There is one thing I hate about being single. It’s waking up alone.

Sleeping alone is no problem. D’uh! You sleep, so most of the times you aren’t aware of being alone. And there are advantages! No one snores or hogs the covers. No one wakes you to have relationship-conversations in the middle of the night. However, when you wake up and feel cold and still tired, your bones hurt and your back is sore… you think even those convos are worth it.

 

I slowly blink open my eyes and the first thing I see is Spike on the reclining chair. He's asleep, duster thrown over his slim frame, an unhappy expression on his face. Grumpy Spike, that’s all we see these days… My mind comes to a sudden stop and I bolt upright in the bed, panting harshly. Oh my god, I had sex with Spike!

 

My heart is pounding so loud in my chest the neighbours, without doubt, are able to hear it. Spike, though, seems unfazed by it. I open my mouth as if to say something, maybe to call out to him but all I can manage is a weak, strangled, coughing sound.

The body on the recliner comes alive and turns around, murmuring something I can’t make out but, by the sounds of it, are objections to the disturbing noise I made.

The duster slid down a bit, exposing the narrow waist of the vampire and he shivers. Memories come rushing back at me.

 

“I'm cold. Everything is cold.”

 

“Don’t wanna be cold anymore. Warm me up? Just for a little while, just for…”

 

Yeah, just for a little while. I suppress a snort. I get up as silently as I can manage and make to go to the bathroom. I need a shower. I really need a shower. My pubic hair is all sticky because … I fucked Spike. Unbelievable. When I pass the chair Spike sleeps in though, I can’t keep myself from tugging the duster back into place, covering his body with the heavy leather.

 

I turn the water on a bit hotter than I can actually stand it; and I groan in both pain and pleasure when the searing fluid rushes over my body. Looks like Spike is not the only one needing to be warmed up. I lift up my arms, lay them against the cool tiles from entwined fingers to elbows and let my head drop so my chin nearly rests on my sternum. I like the tension, how it’s building in and under my shoulder blades, while my loins feel so light and relaxed.

 

I screw my eyes shut and the familiar metallic-blue lights begin to dance behind my eyelids. Metallic-blue that brings back memories: Spike staring at me when I pushed inside him. Involuntarily I moan, my cock stirring in recollection of the cool tightness it was sheathed in only a few hours ago.

 

I fucked Spike… and it was fantastic.

 

One of my hands wanders down to the soap dispenser, pumping it a few times. Not for the first time, I realize that the soap has the same colour as cum and my cock twitches wantonly. Smiling to myself, I bring my hand down to it and rub the creamy white mess all over it. Mhmmm, yeah. That feels good.

 

I rest my forehead against my arm while I stroke my cock to full hardness. In my mind I’m reliving last night, experiencing again what it felt like to have Spike wanting me, to have him spread out and nearly begging for my cock to fill him.

 

I moan again when I think about how he arched up when I thrust deep into him the first time and I speed up my hand, ending every other stroke with a slide of my thumb over the swollen head.

 

My brain flings images at me faster and faster, stimulating me with the intensity of the feelings involved with them. Finally the carousel of my inner snapshots comes to a halt on one moment, the moment our lips met and Spike’s tongue so tentatively met mine for the first time. The familiar tingle in my balls starts, crawling up to the head of my cock when I come shuddering and gasping for breath. Damn, I’m so screwed.

 

Seconds later I’m back to the routine task of washing and cleaning myself, rinsing soap and cum down my body, watching all traces of creamy fluids disappear down the drain.

 

I shiver while I dry myself and slip into the clothes I laid down on the closed toilet seat. I look in the mirror while I brush my teeth and shave, searching for ..something but it’s only me staring back at me and nothing seems to have changed. Why do I feel different then?

Third Person’s POV
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As noiselessly as Xander could manage he goes from the bathroom to the kitchen. After opening the fridge's door he stares in it, checking the sparse contents. First thing he notices is that Spike's blood supply is down to one bag. Cow's blood. Xander cringes at the memory. He had gone to the butcher like he always did nowadays and, for a change, he bought the slightly more expensive cow's blood, of which Spike spit half of the first bag in the sink, cussing. "Disgusting shite!"

 

Xander had been embarrassed, had maybe hoped for some friendlier insults in their bickering, so he had reacted with: "Was all they had, Fangless. Drink or die."

 

The youth closes the fridge. Will grab something somewhere, he thinks and knows he won't. He fills a glass with water and turns so he can watch Spike. He lifts and starts to sip the cool water, dragging the process out so he can stay a bit longer like this, so he can look at the blond a bit longer. And Spike is nothing like he thought Spike would be in his sleep.

 

He doesn't look younger or innocent or dead. He looks just like Spike, sleeping Spike. The hair is tousled and the lids are fluttering from the rapid movement of his eyes under them, the throat is working furiously as if Spike tries to swallow something but can't manage it. Xander feels his own throat close up in sympathy. The vamp starts fidgeting, nearly thrashing and groans as if… With a jolt Spike hands come up, protecting his head and his knees snap up to his chest, curling himself in, making himself as little as possible. Wide eyed Xander watches and feels anger bloom inside him for what the Initiative did to this… to Spike.

 

After that Spike calms down, slips into a dark but seemingly dreamless sleep. Xander's eyes jerk up to the clock and, damn, he's gonna be late if he doesn't get going now, so he turns around to put the glass in the sink and takes the pen and post-its block lurking there. He makes as if to write and stops after "Hey", flings the pad away and stalks out of the house, no look back. Silly, he thinks of himself and then presses the button to "work" in his mind, actively barring away all non-work related thoughts for the next eight or ten hours on the site. He really likes this job and he doesn't want to lose it.

 

*** *** ***

 

Spike wakes up in the late afternoon to the unfamiliar but familiar sound of rain rushing down to the ground in a steady stream. He's alone. Good. Good, yes, and the boy's still at work. Shower. Yes, shower will be good.

 

He stands up and stretches the clumsy muscles, feeling sore from the sleep in the uncomfortable chair. Images of the bed, sharing it with Xander, cuddling into the whelp's warmth and just drowning there, real rest. Safe.

 

He shakes his head to clear them away, doesn't quite succeed but can concentrate on the task at hand. The water flowing down his body is hot, warming his shell, warming skin and bones and muscles back into sleekness but on the inside he still feels cold. Assaulted by memories of honest caring eyes and gentle fingers he wants to scream, wants them to stop. He regrets that he let go, regrets that he opened himself up for another person just to have a taste and then… nothing anymore.

 

He gets the last bag of cow's blood out of the fridge and thanks who ever looks out for vampires that it is the last bag and he’ll hopefully get pig again next load. They're both disgusting but cow's blood is just more… disgusting. He snorts to himself. Look how far I have fallen… preferring pig to cow when I should be out there drinking human from the source.

 

The bag is drained quickly without heating it in the microwave because the smell is even worse than the taste. One fucking bag, Spike frowns, this will not get him through the night. Not even if he didn't have to fight off bloody fledges who think they can take down a master or without the Scoobies' usual patrol. He is so weak and hungry.

 

Giles is a sadistic bastard. The kids may not know, may not even think about it when not hinted to but Giles… Ex-Watcher Giles, must know how much blood he needed plus or minus a pint or two. Watcher must know that a vamp can suck dry up to four humans a night, and god it was so good to feel completely filled with warm blood, fresh and energizing…

Doesn't need to be human all the time, just has to be enough at least. Giles could do the math and figure it out, could figure out that he should have at least six bags of pig's every day – not one or two – so he wouldn't starve to final death.

Xander's Point of View

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When I get off of work finally, it starts to rain. So fucking typical.

Couldn't have started earlier - no.. why should I get some time off on a day like this? It's hard enough to get everything right when I am completely concentrated. I wonder what I actually managed to mess up today. At least it's Friday. No work ‘til Monday and I can't remember being that grateful for that fact before.

 

I stop at ChocShock, a very little café that just opened and as the name says, they have all things chocolately. I love their ice cream. I take way more time today to eat my ice than I do usually but I really don't want to face Spike right now. Yeah, I am hiding out, alright. Who wouldn't.

 

Spike made pretty clear how he sees things, prefers the crappy barcalounger to the crappy bed and human warmth. Just use the Xan-man, sex with evil killers seems to be one of my hidden talents. Of course you can't compare Faith and Spike - coz let's face it, Faith, wince, Spike is more than an adventure - or maybe that's because he is male and I am a bit more happy with an additional dick than with boobs in my bed.

 

Spike is kinda intense. Haven't felt that connected with someone in a long time and hah, who'd have thought I'd say that about evil, undead, snarky, annoying, gorgeous Spike.

 

And now? How do I behave around Spike now? Oh hi, Deadboy Jr., I hate you but I'd like to fuck your ass again.. Yeah, that would be sooo - Fuck it. I stand up and make my way home. I just have to wait and see and do what Spike does or the opposite of it if it's gross.

 

Even before I reach the door I know he has already gone.  Sudden sadness sweeps over me when I step in the empty basement, finding the bed still rumpled and the ropes still on the floor near the barracuda. Left behind again..

 

I bite my lip hard. Don't be silly, idiot. You knew this was just a fuck, was just a new way for the bleached blond to screw with your head - or your dick. Urgh.

 

I go shower and change into more casual clothes and try not to think about Spike at all but when I open the fridge and find it completely empty - I remember again that I wanted to go grocery and blood shopping yesterday - just before Spike jumped me to make.. casual sex. Fuck. He must be hungry. Two days with nearly no blood. He has to be starving. Oh, and I care why again. Fuck.

 

Thing is, the fridge holds nothing for me either and I am hungry. I'll go over to the Magic Box, get some pizza or donuts there. Yes, plan. Wanted to go there all along, has nothing to do with the fact that I may meet Spike there. No. Patrol is an everyday duty. Evil has no holiday.

 

As soon as I am on the threshold of the Magic Box I can hear him.

 

"Oi bloody watcher, gimme some blood, told you what I know bout the Lre'shal!"

 

For the first time I can't see something annoying in Spike, he is practically begging for food!

 

I slam the door shut loudly, and it's enough to distract the watcher so Spike can grab the blood bag.

 

"Oh look who was fired again!" Buffy exclaims and I'd have given her a dark look if  I wasn't so surprised by the flicker of interest, concern? in Spike's eyes. Maybe..

 

 

Spike's Point of View

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Fuck you Rupert! Show a bit of empathy would you? I didn't kill your lot when I was able to, even helped you kill Angelus and what do I get?

I am treated like the crippled pet nobody wants and poufy-hair gets the niceties! It's not fucking fair.

 

"Oi, bloody watcher, gimme some blood, told you what I know 'bout the Lre'shal!"

I am hungry and if you don't give me blood soon the pain in my tummy will overwhelm the pain the chip inflicts and I'll rip your throat open and drink you down!

 

He is here.

 

I hear his heartbeat speed up as soon as he is through the door.

I feel his eyes on me but I refrain from looking at him. He slams the door, don't think on purpose, at least the watcher is not paying attention and I can grab the two blood bags from him.

 

Slayer makes a comment 'bout the boy being fired again. Fuck, really? I look over, sniff the air sharply and no, anger but not the hopelessness and self-flagellation he usually stinks of when he lost his job again. Our eyes meet very, very briefly and he makes me feel all funny. I have to get out of here.

 

"Oh no - Xander! What happened this time?" Willow asks him and hugs him, holds him back and I can vanish through the back door. Bloody hell, I forgot it's raining!

 

I am completely drenched after only a few minutes. Hate the bloody rain. Makes me even colder. Not gonna think about that. Not gonna bow down, submit to Xander Harris just for a bit of body warmth and forgetfulness. Not gonna happen. Right, not gonna happen again.

 

I drink the blood down right from the plastic bag, cold and disgusting as it is, no way do I go back in there. Don't need their pity, don't need their god damn mockery!

 

A while later the door opens and the whelp is shoved outside. Great.

"You go patrol.. I'll be with you in a few. Usual route. There won't be much trouble while it rains like this." Slutty says and then closes the door. Boy stands there, staring at his own feet, waiting for .. what? A written invitation?

 

I turn around and start to go, seconds later I hear him following me. Usual patrol minus banter and cigarettes. What a bloody beautiful night!

Third Person's Point of View

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lazily Spike shoves the demon away and to the ground, knowing that it was a quiet peaceful species with no fighting skills at all, he wasn't even in the mood to kill it. No challenge.

 

Begging the demon inwardly to just stay down, to just run away, Spike slowly turns around to check on the whelp.

 

Not even a second later, Xander comes flying in his direction, his body slamming into Spike's full force, takes them both down to the ground. Spike's back connects hard with the muddy cemetery ground, Xander's body falling onto his slender frame, pushing all the unnecessary air out of the vampire.

 

With a furious roar another demon jumps over their tangled bodies and rushes to the demon that's still on the ground. The bigger furious demon needs a few tries to grab the smaller one, to help him off the slick floor with his horned hands and then they are both running, getting away from the hunters.

 

"Parental feelings among demons?" Xander asks, looking down directly into Spike's wide blue eyes. Rain is running down Xander's face, leaking from his chin and nose and out of his hair on Spike's skin. Xander is in the adrenaline kick that comes after avoiding something bad, nothing matters and everything is alright as long as the bad thing was avoided. His eyes sparkle and shine with happiness, relief and ..more?

 

"Weren't Daddy and daughter those two." Spike says and Xander frowns. "No?"

he asks while he stares fascinated at his hand that is cupping Spike's head, that's fingers are combing through wet un-gelled locks and that's thumb is sliding up and down the vamps sharp cheekbone.

 

"Mates." Spike whispers and tries to look away from Xander's brown eyes which so intently stare into his now. "Lovers. One protecting the other."

 

Lovers. Xander rolls the word over and over in his head before he whispers it, warm breath puffing against Spike's lips. "Lovers." Offer and confession all in one and all Spike has to do is to close the distance between their lips. It's already less than half an inch but it seems too difficult a task to do.

 

Xander frowns down at Spike again, wondering what makes the vamp tremble in fear. What is making Spike's eyes wide, like those of an anime character? What gives them this scared expression? But the hardness against his is enough of a yes, Xander decides and leans down further, touching Spike's lips with his, at the same time Spike's fist connects with his jaw and makes him fall to the side.

 

Spike screams in pain from the chip's reaction and Xander's innards clench in sympathy and from received rejection - a much worse pain than the one that makes his chin throb.

 

Underlying all is the sound of laughter - nasty and loud and female.

The slayer, under an umbrella, that of course matches her shoes or purse or something.

 

Spike gives Buffy a dark look, nearly as dark as the one Xander receives and then he stomps off, tumbling slowly and insecurely on his feet and directly in the arms of five fledgelings. Sloppily he defends himself until those newly risen mud leaking wannabe vampires recognize the slayer who breaks in a run, refusing to get anywhere near them.

 

Xander stakes the vamp that suddenly appears behind Spike, who seems to be unaware, and the chip must be screwing big time with Spike's head. He grabs the vamp on the arm and wrenches him around.

 

Spike's face is wet like Xander's, rivers of rain running down his skin and, just for a second, Xander imagines them to be tears like those that mingle with the rain streaming down his cheeks.

 

„You’ll get yourself killed like this!“ Xander hisses at Spike.

 

“You care? Why is that, Harris?” Spike spits back. “Want another go?”

 

Without saying anything Xander turns around. He moves away quickly, feet stomping and hands fisted in his pockets, concentrating only on putting some distance between himself and the vampire.

 

“Running away is what you’re good at!” Spike yells after him even though he knows that it’s a complete lie, but he wants some reaction at least.

 

When Xander hear the false accusation he stops, rooted to the ground, nearly gasping for breath to get over the sharp pain in his chest. Without turning around he says with a steady voice: “I am not the coward here.”

 

Spike feels as if the world is suddenly closing in on him, not leaving enough room for him to think and he feels trapped, trapped, trapped.

 

Xander’s words are harsh but right this one time and all he wants to do is run and hide somewhere from himself. The sharp tongue of his that can’t stop telling the truth to anyone around him is as ruthless to himself. Not that he would admit that Harris is right. Not out loud anyway.

 

He swallows and looks up, the youth is gone and he feels left, left, left back. Again.

Nothing new, but you never get used to it. No matter how often you practise it.

 

And if his eyes burn, that's just from the rain that washes down the hair gel and makes it leak into his eyes.