripped naked and rolled in insulation, not just hauled rolls of it around all day. Hell, even his ass itched, and he didn’t remember utilizing it in any of the grunt work he’d volunteered to do today. He tried to remember that he was paid really well for that grunt work, but that didn’t seem to matter when he felt like ripping his skin off to stop the itchy burning.

He shouldn’t have stopped by to see the girls first. He should have just come home and scratched, and maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. But he knew if he didn’t tell Willow that he was going to wait until tomorrow morning to mow, she’d be standing on the porch watching for him for hours and then doing that freaky telepathy shit to get into his head, and it would probably be right at the moment he was groaning the name of the Evil Undead in the shower and then there would be mental blushing and stammering and ye gods, he itched!

He shoved his jeans off and his boxers went the way of the t-shirt, casting the room into a gloom that fit his mood and made the shriveled pizza slices and puddles of beer look somehow artsy. He felt a little better without anything next to his skin, and indulged in a full body scratch that had him throwing his head back and moaning a little at the feeling.

You’d think after Anya left, his penis would have decided to take a well deserved vacation, but it seemed to have found new inspiration. And we’re not thinking about that inspiration, he said to himself as he went to turn the shower on and jumped beneath the spray, not waiting for it to heat up. This one was about cleanliness, not getting stickier. He groaned a little, his eyelashes fluttering in relief as he felt the gritty itchiness wash off.

He used extra shower gel, getting a good lather going and then frowning as the traitor between his legs tried to make its agenda known. “No,” he said sternly and then rinsed, wondering if the definition of insanity wasn’t dumping your beautiful, sexy girlfriend or fantasizing about the person who headed up your own personal shit list, but talking to your own genitals. Well, that’s one I won’t be going to Willow with, he thought, grabbing a towel and giving himself a cursory drying.

Right now he was just going to enjoy being home and making the most of what was left of a spectacularly shitty day. He slipped into a pair of drawstring pants and headed back into the living room. At least he was clean, a feeling he’d found himself enjoying more and more lately. It seemed all he’d done in the past week was work, shower, eat, shower, sleep, shower. And too much of this, he thought, looking down at the beer he unthinkingly pulled out of the refrigerator. One or two a couple of nights a week after work was one thing, yeah, but…he looked around the apartment, realizing he’d begun building a virtual Stonehenge of beer bottles.

He set the bottle, unopened, on the end table and dropped down on the couch. Okay. So no fizzy beverages. Food would be good, but the thought of ordering pizza or Chinese again made his stomach roll. Why didn’t McDonald’s deliver? They were missing out on a goldmine.

He ran his fingers through his hair and was considering how big of a pain in the ass it would be to run grab some tacos, when he saw it. He turned his head slightly, looking out onto the darkened balcony. At first he couldn’t see anything but darkness and his own reflection in the glass, and then there it was – a red glow that brightened momentarily and then dimmed.

Xander jumped up from the couch, his bare feet landing squarely in the open pizza box peeking out from under the coffee table. He stumbled over it and jerked open the patio door, the street lights illuminating the leather clad back leaning against the railing, a waft of smoke rising above an unnaturally blond head.

“Spike,” Xander said, letting all of his frustration, ashamed excitement and disgust at feeling a dried black olive stuck between his toes color the word.

“Hello, lover,” Spike said, turning with a sultry head tilt. He watched Xander stare back at him, the edges of the boy’s full lips twitching. “What?” Spike asked, frowning, the mood thrown.

“I’m sorry,” Xander said, spreading his hands. “Lov-ah. I don’t know whether to punch you or point and laugh.”

Spike pitched his cigarette over the balcony railing and started toward Xander, his head lowered and fists clenched. Momentarily thrown by the dangerous vibe Spike was giving off, Xander jumped back into the apartment, grasping the doorframe to steady himself as the beyond pissed off vampire stopped just short of the barrier.

Seeing Spike stop just in time to avoid being humiliated by an invisible smack down, Xander snickered. “Well, this could be fun.” He reached a hand through the doorway, poking Spike in the middle of the chest and then jerking his arm back. Spike lunged for him, slapped his hand against the barrier and jumped back with a curse, causing Xander to laugh harder.

“Oh, yeah, this has all kinds of possibilities,” he said, his eyes gleaming with an evil joy. He was just getting ready to see if he could mess up Spike’s hair without sending the vampire into chip-overload, when Spike was suddenly against the barrier, so close their lips were almost brushing, but separated by something Xander couldn’t see or feel.

“Don’t try it, Harris.” The voice was a low growl, and the eyes said he was way beyond kidding.

The laughter left Xander’s face and he looked at Spike for a moment, putting more space between them. “Then go home, Spike.”

“Invite me in.”

Xander’s eyes widened, and then he laughed again, shaking his head. “Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t wake up stupid this morning.”

“Huh. Whole new world, was it?”

Xander backed up, closing the door in Spike’s face. “Say goodnight, Spike.”

“Harris – fuck. Xander, you’re bloody brilliant, alright? Christ.” Spike sighed, reaching a hand up to stop in front of the closing door. “Look, I just want to talk for a bit, and then I’ll leave.”

“Talk about what?” Xander asked, the door half-closed so that he could just make out the pale gleam of Spike’s hair and one deceptively innocent blue eye.

“Well, for starters, how about you explain what that power trip in the cemetery was all about.”

Xander kept the door cracked and gave Spike a weary look. “Okay, obsessive, much? That was like a week ago. Move on, Spike.”

“We kissed, Xander,” Spike’s voice was low, and his eye never left Xander’s face. “Well, you kissed me, anyway. I was just trying to keep from biting your sodding tongue off. Didn’t think it was worth the headache.”

“Right. And that was your stake I felt grinding into my crotch? Oh, wait, it could have been your lighter…”

Spike thumped against the barrier again, sputtering. “My lighter…? Oh, you poncy little bastard.” Spike stopped, dropping his head against the barrier. “Harris. Invite me in.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Xander’s. “Please.”

Xander opened the door, looking back at him. “If you make me regret this, Spike…”

Spike looked up hopefully, grinning slightly as Xander sighed hugely, stepping back. “Come in, Fangless.”

Spike was halfway through the doorway before he looked back, glaring at the laws of mystical whos-its accepting that name.

“All right, Spike,” Xander said, walking back toward the couch. “I’ve had a shitty day, I’m hungry, I’m tired and kind of itchy. So say what you’ve got to say and get out.”

Spiked smiled slowly, rubbing his thumb against his lower lip. “Yeah, I uh, really enjoyed the floor show.”

Xander turned, seeing the pile of pink fuzzed clothes on the floor behind him. He groaned and looked back at the smirking vampire. “You sick fuck,” he sighed, dropping back down on the couch.

“So,” Spike said, clapping his hands together and grinning at Xander. “What would you like to talk about first? How much you’re dying to see a floor show of your own, or how you want to handle my stepping into old Rupert’s shoes as headmaster of the Scoobies?”

Xander stared up at him, his mind in the place of the naked Spike show, but his mouth still working independently of it. “You? Leader of the Scoobies? How the hell did you arrive at that?”

“Well, it’s obvious, innit?” Spike said, crossing his arms and looking down at Xander. “Red’s too unstable to do it, what with the occasionally wonky magic, and her pretty little bird couldn’t lead a litter of puppies and the Bit’s too young. And you’ve got that whole Sybil thing going on right now, so naturally I figured…”

Xander got to his feet, crossing his own arms and suddenly remembering that he was shirtless. He crossed his arms tighter and sneered, “Spike, we wouldn’t follow you if you suddenly walked on water.”

Spike dropped his arms, stepping closer to Xander as his eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “Well, I think you’ll change your mind, mate, the first time something comes up that your little witches can’t chant away. Trust me, there’ll come the day that you’ll wish I was riding shotgun on your ass when you feel fangs jabbing into that hot little neck.”

“Why the hell are you even still here, Spike?” Xander said, his voice rising even as Spike’s had lowered. “She’s gone. She can’t see this…hero shit you’re trying to pull. What, you can’t be the Big Bad, so you’re gonna try for Chosen One? It doesn’t work like that, you arrogant ass. I’m not going to put the few people I have left in the hands of a self-involved, delusional vampire who wants to play the good guy.”

“And I’m not doin’ this for you or her,” Spike said, his voice still low, steely, dangerous, as he moved ever closer, eyeing Xander’s defensive stance. “If you’d just stop and think for one fucking minute, you’d see you’re putting all of you in greater danger by not letting me…”

“Sell us out? Screw us over? Or get bored and get us killed?” Xander said, his arms rising to ward Spike off, even as he moved a little closer to the glaring vampire bearing down on him. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now, Spike, but I’ll be damned if I let…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Xander,” Spike said, his agitated breathing kicking in as Xander’s hair brushed his forehead. “Shut your gob and kiss me.”

“Fuck you,” Xander muttered as his hand jerked out and pulled Spike to him, his lips grinding down hotly onto a cool mouth as frighteningly strong hands gripped his arms and jerked him even closer. Xander flicked his tongue across Spike’s lips, earning him a gasp that allowed him to deepen the kiss, moaning as Spike’s hand left his arm and reached up to bury itself in his hair.

His bare chest was crushed against warm leather, and one leg thrust between Spike’s, rubbing against the growing hardness there as they both opened their mouths wider, demanding more from each other. Xander pulled back slightly, sucking Spike’s full bottom lip into his mouth and nipping it lightly with his teeth. He took a shaky breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Spike’s, feeling the vampire shuddering against him.

“This is still a really bad idea,” Xander said quietly, his eyes closed.

Spike ran his hands down Xander’s bare back, bringing them together tightly as he slid his fingers into the waistband of Xander’s pants. “It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” he said, lowering his lips to Xander’s chest.

Part Eight

Xander felt Spike’s mouth ghost over his skin, the lips merely brushing over one side of his chest and then the other. Suddenly Spike lunged, his mouth fastening around Xander’s nipple, his lips and tongue flicking, biting and sucking insistently, drawing it to a point.

Xander gasped, his hands sliding down from Spike’s shoulders to grip smooth leather clad arms. He felt the blunt edges of Spike’s teeth scrape slowly across his nipple and he bucked against him hard, feeling his erection, already at an impressive ‘full-impulse power’ immediately accelerate to an astonishing ‘warp 8.5.’

Spike braced himself as Xander thrust against him, feeling a strangled gasp shudder out of the other man’s chest. He looked up to see Xander’s face burst into an embarrassed flush and followed the younger man’s eyes down to were Xander’s thin sleep pants were tenting between them. Spike quirked an eyebrow, “Definitely not a lighter,” he muttered, pressing his lips back against Xander’s chest as his hand trailed down a trembling stomach to slide beneath the drawstring pants, filling his hand with hot, silky flesh.

Xander’s head thumped against Spike’s shoulder, his breath warm and damp against the cool skin of Spike’s neck. Spike felt Xander’s lips tease below his ear as he groaned, “Way better than I thought.”

“What’s that, pet?” Spike murmured as he lightly bit a trail between Xander’s pecs.

“The other night,” Xander said, his words muffled as he hotly mouthed the skin below Spike’s jaw, “I, uh, was drinking a beer and, well, I kind of made my hand cold and um, did this,” Xander thrust tightly in Spike’s slowly pumping hand, “and pretended it was you.”

Spike suddenly stilled against him and Xander raised his head to see the cords in Spike’s neck standing out, his jaw clenched and tight and his eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t move,” Spike gritted out.

“Wha…what’s the matter?” Xander asked, pressing closer to him in concern.

“Don’t!” Spike groaned, his hand tightening suddenly on Xander’s cock, his body tense and shaking. He drew a couple of ragged breaths, opening his eyes to see Xander staring at him with a mixture of rejection and worry. “That…what you just said,” he swallowed thickly, “give me a minute or this is about to be over. Get me, mate?”

Xander chuckled lightly, relieved. He teasingly pumped his hips into Spike’s hand, hearing the vampire mutter a curse and squeeze his hand tighter around Xander’s hard length.

“C’mon,” Spike said, giving him one last smooth stroke and then turning to lead him over to the couch. Spike stopped, noticing for the first time the bottles and cans and boxes that littered the table and most of the couch and floor. “Bloody hell, Xander, this is disgusting.”

“Says the man with skulls piled up around his bed.”

“That’s a very deliberate bit of ambience. This is just…filth.”

As Xander started to disagree, Spike sighed and stopped all argument with, “When you don’t have room to shag? It’s gone too far.”

Xander grinned and grabbed Spike’s hand, pulling him toward the bedroom. Xander backed into the room until his legs hit the edge of the bed. He tugged at Spike’s hand, pulling him closer. He reached up with the other and did something he’d been wanting do all week: he cupped Spike’s jaw, fitting his thumb into the hollow below the jutting cheekbone. As his thumb brushed back and forth he looked up into half-lidded blue eyes, swallowing hard.

This was Spike. Spike’s eyes raking him from head to foot, Spike’s fingers teasing down his stomach to his groin, Spike’s tongue darting out to wet those full, reddened lips. Xander felt the shaking start low in his belly and hovered fearfully on the edge of total freak out, and then he tightened his fingers on Spike’s, pulling that hard body flush against him. He reached up and pushed the duster off of Spike’s shoulders and then spun around and pushed Spike to the bed and fell on top of him.

Xander looked down into a flash of heat from Spike’s eyes, feeling rough denim-covered hardness grind hard against his own aching cock. Hmm, likes the power games, huh? Xander thought, grasping the hem of Spike’s t-shirt, raking it up and dropping his head to press rough kisses against Spike’s neck and chest, following the well muscled indentation down the center of Spike’s torso until he could delve his tongue into a shallow navel, feeling firm skin tighten under his lips.

He’d seen Spike without a shirt before, but he’d had to be satisfied with quick, darting glances and turning away before that too-knowing gaze could catch him staring. Taking advantage of this chance to just look, Xander spread his hands on Spike’s ribcage and let his eyes and tongue follow every arch, every curve.

Spike groaned under Xander’s lips and said, “Xander…pet, look, I know you want to experience the whole thing, try all 31 flavors, right? But I’ve been thinking about this,” he drew a deep shuddering breath, all week…all summer…since the first time I ever bloody saw you… “for days and, oh, hell, Xander, I hope you don’t need hearts and flowers, because right now I think we both just need to get off, yeah?”

Spike wrapped his arms around Xander and rolled them over, standing to pull his shirt over head and ripped open the buttons of his jeans, shoving them down his legs and tearing his boots off. Naked, he looked back down at Xander, all that tanned skin framed by pale sheets, the eyes huge and dark, darting from Spike’s cock to his lips and back.

Spike dropped his hands to the waist of Xander’s pants and tugged, sliding them slowly down, smiling in appreciation as Xander’s cock sprang free, dark with blood and so hard the skin seemed almost shiny. Tossing the pants away, Spike slowly lowered himself back down, bracing his hands on either side of Xander’s broad shoulders, letting his thumbs reach out and rub soothingly at the hot skin.

He looked into eyes filled with want and fear and Xander’s heart was thudding through both of their chests, making him tremble with the force of Xander’s desire. “Shh,” Spike said quietly. “Not gonna do anything you don’t want. Just gonna make it good. Let me make it good, Xander.”

Spike lowered his head and bit at those full lips, bringing their lower bodies in contact, twisting his hips to allow his cock to drag up Xander’s in one slow move and then lifting away teasingly.

“Oh, my sweet fucking God,” Xander moaned, grabbing at Spike’s hips to pull him back. Spike muffled a laugh and thrust against Xander again, faster this time, feeling the slow sweet burning start as their flesh rubbed together.

Xander’s head fell back, stunned by the feeling of cock against cock, never expecting that skin so soft and hard at the same time could feel like this.

“Never knew about this, did you?” Spike whispered as he drew sharply on the skin of Xander’s chest, bringing the blood to the surface and marking him.

“N-no,” Xander stammered, bringing his knees up to clutch at Spike’s plunging hips. “Spike, oh, shit, I’m sorry, I think I’m gonna…”

“Don’t have to be the gentleman for me, Xander, the sooner you do, the sooner I, oh, God, love,” Spike gasped, feeling the hot rush hit his stomach and thighs as Xander arched against him, crying out. He thrust desperately against the shuddering body beneath him and then threw back his head with a deep groan as he came, his body jerking and tightening above Xander’s.

He fell against Xander’s chest, rubbing his hand absently at the sweat pooling on the smooth, warm skin and then looked up into Xander’s heavy-lidded and dazed eyes.

“So, ah, what do we do with this now?” Xander asked, gesturing between them.

Spike looked down at him, his lip curling up a bit. “I thought sometimes men just fuck.”

Xander laughed with a groan, reaching up to push his sweaty hair off his forehead. “Yeah, I might have been talking a little shit back there.”

“Huh,” Spike said, giving him a smirk that was decidedly less snarky than usual, “didn’t notice. Question is, I guess, what do you want to do with this?”

Xander looked down at their bodies, still pressed together, pale skin against brown, dark curls tangling wetly, thighs trembling together slightly with aftershocks. This was always so easy in the movies; people either said thanks and walked away, or curled up together and whispered words they didn’t mean.

Not wanting to do either of those, Xander fell back on the one thing he’d been able to count on the last few days of endless confusion. “Shower?”

Spike said nothing and Xander carefully eased out from under him, leaning over to grab one of many damp towels off of the floor and using it to wipe at his stomach and thighs. He held it out to Spike, watching the pale fingers close on the dark cloth and then stood, walking toward the bathroom. “Coming?”

Spike rubbed the towel across his stomach, the muscles clenching as he felt the evidence that Xander had touched him, wanted him, wiping away. He stood, the towel dropping from his fingers as he heard the shower start and the quiet thuds of Xander stepping into it.

He walked quietly into the bathroom, stopping to stare as he realized that Xander had left the shower curtain slightly open for him to step inside. He looked at the soft, blurry outlines of Xander’s body visible through the sheer plastic and swallowed.

“Spike?” Xander’s voice rose above the sound of the water and it was a little shaky, uncertain.

“Yeah,” Spike said, starting slightly and then pushing back the curtain to get in.

Xander stood with his back to him, his head tipped up to the spray, his hair dark and curling wetly against his neck. Spike dropped his gaze and let his eyes travel up Xander from his firmly planted, high-arched feet, to strong calves, lightly brown and dusted with dark hair, to firm buttocks that were just a shade or two lighter than his tanned back and thighs. There’s a story there, Spike thought, raising a brow.

He watched the muscles in Xander’s back and arms contract as he washed. Xander glanced over his shoulder at him and said, “Well?”

“Er…what’s that?” Spike asked, dragging his eyes from Xander’s flexing ass and thighs.

“Here.” Xander handed him a bottle of pale green soap and Spike took it automatically, watching white foam swirl down the center of Xander’s chest and stomach to settle in dark hair and frame…

“Spike.”

“Yeah,” Spike said, his gaze snapping up to meet Xander’s grinning, if slightly pink, face.

Xander shook his head, turning back to rinse as Spike popped open the cap of the bottle in his hand, grimacing slightly as the scent of apples drifted up. He squeezed a bit into his palm, rubbing it across his chest and stomach, then letting his hand drift lower, smoothing the gel into his skin as he moved closer to Xander.

Letting his slick front slide against Xander’s back, his cock just nudging at the base of Xander’s spine, he wrapped his arms around the warm, wet body in front of him. He slid his hands across Xander’s sleek stomach and down to grip the hot, firm…

“Spike!” Xander leapt away from him, sliding against the slick bottom of the tub and catching himself on the soap dish. Spike jerked back, a hand shooting out to steady Xander.

“Gah!” Xander cried out as Spike’s wet, soap smooth hand slid from his hip to his inner thigh. “That’s not…”

Xander turned slightly, seeing Spike looking back at him, his head tilted, a small frown on his face.

Xander groaned. “Why am I always trying to talk people out of having sex with me?” Spike’s frown deepened and Xander sighed. “That’s not what I had in mind,” he explained, turning to rinse the last of the soap off his body. “I just meant….I just didn’t want you sticking to my sheets in the morning.”

Spike reached out, running a finger slowly down the indention of Xander’s spine, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his hand. “So, I’m staying?” he asked, his voice deep and quiet.

Xander turned, smiling slightly. “Guess so.”

Spike nodded, moving so that Xander could edge past him and reach for a towel. Spike stepped beneath the shower long enough for most of the suds to wash away and then cut off the shower. He turned to see Xander wrapping a fluffy, pink towel around his hips, tucking it so that a stylized monogrammed “X” hovered right above his groin.

Spike snickered. “Thanks, love. Might’ve forgotten where to find it.”

Xander frowned at him, opening his mouth to question that, just as Spike reached out to pull a matching towel from the hook behind Xander.

“No!” Xander yelled as Spike raised the pink terrycloth to his face.

Spike looked back at him, confused at Xander’s horrified stare, and then glanced down, seeing the matching “A” monogrammed on the pink cloth in his hands. “Right,” Spike muttered, dropping the towel and shoving past Xander.

He walked back into the bedroom, angrily scooping his t-shirt up from the floor and struggling to pull it down over his wet skin with one hand as he dug for his jeans with the other.

“Spike,” Xander said, coming up behind him. “Look…I’m sorry I yelled. Here.” A hand reached in front of Spike’s chest, offering a towel, the black “X” pointed toward him.

Spike yanked it to him, mopping at his chest and stomach below the bunched t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Xander said again, quietly. “It’s just that...she took everything. That’s the only thing left that’s hers.”

Spike shot him a dark look, dropping the towel and bending to jerk his jeans on. “Not the only thing.”

“Spike…I don’t want to do this.”

“Yeah, I got that the first time, mate,” Spike turned back to him, missing the way those dark eyes swept over the t-shirt that clung wetly to his chest, baring his stomach, the half-buttoned jeans framing a line of dark hair and the beginning of darker curls. “So, thanks for the shag, been lovely…”

“No,” Xander interrupted, stalking naked over to the bed and peeling back the sheet to slip inside. “I mean I’m not doing this; I’m not fighting with you.” He settled against the pillow, looking back at Spike who stood unmoving, silent and still half-dressed. “I’m tired of fighting. Beyond fucking tired. I’m going to sleep. You can get in here with me and sleep, or you can go. But I’m not arguing about it with you.”

Spike looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed and shoved his jeans off again, wrestling the damp t-shirt over his head. He walked over to the bed, glaring at the small grin playing on Xander’s lips.

Spike grunted softly as he crawled over Xander. “You’re not why I’m staying. You’ve seen my crypt. It’s worse than this dump.” He settled down on the other side of Xander, whipping the sheet over his hips and laying back, his arm resting over his eyes.

Xander lay flat on his back, his arms on top of the sheet and then he turned slightly toward Spike, jerking back as his foot brushed against a cool leg. He squirmed for a bit, trying to get comfortable, and then heard Spike give a frustrated hiss, reaching out to pull Xander to him.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Xander,” he said, sighing, as he slid one arm beneath Xander’s head and curved his body into him. “I just washed your come off of me. I think you can handle sleeping next to me.”

“Oh, well that’s nice and vague, Spike,” Xander sniped, wiggling closer. “Can you paint me a more vivid picture?”

“Be glad to paint it, mate,” Spike said, his voice a low growl as he slid a hand down Xander’s stomach. “Paint it all over you, if you like.”

“Spike,” Xander said warningly, grabbing at wandering hands. He was a quiet for a minute. “Why is that? How come people can, you know, get off with each other, be all sweaty and tangly and with the body fluids and it’s no big deal…but this,” he said, nudging Spike’s shoulder, “seems so personal and scary?”

“Scary? Well, you’re the one snuggling a vampire, pet, I guess you’d know from scary,” Spike chuckled.

“I’m serious. I mean, not that I’ve ever been big with the get in, get off and get out – ”

“Probably ‘cause you’re not the one doing the getting off and getting out,” Spike said wryly.

“– but,” Xander continued with a warning pinch to Spike’s side, “it just that this seems a lot more intimate…”

“Oh, bloody hell, Harris,” Spike said, pulling back. “This is why you didn’t want to get blown in the shower? So we could talk about our sodding feelings?”

“No, well, I wanted to talk about…you were going to blow me in the shower?” Xander’s eyes glazed a little, his point lost.

“No, I was going to do your poncy hair. What feelings, Xander? Do you even like me?”

“I thought I did…or I was starting to, and then we did this,” Xander said, waving his hand between them.

“So…you don’t like me anymore because we shagged.”

“Spike, I’m hovering just above total mental breakdown. Right now I’m only concentrating on the fact that you feel pretty damn good. But if I stop to think that just a week ago it was Anya here,” he stopped and Spike tensed below him. “And that if I lift up this sheet, and we’re naked and there’s evidence that we’re both guys…”

“Oh, plenty of hard evidence,” Spike said silkily, lightly brushing his hips against Xander’s.

“And that you started this by kissing me when you knew I was too drunk to stop you…”

“’M not the one goin’ around shoving blokes into graves and tongue fucking them,” Spike interrupted.

“And now I’m laying here naked with someone who I could have cheerfully staked an hour ago…”

“Should have mentioned that bit, mate, didn’t think you were ready for it…”

“Spike!” Xander jerked away, pulling the sheet up to his chest, and then realizing what he was doing and dropping it, red-faced.

Spike fell back against the pillows, laughing, as Xander dropped his head into his hands, groaning. “God. Why am I suddenly turning into a girl?”

Spike shrugged, still snickering. “Dunno. Could be because you’re in bed, naked, with someone else’s manly bits nudging you every time you move your ass.”

“Have I mentioned today how much I don’t like you?” Xander asked, a small smile of remembrance on his lips.

Spike’s smile faded as he looked up into Xander’s decidedly calmer face. “Might have let it slip in once or twice.”

Xander moaned softly. "I can't believe you remember that," he said, leaning down to press his lips against Spike’s, feeling the mouth beneath his open hotly, a hard body immediately pressing against him. Xander bent closer, rubbing against firm thighs and a hardening cock and then they heard it. Low, deep and rumbling as Xander pulled back with a shocked expression, his hand pressed to his stomach. “Shit. I forgot to eat. I’ve forgotten my keys, my stake, my own birthday…but I’ve never forgotten to eat.”

He looked back down at Spike, seeing amused irritation cross his face before the vampire fell back with a groan. “Hungry?” Xander asked.

“Nah,” Spike said, running a finger slowly up Xander’s thigh. “I ate before I,” his fingers tightened around hard flesh, “came.”

Xander slid out of bed with a groan. “Okay, that was lame. Even for you.”

“Xander.”

He turned back to see Spike sprawled naked against the sheets, a pale hand running slowly from his chest to his stomach, the fingers pausing to curl in slow circles below his navel. Xander smiled weakly and turned to head back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, right,” Spike said, jumping up from the bed. “You didn’t wanna shag in the shower, you wanted to get clean. Now you’re crawling out of bed with a,” his eyes dropped, “very nice bit of interest.” Xander’s hands automatically dropped to his groin, and then jerked away, finding that touching wasn’t doing anything to lessen the evidence.

Spike threw his hands up. “Oh, well, by all means then, let’s find you a spot of dinner. Then maybe something will be on the telly,” He put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “And then we maybe we can sort your socks or grout your tile.”

He looked up, seeing an uncertain Xander standing in the doorway, his eyes darting from Spike and then into the silent safety of the living room. “Why’d you ask me to stay if you didn’t want this?”

“This what?” Xander asked, and then shook his head, easing out into the living room. “I’m hungry, okay? And before, no one likes to be sticky, right?”

“I don’t know, kind of liked that feeling,” Spike slipped his hand down his stomach, now clean and dry, but remembering the warmth, the wetness that had been Xander’s sweat, come and heat. “Liked it a lot, pet.”

Xander stopped, his hand on the doorway. “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, pet?” Spike said, his voice silky and dark as he closed the distance between him and Xander.

“That. Pet. Your…Buffy name.” Xander turned and walked out, his hand slamming hard against the door as he left.

Spike sighed, looking down at his bare feet curling into one of Xander’s t-shirts. Who the bloody hell did you have to fuck to get a fuck around here? He walked into the living room, seeing Xander still naked, his body dark but glowing hotly under the ridiculous red twinkle lights strung about the kitchen as he dug around in the cupboards.

Xander found half a jar of peanut butter and a box of saltines and set about making cracker sandwiches. He rattled around in the silverware drawer loudly, trying to drown out the sounds of irritated vampire coming from the living room.

“Wasn’t my ‘Buffy’ name,” Spike said quietly.

Xander hunched his shoulders, concentrating on spreading peanut butter evenly and eating one as soon as it was made. “Yeah, it was. Heard you say it more than once.”

“Yeah, but,” Spiked picked up two empty bottles, clinking them together distractedly. “Just something I say. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then don’t say it,” Xander said, turned and leaning back against the counter, brushing crumbs from his chest as he licked peanut butter off his fingers. He looked up, seeing Spike lounging against the edge of the table, his body taut and arched as he fumbled through the mess on the counter top for matches. Xander’s eyes lifted to the cigarette clenched between Spike’s teeth.

“You can’t smoke that in here,” he said pointlessly, knowing Spike would smoke anywhere he damn well pleased, and that he should just be grateful if he ashed somewhere other than the carpet.

“Need something to do with my hands,” Spike said, lifting a brow as he struck a match and inhaled deeply.

Xander shifted against the counter, feeling the sharp edge press into his naked back, the cold tile doing nothing to calm the heat racing through the rest of him. His eyes followed the lines of Spike’s body, noting that, even through all the word games and distractions, they were both still hard. He looked back up into Spike’s eyes that were peering at him steadily through a cloud of smoke. He wanted to see soulless or at least fangless, wanted to feel anger or irritation, but felt nothing more than the rush of mindless desire he’d been drowning in all week.

“This is so wrong,” he said tightly. “It’s only been a week…”

“You’re awful hung up on this ‘week’ thing, Xander.” Spike stood, gesturing toward the door. “Would it be better if I came back later? Does that work better with your timetable?”

“Why are you still here, Spike?”

“Why do you keep asking me that, Xander?”

“Answer me,” Xander said impatiently, wiping his hands angrily against the towel on the counter. “Why are you still here? And don’t tell me you’ve got nowhere else to go – I’ve seen that movie and I don’t think you can sell the line.”

Spike dropped his cigarette into the nearest beer bottle, crossing the room before its extinguishing hiss had even died. He stopped in front of Xander, letting their bodies drag against each other and tilting his head slightly to look up into hot, angry eyes.

“I’m here because of a promise you made to me in a cemetery. You promised me this,” he said, leaning in to bite sharply on Xander’s bottom lip, being careful to ease off just short of causing anything more than a brief sting. “And this,” his hand dropped to Xander’s cock, giving it a short stroke as his other hand slipped around Xander’s hip to close firmly on the curve of his ass. “And this.”

Spike lowered his head to drop a kiss on Xander’s shoulder as he felt the larger, warmer body press briefly against his. “I never said that,” Xander groaned, his hands closing around Spike’s hips before he even managed to get the words out.

“Didn’t have say it,” Spike said, slipping slowly to his knees as his mouth left a soft, cool trail down the center of Xander’s body. “Pet.”

His lips opened around Xander’s cock, his tongue flicking firmly just beneath the head before his mouth slid wetly down it, swallowing Xander’s shuddering gasp along with his hot flesh. He felt Xander’s fingers twine tentatively in his hair and then they were tightening, tugging painfully as Xander wrenched away from him.

Spike looked up, his eyes almost black as true anger finally kicked in. His lips, bruised from being rudely torn away from what he was sure was the most amazing blow job the boy had ever had, were opening to give a final ‘sod off’ before he made his exit. And then he was spinning, his feet rising off the floor and his head being saved from cracking against cold linoleum by the warm muscled arm that slid beneath it.

Then that arm was sliding away, the palm turning and running firmly down Spike’s chest. It was followed by hot lips that mouthed his nipples, the contours of his rib cage, the tight skin of his stomach, then paused and brushed slowly, maddeningly, lower before they were pressing against the head of his cock, discovering the foreskin and drawing back, and then pressing closer in exploration.

Feeling the softness of Xander’s hair teasing against his stomach as a hot mouth suddenly sucked him in. Finding a curious tongue, that was way too awkward and inexperienced to make him tense and gasp like this, gently probing at the slit. Spike reached down and touched the top of Xander’s head, his fingers getting lost in all of that dark hair, watching as darker eyes were lifted to his. “What are you doing?” Spike asked, cursing himself for the loss of heat and wet where he needed it most.

“Making good on a promise,” Xander said, with an extremely familiar quirk of his brow, and then hot, moist lips and tongue were back to work, tugging at the beyond soft skin of Spike’s cock, and hands were reaching to lift his hips. Spike felt his legs sliding up and over strong arms as Xander knelt before him, that incredible mouth moving faster and harder, that clever tongue learning quickly how to make Spike stop questioning and start moaning.

Suddenly Spike felt himself dropped to the floor with a thud, the warm mouth still moving frantically on his cock, but Xander’s hand reaching for his own hardness. Spike watched those long, tanned fingers working quickly, moving in the same rhythm as the tongue that drummed along the underside of his erection. Xander’s other hand tightened almost painfully on Spike’s thigh and he moved his mouth faster, his fingers biting into Spike’s skin as a muffled groan was buried against Spikes’ groin.

Spike tangled his fingers in Xander’s hair, his body tight as he came, thrusting shallowly and groaning, “Xander,” just as he felt Xander pull away from him and arch back, a warm spatter hitting Spike’s hip and side as Xander fell across him with a moan.

Xander’s damp cheek and slack mouth brushed beneath Spike’s nipple, rubbing mindlessly for a moment and then a shocked, proudly gleeful face was lifting to look into Spike’s. “I think I can sleep now,” Xander said with a chuckle.

“Promises, promises,” Spike muttered, swiping a thumb across Xander’s wet, swollen lips.

Part Nine

But I took the sweet life, I never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I've spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that costs too much to be free
Hey lady...
I've been to paradise,
But I've never been to me…

Xander’s hand shot out, cutting the alarm off. He fell back against the pillow, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. What the hell radio station was that thing set on?

He rolled over, checking to see if the embarrassing bit of schmoopy pop had awoken his bed partner. Pale hair faded into a white pillowcase. A paler cheek was burrowed into the pillow, the sheets pulled up to small, strangely delicate ears like a dramatically drawn cape. There be vampires here.

Well, one, anyway, and that was scary enough. Xander lay back, blinking around the darker than normal room, trying to remember what time he had set the alarm to go off. His eyes went to the sleeping bag he had haphazardly nailed over the window last night, after informing Spike that he could sleep on the sunny side of the bed and receiving a sour look in response.

Xander reached a careful hand out, barely touching the edge of the sheet by the back of Spike’s neck, and then jerked back when Spike suddenly rolled over onto his stomach, still facing away from him, and abruptly stilled. Xander held his breath, staring at the pale back that was now bared to him until he was sure that Spike was still sleeping. Or hibernating or regenerating or whatever vampires did.

Xander’s eyes followed the slight groove of Spike’s spine to that dip his back made right above where the curve of his ass mounded up the sheets. He felt his breath hitch slightly and clenched his fingers into the sheets, wadding the cloth into his fists and then stopping when he realized he was baring even more Spike nakedness.

He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to look at Spike and see ‘pretty’ and ‘strong’ and ‘dangerously hot.’ He dropped his eyes from the sleek lines of Spike’s back, staring blindly at the white sheets as if their blankness would blanket these thoughts. What was in this insane attraction to Spike? Was it just the inherent “Come to me, my pretty” danger in Spike that had nothing to do with him being a guy or no longer of the living? Or was it something more…and we’re not going there.

Xander pulled his hands away from that tempting flesh and rolled over with a sigh to check the alarm clock. 7:10, which meant he needed to get up, shower and head over to Dawn’s to get the mower, to the woods to mow, back to Dawn’s to get the girls, back to the woods for the Sunday morning routine, drop the girls off and then back home to his…vampire.

He eased out from beneath the sheet and into the shortest shower he’d had in days. Mostly dry, he almost silently opened his closet and drawers to find a t-shirt and shorts to mow in and khakis and a pullover to wear back to the woods. He was tying his tennis shoes when he heard the sheets rustle behind him.

“You don’t have to sneak out, pet, it’s your flat.”

Xander turned around, seeing Spike rubbing his hand sleepily over his wavy, ungelled hair and refusing to find that cute. “Gotta go mow,” he mumbled.

“Ah,” Spike answered, “Guess I kind of threw your routine off last night, eh?”

Xander decided not to enumerate the ways his routine had been thrown off last night and nodded toward the darkened window instead. “You gonna be okay here for a while?”

“Suppose so,” Spike answered, snuggling back down into the sheets with a grin, “Find and mock your porn, answer the phone with ‘Harris’ bitch,’ put your albums in all the wrong cases…no shortage of evil I can get up to on my own.”

“Don’t answer my phone,” Xander said with a stern finger point, and then grabbed his keys and left.

Xander put the mower back into the shed behind the house and used the hose to rinse most of the grass off of his legs. He ducked behind the shed, shucking his shorts and t-shirt and scrambling into khakis and pullover before the neighbors caught the early morning naked Xander show.

Ah, sweet routine. Comforting creatures of habit. Peaceful, unthinky normalcy. Okay, time to get the witches and the teen of vague mystical energy to go visit the secret, hidden grave of a vampire slayer. Bring on the normal.

He walked around to the front of the house and found Willow, Tara and Dawn waiting for him at the open door. It was always so strange to see Dawn in a dress. Well, a dress that wasn’t so short that it had him casting his eyes around for somewhere to look than at those long legs that got less skinny and more eep, bad thoughts, with every passing day. Willow and Tara in dresses was too normal to be naughty-making, but these Sunday morning ones were always less Renaissance Fair and more Parent-Teacher night.

They drove to the woods like usual, the only sounds the radio turned up so that they could ignore that they weren’t talking and the crackling of the cellophane around Dawn’s flowers.

Xander pulled off the road and drove in as far as he could without getting stuck. They got out and started into the woods in the unspoken order: Willow in the lead, Tara clinging to her hand, Dawn following behind and Xander bringing up the rear. He tried to concentrate on the shiny bounce of Dawn’s hair rather than the memory Giles’ sweater-clad back blocking the view of it and the feel of Anya’s fingers twining with his.

Dawn turned and gave him the same half-smile she always gave when she smelled the fresh cut grass and saw the grave cleared of the – don’t think dead – old flowers. Dawn knelt and arranged the new ones as Tara started chanting softly and Willow stood with her eyes closed, her face lifted to the sky and her hands out, the palms turned up. Xander wasn’t sure if that was a witch thing or a Jewish thing, but he’d always felt it would be dumb to ask.

Besides, other than, “When are you coming to get the mower?” and “Need to pick up the flowers,” they never talked about what they did here.

Xander’s job was done once the mowing was finished, so he did what he always did, watched the others, casting the occasional glance around to make sure that no one disturbed them. Before, he had stood and muttered, “I don’t know, I don’t know,” repeatedly to Anya’s whispered questions of, “What’s Tara saying? Why is Willow doing that? Why doesn’t Giles look at any of us? How long do we have to keep coming here every week?”

The truth was, none of them really knew what to do once they got here. Tara chanted for a while, and Willow did that looking up thing and Dawn spread the flowers out and then gathered them together and then spread them out again. And then they all waited for Giles to say, “I suppose we should be heading back, then.”

In a way, it wasn’t much different from the first time they’d come here, except there had been more things to do that time. More things to do, important things, non-thinking things. And then Giles had said something in Latin, Xander was almost certain, and Tara and Willow and even Spike had nodded along with the words. Xander had just stood and held Dawn’s hand, feeling younger than she was and wishing that she were holding his hand, and not the other way around. It had been dark that time and easier to ignore the details, like the name engraved on the stone and the way the ground mounded up in front of it.

Xander looked down at Dawn, watching the flowers sift through her fingers. Stargazer Lilies, Tara had said they were. They were kind of bright and loud and big, but in some way the name Stargazer had fit Buffy. Not that she had been much of a dreamer, but somehow the way they’d all looked to her…

He realized that he was staring past Dawn now, staring at the name. Buffy Anne Summers. If he just read it like that, all together, it didn’t seem like the same person. Had he even known her middle name was Anne? He stared at it harder. Buffy Anne Summers. Buffy. Buffy, I….

Buffy, I fucked Spike. Xander’s eyes opened wide and bit down on his lip, hard. He hadn’t thought that. It’d be like yelling, “fuck” or “goddamnit” in a church. Buffy, I left Anya, or she left me, and I fucked Spike, or almost, and now I think I might be…Xander’s teeth snapped down on the tip of his tongue, tasting blood. He swallowed hard. He was not telling his best friend’s spirit, or whatever, that he was banging, or hoping to bang, her undead stalker.

Or maybe Buffy was up in Slayer heaven and she and all the other Slayer-angels were sitting on clouds and looking down at him, watching him suck off a vampire on his kitchen floor. Xander closed his eyes tightly, no, no, heaven was perfect and Buffy’s idea of perfect was not watching Xander try to deep throat her lusty nemesis.

He opened his eyes again to see Tara looking at him with a soft, understanding smile on her lips. Oh, God, she thinks I’m trying not to cry. Yeah, that’s it, I’m just letting this place, and this day and this act, and not last night, get to me. I’m thinking of Buffy. And Slayer heaven. Which…huh, wonder if it’s like Jesus heaven with big, white fluffy angels or like Willow’s heaven, or does Willow even have a heaven, or maybe it’s just like another world, like when that portal opened Buffy just went somewhere else, but no, her body stayed here so does that mean she….he realized that his eyes were opened wide again and that he was chewing his lip and Willow and Tara were both staring at him.

“I suppose we should be heading back, then,” he heard himself say.

Tara took Dawn by the hand and helped her up and they started walking back towards the car. Xander turned to follow them and felt Willow’s hand slide into the crook of his arm.

“Hang on a second,” she said softly. She watched until Tara and Dawn had moved away from them and then turned to look at him, “We need to talk tonight,” she said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear, “About what we're going to do now. How we’re going to handle things.”

Xander nodded, looking at the ground and frowning when he noticed a spot were the grass was taller than the rest.

“Xander,” Willow said, tugging at his arm until he looked up at her, “Are you with us? Are you going to be able to do what needs to be done?”

He looked back at her, wanting to say, Nope, and stroll out of this place without another thought, but he felt himself nodding, “Yeah, Will, whatever you need.”

“Okay,” she said, sighing and then smiling a little. “Can you meet Tara and me at the Bronze tonight? Around eight?”

Xander nodded again, moving slightly so that her hand dropped from his arm. “What about…should we ask Spike?”

Willow frowned at him. “I thought you said that we couldn’t count on Spike, that it would be better to just leave him out of this.”

Xander shrugged, “Yeah, but…I don’t know, Will. This is,” he looked around, avoiding Buffy’s headstone, “This is asking a lot of us, and really I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to do it alone.”

Willow crossed her arms, “I’m not worried about that. And for tonight, it’d be better if Spike weren’t there. Maybe later, when we have some idea of what we’re going to do. Anyway, I need someone to stay with Dawn. So, I figured, after we leave here, I’d go by the crypt and see if…”

“I’ll ask him,” Xander said quickly. Willow raised her brows and Xander cleared his throat and said, “I have stuff to do over by Restfield, anyway, so it won’t be a big deal to stop by.”

Willow shrugged, nodding, “Okay. You can have Spike duty.” She turned to start toward Tara and Dawn, “After all, he’s your patrol buddy and late night escort.” She looked back at him with an impish grin. “Come to think of it, he’s really been up your butt, lately.”

Xander groaned. Naturally, the one bit of Judaism he did remember was, “From your mouth to God’s ears.” He shook his head and followed after her.

Xander walked into his apartment and headed straight for the kitchen to put the bags down on the counter. He glanced into the living room and found Spike sitting at the center of the couch, away from the windows, and leafing through one of the research books Xander had been supposed to look…something up in a while back.

“’Bit okay?” Spike asked, not looking up.

Xander nodded slowly, unloading his purchases, and then remembered to answer aloud. “Yeah, I guess. She, um, she hasn’t cried the last couple of times and Tara says that shows that she’s learning to start dealing with it. Living with it,” he finished quietly.

Spike nodded and Xander turned to open the refrigerator and stumbled over the over-flowing garbage bag that blocked his way. He looked around, discovering that the pizza boxes, beer bottles and empty take-out sacks were gone, presumably stuffed into the bursting bag at his feet.

“Spike…you cleaned,” he said in shock, the quart of milk in his hands falling to land in a safe, non-exploding way on the bag of garbage.

Spike shrugged, flipping pages faster, “I had to find somewhere to sit, didn’t I? And Harris? It smelled,” he looked up and met Xander’s eyes before wetting his thumb and forefinger and turning another page, his attention going back to the book.

Xander picked up the milk and moved the garbage out of the way to finish unpacking his groceries. He snickered a little. “William the Bloody – house vamp,” he chuckled, looking around the room, “What – you couldn’t do the dishes, too?”

Spike slammed the book shut. “Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and deadly, his fingers clenching on the spine of the book. “Look, I picked up your garbage, yeah, fine. I didn’t answer the bloody phone – didn’t ring anyway, you were with anyone who might want to call you, ya stupid wanker. I didn’t touch your precious cds, the comics under your bed are still in their little plastic coats and I only smoked twice.” He shook his head, tossing the book aside. “I did find your porn, though, and I was right – sad lot, that.”

He looked up at Xander, his smirk fading, “So just…don’t. I got to sleep ‘til I wanted to get up, an’ I got to sit here, all non-flamey, so I held up my end of the bargain. I cleaned. Sod it. And then you come in here, dumping your snark on me, because we both know you don’t have the balls to say what you really want…”

“Here,” Xander interrupted. He held his hand out, the dark red bag gleaming in the low light, “I kept my part of the ‘bargain,’ too.”

Spike stood up staring at him, and then slowly made his way over to the kitchen, reaching to take the bag of blood from Xander’s hand. Xander handed it over, seeing Spike stare down at it like it was a fluttering virgin or a children’s choir – or whatever Spike’s vamp kink had been back in the day – and not like plastic full of cold, dead pig juice.

“I need you to do something for me,” Xander said, watching as Spike walked over to the cabinets and started searching for mugs. I’m going to lie to Spike, well, not lie, but not tell and, okay, a week ago, so not big on my list of things that make but gut clench, but now... “Not the Quark’s Bar mug,” he said, shoving Spike gently aside to replace the two-quart novelty cup and reach for something less Trek.

“But it’s the biggest one,” Spike argued. “Welsher.”

“Here,” Xander said, handing him a Batman mug. “Knock yourself out.”

Spike rolled his eyes and headed to the microwave. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked, vamping to rip the bag open with his teeth. “’Cause if it’s laundry, you’ll find it all piled up in the tub.”

“You know we have fancy newfangled machines for that now, right?” Xander paused. “Heh. New fangled,” he snorted and then looked up in horror. "Tell me you didn’t use the cheese grater as a washboard….”

“Barely held my dinner hauling ‘em into the bathroom,” Spike said, setting the timer on the microwave. “What you do with them now is your problem.”

“Now, here’s something I’ve always wondered about,” Xander said, leaning back against the refrigerator and crossing his arms, and then smirking a little as he watched Spike mirror his pose and lean back against the counter. “You don’t breathe, right?”

Spike nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“And yet you have a super-keen sense of smell – not unlike Daredevil, except you’re not blind – so explain to me how this coexistence of no breath yet bloodhound sniffing occurs?”

Spike shrugged, “Don’t have to breathe, ‘s all. But I can still draw in air to scent something out.”

“So you don’t just do it,” Xander said thoughtfully, “you have to make yourself do it. So you were making yourself huff my boxers?”

Spike’s lips fell open and his body language changed to righteous rebuttal just as the microwave pinged and saved him from answering. “What did you need me to do, Harris?” he said instead, lifting the mug to his lips and draining it and then starting the refilling and reheating process again.

“I…we need you to stay with Dawn tonight.”

Spike looked back at him, watching as Xander’s gaze fell from his. “All night?” he asked quietly.

Xander shrugged, flushing a little, “Whatever.”

“So…what’s up with you and the witches that I’m on Niblet watch?”

Xander turned away, busying himself with shaking the garbage bag and searching for a tie. “Just a Scooby meeting. Figuring out what the plan is now.”

“And…you don’t think I should be there for that?” Spike said, turning in irritation as the microwave dinged again.

“That’s not it, it’s just that someone needs to be with Dawn, and…”

“And it should be the person with the least to offer to the big summit,” Spike said, giving him a pointed look.

Xander dropped the garbage bag, walking out of the kitchen and slamming his way back to his bedroom. “Just be at Dawn’s after sunset,” he yelled back through the closed door and then kicked it hard for extra measure.

When Xander opened the door several hours later, he found the living room vamp free, a blood-stained Batman mug sitting in the center of the coffee table. CDs were scattered around the floor, and Xander didn’t even bother to look at the evil Spike had wreaked on his meager, post-Anya, music collection.

He picked up the phone and dialed. “Dawn? Is Spike there? Okay, tell Willow I’ll meet her in a few minutes. What? Oh, well, tell Spike I said right back atcha. What? Oh, nevermind.”

Making his way into the Bronze several pissed off minutes later, Xander saw Tara and Willow sitting at a small round table at the back. He walked over to them, smiling at their heads bent together, allowing himself a moment to ponder what sort of naughtiness they were whispering, and then hopped up onto to the stool closest to Willow.

“Oh, how the mighty Scoobies have fallen,” he said, looking at the two of them and forcing a grin. “I can remember when we could fill an entire booth at the Bronze.” He pointed across the room. “That booth over there. I think it has our names on it. I think they bronzed it.”

Willow and Tara smiled half-heartedly, and then Tara reached for her cup, burying her face in it.

“So, is there a plan?” Xander asked. “Have we figured out a way to do this without losing our ass? ‘Cause I’m dying to hear it, really.”

Willow elbowed him and then picked up her straw, toying with it. “Yeah, I think I’ve come up with an idea.”

“Well, that’s great,” Xander said, looking around for a waitress. Beer was needed now, and he was okay with that. “So what is it? Cast a protection spell on the entire Hellmouth? Turn the demons into Tribbles with a few carefully muttered and hard for me to remember words?” His eyes gleamed. “Use Spike as bait?”

“Um, no,” Willow said, looking to Tara and then reaching out to take her hand and Xander’s. She leaned forward, staring into Xander’s eyes with a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.” Her fingers tightened on his, painfully. “Xander,” she said, dropping her voice, “I think I know how to bring Buffy back.”

 
Lyrics from “Never Been to Me” by Charlene

Star Gazer Lilies referenced from Tabaqui's S/X story "Changes"

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