Scooby Snacks
by The Mad Poetess
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part One

Warm night in the parking lot of the empty Sunnydale Drive-In Theatre:

"You, Spike, are one sick, twisted fuck," Xander Harris pronounced, 
gazing down at the gravel that was about three feet away from his 
face, and hoping he didn't come into intimate contact with it in the 
next few moments.

"Yeah, so, you have a problem with this?" Spike replied, taking a 
long drag on his cigarette.

"Well, not on principle, since you're also a pretty good sick twisted 
fuck, but it's been an hour, and we haven't seen a single demon, 
ghouly, ghostie, or thing that goes bump in the night. Except my face 
into your ass, and I'm suddenly thinking that was the entire point of 
this expedition, and I should just shut up now..." Xander trailed 
off. 

Spike gave a pained, smoky sigh. "Are you having another 'Hate 
myself 'cos I'm fucking Spike and I'm pretty sure this makes me not 
only gay, but also extremely stupid...' moment? "

Xander giggled, and watched the gravel spin. "No, I'm having a 'Blood 
pooling in my head, if you don't put me down I'm gonna yak all over 
your boots' moment." [Tonight on Channel 8 News: Neutered Vampire 
Hires Hit-Man To Kill Human Lover For Regurgitating Vast Amounts Of 
Count Chocula Onto His Best (only) Pair Of Doc Martens...]

Spike grudgingly hauled Xander back up over his leatherclad shoulder, 
until they were face to face, Xander swaying slightly on the uneven 
ground. The vampire steadied him with a firm hand. "Your idea, mate."

"No, *my* idea was that this time I actually do something, instead of 
just hiding behind a tree and watching you fight, like last night. As 
ideas go, not one of my most Xanderiffic, but what can I say. Senile 
dementia. The *something* I had in mind involved me coaxing soldier-
Xander out of hiding, and looking all macho, though, not being 
dragged around the bad side of town as *bait*."

"There's a good side of town?" Spike asked in apparent 
surprise. "Anyway, not my fault you're such a nummy treat that all 
the demons want to come sniffing after you. Might as well use it to 
my advantage, though." He made as if to throw Xander back over his 
shoulder, and the human ducked. Stumbled slightly.

"Okay, dizziness, thy name is Xander. Maybe you could come up with a 
better solution than using me as Sack-of-Potatoes-Man?"

Spike shrugged. "We could always go back and clean up the kitchen."

[Shudder. No thanks.] "Um...no...just let me get my head cleared 
before you try that again." 

The blonde grabbed him by the back of his neck, and hauled him close 
for a long, rough, menthol-flavored kiss. 

"You're not helping here," Xander complained happily when he was 
finally released.

***

The First Attempt: 

Spike quietly began to disentangle himself from a still-sleeping 
Xander. The boy grumbled disjointedly. "Don't...hey, soft...come 
back."

Spike had to smile. He'd missed having somebody with a brain in his 
bed, even a demented, sleep-addled brain. Even if it wasn't actually 
his bed. Dru used to say the most entertaining things when she was 
half-awake...

He shook Xander's shoulder gently. "Xander...I'm getting up for a 
drink. You want anything?"

The body in his arms stirred. Opened liquid black eyes that held not 
one shred of real sleep in them. Grinned wickedly. Little faker. Big 
faker, actually, but he couldn't help thinking of Xander as smaller 
than himself, even though the human had a few inches on him in 
height, and a bit more than a stone in weight. {Doesn't matter. He's 
a kid. A man, at times, but still a kid.}

"Million bucks, decent car that I actually own, somebody to tell me 
why there's no word that rhymes with orange, the ability to mainline 
Ho-Ho's. Other than that, I'm good," Xander replied thoughtfully. 
Spike nodded. Slowly withdrew his arms from around the warm body, and 
rose from the bed. Padded naked over to the kitchen. Careless. 
Never had been ashamed of his own body. And he was never cold in the 
morning if he didn't wake up alone. {Have a ball with that one, Dr. 
Freud. Let's talk about my abandonment issues over a nice cup of 
pig's blood.} He pulled a packet of cold blood from the fridge, 
tossed it in the microwave, set it for fifty-five seconds, and sat 
down at the table.

"Time is it?" Xander asked, yawning. Spike glanced at his watch. 

"Either eight-eighty-eight, or infinity to th' third power. Don't 
think this thing's waterproof, somehow." He shook it. 
"Don't make stolen goods like they used to."

"Infinity to the third power? When did you get all Einsteiny?" Xander 
laughed. "I thought you were Mister 'Kill First, Ponder Relativity 
while the bodies cool .' "

"What, I can't have facets?" Spike shrugged. "Anyway, three, two, 
one..." Beeep.... and his blood was warm, and the microwave clock 
said.. "Twelve-thirty."

He poured the blood into the mug he'd ended up nicking from Rupert's 
flat. 'Kiss the Librarian.' Not an unattractive proposition, on 
reflection, but not even worth comparing when he had a bedful of 
Xander at his disposal. Little flare of guilt, but he laughed it off. 
{What? I'm a *vampire*! Fight, shag, take the piss, eat chocolate. 
That's my C.V. Just 'cos I've fallen in love with teenage snore-boy 
here, doesn't mean I can't *think* about kissin' the librarian.}

"Hey bed-head... did you say there were more of those chocolate 
vampire crispies somewhere?" he called over to Xander, who was 
watching him from the bed, unmoving. Still waking up in there, no 
doubt, no matter how together he pretended to be. "I think you 
mentioned it somewhere in the middle of that epic speech about get 
the fuck out of my bathroom and go moisturize yourself to death, 
Spike..."

Xander smoothed his hair reflexively, and groaned. "And thank you for 
that, because I couldn't have gone another minute without another 
poignant reminder of my blossoming into womanhood yesterday... 
They're in the utility cupboard, behind the plunger. You remember-- 
the abode of chocolatey delights that you plundered while I was at 
Giles' place?"

Spike grimaced as he opened the cupboard door. "Plundering the abode 
of chocolatey delights? Sounds like a gay Mills and Boone romance." 
He withdrew the grocery bag from behind the plunger and the pile of 
gaffer tape, and peered inside. "Why Xander.... Six boxes? I didn't 
know you cared. I thank you from the bottom of my unbeating heart." 
He fluttered his eyelashes seductively.

It was Xander's turn to make a retching face. "First, eew. Second, 
Mills and who? Third...yeah. Well. Somebody or other convinced me 
they're a nummy treat."

"I'll cherish 'em forever. Er...Mills and Boone. The English 
equivalent of Harlequins. All soppy and overwritten.' Spike opened 
one box of Count Chocula appreciatively, shaking a handful of the 
crispies and little marshmallows into his mug of blood.

Xander sort of wheezed at him. Sounded suspiciously like laughter. 

"What?"

"You read Harlequins?" He'd gone and got that 'I've got something on 
you...' look in his black eyes. Snapping. Dangerous. Really 
dangerous, this one, if he put his mind to it.

Spike crunched into his blood and cereal, and talked with his mouth 
full. "No, wanker, I don't read Harlequins. Dru did. Well, she made 
me read 'em *to* her. Total dreck. I always 'ad to add in some blood 
an' guts, though, or she'd pout."

Xander sat straight up. "Spike, you can't have those!"

"Blood an' guts? Yeah, chip. It hadn't slipped my mind. Reasonably 
acceptable substitute, though. " He returned to happily crunching, 
then looked up, brow furrowing in suspicion. "Oh, now...You're takin' 
my crunchies away *again*? You just want another kiss, or what? Cos' 
if you get your arse over here, you're welcome to it."

***

Xander wasn't about to turn down the offer, so he grabbed his now-
clean robe from where it lay on the recliner, slipped it on, and made 
his way over to where Spike was sitting. The vampire looked 
completely...well, edible. Much the way he had on Friday night, but 
without the extreme discombobulation factor that had sent Xander 
scurrying for the safety of his bed after their first kiss. [Well, 
also there's the no-clothes factor, and why am I not panicking at 
that thought? Welcome to the strange world that is Xander's post-
Spike brain. So...this is the way it works. I get two and a half days 
of complete angst, and now free vampire kisses whenever I want 'em?] 
He grinned cheerfully. [Works for me!] At least for the moment. While 
he was high on his own insanity.

He walked around behind Spike, and leaned down. [Right. This is me, 
kissing the vampire. Hello, vampire, are you gonna turn around, or 
what? I'm showing extreme emotional stability right now; the least 
you can do is play along.] Spike turned, alright, whipping his face 
around with a *very* toothy grin. Meaning to scare Xander, no doubt, 
throw a little fun into the morning. Afternoon. It did, for a minute. 
[Vampire! Vampire in my kitchen!] But it was just Spike. And...how 
was Xander going to tell him?

Apparently the uncontrollable snickering fit did the job for him. 
Spike frowned. "What? You're supposed to be scared, y'know. You could 
at least scream like a girl or somethin'."

"Yeah...I know that's traditional with me, but...Spike, you have a 
marshmallow stuck on your fang." And before he really knew what he 
was doing, he'd leaned down and was brushing the vampire's fang-
filled mouth with his own, sticking out his tongue and licking the 
little ghost-shaped marshmallow from Spike's terribly sharp tooth. 
Not cutting himself...just. Tasting, again, that first strange 
combination of blood and chocolate that had started to send him over 
the edge. Odd. Sweet and coppery at the same time. He lapped at 
Spike's lips, the corners of his mouth, tasting salt and chocolate 
and vampire. Spike carefully extended his own tongue to chase 
Xander's around the outside of his mouth. Finally Xander drew back, 
just a little afraid he'd cut himself on those sharp teeth, but 
somehow not afraid of the face that held them.

Spike grinned again, and morphed back into human face. "Stones, boy. 
I'll grant you that. You're not scared of me at all, are you? And 
when did pathetic toothless vampire start considering that a *good* 
thing?"

"I'm terrified of you," Xander answered truthfully. "But it doesn't 
have anything to do with which face you're wearing." That admission 
had snuck its way up from somewhere in his dimly lit half-awake mind, 
before he could close his lips over it. [I'm terrified of...yeah, 
whatever. Feeling something for you that I don't know how to make an 
oh-so-clever snappy remark about. Okay, even Xanderspeak fails me. I 
officially suck today. Can I go back to bed?]

Spike scratched his chin. "I can live with that. So to speak. So 
how'd you like your second helping of pig's blood?"

Xander went off somewhere. Pig's blood. Blood and chocolate. But the 
blood itself...familiar. Yeah, ick factor, but also familiar... when 
he'd been something wild and dangerous that he didn't really want to 
remember. "Third."

"Eh? You been sneakin' around behind my back with the ponce?" Spike 
grabbed the lapels of his bathrobe playfully.

What? Angel? Sneakin' around with Angel? Big cave-vamp Angel, whom 
he'd hated since the minute he first saw the drool fall from Buffy's 
perfectly-shaped lips to land sparkling on her hundred dollar shoes? 
Not a chance. Well, okay, maybe a little chance, but not one that 
he'd ever admit to, even under threat of being forced to watch 
Masterpiece Theatre while Cordelia Chase gave him a Cosmopolitan 
makeover.

"Yeah, while you were busy doing laundry. Dipshit." He smacked the 
vampire lightly on the head. Spike just looked at him. And looked at 
him. "Oh, fine. I...um...ateapigonce," he blurted out.

"You what?" Spike laughed.

"I...ate a pig."

Spike goggled at him. "Er...in a blanket?"

"In a cage. It was the school mascot."

Spike seemed to be torn between shock and amusement. "Tough day with 
the Slayer, needed to unwind?" he finally asked.

" I was possessed by a hyena at the time."

"You never cease to amaze me. Real wild man, you." Spike pushed his 
chair away from the table, and yanked Xander down onto his lap. 

[Whoa, vampiric strength, and whoa, sitting on the lap of a naked 
vampire, and hello, Spike's spike. Can we say disconcerting? No, 
probably not. We might manage...bleurgh, if we concentrated really 
hard.]

"Um... Spike? I'm sitting on your lap?"

"Yeah, I know, pet. I put you there. Short term memory's just fine."

"Isn't that a bit..."

Spike sniffed. "What? Girly? Oh, grow up, Xander."

He slipped his arm carefully around the vampire's neck. 'I kinda 
thought I was. Learn somethin' new every day."

Spike tapped him on the nose with his spoon. "Now, what was that 
about takin' my crispies away again?"

***********************************************

Part Two


The night was getting warmer, or was it just Spike?

He dragged Xander across the parking lot by the arm, towards the long-
defunct outdoor concession counter. He had a plan. It was a good 
plan. Smart. Well-thought out. It involved screwing Xander silly, and 
if that worked out, doing it again. Some watching, not a lot of 
waiting, and if his legs started to cramp, he figured he could put up 
with it. {Item One: Lack of patience. The downfall of many an 
otherwise stone-scary demon. That, and ticklish shins. God help us 
poor bastards with ticklish shins.}

"What're we doing, Spike?"

"Was that a relationship question, as in 'Spike, why am I having 
these strange feelings? Spike, do you think we should get a cat?" he 
replied sardonically, now pushing the mortal back against the metal 
and Plexiglas counter.

Xander cracked up. "Oh yeah. A cat named...no, Miss Kitty 
Fantastico's already taken. You'd eat it if we named it Fluffy. 
Hmm..."

"Can't eat it. No fuckin' living creature. Wouldn't eat a cat, 
anyway. Too small, and besides, we've got a professional courtesy 
thing goin' on." He purred briefly, and Xander's eyes widened. 
{Didn't know I could do that, did you, innocent child....I've got a 
list of things to try out on *you*, I do.}

"Okay... how about...Mr. Whiskers?" Spike shook his head and shut the 
boy up with a kiss. Pinched Xander's left nipple lightly through the 
fabric of the black t-shirt he'd thrown on before they left the 
basement. *Spike's* black t-shirt, which made it nicely tight. {Gotta 
get him some more black. Black looks good on him. Hell, black looks 
good on everybody. 'Cept the poof.} Well, in all fairness... {Okay, 
even the poof. Though he's the only vampire I'd say needs to wear 
*less* black...}

"Spike, I meant what are we doing making out in the middle of a 
burned-out drive-in when we're supposedly looking for demons for you 
to beat up?" Xander pushed him back, breathing in little gasps. Still 
half-laughing.

"I have a plan." A bit defensively.

"Oh goody. Could we maybe try to take over the world *tomorrow* 
night, Brain? Your plans always seem to end up with me getting hit 
over the head with a microscope." Xander rubbed his fingers through 
dark curls, as if reliving a year-and-a-half-old head trauma. Spike 
pulled his hand away and kissed the spot.

"There-- all better? Can't take over the world tomorrow night. We're 
going to the bloody Watcher's place to play party games, remember?"


***

The Second Attempt:

"No, Spike, you can have *that* box. It's all yours."

"I thought they were *all* mine..." the vampire wheedled. "Don't you 
love me anymore, Xander?"

[Possibly. Shit. And *so* not about to share that little fact with 
you. Big greedy bleach-head.] "Who said I loved you to begin with, 
whiny-ass?" Still sitting on Spike's lap, so he could feel the 
chuckles vibrating though the body beneath him and into his own.

"Well, you bought me six boxes of Count Chocula. And that was 
*before* the whole peanut-butter-and-testosterone episode. Nothin' 
says love like seventy-eight ounces of chocolate and refined 
sugar...Admit it. You *wanted* my extremely shaggable whiny vampire 
arse." Cocky bastard. Cocky...right...bastard.

"Maybe," Xander retorted. Two could play at that game. "Yeah, I 
bought 'em all for you. Anything to shut you up. But I kinda got 
caught with six boxes of chocolate cereal in my cart, and rather than 
tell Anya that I wanted your vaguely shaggable whiny vampire ass, if 
in fact I did, I decided to go with 'Count Chocula Treats.' "

Spike frowned. "Anya? As in your ex-demon ex? Flitty little chit who 
dumped you 'cos *you* don't love *her*?"

Xander shrugged. "She's right. I don't. Well, not that way." [Yeah, 
*that* way's reserved for merciless killers who sit naked on my 
folding furniture with me in their lap...I gotta stop this *thinking* 
crap.]

"What were you doin' talkin' to 'er in the grocery store? She track 
you down to twist the knife or somethin' ?" 

What was that... concern? From Spike? Like...an interest in the 
condition of Xander Harris' completely fucked-up psyche? Way 
disturbing.

Sex, that he could deal with. Was finding that he wanted to deal with 
it more and more. He'd woken from their afternoon sleep on Sunday to 
find Spike's hands slowly making their way down his back, massaging 
him gently, then more firmly, and heading further south... A *nice* 
way to wake up. And where Spike put his hands next...calling 
it 'nice' was like saying that Spike was 'attractive'. Just lacked 
all the subtle nuances.

And, strangely, he was learning to deal with the concept of Spike in 
the same sentence as...companionship. Like last night, when Spike had 
finally found his leather duster, where it was hidden in plain sight 
on the coat rack, and had been about to walk out the door to go whale 
on whatever nasty thing he could scare out of hiding. Xander had sat 
quietly in the red recliner, flipping though an old issue of "X-Men" 
and not looking at Spike. 

Sex was one thing. Even really, really [really...]good sex. Hell, 
he'd had that with Anya, at least at one point. But what he seemed to 
be having with Spike... it was something different. And it scared him 
a bit. And the fact that it only scared him a bit...scared him a lot. 
And the fact that it was a good bet that Spike was only in it for the 
sex, and maybe the chance to rag on him about his taste in clothes... 
So anyway, he'd pretended to read a comic book, and waited for Spike 
to leave. Which he seemed to be about to do. Then he'd suddenly 
turned at the foot of the stairs, standing out against the darkness 
in the stairwell like a bleached-out James Dean, almost glowing under 
Xander's 'I'm not really looking at you' glance. He'd cocked his head 
sideways in just that...Spike way, and shouted back into the 
room, "Hey-- you coming with, or what?"

So... concern. About Anya. Or maybe Spike was just bored. Spike was 
*dangerous* when he was bored.

"No. No knife-twisting. It's...complicated. She really wants to do 
this 'just friends' thing. Which I can't say I've ever seen work, 
exactly, but then, my previous experience with long-term 
relationships has consisted of...well, one, that I fucked up 
completely. And you're turning me into a potty-mouth."

"Oooh... the F-word. Call the Watcher's Council. You're off the 
Slayerette list, old son. So you told the chippie
you were gonna make nummy treats with *my* cereal. So what?"

"So she's gonna be at Giles' tomorrow night, for this weird little 
research hootenanny that Willow and Giles cooked up. To which you're 
invited, by the way. And she'll be expecting Count Chocula treats. " 
Xander absently picked up the box from the table and looked at the 
back. Somewhere within, there was allegedly a set of Scooby Doo 
stickers. [Be still my heart.]

"To which I'm invited?" Spike repeated in disbelief. "Was Rupert by 
any chance smoking something from the little drawer under the Tiffany 
lamp when he issued that invitation?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Denial 
is a wonderful place to live. Giles has no sordid past, they didn't 
cancel "Freaks and Geeks," and the G-Man definitely never gets 
*mellow* when the rest of us aren't around. You're invited...in the 
sense that Buffy indicated she might not stake you the minute you set 
foot in the door, and Willow asked if she'd need more cookie dough. 
And now... I have to make Count Chocula treats."

Spike took the open box from Xander's hand. "Mine. Go get your own."

"Fine. Get out of the way while the master goes to work." Xander 
jumped up (reluctantly, but it wouldn't do Spike's ego any good to 
know that) from Spike's lap. Retrieved the grocery bag containing the 
remaining five boxes of cereal from the floor where Spike had left 
it. Stared hard at it.

Spike snickered. "You have absolutely no idea how to cook these 
things, do you."

"Shut up, bleach-boy."

***

Spike sat in the recliner, which he'd turned around so that he could 
watch, and mock, Xander's culinary attempts. He'd actually gone so 
far as to paw though Xander's clothes and slip on a somewhat less 
threadbare robe than the one the boy was wearing. Since his lover 
kept giving him the evil eye when he sprawled out naked on the chair 
in the most distracting poses he could come up with, he'd figured it 
might be more fun to try some subtle torture.

As Xander put butter and marshmallows into a tupperware container and 
punched buttons on the microwave, a plan began to take shape.

"So, what all's on that list of yours?" Spike asked with feigned 
disinterest.

"What list?" Xander answered distractedly, starting up the microwave 
and staring at the back of the cereal box as if it would contain the 
recipe that he hadn't bothered to look up.

"That list of things you haven't done. The one I plan to whittle down 
to nothing by way of corrupting you."

"Things I *haven't* done? I'm thinkin' the other list would be a lot 
quicker. And less humiliating. How the hell do I know what I haven't 
done?"

"Hmm... good point. Well, I'll shout 'em out, and you can say yes, 
no, or what the hell is that, Spike. Knowing you, I'm expecting a 
boatload of those. Then again, knowing the demon chit, maybe not."

Xander sighed. "Whatever. You just... *don't live* for this kind of 
fun, don't you."

"Hell, yes. You should watch me go after Mighty Mousse sometime. It's 
a lark and a half. You're almost as good."

"Almost?" Xander sounded aggrieved.

"You play along, which is a hell of a lot of fun, but he's the 
master of 'I can't hear you...' " Spike finished with a sing-
song. "Hmph. About even, I guess. Sometimes you feel like a nut. 
So... let's see. We can cross fellatio off that list. Ditto sodomy. 
Well, half of that equation, anyway. Cunnilingus?"

"You sound like you're offering the special of the day." Xander put 
on a terrible French-waiter voice. "And tonight, Madame, we 'av for 
you ze talented tongue of Xander Harris, Master of le sucking of le 
chatte. Also, ze house wines are..." He dropped into his own accent 
again, thankfully. "Yeah, you can cross that off the list."

"And somebody's got a naughty book of French phrases tucked away 
somewhere, eh?" Spike twisted up one corner of his mouth. {Ahh, the 
things you learn...} 

"Giles, actually." Xander answered with a grin, just as the microwave 
beeped.

"I thought you were living in denial about our Rupert."

"Not when it's something I can actually get some use out of..." He 
turned and removed the plastic bowl from the microwave. Stared at it.

"What?"

"I don't think the marshmallows are supposed to be brown..." Xander 
fished a spoon out of the cupful of silverware on the counter to the 
right of the microwave. Stirred the mixture hesitantly. Dipped the 
spoon in and tasted it. Made a truly memorable face. "Too much 
butter, and the marshmallows are burnt. Way burnt. Okay, back to the 
drawing board."

As Xander essentially repeated his previous steps, adding more 
marshmallows and less butter, Spike returned to his list.

"Where was I...oh, frottage. That's a nice one."

"Sounds like a dairy product," Xander commented, this time stirring 
the mixture *before* he put it into the microwave.

Spike came very close to giggling. {Vampires do *not* giggle. 
I'm...chortling, in a high-pitched tone.} " Not been studying the 
French as hard as we pretend, then. Bit of a trick question, luv. 
You've done it. It's just your basic rubbin' up against each other, 
all happy and face to face, et cetera to et cetera. Dirty goodness 
for all concerned. Er... Ooh, bondage fun."

"Well, I've been tied up. Several times. Can't say I found it a 
particularly erotic experience when the Preying-Mantis woman locked 
me in a cage as the big foreplay to fertilizing her eggs and then 
being eaten. Not in a good way, I might add."

"My....you *do* live a varied life. Hyenas, bug-women, vengeance 
demons...vampires." Spike smiled beatifically and traced an invisible 
halo around his head.

"Not vampires. *A* vampire. Then there's the reanimated mummy with 
the tongue-kiss of death, the vampire version of Willow...hey, I 
guess you were right. Plural vamps. Not that I actually *did* 
anything to speak of with vampy Will, but she did have very grabby 
hands..."

"Red as a vampire? Where the hell was I? God, she must've been hot."

"Excuse me, that's my best friend whose demon-possessed corpse you're 
salivating over. And you...were on your way back to Brazil, I think." 
Pause. "Um, yeah, there was hotness. Freaky, scary hotness, but..." 
The microwave beeped again.

"But let's face it, you're a sick little puppy, or I wouldn't be here 
having this conversation with you." Spike suggested lasciviously.

"And once again, I question whether this is a conversation, or a fun-
for-the-whole-family game of 'Let's make Xander say embarrassing 
things about himself.' " He tasted the marshmallow and butter mixture 
again, this time burning his mouth. "Shit." 

"So, we'll put bondage down as a possible maybe. As in maybe you've 
done it, and maybe you'd do it again. Am I right?"

"Maybe."

"Right, being a selfish bastard, I'll just skip the ones that don't 
do anything for me, so...what else...oh. Rimming."

Xander blinked. Repeatedly. "That'd be a 'Spike, what the hell is 
that.' "

{Oho! A fun new talent to explore!} "Didn't think the demonette 
would've gone in for that. I'll save that one for a practical 
demonstration. Trust me, you'll like it. Let's see-- you're human, 
male, and over twelve, so I think we can safely remove wanking from 
the list. Not that I'm running out, by a long shot, but I might be 
running out of ones you've actually heard of..."

Xander sighed. "One can only hope..." He stirred the contents of the 
bowl again. "It just doesn't look right. I wonder if you actually 
have to heat it in a pot. The Microwave Chef may finally be foiled."

"Why do you have to do this now, anyway?" Spike asked, putting a bit 
more of the whinge into his voice. "I can think of much more 
constructive things to occupy your time..."

"Oh, I'm sure. But I have to work tonight, and tomorrow morning, and 
I'm not leaving *you* to try to make Scooby Snacks. God knows what 
you'd put in 'em."

"Hey, I could be a Cordon Bleu chef! I'm over a hundred years old; I 
have hidden talents, believe it or not." Spike sniffed. 
Underestimated at all turns, he was. {I do have hidden talents, but 
they have nothing to do with cooking...}

Xander looked at him with new appreciation. "Are you?" he asked, hope 
dawning in his eyes.

"Naw, but I had you goin', there. I can read and follow directions, 
and I know how to press the button that says 'popcorn...' but beyond 
that, you're on your own."

"Prick-tease."

"Oooh, non-primetime language. I love it when you talk dirty to me, 
baby..." Spike purred in his sexiest 'come-fuck-me-now-and-forget-
about-the-damn-marshmallows' voice. A smile, but no movement across 
the kitchen. Spike sighed. "Speaking of which...for a guy who talks 
as much as you do, can carry on a conversation during foreplay, 
you're awfully quiet when the chips are down, so to speak..."

"Yeah, your choices seem to be pointless babbling or stunned 
silence." Xander licked the spoon in his hand, which just about had 
Spike off the damned chair and pinning him to the wall... but he 
reined in his impulses, and just...twitched a bit.

"Right, add to list of goals: make Xander scream. In a non-girly 
voice."

***********************************************

Part Three

A distinctly hot night at the Sunnydale Drive-In.

Spike had picked Xander up by the waist and deposited him on the 
countertop. In one swell foop, which had Xander, still a bit dizzy 
from his upside-down travels over Spike's shoulder, reeling a bit. 
[Hel-lo vampire strength. I've gotta weigh at least fifteen or twenty 
pounds more than him...]

"So..." he asked while trying to catch his breath. "What's this plan 
of yours? I mean, dragging me around and hoping somebody would show 
up who was evil enough to want to take dinner away from a 
vampire...that was pretty much a bust. So what's next?"

Spike scratched his head. "I was sorta thinking we'd put Murphy's Law 
to use. I get somethin' started with you, that'll be about the time 
the Big and Creepies start tumbling out of the woodwork." He reached 
purposefully for Xander's fly.

"So the plan is that when the big ugly demons show up and you go into 
full vamp-out game-face kick-ass mode, my dick'll be in your mouth? I 
sense a flaw here, Sherlock." Not that Xander was actually making any 
move to stop Spike as the vampire lowered the human's zipper and 
coaxed out his burgeoning erection...

"I exist in the pure and sainted hope that nobody, even on the 
Hellmouth, would be evil enough to interrupt a man while he's trying 
to make his lover scream. It's just not cricket." With that extremely 
British bit of nonsense, Spike's mouth was around him, licking and 
sucking and just generally proving that William the Bloody did indeed 
have hidden talents.

[What did I do...to get so damn lucky? In the ...literal sense...] 
Thoughts worked their way through Xander's mind in little gasps, as 
if even his brain were having trouble breathing. [Unbelievably 
beautiful guy...and way over the fact that it's a guy,
'cause.well.
Lower lip I could bite on for hours...*Likes* to give head...which, 
okay, Anya did too, but...he's so much *better* at it...Lets me, 
goofy human guy, fuck him, badass vampire guy, and doesn't seem to 
care that I'm still too nervous to let him do it to me...] He grabbed 
at Spike's shoulder as the vampire began to hum something or other. 
Surely not the Star Spangled Banner... [He's too much of a baritone 
to hit the high notes...]

***

"It's just missing something," Xander complained mournfully, sloshing 
the bowl of marshmallow-and-butter around in a circle.

"Like a pan to put the cereal in when you pour that stuff over it?" 
Spike suggested, stretching luxuriantly as he rose from the chair.

"Good point, Master Chef. I think I may have to go...upstairs...for 
this."

Spike frowned. "You don't have to..."

Xander looked at him strangely. "It's just upstairs. No boogey-men. I 
may not *like* my parents very much, but they don't...beat me with 
sticks or anything."

{That's good to know. Because then I don't have to try to find a way 
to kill them, slowly. Assuming you're telling the truth.} He searched 
the boy's face, but didn't find any answers there. *Somebody* had 
hurt him, that was for sure. Maybe multiple somebodies. It wasn't 
all that farfetched to assume it started at home, given the loud 
voices, the drunken arguments, Xander's general reluctance to have 
anything to do with his family. Yet he didn't leave. He surely had 
enough money for first and last month's rent in most of the halfway 
livable flats in this little burg. Not a sweet little condo like 
Rupert's, sure, but he could move out any time and find someplace he 
could afford to hang his non-existent hat. Yet he stayed. So, now, 
Spike stayed too. {Don't trust them, don't necessarily believe *him*, 
and I'm not leaving him alone with them. Not leaving him alone at 
all.}

Xander had apparently been taking in the fact that he was being 
studied. Didn't seem to particularly like it. "What-- do I just 
have 'victim' stamped on my forehead?"

{Yes.} Spike gave him a non-committal tilt of the head. "You are a 
bit...bruise-able, pet." 

No answer, but Xander began to gather up his supplies, making ready 
to head up the stairs into...whatever was up there. Finally, "Dad's 
at work. Monday, so Mom's probably at her little bridge lunch thingy. 
Not as if I'll be having to make conversation."

"Good. Then I'll come up with you. Look for incriminating photos." 
Spike tightened the belt around Xander's too-big bathrobe.

"No, you won't. Mom comes home early, she'll just write off the sight 
of me in the kitchen, actually cooking, as a pre-Happy-Hour 
hallucination. She sees you, she'll freak. Nobody could write you off 
as a hallucination. Unless they were on some *really* good drugs."

Spike pouted. "Poor Spike. Left alone in the basement with nothing to 
do but start looking around for evil mischief to get into..." He 
glanced around the basement. Now where hadn't he looked yet for 
Xander's hidden stash of porn and other embarrassing goodies?

Xander cleared his throat. "Okay, what can I do to keep you from 
turning this place into a complete disaster area while I'm gone?"

"You could fuck me so hard I don't have the strength to crawl out of 
bed," the vampire suggested simply. {Like I've been tryin' to get you 
to do for the last two hours...}

***

[And way to make the bluntness work for you again] Xander thought as 
he stared at the pale blonde guy in the maroon bathrobe who'd just 
politely but straightforwardly asked *him*, Xander Harris, to fuck 
him into the mattress. And there wasn't any use pretending that 
hearing Spike say the words "Fuck me..." in that rough-smooth British 
accent, didn't make him hard as a rock. He put his cooking supplies 
back down on the table.

Still...there was a little bit of guilt there. A little... [What the 
hell's he getting out of this? How long is he gonna let me get my 
rocks off by doing *him* ?]

"Did you...want to try..." he asked hesitantly. Spike pinned him with 
that clear, take-no-shit-from-anybody gaze. Shook his head slowly.

"Not yet, love. Just...not yet." Spike walked over to him and cupped 
his chin in one cool hand. "You're not ready, Hell, *I'm* not 
ready..."

Xander suddenly understood. "You're just as chickenshit as I am, 
aren't you? You really *are* afraid the chip'll go off on you." He 
smiled. He'd found something Spike was afraid of, and it happened to 
be something they had in common. Weird. Not that he wanted Spike's 
head to explode or anything either...

"If you say so. Or maybe I just want to be fucked. You up for that?"

"Ulp. Apparently so." So saying, Xander half-shyly guided Spike's 
hand down to his groin, which was happily doing its own thing...

Spike grinned merrily. "Guess so." And began to drag him by the hand, 
towards the bed.

"You know, I have absolutely no idea where the lube went..." Xander 
said thoughtfully, stopping the overeager vampire where he stood. 

"Tossed it out. Somebody didn't put the cap back on, an' it got all 
squished."

"*Somebody* spat the cap halfway across the room and lost it 
somewhere, dickhead. So now what? And don't say 'peanut butter,' 
either. Because...yuck."

"Well, yum, actually. I've done peanut butter. You don't know what 
you're missin'. There's another one we can leave on the list. Right, 
fine, no peanut butter this time...how much plain old butter's left? 
Enough for you to make your bloody treats and still use a bit for 
illicit purposes? Should be pretty warm after all the time it's been 
sitting out."

[Butter? Well, I guess. If he says so...]

...

So there was Spike, on the bed, propped up on pillows, forget 
ceremony, forget foreplay, forget non-primetime sexy talk, 
just 'here's my incredibly attractive ass, please fuck me.' And 
subtlety be damned, it sounded like a good proposition to Xander. On 
his knees behind the vampire, experimentally coating his fingers with 
what was actually I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter, not that anybody 
was worried about the cholesterol count, right?

"Did I...umm...did I do this right, last time?" he stammered out.

Spike craned his head around to look at back at him. "Did you...yes, 
you bloody well did it right, though it's a bit like Blow-Job 101-- 
there's no one correct answer. God, you *are* insecure, aren't you." 
Xander shrugged. Of course he was. He was Xander, after all.

"Come to it, though, where exactly did you pick that much up, oh 
innocent boy?"

"Number four across, four letters, ends with 'nya' and it's not a 
techno-Celtic-easy-listening-singer. Detailed verbal descriptions 
around the same time as the purchase of yon little white squished 
tube. I...ah...wasn't up for it."

"She *wanted* you to do 'er? Guess you do learn somethin' new every 
day. That's a rare one."

Hem-haw...hem... "Well, she offered, but...what she really wanted was 
to do me."

Spike's eyebrows shot up towards his slightly shadowed hairline. Time 
for bleach-boy to do the roots, pretty soon. "That's...inventive. 
Can't say I'm not glad she didn't. *I* want that. Anyway.here I 
thought you two were just boffing each other's brains out in the 
conventional manner."

"We were, pretty much. I did say I wasn't up to it... I mean... 
you're dating an eleven hundred year old ex-demon who's made her 
career out of causing men's body parts to fall off in a thousand 
creative ways. Do you really want to trust her to stick something up 
your ass?"

Spike buried his face in the pillow, chortling. Wheezing, 
almost. "Oh... oh, hell, that's priceless. Can we get a bumper 
sticker says that?"

"Only if it goes on *your* car. Which is where, by the way? I know 
you have one, and yet.you've been hoofing it around town all
year. 
Methinks I smell a story."

"I don't want to talk about it. Er...would you mind?"

Xander laughed, and began to massage Spike's upthrust buttocks. Gave 
each one a quick kiss, separated them, and was just about to slowly 
insert a finger or two, when Spike suddenly tossed back, "Spanking!"

***********************************************

Part Four

Blisteringly hot night at. well, you get the picture. Spike
grinned 
around a very large mouthful of Xander's cock. No demons or other 
nasties had managed to wander out of the darkness and into the 
parking lot yet, which was nice, because he didn't need the 
distraction. He'd eased off on the semi-traitorous humming when he 
realized it was about to make the boy come.just a bit sooner than 
Spike would've liked. Because he really was trying for that scream.

Hmmm.turning up the motor on the Spike-vacuum with optional
tongue-
massage attachment, he reached underneath with his left hand, to cup 
Xander's sensitive bollocks. This could get.fun. He squeezed,
just a 
bit. Which got him a quickly indrawn breath and a hissed
"Sssssspike."

{Not polite to talk with your mouth full.} So he eased off with
the 
left, and raised his right hand above his head, palm up, fingers 
splayed. As in 'What? What do you want me to do?' 

"Do that.again."

Right hand wiggled its fingers. 'What, this?' Left hand squeezed, a 
little harder.

"Yesssss, that. Do that." {Oh, happy voice. I *like* happy voice. 
Could do with hearing it more often.}

Still.somebody was getting a bit demanding. Manners these
days. 
Honestly. Left hand merely tickled the full-to-bursting sac as right 
hand made little 'C'mon, c'mon, what do we say.' flicks, with 
fingers curling in towards palm.

Xander's breathing was getting loud, now. just a bit more teasing 
ought to do it. Then Xander's left hand caught Spike's right in a 
desperate grip, cutting off *that* line of communication, but not 
before he'd made his point, apparently.

"Pleeeeease, Spike!" Exasperated. Exhilarated. Completely demented.

{Yeah, that's it. I knew somebody taught you some manners.} Spike 
squeezed again, and this time went into full-on 'your balls are my 
play toy' mode, still sucking and pumping with his mouth. {Innit 
lucky for him I can multi-task.}

With a strangled exhalation, Xander stiffened in his grasp-- but 
Spike didn't *want* a strangled exhalation; he wanted a *scream*. So, 
though he'd sort of promised he wouldn't, sometime yesterday morning, 
he let his demon out. Just a little. Enough to surround Xander's cock 
with a ring of sharp teeth that pricked him, so very gently. and 
faded away as Spike's face smoothed again, and Xander thrust forward 
into Spike's completely fangless mouth, with an uncontrolled flood of 
semen, accompanied by a long, low.scream..

And as Spike allowed his favorite, most self-satisfied expression to 
steal over his face, and Xander slowly began to breathe like a normal 
human again, footfalls echoed though the lot, crunching on the 
gravel, and coming their way, fast.

***

Interlude Before the Third Attempt:

Willow paused outside the magic shop as she mentally tallied up her 
purchases. Essence of day lily, marjoram, dragon's blood, blue and 
red, a new packet of beeswax candles. that was pretty much all
she'd 
needed. A trip to the public library earlier in the morning had 
yielded a volume she'd previously passed over, hidden on a back shelf 
and suspiciously not in the computer catalog. plus the
inter-library 
loans she'd requested from the University of Texas library had come 
in, so. ~All in all, one extremely satisfied witch.~ She allowed 
herself a bit of mental wickedness. ~Or I will be, once I get all 
this back to Tara's room and we can set up this spell.~

After what seemed like aeons of 'doing spells' that had legitimate 
purposes, and still left them all tingly and overheated, and a month 
or so of experimenting with non-spell things that.also left them
all 
tingly and overheated, Willow had finally relocated a spell she 
remembered skimming over in her more innocent days of experimenting 
with witchcraft. Back when it was all curing zits and looking for 
ways to rid the world of frogs. A nice, well-intentioned if
slightly 
naughty spell, whose entire purpose was to.leave them all tingly
and 
overheated. Just a bit more than usual.

So.Tara would still be in her summer class, an advanced
literature 
course, and Willow had some time to kill. ~I really should go over to 
Xander's and pay him back for the groceries. He sprang for a lot more 
than he should've, considering he was only one out of five people 
eating on Saturday. Plus he bought the cookie dough and the ice cream 
for tomorrow.~ She headed off down the sidewalk though the early 
afternoon pedestrian traffic, in the direction of Xander's 
subdivision. ~Besides, I should probably make sure he and Spike 
haven't killed each other yet.~

***

Xander had paused in what he was doing, which wasn't a good thing at 
all, in Spike's humble opinion. Then again, he'd opened his own big 
mouth to throw one more torment at the lad, so he guessed he deserved 
whatever he had coming. Then again, considering what he'd tossed out, 
that mightn't necessarily be a bad thing.

"I beg your pardon?" Xander squeaked. "I mean, was that a request, or 
just a random brain-blurb, or what?"

"Just occurred to me that it was one I'd left off the list. Spanking. 
As in, have you, do you, squick you, et cetera."

"Ahh." Xander answered helpfully. 

{Oh.ho.ho. not so innocent in *all* the ways of the
world.}

"Oh, come on now. It's a perfectly straightforward question."

"Ye-es. Have."

"Ooh, nummy. Top? Bottom? Switch? Like it? Don't?"

Heavy silence. Pained sigh.

"Look, I'm lying naked on my stomach on your bed, about to be drilled 
into the bedsprings, hopefully before you have to leave for work. 
Don't you think we're a bit past the shy phase?"

"No. Sure, *you* are. You're dead--what do you have to be shy about? 
Your entire purpose in still walking around is to make me stutter and 
turn red and say things I've had nightmares about saying in front of 
my History class. And I'm nineteen. I can be shy if I want. So there."

"Very pretty. As are you. But you still haven't answered the 
question." Spike growled softly. "And I'd like that, because then you 
could get back to the purpose at hand, which was you *fucking* me, 
already."

"Oh, fine. Whatever. Have I? Yes. Do I? Not at the moment, because 
I'm busy humoring a pushy-ass vampire. Squick me? I'll assume that's 
a bad thing, and say no. Either/or, but." his voice disappeared
into 
nothing.

Spike chuckled. "But you prefer bottom. Welcome to the club. Jacket 
and tie optional."

Xander's turned for a frustrated sigh, and then he surprised Spike 
(pleasantly) by smacking him smartly on the arse. "You're not
wrong. 
Now shut up."

"Sir, yes sir. Would you kindly commence with the shagging now, sir? 
You really can dispense with the formalities. I won't break, and I 
*like* pain. The which you might've gathered by now."

"What part of 'Shut Up' don't you understand? The shut, or the up?" 
Xander rubbed the spot where he'd just smacked Spike, and returned to 
what he was doing in the first place. Well, made as if to return, 
then stopped. "You sure?"

"I know you're bloody nineteen and this is only the second time in 
your life that you've ever done this, but for future reference, 
that's got to be the worst cliché of all time. Yes, I'm bleedin' 
sure! I've been doin' this for a while, y'know. Skip the fun an' 
games, and just jump in. Or I'll follow you upstairs and write nasty 
things in your mother's gardening books."

Xander snorted. 'Can't have that happening." And pushed his slicked-
up member directly against Spike's hole, sending the *best* 
sensations scurrying through the vampire's body, as he was stretched 
and entered without fanfare, which was exactly what he'd been 
whingeing about for in the first place. Just barely painful enough 
to be perfect, just slow enough to feel as if it would last forever.

"Thank *you*," he sighed gratefully, and Xander laughed at him, 
the relief that he hadn't done anything wrong evident in that sound.

Then they were moving, and it became a bit difficult to figure out 
where one of them left off and the other began, though Spike was 
reasonably sure *he* was the one with the extremely happy arse. 
Couldn't swear to it on a stack of Bibles, especially as it would 
probably burn his hand, but he'd lay odds.

{I'm one sorry demon, but I'm in love, so bugger off. I *like* being 
love's bitch. Suits me.}

***

Willow walked around the Harris house, noting the lack of parked 
cars. Xander's father was at work. Good. Mr. Harris wasn't exactly 
one of her favorite people to meet. Xander's mom's car was gone too. 
Also fine. She was okay to talk to on the 'Hi, is Xander home?' 
level, but not really all there at the best of times, and way gone in 
the afternoons. How long old was Willow when she realized that Mrs. 
Harris wasn't just *happy* if she was home alone after about three 
o'clock, but mildly blasted? Six? Seven?

Xander's car, or rather, his Uncle Rory's car, was parked around 
back. The 57 Chevy looked good, except for the dented fender that had 
been the result of Rory's latest brush with drunk driving. Tipsy 
driving, from what Xander said, but it was still said in a disgusted 
tone. Why the man hadn't lost his license for good by now was a 
constant mystery, but in this case, it had gotten Xander his cool-guy 
car-thing back for a while. So, Xander was home, unless he'd walked 
somewhere.

She knocked at the outside basement door. No answer. Knocked again. 
~That's weird. Maybe he did go for a walk. But.Xander? When he's
got 
the babe-magnet at his disposal?~ Well, she had a key, as did Buffy 
and Giles, and probably Anya, if she hadn't given it back. ~I'll just 
leave the money on the couch, with a note, and see him tomorrow.~

She fiddled around with her keyring, finally locating the oddly 
shaped deadbolt key, and unlocked the door. Knocking again, just to 
be sure, and hearing no answer, she pushed it open and started down 
the stairs.

"Xander?" she called. "You home?" No answer, so she creaked her way 
down the stairs and poked her head around the interior doorway. Huh. 
Weird. The sofa-bed was still unfolded, and. oh. ~That's why he 
didn't answer. He's still asleep. Lazy-butt. It's gotta be three in 
the afternoon, and here he is napping.~

Willow giggled. She knew *exactly* how to wake Xander up in a hurry-- 
had, in fact, since they were about five years old. Ticklish feet. 
It wasn't like he didn't sleep in boxers, anyway, so she wouldn't be 
getting a free show or anything. Not that she necessarily minded that 
idea. ~Hey, I'm allowed to look. Nobody ever said I wasn't allowed 
to *look*. Tara looks at Buffy all the time, and I don't rag on *her* 
for it.~

As she got a bit closer to the rumpled-up bed, however, she realized 
something. Tickling the foot that was sticking just slightly out from 
under the covers would probably be a bad idea. Because it wasn't 
Xander's foot.

"Umm.Anya?" she squeaked. But it wasn't Anya, was it. First, it 
really didn't sound like Anya was going to suddenly come to her 
senses and fall swooning back into Xander's arms, and second, she 
didn't have size nine-and-a-half feet. Male feet. Eep.

***********************************************

Part Five


Night at the drive-in, getting cooler.

Spike swore softly, and then went into overdrive. Gave Xander's cock 
a quick, ironic kiss, tucked it away, zipped up the boy's jeans, and 
watched him roll expertly off the back of the counter to fall to the 
gravel behind it. He'd be patching up some cuts and scrapes later 
tonight, for sure.

The vampire whirled around in full demon-mode, to face whatever the 
swiftly approaching footfalls heralded. Which turned out to be.
five 
foot two, eyes of blue, tank-top too small for words, Buffy Anne 
Summers. The Slayer. Spike sniggered. Murphy's Law.

"Spike?" she spat at him in surprise. "What are *you* doing out here?"

"Er.patrolling?" he shrugged, grinning toothily.

"Patrolling?" she repeated, shaking that dirty-blonde hair over her 
shoulder as if the sheer power of Miss Clairol could ward off the 
denizens of the night. "Oh. You mean cruising for demons to pick 
fights with so you don't feel like quite the impotent little fang-boy 
that you are."

"If you like. You fight for truth and justice and the American way, I 
do it 'cos it gets my rocks off, but the ends are pretty much the 
same." He licked his lips absently, and then, realizing what he was 
tasting, put a bit more effort into it. Buffy scowled at him.

{Actually, the ends are a little different. I get to go home and get 
*my* end off with one of your best friends, you get to go home and 
finger yourself until farm-boy gets back from Indiana or Iowa or 
wherever the hell. I think I've got the better *end* of the deal.}

"I heard a scream. You see anything weird out here?"

"Besides you? Nah. Didn't sound like anybody bein' tortured, anyway. 
Probably some juicy young things goin' at it in the bushes, late on a 
summer night. Love's in the air, didn't you know?"

"You're."

"A pig, Spike." he finished in unison. "Yeah, but I'm still not
the 
one who wanted 'Wind Beneath My Wings' for the first dance."

She grimaced. That one still got a rise out of her. Good. Nice to 
know the classics hadn't gone stale yet.

"Tell you what," he added, slipping back to human face. "I'll take a 
look around. I find anybody shaggin' in the shrubs, I'll give you a 
shout, and you can come watch with me. Bring popcorn."

"Bite me, Spike."

"Not if you paid me, Slayer."

She stalked off towards the woods on the other side of the parking 
lot, and he started to laugh. Loudly.

***

The Third Attempt:

Willow backed up against the doorframe, trying to make her brain work 
right, and wondering if she could get out of there without waking 
whoever it was up. Which was about the time she heard Xander's voice 
start singing, a little off-key, from upstairs.

"You don't have to call me darlin'.darlin'.. You never even
call me by my name." *Bad* country accent. 

~That's my Xander. No shame, as long as he thinks nobody can hear
him.~ 

And another big *eep*, because he was coming down the other set of 
stairs, suddenly, wearing a bathrobe, and carrying a metal baking pan 
in one hand. She backed up into the shadows of the little foyer by 
the stairs she had used, trying to sink into the concrete and die, or 
at least disappear.

Xander looked across the room, right at her, and covered the space 
between them in about three milliseconds.

"Hey, Wills! Just makin' some tasty treats for tomorrow. Wanna try 
one? Take a few home to Tara?" He crowded her towards the stairs, 
wafting chocolate-scented yumminess in her general direction, and 
looking completely flustered. Well, that made two of them. 

"You.cooked? Because, you don't do that, you know. I mean,
not unless 
you can do it by pressing the 'defrost' button on the microwave. And 
I really gotta go. I just came by to.give you some money, for
the 
groceries, from Saturday, and the cookie dough.. and. I didn't
know 
you had company, and I'll just be leaving now, and next time I'll 
call." she babbled relentlessly, backing up the stairs. ~Maybe I 
didn't see what I thought I saw. Maybe Xander's just got a girl, with 
really big feet, in his bed. Maybe my girlfriend's really a man in 
drag, too. Maybe I should just go back to her room right now and 
prove that she isn't.~

Maybe she should let Xander know it was okay? No, that would require 
much awkwardness and a certain amount of sweaty palms, and making him 
acknowledge something he might not want to acknowledge. On the other 
hand, if she pretended she really thought it was a girl.

"Umm.and I'm glad you're not still upset about Anya, and whoever
she 
is, I hope you. y'know, I should just be leaving now. See you 
tomorrow!" So saying, she grabbed the baking pan absently from his 
hand, replaced it with a random handful of bills from her purse, and 
scurried up the stairs and out the door.

***

Spike pulled his head out from under the pillow with a groan, his 
hair sticking up in his namesake spikes. Without the aid of 
gel. "Well, that was.interesting." he muttered. Xander stared
at him.

"Did she.see you?" he asked in a shellshocked daze. [Interesting? 
Yeah, interesting about covers it.]

Spike shook his head. "No, I was just having a snooze, baskin' in the 
afterglow, as it were, when Red comes traipsing in. I think she 
thought I was you, at first. Then she squeaked out something about 
Anya, and.well, you 'eard the rest. I think we're covered on the 
closety front, though I'll lay odds she'll be sniffin' around trying 
to figure out which new little chicklette you've got in your nest." 
He shrugged. "Can't say you don't lead an interesting life."

"Yeah.may you live in interesting times. It's a Chinese curse. At 
least according to the fortune cookies at Wong Ling's."

"How'd the nummy treats turn out?" Spike sniffed the air. "Smells 
good, anyway."

"I think I may have made a *bit* too much.five boxes adds up to
about 
eight pans of it. Sent one off with Willow, say four of 'em to 
actually take to Giles."

The vampire tapped his nose thoughtfully. "Whatever shall we do with 
the other three, then?"

"I'll go get 'em. Oh. here." Xander reached into the pocket of
his 
bathrobe, and pulled out the little gift he'd found upstairs.

"What's that then?" Spike asked as Xander handed him the photograph.

"Incriminating evidence." A wallet-sized photo of a ten-year-old 
Xander and Willow, arms around each other, doing a whacked-out 
version of the Lambada, and smiling cheesily into the camera.

Spike ran his fingers through his hair and quirked his scarred 
eyebrow, smiling. "I'd best put this someplace safe, so I have 
blackmail material on hand if I need it." He glanced at his 
watch. "Don't you have to go to work?"

"Chuck-E-Cheese Hell? After much thought, and my fourth Count Chocula 
treat, I called the manager and told him to suck eggs. In so many 
words. Down to one job again."

"I'm devastated. How'll you keep me in the style to which I've become 
accustomed?"

***

Willow set her packages down on the table in Tara's dorm room, 
frowning. Her girlfriend tilted her head, giving Willow that 
sweet 'I'm worried about you, but I don't know what to say.' look.

"What's wrong? Couldn't you find all the ingredients for the 
DeChanteis spell? 'Cause, y'know, it's okay if you.you didn't. No 
biggie."

"No, I got 'em. I'm.just a little distracted, I guess."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Willow shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to. I don't have 
anything to keep from you. It's just.this is somebody else's
thing, 
you know? I'm not even sure if it's my business, let alone to share 
it with anybody else."

"I understand." The blonde smiled, tucking her hair behind her 
ears. "I just don't like to see you upset."

"I'm not upset. Just a little. concerned, I guess. I think..
somebody 
I know may be going through pretty much the same thing you and I 
were, but like I said, I don't know if it's any of my business."

"You're such a neighborhood mom!" Tara laughed softly. "Well, if 
whoever it is needs help, I know you'll be there. Me too, if you need 
me."

"Oh, I *need* you. Come here, and let's see if we can't work some 
magic."

"Sounds good. Oh--hey-- you brought chocolate! Have I told you lately 
how much I love you?"

"No.tell me again."

***

Midnight at the Sunnydale Drive-In Theatre. Not as cool as you'd 
expect.

"Well, I'd have to say that demon-hunting trip put the "Fee" in 
fiasco," Xander commented, leaning up against the concession counter 
and brushing gravel off his jeans. And hands. And face.

Spike watched him. Blue jeans, black t-shirt, dark hair that was 
growing a little too long. {He really should let it get longer.
It 
looks.dangerous, falling in his face like that. In a good way.}
What 
had it taken-- three days, and Xander had gone from the guy who hid 
under the covers after being kissed to the guy who'd sat on a 
countertop in an abandoned parking lot, getting a blowjob and 
screaming happily? Rolling professionally to the ground to hide when 
the Slayer'd shown up, and, as soon as she'd grumped off into the 
night, joining Spike in a fit of uncontrollable belly-laughter.

"Oh, I dunno. I had a good day. How about you?" Spike pinned him 
against the counter again, and kissed him softly.

"Yeah, I've had worse."

*****

End.