Shame the Devil

by
Yin Again

Part One

Xander Harris thumbed through the neatly sorted stacks of mail that were precisely arranged on his borrowed desk. The desk itself was in a cramped office that was nestled deep in the bowels of the God-knows-who Memorial Coliseum, Arena or Civic Center in Atlanta, Kansas City or possibly Memphis, but he just wasn't sure. Each stack of mail had a yellow sticky note on top of it and they were labeled in Anna's precise handwriting. Not surprisingly, the smallest stack was marked "personal". It consisted of a single thick, heavy, cream-colored envelope - the kind that invitations and announcements came in. Xander was about to open it when he heard a tentative knock at the door.

"Come in, CJ," he said, and cursed under his breath. He hated doing this, and he hated the reason he had to do it. CJ, a tall, thin guy with glasses, entered the room and perched uneasily on the folding chair set up in front of the desk. He would not raise his head to meet Xander's sharp-eyed gaze, instead looking nervously around the room and smoothing wisps of his sandy hair where they had escaped from a scraggly ponytail.

"Fuck, CJ - why are you doing this to me?" Xander asked, running his hands through his own shaggy, dark hair. "You know better than this. You fucking know I have to fire you. It's Rule #4 - the Springer Caveat."

CJ slumped in his chair. "I know, man. He's just so ..." his voice trailed off miserably.

"Yes, CJ - I know. That's why when I hire you guys, I make it a point to specifically ask you if you can hold out against him - you said you could." Xander's voice softened. "I know he can be terribly convincing - it's his nature. I understand." Xander sighed. "However, that doesn't erase the image that's burned on my retinas of having to pry Spike off of that woman and her sixteen year old daughter. And then she bitched me out about it! You know the rule - no mother-daughter teams. Christ, CJ - not only is it annoying, disturbing and illegal; it's the second time this week!" CJ merely hung his head.

"Get your severance from Anna - your confidentiality waiver is still in effect," Xander said as he stood and held a hand out to the younger man. "I'm sorry, man." CJ took Xander's hand and shook it, then left with a resigned sigh. Xander echoed the sigh and rested his head in his hands. He was contemplating the envelope again when he heard his name being frantically shouted from down the hall. Fuck, what now, he thought as he raced out the door.

Isha, one of the bodyguards, was standing outside another anonymous door thirty feet down the corridor, gesturing for Xander to hurry. Xander rounded the corner at a dead run, and Isha snagged his arm to slow his momentum and push him toward the door. Bursting into the dressing room, Xander swept his eyes around to assess the situation. Another beefy bodyguard, Ace, was standing in the middle of the room. Spike's much smaller body was wrapped around the larger man in a parody of an embrace.

At first sight, it looked like Ace had Spike in a headlock, but Xander knew better. Spike's head was cradled in the crook of the bodyguard's arm, but it was not restrained there - the vampire had his fangs buried in the soft flesh of the inside of the large man's elbow and was feeding. Ace was pale and struggling, his eyes were beginning to look panicked.

Xander tried not to notice that Spike was lost in the ecstasy of the blood, his eyes rolled back in his head, his tongue working against the flesh in his mouth, his hips pumping his erection against the body in his arms. Ace was trying to pry the vampire's mouth away from him, but Spike easily held the man in place as if he didn't weigh well over 300 pounds and have biceps as big as Spike's thighs.

Stepping up to the entwined men, Xander reached forward and twisted his right hand into the vampire's blond curls. He tightened his hand viciously, ignoring the angry growl that emanated from Spike.

"Let go, fucker," Xander hissed, being careful not to give in to the urge to shake Spike's head until his teeth rattled, so he wouldn't hurt Ace further. "You're draining Ace, you dick." Spike's eyes flew open and he stopped feeding. After a long moment, he carefully eased his fangs out of the larger man's flesh. He tried to push the bodyguard's arm away. Seeing that Ace was free, Xander gave in to the impulse and shook Spike's head sharply by the hair several times.

"Lick it. You aren't leaving him with a scar just because you can't control yourself," he said, and Spike did as he was told, laving the puncture wounds on Ace's arm until they closed. Xander and Isha ignored the small moan that Ace couldn't suppress. Xander kept his hold on Spike's hair, not allowing the vampire to raise his head. With his other hand, he gave Ace a gentle push toward the other bodyguard.

"Get him out of here, Isha. Take him to Julie for a shot, get him a steak, and reshuffle the roster so he gets a couple of days off." Xander sighed; giving both men what he hoped was a smile that was equal parts apology and reassurance. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Xander pulled Spike upright and looked into his face.

The demon visage had receded, but the blue eyes were spacey. Xander looked at the vampire's pupils and cursed again. "CJ?" he asked. Spike nodded. "Well, I already fired him, so that's that. How much?"

"Nine." Spike's voice was low. Xander cursed again, and let go of Spike's hair. The vampire stumbled slightly, and Xander automatically reached out to steady him. Spike sidestepped and moved in, pressing his body against Xander's side. He rubbed his crotch against the human's hip.

"Xanderrrrr," Spike growled. Xander knew that a blood-lusting, horny Spike with nine thousand dollars worth of heroin in his non-streaming bloodstream wasn't likely to listen to reason, so he merely wrapped his arm around the narrow waist and tilted his head back as he shoved one of his thighs between the insane vampire's legs. Spike clamped his own thighs against Xander's, wrapped his arms around him and started thrusting. His lips came to rest against Xander's throat, and he eagerly mouthed the warm flesh, taking care not to touch the human with his teeth.

Spike muttered and moaned against Xander's neck as his pace sped up, and if the human heard his own name in those growls and groans, he didn't dwell on it. The vampire climaxed with a shudder and a sigh, and hung limply off of Xander's larger frame for a moment. As soon as Xander felt dampness soaking into his jeans, he unwound their bodies and half-walked, half-carried Spike to the attached bathroom.

He shoved the still-unsteady form into the shower and turned the cold water on full blast. He ignored the indignant curses and howls that rang through the small room, but did relent and reach in to turn the hot water on. He waited for ten minutes; studiously ignoring his hard on until it finally gave up and subsided, then peeked into the shower. Spike was on his feet, washing listlessly, his clothes scattered on the tile. He turned his head and gave Xander a sheepish smile. His eyes were less spacey and he was regaining some of his characteristic grace. Xander withdrew.

The shower turned off, and Spike pulled back the curtain, sluicing water off of his hair with his other hand. He stepped out of the shower and shrugged gratefully into the thick terry robe Xander handed him. The human draped a towel across Spike's shoulders and took his arm, leading him back out into the main dressing room and over to a large, plush sofa that was covered in an electric blanket. Spike sank down onto its warmth and started blotting his dripping hair with the towel. Xander sat beside him and pulled another blanket off the arm of the sofa, wrapping it around Spike.

"Sorry," Spike muttered, not looking up.

"Sorry for what? Ace? I know you aren't sorry about the mom and daughter team - either one of them, or the smack," Xander replied in an even voice.

"Yeah, Ace. Didn't mean to - I just got caught up. Is he mad?"

"I don't know, Spike. Probably not - Ace is pretty mellow. You're lucky it wasn't Jack - he would have probably punched you." Spike could hear Xander's smile, but still didn't look up.

"'M sorry about the other, too." The vampire's voice was still low.

"What? Humping me?" Xander laughed. "You are so not sorry - you just wanted to get off. I could have been anyone. Now, stop pouting. You know it doesn't work on me. You have to be onstage in two hours. Wanna sleep a little?"

"Will you stay?" Xander sighed yet again at the tone in Spike's voice. It was that tone he used every now and again; the one that made Xander almost believe there was a shred of actual emotion in the vampire's unbeating heart. The tone that sounded lonely. Biting back another sigh, Xander raised his arm, allowing Spike to fold himself to his side. He propped his chin on top of the wet curls and let himself relax. A fleeting thought - the word "envelope" - flitted across Xander's mind, but he didn't bother to chase it. Within minutes, they were both asleep. They stayed that way until the hairdresser, makeup artist and stylist arrived an hour later to work on Spike before the show.

Part Two

"No. No, no, fucking no."

"Yes, you twat - we're going."

"What part of 'fucking no' do you not understand, Spike? I'm. Not. Going. You're a grown up vampire - you want to go, go. I'm not." Spike crossed the room and laid a hand on Xander's shoulder. As soon as stormy brown eyes met his own, he smiled gently.

"We need to go, Xan. It's for Dawn. Little Bit will never understand if we miss her graduation, and you need to face them - you need to face Buffy and hash it all out once and for all." Spike's smile twisted into a smirk as he continued, "besides - if I go, you have to go. I'm completely co-dependent and couldn't find my ass with both hands without you. At least, that's what you tell everybody."

Xander batted the vampire's hand off of his shoulder and sat down heavily into another anonymous desk chair in another anonymous office in another anonymous venue. He dropped his dark head into his hands and sighed.

"I don't want to do this, Spike," Xander said. "I don't want to go back to Sunnydale with my tail between my legs and crawl to Buffy's feet to beg forgiveness for being an asshole. On my list of top ten things I don't want to do, this ranks pretty damn high."

"She forgave you a long time ago, you stupid git," Spike said. He leaned against the desk and propped one of his booted feet on the corner of Xander's chair.

Xander straightened in his seat and lifted his head to eye Spike suspiciously. "How do you know that? When did you talk to her?" he said.

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Uh - once a month for the last eight years? I am paying for her sister's education." Spike enunciated each word carefully, as if Xander were very drunk.

"When did she tell you what I did?" Xander's voice was much less forceful than before, and Spike hated the shame he heard there.

"She didn't," he answered.

"Then how do you know she's forgiven me?" The suspicious tone was back in Xander's voice.

Spike looked at the human for a moment, and then placed his hand on the slumped shoulder again. "I asked her what was between the two of you. She said that you both did and said some things you didn't mean and that she'd forgiven you and hoped you'd forgive her and yourself."

"She didn't do anything wrong," Xander's eyes dropped from Spike's and back to the floor.

"She says she did," Spike said softly.

"No," Xander said miserably, "It was me."

Spike awkwardly patted his friend's shoulder. "What did you do, pet? You can tell me - not big on judging, you know."

Xander raised his head to meet Spike's eyes, and the vampire saw a dangerous glint there. When Xander spoke again, his tone was harsh, and his eyes glittered. "You want to know what I did, Spike? Well, just remember that you asked, OK?" Xander took a deep breath and leaned forward. Neither man noticed that Spike's hand slipped a little to curve toward the back of Xander's neck. "I helped drag her out of Heaven - but you knew about that. And you made your feelings pretty clear - with the yelling and the leaving." Spike's mouth opened and Xander made a quelling gesture.

"Shut up - you wanted to hear this and I'm only saying it once. So, dragged out of Heaven because her friends were stupid - that was major. But, then it got better. You were gone, and she was a mess - she couldn't deal with anything, couldn't feel, she said. And then, I got my wish. Buffy finally turned to me for comfort. I finally had the girl of my dreams in my arms, begging me to love her."

Xander laughed bitterly. "I was still in shock after Anya died, you'd gone, Willow and Tara were miserable, Dawn was terrified, and Buffy - God, Buffy wanted to fuck me. She wanted me to make her feel...to make her feel anything. For a while it was enough just to fuck. All the time, anywhere, any way - whatever she wanted. She nearly killed me, Spike. I could barely keep up with her. And then I couldn't. And then fucking wasn't enough. There had to be screaming and yelling and arguing."

Spike wanted to stop the recitation - the look in Xander's eyes was scaring the hell out of him; the restrained violence in the other man's voice was arousing his demon as much as it was unnerving the human part of him. Xander paused and took a breath, then kept speaking in a low, vicious voice. "Then, one day, screaming and yelling wasn't enough - she pushed me. I pushed her back. She made some smartass remark, and I - I hit her."

In an instant, Spike's hand moved from the back of Xander's neck to gather a fistful of the front of the human's shirt as he jerked them both to their feet. His eyes glowed a baleful yellow as he stared into Xander's face. A small part of his brain noted that Xander wasn't exhibiting any signs of fear, simply returning the venomous look with one of rage and shame.

"You. Did. What?" Spike gritted out.

Xander calmly removed the vampire's hand from his shirt and stepped back. "Don't make me rethink my decision to stop carrying a stake, Spike." They both settled back into their original positions, Xander in the chair, Spike leaning against the desk with his hands clasped on his knee hard enough to make the small bones creak

"To answer your question," Xander said, "I hit her. I hit Buffy in anger. Then I left. Six months later, I met up with you again."

"Did you hurt her?"

"No. I don't think it actually even registered for her at the time," Xander's tone betrayed the disgust his still felt for his actions.

Spike felt all of his righteous anger leave him in a flood. "What did it do for you?" he asked.

Xander laughed bitterly and wiped a hand across his mouth, as if he could wipe away the taste of his shame. "Made me sick. Made me want to die. Proved to me that, if nothing else, I am my father's son." The bitter laugh again. "It scared the shit out of me, Spike. It made me leave every person I ever loved, because, not only was I useless at protecting them from vamps and demons, I couldn't even protect them from monsters like me."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Xander noticed that Spike's eyes had changed back to blue. "Your Dad hit your Mum?" the vampire asked softly.

"Yeah."

"And you?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Forever. Doesn't matter."

Spike reached out one more time and laid a hand on Xander's shoulder. "It does matter, pet. It matters to me. You want me to kill him?"

"I already offered," Xander said, "she wouldn't let me."

Spike snorted. "And people say demons are fucked up."

Xander sat very still, drawing a tiny amount of comfort from the cool hand on his shoulder and the easy camaraderie that seemed to surface between them at the oddest moments.

"I still don't know why she'd ever forgive me," Xander said.

"It's what she does. She's the forgiving sort," Spike replied, squeezing the shoulder under his hand, and then releasing it with some reluctance.

"I don't deserve it," Xander sighed.

"Xan?" Spike said.

"Yeah?"

"Get off the bloody cross, would you? Accept the forgiveness, give her yours and move the fuck on." His smile was gentle. "Besides, you know broodiness gives me hives."

Xander smiled back. "Well, I wouldn't want to be responsible for marring your pretty skin."

"Damn right."

Part Three

"I can't tell you how excited I am that you guys are coming!" Willow was so giddy that Xander had no idea how she was keeping the pitch of her voice out of dog-ears-only range. She and Xander had been on the phone for over five minutes - the longest they had talked in years. So far the conversation was mainly Willow squealing and Xander laughing. "OK, what's the plan?" she asked, and could sense that she had her "detail-oriented face" on.

"Two more shows in wherever the hell we are - Indiana, I think?" Xander realized that he truly didn't know, and reminded himself to look at the front of the phone book as soon as he got out of bed - the phone book always knew where it was. "Then we'll fly back to LA and drive to you, so we'll arrive Thursday night. Party's Saturday, right?"

"Yep. Do you want to stay with us?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah - we're set up at the Delta. I hope it's up to Spike's extremely prissy hotel standards. We have to bring the obligatory rock star entourage, and what with being mostly nocturnal it'll be easier on you if we just hotel it." Xander kept his tone light. He didn't want Willow to suspect that he had very specific reasons for not wanting to put himself and Spike into close quarters with the others.

"How many in the entourage? I'll need to tell the caterer for the party," Willow said, and Xander could hear a pen scratching on paper.

"Just the two of us and the four bodyguards - skeleton crew," he joked.

She snorted. "Spike needs four bodyguards? His body's not that big. Oh! Does he need a source for blood?"

Xander didn't speak for a moment, and then replied carefully, "We'll bring what we need, but thanks. The guards are two shifts, just in case. He tends to get mobbed."

"Yeah, I get that - that photo on the cover of his latest CD is drool-worthy in a big way. Gah!" Xander could hear her blush.

Xander's thoughts raced back to the photo shoot for the album cover in question. The photographer had been a prancing sissy who drove Spike absolutely insane, and the vampire had very nearly stormed out of the studio several times. Finally, Xander had made everyone leave the room. He had sat Spike down in the center of the floor and made him laugh until he nearly cried by doing imitations of Angel in the old days. After Xander had improvised a three minute riff called "the Magnificent Poof and the Case of the Missing Hair Gel" that had left Spike lying weakly on the floor in near-hysterics, he had allowed the photo crew back in, with the caveat that none of them speak. They'd gotten some good photos of a much more relaxed Spike.

The photo that had eventually become the album cover was the last one that had been shot. The photographer had gestured that they were finished, and Xander had jokingly blown a kiss at Spike, to thank him for cooperating. Out of the blue, a bolt of - something - something hot and coiled and electric - had shot between the two men. The photographer had snapped one last digital frame that captured Spike crouched down on the floor in front of a blood-red backdrop, wearing all black. His hands were dangling down between his spread knees, his head was tilted, and he wore a look that was direct, primal, appraising and raw - part predator, part seducer. It was an image that graced a million teenagers' walls, and the fantasies of many of their parents. Xander felt parts of him responding to the memory of being the object of that look. At the time, the photographer had started shrieking about what a great shot it was, and Xander had been forced to move quickly to keep Spike from killing the shrill little man, totally wrecking the mood.

"Hello? Xander?" The tone of Willow's voice told him this was not the first time she'd called his name.

"Sorry. Got distracted. What?" he babbled.

"I said, tell Spike he has to make a speech at the party - the other girls' parents are doing it, and Buffy and Spike are pretty much Dawnie's honorary Mom and Dad."

"What about Giles? That seems like a Giles thing," Xander said, thinking about how loud Spike was going to yell when told he had to make a speech.

"Giles is..." She hesitated. "Giles is kind of...not himself right now."

"What does that mean, Willow?" Xander asked, and she was suddenly glad that she couldn't see his face, wondering if it was half as fierce as his voice right then.

"He's recovering from what we think is a magical backlash - he cast a spell that backfired on him. He's a little...nuts. But, he's getting better." She sounded desperate.

"How long has he been nuts, Willow?"

"A couple of days. I've consulted some others in my coven - we're working on a fix. He'll be fine, I promise. Tara and I are taking good care of him - and he's going to be just fine." Her fervent tone told him that she was reassuring herself as much as him.

Xander decided to let the subject drop for the moment. "OK, you want me to call you when we get into town or wait 'til Sleeping Evil gets up on Friday?" he asked.

"You better call when you get in - Dawn will be bouncing all over the place." She hesitated. "Xander, have you talked to Buffy?"

"No."

"Will you please call her? You guys really need to get all this stuff between you settled before you arrive," she said.

"OK," he sighed, "I'll call her tonight as soon as I get Spike safely on stage."

"Can I ask you something?" She sounded as if she were afraid that she might anger him, and Xander felt his guts twist a little at the thought that she might fear his reaction.

"Anything," he replied.

"What's the deal with you and Spike, anyway?" She sounded genuinely curious, and he had to laugh a little.

"It's...complicated. And, yes, I know that's not much of an answer. Technically, I'm his business manager - I hire, I fire, I book the tours, I sign things. I yell at people who fuck up and give Porches to people who don't. Xander giveth and Xander taketh away," he joked. "I do all the stuff that Spike hates, and he goes out there and sings and dodges panties and makes millions of bucks."

"I know that," she replied, with an edge of impatience. "I meant personally."

"Personally?" His voice squeaked a little at the end of the word. "We're friends, I guess. Business partners. Why?"

"Oh," she said, and she sounded - disappointed? "I just thought maybe you were together. It's just that all the nice little cards and presents and things are always signed 'love, S+X', and he talks about you a lot when he calls and stuff."

Xander was momentarily speechless. Nice little cards? Presents? Spike calls Willow? Spike calls Willow and talks about me? Xander-brain shutting down now...all unsaved work will be lost. Please press any key to continue.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Wills, but there's nothing romantic going on with me and the evil undead." Xander-brain failsafe engaged, sarcasm released. Crisis averted.

"Well, is there anybody else special? For either of you?" Willow sounded wistful.

"Depends on your definition of 'special', I guess," Xander replied ruefully. "Spike nails a lot of groupies. And roadies. And strippers and waitresses and God knows what else."

"Xander!" Willow sounded outraged.

"What? Hello - gorgeous, immortal, stud-muffin rock star. The guy gets laid a lot."

"Well, I guess that's not much of a surprise," she conceded. "But, nobody for you?"

"I get by." He smiled into the phone, hoping that the sentiment transferred down the wire. "Wills, we don't have a normal life, OK? I mean, neither of us has lived anywhere but hotels and vacation rentals for over five years. Neither of us owns a car. If we aren't recording or touring, we're raising hell in some beach town 'til it's time to record or tour again."

"It seems lonely," she said.

"It isn't. We have a great group of people. Take Annie - she's the brains of the operation. She's been with us for seven years. She makes sure we eat and bails us out of jail and makes us pay our taxes and stuff - she loves us. And the guys - the bodyguards - they've all been with us for at least two years. We have a strange little family, Willow, but it works for us."

"Tell me more, Xander - I want to know about your family." Her voice was so hopeful and sweet that Xander found himself falling back into the warm cushion of scoobiness that he'd left behind so long ago. He balled up a pillow and propped himself up comfortably.

Over the next hour he told her more about Annie and the four bodyguards - individually Ace, Jack, Isha and Carl; collectively "the guys". He related funny stories about Julie, their fitness trainer/ nurse/ chef; Dave, the guitar technician who had been giving Xander lessons for six months; the members of the touring band; the sound and lighting engineers and the assorted assistants, administrators and hangers-on who populated their insular little world.

Xander explained to Willow how they kept Spike's vampiness a closely-held secret, with only the inner circle being privy to the knowledge. She was fascinated with his descriptions of how they controlled his public appearances, photo shoots, interviews and other details. Throughout the conversation, Xander had been steadfastly ignoring the cell phone that was trying to vibrate off of the bed table. Finally, he knew he had to get back to the demands of his job.

"I'm sorry, Wills - but I've got to go. People are screaming for me." Xander was surprised to find that his reluctance to hang up was entirely genuine.

"OK - Mr. Famous Guy," she mock-whined. "But, I get lots and lots of your undivided attention when you're here, OK?" She was quiet for a moment, and then added, "I've missed you, Xander."

Speaking through the lump in his throat, Xander said, "I've missed you, too. I promise - lots of catching up time." He hung up the room phone and picked up the cell.

"What?" he snapped. He listened for a moment. "Call Annie - I'll be down in an hour. If she can't help you then it can wait a fuckin' hour." He clicked the tiny phone shut and turned over onto his back with a sigh.

Thoughts of the conversation with Willow turned to thoughts of the photo shoot where they'd taken the album cover shot she had mentioned, and Xander felt his cock twitch and start to fill. He slipped a hand down his naked body and loosely circled himself with his fingers. He concentrated on the look that had been in Spike's eyes - the look that had pinned him on the spot with raw, electric, seething need, and he was instantly fully erect.

He squeezed his shaft and felt a small gush of fluid at the tip. He rubbed his thumb over the slit and used the pearly drops to lubricate the slide of his palm. It wasn't enough. Rolling onto his side, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a nearly empty tube of lubricant. It was a sad testament to the state of his love life that he'd only used it on himself. Shrugging off that thought, he squeezed some of the slick gel onto his fingers and began stroking himself in earnest.

Xander let his other hand trail down to roll and cup his balls, pulling lightly on the heavy, velvet sac and rolling it against his body. He let his thoughts drift to an incident that had happened on their last tour.

There was a certain point in each show where Spike left the stage. While the guitarists and the drummer each took a long solo, Spike was able to change clothes and get some blood, Jack Daniels, drugs (if Xander had been less than diligent in his pre-show sweep) and usually a blowjob from a handy groupie before resuming the stage. On this particular night, Xander had walked into the backstage area just in time to see Spike, naked from the waist down and knee deep in girls, draining a fifth of JD. As the empty bottle had been flung aside, Xander's gaze locked on the girls at the vampire's feet. On was in front of him, deep-throating his cock. The second was crouched between his legs, sucking his balls. The third girl was kneeling behind Spike, with her tongue buried between the firm globes of his ass.

Spike had one hand buried in the hair of the girl blowing him, roughly fucking her mouth. The vampire's head was thrown back, eyes closed, and a steady stream of filthy language was pouring from his mouth. Out of the four of them, Spike was the only one to notice Xander, just as his eyes flew open preceding his orgasm. The vampire and mortal had locked eyes, and Spike's free hand had flailed out to grab one of Xander's, squeezing their linked fingers with punishing force as he came. The two men had stood unmoving until the girl on her knees in front of Spike had released his cock with a small "pop". Shaking himself, Xander had dropped Spike's hand, turned and left the room.

The memory of the fire in the depths of Spike's eyes at that moment of release brought Xander to the edge, and he stroked himself harder. It still wasn't enough. Stopping, he squeezed the remainder of the lubricant onto his hands and rubbed them together. He returned his right hand to his straining erection, and raised one leg so he could bring the other hand down to circle the puckered entrance to his body. He slid a finger inside and gasped. He stretched himself and added another finger, hissing at the burning sensation.

He let his mind wander to the memory he saved for occasions like this - when the normal beat-off fantasies weren't enough; when it had been too long between lovers; when he had one of his infrequent, usually drug-fueled, semi-sexual encounters with Spike that confused the hell out of him. The memory of a night several years past, when he had stormed into Spike's bedroom to yell at him for some transgression - drugs, underage groupies, something - and found the vampire sprawled across his bed with a young man crouched between his legs.

At first, it had looked like a garden-variety blowjob. Xander wasn't shocked - Spike was just as likely to get one of those from a man as a woman, or even a non-human, depending on where his fancy took him on a particular night. But this was different. The man had straightened, Spike's heavy cock slipping from his mouth, and Xander had seen that his entire hand was pushed inside Spike. The word "fisting" crossed Xander's mind - he knew what it was, but had never even seen photos.

Spike was on his back, with his knees bent and his feet flat on the bed. His hands were at his sides, curled tightly into the sheets. His hips were canted forward, and his back was tense. His eyes were open, awash in tears. Xander had never seen a look like the one on Spike's face - pain and pleasure and need and bare, open lust, all watered by the tears that streamed from huge, shining blue eyes. Those eyes had met Xander's as one of the vampire's hands had shot forward to grab the wrist lodged at the center of his body to keep the other man from withdrawing.

"Close," Spike had rasped, "So close, don't stop." At his plea, the young man had carefully rotated his hand and pushed it up into Spike. The motion had caused the vampire's back to bow further, and he came with a harsh cry, white spurts arcing into the air and landing in heavy drops on his pale chest and abdomen. The young man had repeated the rotating motion and slowly pulled his hand out. As the knuckles exited his body, Spike had cried out again, coming dry. As Spike panted harshly, Xander had closed the door.

On the bed, Xander twisted his fingers sharply and found his prostate. He rubbed it hard and tightened his hand around the swollen, reddened head of his cock. One more rub, and his balls drew up; one more hard stroke and he shot all over the sheets. Xander wiped his hands on the bedclothes, caught his breath, then got up and walked unsteadily to the shower, ignoring the vibrating telephone on the table.

Part Four

Packing - concentrate on packing. Don't think about achy knuckles and how they got that way. Don't think about the all-over soreness that comes from fucking Buffy ten ways to Sunday for weeks on end. Put the clothes in the bag, folding is optional at this point. Don't feel the tears threatening, there's no time for that pansy shit now. Besides, monsters don't fucking cry - they don't have the right.

Clothes, shoes, toiletries - all in the bag. The little apartment is almost bare anyway - couldn't keep any of the stuff after she died. Every piece of furniture, every trinket and useless little bit of glass or wood or cloth had her all over it - smelled like her, felt like her, called her name. It had all gone like magic - hell, with Willow around it could have actually been magic.

Two days after the tower he'd signed the paperwork and stood by the bed as the machines were turned off and Anya's mechanical breathing had ceased. The next day they had put Buffy into the ground in the hidden little grove. They'd done it after dark, for discretion and out of respect for Spike. Xander had stood just inside the protective circle the witches had laid to keep them safe from demons and to keep the Slayer's grave private, and allowed the grievously injured and slowly healing vampire to lean heavily on him, ignoring the pain of his own bruises and stitches.

Tears had poured silently down both their faces as Giles had haltingly eulogized a girl who saved the world a lot. Willow, Tara and Dawn had formed a small knot of misery that seemed to collapse more upon itself every second. Giles and Xander had filled the grave themselves with the others sitting on the grass, silent in the moonlight, helping Willow light candles and burn herbs to protect Buffy's rest.

When the work was finished, they had piled into Xander and Giles' cars and carried the urn containing Anya's ashes to the beach, where the others had stood back and watched as Xander waded out knee-deep in the waves to gently sprinkle her remains into the void. He also dropped her engagement ring into the swirling, dark water. He'd stood, tide eddying about his knees, until he felt a cool hand on his shoulder. Spike had stood next to Xander for a long moment, watching the moonlight play on the black surface, then led him haltingly back to the shore.

Their losses had bonded them over the summer. They'd found support in one another; patrolling, killing demons and vampires, and sitting quietly in Spike's crypt or Xander's new, Spartan, Anya-free apartment drinking and watching mindlessly violent movies. As the summer drew to a close, Xander made the decision to keep the plan for Buffy's resurrection from Spike. Once the ritual had been completed, Xander had taken the brunt of the vampire's anger, disappointment and fear, and then watched him walk away in tears, warning of the dire consequences of such dark magic.

Consequences. Well, weeks later, Xander finally understood about consequences. Wasn't it enough that his fiancée had died? That he'd had to bury one of his best friends? Wasn't it enough that his other best friend had been required to tap into forces better left alone to try and make it right? Was it worth the overwhelming joy of seeing Buffy again, alive and whole? Was that moment of joy worth the moments of agony he'd felt upon realizing that Spike had really left? When Buffy had told him in confidence that she had been ripped out of Heaven on their selfish whim? That she was frozen and cold and still half-dead, aching to feel anything to make her know she was alive?

And if that wasn't enough, was there a word for the feeling that swept over him when Buffy, his fantasy, his crush, the girl of his dreams had turned to him and melted into his arms with a kiss equal parts hope and desperation? Was there a whole dictionary devoted to the study of the words for the feelings that threatened to burst out of him as he had finally, sweetly slipped inside her heat, burning himself on the wave of fire that swept through them?

What could be the consequences of having this woman fulfill every fantasy he'd ever had, tearing him apart and putting him back together with the furor and fierceness of her love? And, finally, he had learned the truth of it - that she was using him. Worse than that - in the end he wasn't enough for her. He had done everything he knew how to do, and even learned some new things - but it wasn't enough. Her overwhelming need for more, stronger, faster, harder, more violent emotions had pushed him too far.

Consequences. The consequences of loving Buffy all boiled down to a sore hand and the peculiar brand of self-loathing that was born in his heart when he realized that a small part of him had enjoyed hitting her. Amidst all the love and pain and sorrow, there was the smallest twinge of satisfaction gleaned from the singular sound of knuckles meeting flesh in anger. That twinge was what had sent him reeling away in horror to run back to the small apartment and pack his few remaining belongings.

Xander shouldered the bag and walked out to his car. Running away never solved anything, they said. Fuck them.

Comfy barstool, flowing booze and the band wasn't too loud behind his back. Xander thought he could get to like this place. This place in ...New York? New Orleans? New Something. Whatever. He'd been on the road for six months. The half of Anya's insurance money that he'd allotted himself for fucking off with was running low, and he'd have to settle somewhere soon, at least long enough to work a little and build up his cash reserve. Again, whatever. Yes, nice bartender, I would like another. Thanks.

Six months of driving, stopping whenever a town looked interesting or he'd needed to do laundry had taken their toll. The clothes he'd brought with him hung on his gaunt frame, and his hair was long and wavy, generally shoved impatiently behind his neck with little thought. Shaving happened occasionally, this morning being the latest occasion. Drinking happened every day, at least a little - enough to get by and not think too much past the next shot or beer.

He normally didn't go places that had live music, but this one seemed OK. The band wasn't overly loud, and the singer didn't speak between numbers, simply moving from one mid-tempo rock song to the next with a minimum of distraction for the drinkers. A nice bar was Xander's only requirement - a place where he could be reasonably certain not to get assaulted or mugged, a place where everyone minded their own business - most assuredly not a place where everyone knew his name. Some days he wasn't even sure what his name was - he'd not heard anyone say it in so long.

That's probably why it took a second for his brain to register that the singer behind him had actually said what he thought he'd heard. A low bass line began to roll through the bar, and Xander turned to look at the singer. The singer who was Spike. The singer who had just announced quietly that the next song was for "my old friend, Xander". The vampire simply stood behind the microphone with his hands in the pockets of his duster, swaying slightly to the hypnotic music. He was wearing black jeans, a black tee and his scuffed Docs. His platinum hair was worn a little longer than in Sunnydale, and wasn't gelled quite so ruthlessly to the planes of his skull as before, allowing some natural curl to show. His crystal blue eyes glittered in the stage light. He cut his eyes to Xander and locked them on the human's face as he began to sing in a low growl.

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming
Everybody knows that it's moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there's gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you're in trouble
Everybody knows what you've been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it's coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

They'd sat in silence and finished off several more drinks before Spike took the stage for his second set. Xander had listened to the songs with his back resolutely toward the stage while drinking a soda and drawing patterns in the condensation on the side of his glass. After the second set, Spike had appeared again at his side.

"You got somewhere to stay?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Nope. Just got into town today." Xander drained the dregs of his soda and crunched the last piece of ice between even, white teeth.

"I've got a friend's place while he's out of town. Wanna crash?" Spike looked supremely indifferent as to Xander's response.

"OK, thanks. It's early yet - what do you do in this town for fun?"

"Come on. I'll show you."

Just before dawn, they stumbled into Spike's friend's apartment. It turned out to be a nice two-bedroom in a decent building. Every window in the place was securely covered, so Xander assumed Spike's friend was also of the vampire persuasion. He didn't really care, as long as he got to lie down. The struggle to remain upright on the precariously tilting planet was becoming a strain. As soon as he was ushered to a nicely appointed guest room, he wasted no time in passing out face-down on the bed.

The next day, the two men had picked up their friendship as if they'd never fallen out. Xander got Spike to tell him all about his burgeoning singing career, and the vampire was pleasantly shocked to find that the human had some good ideas for maximizing his potential.

Over the next several weeks Spike found that having an associate who could get around in the daylight was useful, and Xander found that he enjoyed wrangling with club owners to get gigs for Spike. They fell into an easy working relationship. When the apartment's owner returned home, Spike and Xander set out for Los Angeles to see if they could capitalize on the vampire's growing following in the music world. Sunnydale rarely came up in conversation. Spike never asked why Xander had left, and Xander never offered any information.

Part Five

As usual, the backstage area was a madhouse. Xander strode through the tangle of technicians, musicians, dancers, starstruck fans and assorted other bodies with the finesse of an experienced waiter navigating the lunch rush, deftly dodging and weaving. The young woman following him matched him step for step and their conversation never faltered. An outsider would think them siblings; the woman shared his height and dark coloring, with wavy chestnut hair that fell to her shoulders in an expensive tousle. Her snapping brown eyes were covered with a pair of fashionable glasses, and her lips were a bold slash of red. Her jeans and tour tee shirt clung to a curvy figure, and she carried a clipboard, occasionally making a note as she walked.

"Make sure the pyro techs have the updated set list, and point out that the last three songs have been re-ordered - we don't need another Milwaukee," Xander said, sharing a grimace with the girl as they both recalled a near-disaster in which Spike had come uncomfortably close to being barbecued. The techs responsible had been fired after receiving the most scathing bitching out from Spike that Xander could ever remember - and that was saying something.

"Anything else, Xan?" she asked, looking at him as they stopped outside Spike's dressing room.

He shrugged. "Nope, Annie, I think that's it. What are you going to do with your two weeks off?"

"Aruba!" she exclaimed, grinning. "I'm going to spend it in the sun - I don't get to work on my tan much when I travel with you guys."

Xander grinned at her. "You're not wrong about that." He sighed. "I guess I'll go see what the disaster of the day is." He turned the doorknob and took a deep breath before entering the room. Annie wisely turned and hurried off down the corridor.

"Hey, Xan," Spike said. The vampire was sitting on the sofa reading a book. As the door opened, he marked his place with a finger and looked up to greet his friend.

"Hey," Xander answered, looking around in a confused manner. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just hanging out." He turned back to his book, marking his page with a slip of paper and tossing it onto the side table. "Everything ready?"

"Yeah," Xander said slowly, looking around. He took a couple of hesitant steps into the room, and then looked around again. "Are you possessed?" he asked, plaintively.

"Not that I know of," Spike replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Xander said. "You aren't stomping around in a diva snit, there aren't a dozen groupies in here sighing over your every twitch, and nothing is on fire or broken. It's just not normal."

Spike gestured to the sofa cushion beside him. "Sit." Xander sat. He jumped a little when Spike's cool hand came to rest on the middle of his back. "I know you're worried about talking to Buffy, and I thought I'd give you a break," the vampire explained.

Xander dropped his head into his hands. "I knew it. You're possessed."

"Wanker."

"Dork."

"Blow me."

"In your dreams, overbite."

"Only my better ones, pet. Only my better ones."

Xander was saved from responding by the arrival of the hairdresser, makeup artist and stylist, ushered in by Annie. The brunette girl slid onto the couch next to Xander and watched as Spike was pulled to the center of the room. The stylist, an older man, began efficiently stripping the vampire's black tee shirt off over his head, replacing it with a red one. Spike snatched the black leather pants out of the man's hands and turned his back to his audience to switch them with his faded jeans. Every person in the room stared unabashedly at the pale backside that was exposed and then re-covered with the skin-tight trousers. The stylist threaded a belt around Spike's waist and buckled it, then stepped back.

"I'm done," he said. "Docs and duster are on the rack. See you tomorrow."

"Later, Phil," Spike said, as the other man left the room. Then, addressing Xander and Annie, he said, "Why do we pay him all that money, again?"

"Because he knows the guy who custom makes the pants and dusters. That, and he sometimes gets you to wear really cool stuff. Not today, of course, but sometimes," Annie said. Spike gave her the two-fingered salute and allowed the hairdresser to push him into a chair. A harried-looking man with a headset and a clipboard came to the door and gestured at Annie. She gave Xander a smile and hurried out the door. Xander sat back and watched as Spike's hair was slicked back with gel and his eyes were heavily outlined with artfully smudged kohl. The vampire stood and struck a pose for Xander, while the hair and makeup artists packed their things and swept out.

"Am I presentable, pet?" Spike asked.

"You'll do," Xander replied, climbing to his feet and running a hand through his own tousled hair, pushing the long fringe off his forehead.

"You gonna call Buffy after I go on?" Spike asked.

"Yeah," Xander sighed. "I have to."

Spike walked over and laid a hand on Xander's shoulder. "Yeah, you do." Xander couldn't help noticing for the thousandth time that Spike was considerably shorter without his boots. Spike's attitude was so large that it obscured the fact that he was slim and rather compact. Xander knew for a fact that Spike's head fitted exactly into the crook of his neck if the two of them stood in an embrace. Xander looked at the floor, then back at Spike.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "Get your boots and duster on - it's almost time."

Spike mock-sighed, "Another day, another million dollars."

They shared a "damn we're lucky" grin and Spike moved on to finish dressing. Xander sat on the couch and fingered his cell phone. Spike was just settling the leather coat around his shoulders when there was a knock on the door. The vampire shot a look at the broody man on the couch before he opened it to find another man with a headset and a clipboard. He turned back into the room.

"Come over to the stage once you're done, OK, Xan?"

Xander nodded, and Spike allowed himself to be led away.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Buffy. It's Xander."

"Xander. I'm so happy you called." Buffy's voice was warm and friendly.

"Why?" Xander asked, truly dumbfounded.

"Because you're my friend and I've missed you," she said simply.

"Oh, shit," he groaned, "It's worse than I thought. You're going to be all nice to me, aren't you? Please don't, Buffy. I don't think I can handle nice. I really think I need yelling and cursing and name-calling."

She giggled. "You're babbling, Xander."

"Yes, yes I am," he replied. There was a long pause. "I'm sorry, Buffy," Xander said in a tiny voice. "I'm so damn sorry."

Her voice was even when she answered. "What are you sorry for, Xan? Bringing me back? Helping me heal? Hitting me? Leaving?"

"Most of it. All of it. Yes."

"Can we take them one at a time?" she asked, and then continued without waiting for an answer. "I'm glad you guys brought me back, Xan. I wasn't at the time, but I am now. Look at all the things I got to do because of what you did. I got to raise Dawn, and see her go to medical school and graduate at the top of her class. I got to be the only Slayer in the history of Slayers to retire. I got to help train a Slayer, though I hate that Faith had to die for me to be able to do it." Her voice broke a little and she stopped to clear her throat.

"I got to go to college and graduate and get a normal job. I got to see Angel get his reward - he and I got to spend a couple of years in the sun. That alone was worth the price of admission, Xander. So you don't owe me an apology for giving me another chance to live, OK?"

Xander felt a lump form in his throat as he thought about Angel. The older vampire had finally achieved his redemption five years previously. Through a mystical process called shanshu, he'd been made human. He and Buffy had been together for almost two years when he was killed. He hadn't been able to give up the fight against evil, and his human frailty had been his undoing. Spike had attended the funeral in LA, but Xander had been unable to force himself to face his friends.

"OK, Buffy," Xander said thickly. "I'm not sorry about that, then. Besides, it's terrible to have to be sad because your best friend isn't dead. My brain didn't like it."

"And the part after I came back, Xan? Don't be sorry about loving me, please don't. You were the only thing that kept me going, and I used you and hurt you so much. I'm the one who should be sorry. I was so awful to you." She sounded miserable. Xander wanted to say something, but words wouldn't come. He felt tears fill his eyes and begin to spill silently down his cheeks.

"Buffy," he said finally, and he hated the wavery quality of his voice. "I...I hit you."

"I know," she replied, and her voice held tears also. "I can't tell you it's OK, Xander, but I can tell you that I forgave you a long time ago, and I know you'd never, ever do it again."

Xander felt a flare of anger. "You don't know that," he gritted out. "I couldn't control myself with you. I loved you, Buffy - God, I loved you more than anything, and I hit you. If I could do it to you I could do it to anybody. How can you say that you forgive me?" Tears were flowing freely now, and Xander didn't care that Buffy could hear his distress.

She made soothing sounds into the phone, wiping her own tears as she listened to his muffled sobs. Once he got control, she began speaking in a calm voice.

"You're wrong, Xander. You'd never do it again. People who hurt other people like that don't feel remorse. They don't feel like they have to leave everything they know to protect their loved ones. And they don't torture themselves like this. You have got to forgive yourself. Yes, you hit me. Once." She paused. "Would it help you to know that it didn't hurt?"

Xander couldn't stop the hysterical giggle that welled up in him at her wry tone. His giggle triggered hers, and soon they were both laughing as hard as they could into their respective phones, unable to catch their breath. After a long while, they fell silent. Xander could hear Buffy blow her nose, and he dashed tears away from his eyes with his free hand.

"I've missed you, Buff," Xander said.

"I've missed you, too. Are we OK now?"

"I think we're on our way," he said, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he meant it. "Now, tell me more about this party."

An hour later, Xander wandered over to the stage, with his cell phone still pressed to his ear. Buffy had spent most of the time catching him up on the lives of the Sunnydale crew. Xander had already heard much of the news from Willow, but he was happy to simply listen to Buffy's excited chatter. He walked to the edge of the back of the stage, where Spike was finishing up a medium tempo ballad. After the deafening cheers faded, the vampire looked over. He noticed Xander and smiled. He pointed at the cell phone and spread his hands in a questioning gesture. Xander smiled and nodded. In a flash, Spike was at his side, taking the cell phone and walking back to center stage.

"Hello, Slayer," the vampire purred.

"Hi, Spike," she replied brightly. Spike brought his microphone closer to his mouth. "Buffy, this is everybody; everybody, this is Buffy." He held the phone out to the audience, and 16,000 people roared "Hi, Buffy!". Spike put the phone back to his ear in time to catch her whooping laughter.

"Anything special you wanna hear, Buffy?" he asked. She thought for a second, and then made her choice. Spike carried the phone back to Xander.

"Hold this so she can hear, mate," he instructed, turning to strut back to center stage with his coat billowing behind him. "This is for my friend Buffy," he told the audience. He turned to the guitarist and whispered for a second. His instructions were passed to the rest of the band members. A second later the rumbling bass line of one of Spike's early hits rolled out across the arena, prompting another roar from the crowd. The vampire began singing in a baritone growl.

Standing in the doorway of my life in this house
Trying to find a way to get out
Looking for a sign that I should open the door
This craziness is getting me down

But today is the day
That we break free
Today is the day
That we break free

Walking down a stairway to the traffic below
Anything could happen I know
Hey but I'm sick of everybody telling me what to do
I hear you, hey, but I already know

Because today is the day
That we break free
Today is the day
That we break free

It's clear in my mind after all of this time
What I feel, my love
There's so many times that the sun doesn't shine
But I'm here, my love

And today is the day

Maybe I should wait just a minute or two
It's getting cold now and I feel so insecure
The future is a mistress that is so hard to please
And the past is a pebble in my shoe

But today is the day
That we break free
Today is the day
That we break free

It's clear in my mind after all of this time
What I feel, my love
There's so many times that the sun doesn't shine
But I'm here, my love

And today is the day

"How'd you like that? Performance on demand," he said.

"Dawn's going to be so jealous when I tell her," Buffy said.

They talked for a few more minutes, and then ended the call. Xander slipped the phone into his pocket just as Spike exited the stage for his set break, with two large bodyguards in tow. The vampire grabbed his arm as he swept by and dragged Xander along to the green room, which was inexplicably painted orange. The guards stayed outside. Xander settled on a sofa while Spike stripped off his duster and tee shirt, pulling on a white tank and a sapphire blue overshirt, which he left unbuttoned. He perched next to Xander.

"My hair OK?" he asked.

Xander reached out to smooth a couple of errant curls back, unconsciously tracing his fingers down the arch of bone behind Spike's ear. "You're good," he said.

Spike leaned slightly into Xander's light touch and fought the urge to close his eyes. "You and Buffy on the mend, then?" he said.

Xander realized where his hand was and slowly drew it back. "Looks like," he said, "though I have no idea why she's being so nice."

"Don't be dumb, pet," Spike explained with a sigh. "She's the Slayer, or a Slayer; if anyone understands the lure of physical violence, it's her. She knows that you acted out of pain and frustration, not a desire to hurt."

"You know it wigs me out when you're insightful, right?" Xander said.

"'S why I do it, luv. You coming back to the stage for the second half?"

"I'll be over in a while. You wanna go out after?"

"Nah. Let's stay in. This town is beat. 'Sides, I need to eat when we get back to the hotel."

"I'm hungry, too," Xander said, realizing that in his nervous state he hadn't eaten all day. "You want food food, too?"

"Sure," the vampire smiled. There was a knock at the door. Spike stood and pulled his shirt straight. He ran a hand over his hair and headed back to work.

*****
*Today Poe (Yes, I know, Poe is a woman. However, I’ve used several of her songs for Spike – the vibe is perfect – you just have to use your imagination on the voice.)
*****

Part Six

The bodyguard, Isha, leaned comfortably against the wall, waiting. Spike stood in front of him, gently holding the large man's right arm. Isha's vaguely Asian features wore an expression of relaxation, tinged with excitement. He looked over the vampire's head at Xander, who was sitting at a small table across the room contemplating the tray of appetizers in front of him. Catching Isha's look, Xander smiled reassuringly.

Spike morphed into game face and bent his head to the tender skin on the inside of Isha's elbow. He carefully sank his fangs into the large vein there and began to draw on the small wounds. The sweet, hot blood began to fill his mouth, soothing the ache of hunger in his belly. Isha's blood told him everything the big man was feeling. Pleasure, arousal and a hint of fear. Spike didn't blame him - Isha had been the one to witness his loss of control with Ace, which was part of the reason he'd asked Xander to stay in the room while he fed, and would do so for the foreseeable future. He relied on the bodyguards too much to start scaring them away.

The idea of carrying Spike's blood supply "on the hoof" had, surprisingly, been Xander's. The vampire had been stunned when the human had suggested it, but it made perfect sense. Spike felt a surge of gratitude when he thought about the other life-changing idea Xander had brought to him.

"Finally! God, I thought you were never gonna get up!" Xander was so excited he was practically bouncing. The excitement did not magically transfer itself to the groggy vampire stumbling up the hall. Spike stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and leaned on the wall, rubbing his eyes. Xander turned from the microwave and pushed a mug of warmed blood into his hands.

"Drink up, then come to the office. I want to show you something."

Spike drank the blood slowly, then rinsed the mug and placed it into the sink. He rubbed his eyes again, and wondered what the hell had gotten his friend and business partner into such a state. Curiosity got the better of him, and he trudged to the small office, marginally more awake than before. Xander was sitting in a black leather swivel chair in front of a small desk. He was typing into the computer. Spike walked up behind him and noticed that the spreadsheet program was open.

"What's got you so happy, mate?" he asked.

"Check this out," Xander said, pointing to the screen. "That is the total income for XS Holdings for the year."

The vampire leaned in and looked at the page. Then he leaned in closer, to make sure that the decimal point was where he thought it was. It was. The column showed a number well in excess of one million dollars.

"Is that for real?" he asked, stepping back from the machine.

Xander stood up from his chair. "Yep. We made a million bucks, Spike." The two men looked at each other silently for a moment, and then Spike stepped forward to clap Xander on the back.

"Damn, we're good," he said, as they exchanged grins. "So, pet, what do you want to do to celebrate?"

The smile dropped off of Xander's face, and he looked nervous. "Um," he said, looking down. "I think we should see about getting that fucking chip out of your head."

Spike was speechless for the first time in over a hundred years. He couldn't think of a response that would do the offer justice. He swallowed heavily against the lump in his throat and turned his back to Xander, rubbing his hand across his eyes.

Without turning, he said, "Why would you want to do that, Xander?' His voice was carefully devoid of inflection.

"Look at me," Xander said, his voice low and steady. Spike turned, and his blue eyes were suspiciously bright as they stared into calm brown ones. "It's the right thing to do." Their gazes held for long moments. Spike nodded once, then turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Spike opened his eyes and gently disengaged from Isha's arm, running his tongue over the small punctures to close them. "Thanks, mate," he told the large man, accepting a smile and a nod in return as Isha left the suite, deftly catching the bottle of orange juice Xander tossed to him. Spike wiped a hand across his mouth to make sure he didn't have any blood on his lips and joined Xander at the small dining table, snaring the last shrimp on the appetizer platter.

"Better?" Xander asked, finishing off a stuffed mushroom.

"Yeah, I'm good," Spike replied. "What do you want to eat?"

"I'm feeling the need to worship at the temple of the cow - prime rib style, I believe," the human said.

"Cool. Get me one of those and some fries - NFG on the steak," Spike said, using their long-standing code for "no fucking garlic".

Xander picked up the phone to order as Spike walked to the luxurious bathroom.

The room service waiter arrived, stalled hoping to get a glimpse of Spike, and then reluctantly left. Xander knocked at the bathroom door.

"Come in," Spike invited.

Xander was unsurprised to find the vampire lounging in the large bathtub, up to his neck in steaming water. They often joked that Spike's exorbitant hot water fetish was one of the reasons they lived in hotels. He loved to feel warm - hot baths and showers, expensive cashmere socks and sweaters and electric blankets were all necessary objects for Spike to be happy.

"Food's here," Xander said, and swept a couple of fluffy towels off of the heated rack on the wall. Spike stood and accepted a proffered towel, wrapping it around his waist. He took the other and rubbed his hair. Xander wandered back to the front room. A few minutes later, Spike appeared, wearing faded jeans and a white sweater, barefoot, with his damp hair curling around his face. He plopped next to Xander on the couch and started in on his very rare steak. At one point, Spike felt the steak's juices running in a small rivulet from the corner of his mouth. Xander deftly reached over and wiped the blood away with his napkin, then continued eating.

That small gesture threw Spike back in time to what he would always remember as one of the best days of his unlife. Shortly after Xander's announcement of his intention to have the chip removed, Spike had agreed to be examined by a doctor the human had located for him. The doctor had turned out to be a Cathaxis demon - able to appear human, but very tall and thin. The Cathaxis were notable for their ability to see electrical energy. The doctor/ demon had simply looked at Spike's head for ten minutes without blinking, then nodded and left the room. Xander had followed it, then returned a few minutes later.

"What?" Spike had demanded irritably.

"Chill," Xander said, "she's a fan, and you make her nervous. When they get nervous, they can't talk. Some sort of vocal cord paralysis thing. Freaky. Anyway, she says that the chip will have to come out surgically - shorting it out would probably fry your brain. She's referring us to a surgeon." He handed a prescription pad to the vampire. "She also wants your autograph."

Shaking his head at the absurdity, Spike wrote out an autograph. Two weeks later he was checked into Cedars Sinai Medical Center under his favorite pseudonym, Alexander Summers, for brain surgery. Spike had blustered at first, but Xander assured him that, with enough money, a vampire really could have brain surgery at a world-famous hospital with little or no fanfare, and they happened to have enough money. That's exactly how it had gone. They'd stayed in a luxuriously appointed suite with no windows. The surgery had taken more than ten hours with a human surgeon and a mixed surgical team. Spike had been well taken care of and stuffed with blood fresh from the blood bank. Two nights later, he had signed autographs for the whole group and walked out under his own power to a waiting limousine.

The limousine had arrived at the hotel, and Xander had exited and watched as the car pulled away with Spike still inside. Two hours later, the door of their suite had opened. Spike strode in, looking every inch the Master vampire. Xander had stood from the sofa where he was reading and met him in the foyer. Spike's hair was mussed, his shirt was wrinkled, and there was a smear of blood along his jaw. Xander had taken a cloth napkin from the bar and gently wiped it away. They had both looked down at the bright streak of red on the white linen.

"I didn't kill anyone," Spike said in a neutral tone.

"That's good," Xander said, his tone every bit as bland as the vampire's. "You feeling OK?"

"A little tired," Spike said. "Busy couple of days."

Xander had nodded and wandered off to return to his book.

"What do you want to do now?" Spike asked Xander.

"Not much to do - last show tomorrow, and then off to Sunnydale," the human replied.

"Are you nervous about going home?"

"Where, Sunnydale? Sunnydale's not my home." Xander's tone was indifferent as he gathered the dinner dishes and returned them to the room service tray.

"Where is?"

"Huh?"

"Where is home?"

Xander pondered the question for a moment. "I dunno," he said, "wherever we are, I guess." Spike watched as the human carried the tray to the door of the suite. He heard Xander exchange a few words with the bodyguard on duty, and then a click as the lock on the door engaged.

"I have to tell you something you aren't going to like," Xander said, once he'd flopped back down on one end of the overstuffed couch. Spike merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Dawn wants you to give a speech at her graduation party. The other girls' parents are doing it, and she wants you and Buffy to stand in as Mom and Dad." He closed his eyes and braced himself for the yelling and screaming. When none were forthcoming, he cracked one eye open to see if the vampire had merely melted into a puddle of denial. Spike looked gobsmacked.

"She does? Really?" The wonder in his voice made Xander's chest tighten a little.

"Of course she does," he said softly, "both of you have been behind her all the way. Hell, Spike - remember when you flew to Sunnydale to talk her down when she wanted to drop out of med school and join the Peace Corps? And the time you were an hour and a half late on stage in Japan because she was hysterical on the phone, thinking she was going to fail Gross Anatomy?"

"Organic Chemistry," the vampire corrected automatically, "but, yeah, I remember. I'm just really surprised, I guess." He sat for a few minutes, and then an indignant look came over his face. "Oi!" he shouted, "I don't want to give a speech!"

Xander laughed. "I was wondering when that part would sink in," he said mildly.

"Fucking hell," the vampire swore.

"Why don't you sing her something - you can claim that you sing better than you talk."

Spike marveled at Xander. "Damn, every once in a while you're pretty smart," he said.

Xander winked at the vampire. "I have my moments." Forcing himself to speak in a casual tone, he added, "We should probably get everyone presents. You think we can make Annie buy them?"

"Nah, I'll do some online shopping." Spike's voice was as studiously casual as Xander's. "Should I sign the cards from both of us?"

"Sure," the human rejoined. His tone then became pointed. "Like you always do?"

Spike had the good grace to look away, and Xander could have sworn he saw the faintest blush of color staining his alabaster cheeks. Xander scooted over on the sofa until their legs were just touching. "Thank you, Spike," he said. "I appreciate you keeping up the friendships I neglected - you didn't have to do that for me." Spike turned back and smiled, and Xander knew that his eyes were mirroring the small spark of heat in the vampire's, and he felt himself blushing just a little.

Spike's head tilted slightly to one side, and for a second, Xander thought the vampire was going to kiss him. Panic and desire bloomed in his chest, and he fought equally strong urges to move closer and move away. Spike broke the eye contact and abruptly stood and walked over to the windows, pulling the heavy drapes aside to look out into the night.

"It's late," he observed, and his voice was slightly strained. "I think I'll turn in." Xander watched him walk into his bedroom and shut the door.

Part Seven

Xander was attempting to finish signing the sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him, but kept getting distracted by Spike, who was tapping his feet, tapping his fingers and generally making a pest of himself from his perch on the edge of one of the couch cushions. The vampire had wandered into the office, paced around it several times, picked up and replaced every object on Xander's desk in turn, then flung himself down onto the couch with a long-suffering sigh. He was ready to go on stage a full hour before his call time and he was voluntarily spending time in the business office - two things that never happened.

Xander laid his pen down on the desk and looked at Spike, who was momentarily absorbed in picking at his chipped black nail polish. His hair was a tangle of carefully arranged "casual" waves that fell over his forehead to touch his dark eyebrows, his eyes were thickly lined, and the pale pink of his lips had been darkened a couple of shades. Apparently, Annie had managed to wrangle him into wearing "something cool", as his usual tee shirt had been traded in for a blood-red burnout velvet shirt, worn almost completely unbuttoned over black leather trousers so extremely low-slung that Xander could practically see pubic hair. His ragged Docs had been replaced with motorcycle boots, and the silver chains that decorated them matched the ones around his hips, both wrists and his neck.

"Last show," Xander observed. "How're you feeling?"

"Good. Ready to be done. I'm sick of the set list." Spike's cadence was rapid, and Xander noticed he was chewing gum. He was chewing the hell out of that gum.

"Last groupies for a few weeks. Unless, of course, you plan to fuck Dawn's friends." Xander tilted his head. "You aren't planning to fuck Dawn's friends, right?

Spike threw him a withering look, which was immediately followed up with an impish smile. "Uh...no. I do have a modicum of self control."

"Sometimes," Xander rejoined, with a smile of his own.

"You ready for the trip? You and Buffy all lovey-dovey now?" The vampire's voice sounded funny, but Xander couldn't read the tone.

"I wouldn't go that far," he said thoughtfully.

"Give it time," Spike said.

"Yes, oh wise one," Xander joked.

Hey, wisdom of the years, here, young pup. And - deadly predator, just as soon kill ya as look at ya," Spike sneered.

"Yeah, yeah. Big Bad. I remember," Xander affected boredom.

"Don't patronize me," Spike groused.

"Go sing. Make the girlies fling their panties on the stage." Xander stood and crossed the room, offering a hand to pull Spike to his feet. They stood face to face for a moment. "Is Ace waiting for you?"

"Yeah," Spike said. "He's probably chatting up birds at the stage door."

"Ace likes boys," Xander said.

"Ace likes you," Spike replied.

"Not," Xander said. He reached up to straighten Spike's collar and let the backs of his fingers graze the cool skin of the vampire's neck lightly. "I think it's safe to say that every being under this roof, regardless of species or gender wants you tonight."

"'S that right?" Spike drawled, stepping a fraction of an inch closer. "Every being?"

Xander looked into Spike's eyes, and his own narrowed slightly. He deliberately took one small step back and smiled tightly. "Go sing," he said softly. Spike's head tilted and Xander caught a glimpse of the vampire's pointed pink tongue as he moistened his lips before he took first one and then another step backward before turning to sweep out of the room.

As the door shut, Xander let out the breath he'd been holding. He picked his cell phone up from the desk and pressed a button. As soon as it was answered he said, "Annie, find out who gave Spike the coke and kill them for me, would you?" He disconnected the call and dropped the phone onto the desk, then fell heavily into the chair.

Xander waited in the back seat of the limousine. The show had been spectacular - one of Spike's best ever. Xander had walked over and watched from the wings, staying out of the vampire's sight. From his vantage point, he had watched Spike strut and posture his way through almost two hours of his most aggressive songs. The band had been spot-on, the dancers beautiful and sexy and the crowd full of energy. The backstage area had had a party-like atmosphere, with everyone celebrating the end of the first leg of the tour and talking about what they were going to do with their two week break.

Xander had perched himself on a high stool and taken it all in, basking in his pride at their accomplishments. It was hard to believe that the Zeppo and the chipped vamp had turned themselves into a multi-million dollar industry. Xander marveled at the thought that all of these people, save Spike, worked for him, deferred to him, valued his opinion and courted his favor. It was heady stuff.

At the set break, Xander had stayed where he was, deciding not to join Spike in the dressing room. He was surprised to see the vampire return to the stage wearing a simple, soft-looking grey tee with his leather pants, having ditched the chains and boots in favor of stocking feet. Spike had pulled a stool similar to the one Xander was occupying to center stage and proceeded to sing ballads for a full hour, delighting the girls in the audience and stunning Xander all over again with the quality of the rich baritone voice he'd heard almost every day for the past ten years.

Eventually, Xander had left his stool and gone back to the office to gather his things. While Spike was finishing up on stage, the human packed his briefcase and made the rounds of the staff, shaking hands, receiving a few kisses and hugs, and taking his leave. He'd then walked out to the car and opened a bottle of water from the bar, relaxing in the silence.

The car door opened, and Spike slid onto the seat. Xander noticed he still wasn't wearing shoes. "I guess you really were sick of the set list, huh?" he asked mildly.

"Yeah, well. What's the point of being a pain in the ass rock star if you can't stir things up once in a while?" the vampire said. He reached for Xander's water bottle and Xander let it go.

"I'm guessing the pyro guys were the only ones who were pissed," Xander said.

"They can blow me up another time," Spike deadpanned.

The front doors of the car opened and Ace and Carl got in. Ace turned around from the driver's seat to peer into the open partition. "Hotel?" he asked. Xander looked at Spike.

"That's fine," Spike said, finishing the water and opening another. He pushed the button to close the partition.

"You say all your goodbyes?" Xander asked.

"Three fuck offs, a see ya later and a kiss," Spike said.

"Annie?"

"Annie. When's the flight to LA?"

"Tomorrow at 8. It's commercial." At Spike's grimace he added, "We have all of First Class, don't whine. It'll be fine."

Xander punched his pillow, trying to coerce it into the one elusive shape that would make if possible for him to fall asleep. The pillow steadfastly refused to conform. Xander sighed loudly and stared at the ceiling. There was a soft knock at the door.

"Can I come in?" Spike asked.

"Of course," Xander replied, and the door opened a crack. The slim vampire slipped into the room and closed the door. He walked over to the bed and stood beside it, looking down expectantly. Xander took in the bare chest and rumpled cotton pants. "Can't sleep?"

"Still wired from the show," Spike admitted.

"And the coke." Xander's tone was mild.

"Wasn't much," Spike groused.

"How about you don't tell me. I'm on vacation," Xander said.

"Shove over," Spike said, forcing his way onto the bed and under the covers. He manhandled Xander until the human vacated his abused pillow and moved to the far side of the bed. They wound up lying side by side on their backs, almost but not quite touching.

"Comfy now?" Xander asked, sarcastically.

"Mmmm."

After a few moments of silence, Xander tucked his hands under his head and shifted so he could look at Spike. "You looking forward to seeing Dawn?" he asked.

Spike also shifted to his side. "Yeah, I guess I am. You?"

"Yeah." Quiet descended again.

"You bringing your guitar with?" Spike asked.

"Don't you think I need the practice? Xander rejoined.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Xander could hear the grin in Spike's voice. This was a game they played often, and it drove most of the crew absolutely insane.

"Why do you always ask me that?" Xander inquired with a false note of hurt in his voice.

"How should I know?" The vampire's exasperation was equally false.

"What do you mean?" This time Xander attempted to sound plaintive, but his giggle ruined it.

"Is this an attempt to make me insane?" Spike asked.

"What makes you think you're not already insane?" Xander's giggle threatened to morph into a full-blown guffaw.

"Why do I think that's a rhetorical question?" Spike's attempt at plaintive was marginally better than Xander's.

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Xander freed one of his hands to push at the other man's shoulder.

"Why shouldn't I?" Spike preened.

"Have you ever considered modesty?" Xander asked seriously.

"Don't you think that sort of thing is overrated?" Spike kicked Xander's shin lightly.

Xander turned his back to Spike and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. "Can we go to sleep now?"

Spike leaned over and carefully covered an exposed portion of the human's back. His unnecessary breath puffed against Xander's neck as he asked, "Don't I get a goodnight kiss?"

Xander froze, and Spike backed off, moving to his own pillow.

"Go to sleep, Spike," Xander said quietly.

The room was silent for a minute.

"I win," Spike whispered.

"You think?" Xander said.

"Shut up."

Part Eight

Xander kicked off his loafers and stretched his arms out along the back of the seat. He let his head rest against the butter-soft leather and relaxed. God, this was the life. He wondered briefly just when he'd become so accustomed to an existence that included perks like never having to drive yourself, maids who picked up the wet towels, restaurants for most meals, Annie to take care of the details and little to worry about other than Spike. He mentally reviewed that list. Yep, Spike had somehow become his responsibility. How the hell had that happened?

Sure, the bodyguards took care of some things and Annie others, but somewhere along the way Xander had assumed the title of Spike-wrangler. And, somewhere along the way, Spike had submitted to being wrangled. He was still a massive pain in the ass at times, but for the most part he played the game. Early on, Spike's hedonism had threatened the small empire they'd built from the early bar appearances. Too many groupies, too many drugs, too many trashed hotel rooms and too many threatened lawsuits had caused Xander to lay down the law. Spike had chafed at the restrictions at first, but the human's careful, heartfelt pleas for Spike to please stop fucking up their fun, happy and above all profitable life had finally penetrated.

It was during that time that Xander had started booking himself and Spike into two-bedroom suites. It started as a convenience; it was easier for Xander to keep tabs on the vampire that way. After a while, they both realized that they enjoyed the company. On rare occasions, Spike would knock on Xander's door, invite himself into the bed and sleep there, close but not touching. Xander never turned him away, but he never went to Spike's room either. He also didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it.

Even with the close supervision of Xander and the bodyguards, Spike still managed to get into a fair amount of trouble. He was ruthless in using his fame, his looks and his innate sensuality to get what he wanted, and Xander's firing of CJ had merely been the last in a long line of similar dismissals. It was well known that supplying Spike with drugs or the few other things Xander found unacceptable was an express ticket to unemployment. Spike never held the firings against Xander, and Xander never held their necessity against Spike. Each fully understood the others' nature, and acted accordingly.

The door of the limo opened, and Spike slipped inside. He looked at Xander and raised an eyebrow. Xander smiled in return. Both men were wearing what they considered the "travel uniform", black jeans and black tee shirts. Spike kicked off his unlaced Doc Martens and curled his feet under him, tucking himself back into the corner of the seat.

Xander turned and looked out the back window to see the bodyguards getting into two large black SUV's. "We look like a presidential motorcade," he observed.

"Nah," Spike sneered, "we make way more money than that poof."

One SUV pulled out ahead of them, and the other dropped into line behind them. The black vehicles slipped out from under the hotel's portico and into the night. It all ran like a well-oiled machine, and all they had to do was show up. Xander couldn't help but smile.

"You feeling better about going to Sunnydale?" Spike asked.

"I guess I am," Xander replied. "I was just sitting here thinking about how different things are now. We have a lot to be proud of."

"That we do," Spike agreed.

"Did you eat?" Xander asked.

Spike grimaced. "I'll wait 'til we get there."

"Why didn't you go ahead?" Xander asked.

Spike hesitated. "Didn't know where you were," he finally said.

"You don't need me to feed," Xander protested.

Spike turned an appraising eye on his friend. "I'm trying not to scare the guys, right? They're still freaked out about that scene with Ace. If you're in the room they feel better."

"How do you know they feel better if I'm there?" Xander asked.

"I can taste it in their blood - anxiety, fear, calmness, whatever," the vampire replied.

"Oh," Xander said, mildly surprised. "You should have called me, then. I could have come back up to the suite."

"I can wait," Spike said, and pulled a book out of the bag on the floor.

Xander stared at the reading vampire for a moment, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Just when he was able to think of Spike as being a self-absorbed prick, he'd come out with some comment that showed compassion or kindness and screw up Xander's carefully constructed assumption. It was maddening.

Xander woke to a soft knock on the window by his head. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Oh, yeah - limo, Sunnydale, vampire in his lap. Huh? Vampire in his lap. Yep, there certainly was. Well, not in his lap per se, but there was Spike's blond head, pillowed on his thigh, the vampire's body curled on the seat, dead asleep. Xander snorted at his own mental funny - dead asleep, Hee. He opened the window a crack. It was Ace.

"You want me to go check us in?" the big man asked. Xander nodded and put the window back up. He reached down and gently shook Spike's shoulder. Clear blue eyes blinked open and then slammed back shut instantly.

"Wake up, Spike - we're here." Xander kept his voice low; a just-awakened Spike could be volatile. Or snuggly. Which is what seemed to have come up in the rotation this time.

Cool hands wrapped themselves around Xander's thigh and Spike's face pressed against his leg. "Comfy. Don't wanna get up," was the muzzy reply.

Xander loosened the hands and pulled the vampire upright. Spike fell heavily against his shoulder, and Xander automatically wrapped an arm around his back to steady him. The tousled blond head came to rest on his chest, and Spike made a happy, sleepy noise. Xander couldn't help himself. He bent his head and let the tip of his nose almost touch the nape of Spike's neck. Silently, he inhaled traces fabric softener, shampoo and the unique scent of the vampire himself.

Ace knocked on the window. Xander straightened abruptly and pushed Spike off of his chest before opening the window. Ace slipped him two keycards and withdrew. Xander turned to find a fully awake Spike pulling his boots on. Slipping his feet into his loafers, he opened the door. Ace held it as the two men exited the car, and then followed them into the lobby. The Delta was Sunnydale's newest and most luxurious hotel. Xander took in the Art Deco style and quiet elegance. He glanced over at Spike, who nodded.

Ace led them to the elevator. Xander stopped before boarding the car.

"Send Jack up as soon as you guys are settled, OK?" he said to Ace.

The guard nodded. "You need anything?" he asked politely.

"I'll just raid the mini-bar," he said. "Keep the limo out front - we'll be going to see our friends. Who's on tonight with you?"

"Isha," Ace replied.

"We'll only need one of you, and you'll be able to come back with the car and then pick us up when we're ready to leave." He held up a hand to forestall Ace's protest. "Don't argue - I'll explain on the way. Our bags upstairs?" Ace nodded, and Xander stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse.

When they reached their floor, they walked to one of the two sets of double doors off the elevator lobby, and Xander swiped one of the key cards. The doors opened to reveal a luxurious living room decorated in navy blue and gold. To one side stood a fully stocked bar that held a fruit basket and a vase of fresh flowers. The windows were all discreetly covered with heavy blackout drapes, and Xander noticed that the entertainment center had one of each of the most popular game consoles, as well as selections of music and movies.

"God, I love Annie," Spike said, taking in all of the special details he knew were her doing.

"Should we give her another raise?" Xander asked.

"Shit, no," Spike said. "If she makes any more money, she'll be able to retire and we'll be fucked."

"Point," Xander conceded. He turned and walked into the bedroom on the right side of the suite. Spike went to the room on the left. As expected, their bags had already been unpacked; their clothes were hanging in the closets, their toiletries placed carefully in the bathrooms. It's good to be the king, Xander thought.

He stripped off his traveling clothes and found a pair of faded blue jeans and a soft, cream-colored tee shirt. He traded his loafers for leather sandals and ran a brush through his hair. He glanced in the mirror and decided to shave quickly. He returned to the main room to find Spike seated at the grand piano in the corner, quietly picking out a melody.

Spike had also changed clothes, and now wore a lightweight grey sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows over his black jeans and Docs. Xander started rummaging in the refrigerator behind the bar, coming up with imported chocolates, cheese and crackers and two beers. He diverted his path to the door when he heard a knock. He opened it to admit Jack. A tall man with dark hair in a braid that fell to his waist, Jack was the smallest of the bodyguards, weighing in at a mere 250 pounds, but Xander considered him to be the best of them all. Jack's mastery of four different martial arts, including Krav Maga, the official martial art of the Israeli Army, made him the most devastating fighter of their group, except for Spike.

Xander always thought that Jack looked like he was in uniform, even in jeans and a tee shirt. Jack's upright but relaxed bearing and his intense stare intimidated many people. He was fast, tough and hard to get to know, but he and Xander had become friendly over time. Jack was generous with his knowledge, always willing to train with Xander, Spike or the other guards when asked, but he never instigated contact. He walked into the room and nodded to Spike, who rose from the piano bench and walked to the center of the room.

Jack didn't flinch when Spike morphed into game face; he simply held out his arm and looked impassively over the vampire's head. With a glance toward Xander, who was contentedly licking chocolate off his fingers, Spike began to feed carefully. Jack's blood tasted clean and rich. Spike was always surprised by how little of this particular human's emotions he could taste. He didn't know if Jack had some sort of trick for suppressing his feelings, but very little came through. Spike fed quickly, and then pulled away with a nod. Jack returned the nod, smiled briefly at Xander and left.

"He's not much for the pillow talk, huh?" Xander said, after the door had clicked shut. He held a beer out to Spike, who accepted it and drank a third of it in one long gulp.

"Nope. I don't think he likes me very much," Spike said, turning his beer up again and taking a chocolate from Xander's plate.

"He's good at his job," Xander observed, "but if he makes you uncomfortable..."

"Nah. It's fine," Spike said. They both drained their beers, and Xander finished his snack. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Xander said. He opened his cell phone. A moment later, Ace and Isha knocked on the door.

"Ace, I said we only need one of you," Xander protested.

"Isha's going to drive - the driver was tired, so I sent him to bed," Ace explained.

"OK," Xander conceded, and they went down to the front of the hotel. The guards arranged themselves on either side of Xander and Spike and ushered them to the limo. Once seated, Xander called Willow to tell her they were on their way. As he closed the phone, he looked over at Spike, who was looking at him.

"You ready for this, pet?" the vampire asked.

Xander took in a deep breath and released it slowly. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Part Nine

As soon as they stepped out of the car they were mobbed. Spike found himself with one arm full of Dawn and one of Buffy. The witches similarly flanked Xander. He hugged back as hard as he could. Tara skillfully slipped out of the embrace and allowed Willow to attempt to squeeze the life out of her best friend. Xander could hear Willow's hitching sobs in his ear and tried his best to control his emotions. Finally, he was able to break her death grip on his neck and hold her out at arm's length.

"Hi, beautiful," he said in a low voice. He smiled and laughed when she immediately blushed. Xander was amazed. He'd always thought Willow to be a lovely girl, but the years had worked their magic on her, turning her cuteness into a warm, open beauty that took his breath away. Her hair was long, falling down her back in a russet spill, and her green eyes sparkled. Her skin was luminous in the moonlight. In simple jeans and halter top, she didn't look a day over twenty.

"You're looking pretty gorgeous yourself," she growled back, playfully, taking in his longish hair and casually expensive look. Both of their smiles softened, and he pulled her close again.

"I'm a shitty friend, Wills. Can you forgive me?" he whispered into her ear.

"Done and done," she whispered back. She squeezed him once more, and then released him to Dawn, who had been standing by, waiting with impatient grace.

Xander looked Dawn over, noting her battered leather pants and faded tee shirt that read "Uppity Women Unite" before enfolding the tall girl into his arms and lifting her off her feet in a quick spin that made her squeal. He put her back on her feet. "Dr. Summers, I presume?" he asked.

"Still Dawnie to you, Xander," she said. She disengaged from his hold and stepped back, turning him to face Buffy. Xander felt his eyes start to fill with tears as he looked at her. She was still as petite and blonde as ever, a few extra pounds rounded her figure and smoothed out her angles. She saw the tears and swept him into an embrace, pulling his head down to her shoulder.

"None of that," she soothed. "This is a happy homecoming, sweetie. It's OK."

Xander clutched at her shoulders and fought for control. He looked up from her shoulder and locked eyes with Spike for a moment. The vampire was standing to the side with Tara, looking straight at Xander. As their gazes locked, Spike tilted his head slightly, and Xander could see the compassion in the startlingly blue eyes. He took a deep breath and pulled away from Buffy.

"I'm so sorry, Buffy," he said in a low, taut voice.

She reached up and wiped a stray tear off of his cheek, then rose up on her tiptoes to kiss the spot where it had been. "We're good, Xan. Forgiven. Forgiven a long time ago, OK?" He nodded and stepped back. The group started moving toward the house.

"Who was the hottie driving?" Dawn asked.

Inside, Xander was surprised to see that Buffy and Dawn's house had been completely redone. The suburban, middle class décor had been replaced with things more to Buffy's taste; the house was an oasis of rich, natural tones and soft curves. It was stylish, soothing and welcoming.

Dawn and Buffy hurried off to the kitchen to get drinks, while Tara and Willow ushered the men into the living room. Willow joined Spike on the sofa, while Xander and Tara stood near the fireplace. Xander ran his finger along the frames of a row of photographs there, pausing at one of himself, Buffy and Willow taken during their first year of high school. Pulling his gaze away from the pictures, he turned to Tara.

"You look good, witchy woman," he joked, taking in her nicely rounded figure. She was dressed in cargo pants and a wrap top, her feet bare, her flaxen hair in a long braid. Her face was lightly made up, and she glowed with health and happiness.

"I'm happy," she confided softly. "You and Spike are here, and that makes Willow happy..."

"And a happy Willow makes a happy Tara," Xander concluded for her. They laughed together, and he squeezed her shoulder. They walked over to the couch and joined Willow and Spike. Xander sat between them and Tara seated herself at her lover's feet and leaned back against her. Dawn and Buffy reentered the room, each laden with a tray of drinks and snacks, which they deposited on the table in front of their friends. Dawn plopped down on the floor at Spike's feet, and Buffy seated herself in the wing chair at his elbow, tucking the full skirt of her sundress under her legs.

Xander reached over and grabbed a handful of chips from one of the bowls. "Mmmmmm, salty goodness," he exclaimed. "Good stuff. The way to a man's heart *is* through his stomach, after all."

Spike appropriated a beer and replied, "No it's not. The way to a man's heart is through the fourth and fifth ribs."

Dawn nodded sagely. "He's right, you know. You can trust me, I'm a doctor." She shoved a handful of cheese curls into her mouth and washed them down with her own beer. Xander and Buffy looked at each other over Dawn's head and both rolled their eyes before erupting into giggles.

"OK, is it just me, or does the concept of Dawnie performing surgery on people wig you out too?" he asked.

"Uber-wig," she replied.

Dawn peered up at them. "Don't sweat it guys - I won't actually get to do surgery on live people for several more years."

"So relieved," Xander said, wryly. He turned to Willow suddenly. "Wills - where's Giles?"

She reached over and clasped his hand. "He's at our house. Sia is with him. She's, well, she's one of the apprentice witches in our coven and Tara and I are her kind of, sort of, unofficial foster parents." Willow and Tara exchanged a soft look.

"She was one of my cases," Buffy said, referring to her job as a social worker. "She started showing magical abilities at puberty and her parents freaked. She wound up at CPS, and I worked it so she could be with Willow and Tara. She's really good with Giles."

"How is the Watcher?" Spike asked.

Willow sighed. "He's still kind of out of it most of the time. We've got people researching, but we haven't figured out how to reverse the backlash yet. It's frustrating. He understands that you guys are here...we think. You can come see him tomorrow."

Spike felt a tug at the leg of his jeans and looked down into Dawn's wide smile. "I have a friend in Indianapolis - she saw your last show. She said you were awesome!"

He smiled down at her. "It was a good show."

"She said you were just wild for the first couple of hours," Dawn continued.

Xander broke into their conversation. "He was coked off his ass."

All of the women turned shocked eyes on Spike, and he glared daggers at Xander.

"Spike!" Dawn exclaimed. "You don't have some sort of rock star drug problem, do you?"

"Vampire, Bit," he said in an exasperated tone. "Can't get addicted." He gave Xander a look that spoke volumes.

Xander smothered a laugh. "It's true - he can party like Robert Downey, Jr. and not even get a mild hangover. It's kind of annoying, actually." He sat back and listened as Buffy and Dawn harangued Spike about the dangers of drugs, hiding a grin behind his hand.

Finally, Spike had had enough. "Shut up!" he roared, shocking the girls into silence. They stared at him, and he looked down, immediately contrite. In a much calmer tone, he said, "Listen - I have been alive for well over a hundred years; I come from a time when people used heroin to treat the common cold. I am well aware of my limitations, which, as a vampire, are quite limited. If I occasionally want to get high, it is my God-given right as a rock star to fucking get high. Besides, Xander keeps an eye on me so I don't get out of hand. At least, he did until now - because I'm going to kill him for feeding me to you bloody pack of wolves tonight!"

Xander couldn't help it - Spike looked so outraged that he just had to burst into laughter. Willow and Tara immediately followed him, whooping loudly. Dawn started giggling, which set Buffy off; soon they were leaning on one another weakly. Xander glanced over at Spike to see a small grin playing about the vampire's lips. Spike tried to suppress it, but lost the battle, finally joining in the hysteria. They all laughed until they cried. As soon as the majority of the group would regain their composure, someone else would either lose it again or say, "just say no" and set them off one more time.

When they finally wore themselves out, Willow had slid off the sofa into a boneless heap with Tara, Dawn had come to rest with her head in her sister's lap, and Xander was leaning heavily on Spike, who had his arm wrapped around the human's neck in a mock-headlock. Spike released Xander and collapsed into the space Willow had vacated. He squirmed around until he was reclining against the sofa's arm. He bent his legs, and Xander turned so he was propped against the vampire with one arm wrapped around the upraised knees, his head pillowed on his forearm. Willow, Tara and Dawn all sat up against the front of the sofa, and Dawn reached up and pulled Buffy down to them. She settled herself between Xander's spread feet and held her sister's hand. Spike let his arm trail down to rest lightly on Willow's shoulder.

The old friends stayed in this gentle tangle, chatting and laughing quietly for the next hour. They decided that they would all meet the next day at sundown at the Magic Box. The girls were all starting to drift off, so Xander called Ace to come pick them up. He and Spike half-walked, half-carried Willow and Tara to the limo and dumped them in. They each kissed and hugged Buffy and Dawn then took their leave.

"Willow, you have to tell Ace where your house is," Xander cajoled, as the redhead snuggled deeper into her lover's arms.

"Nice car, comfy car," she groaned, trying desperately to fall back asleep.

Xander shook her a little. "Willow. House. Focus. Where is it?"

She cracked one eye open long enough to give Ace the simple direction. As soon as they arrived at the small cottage that was surrounded by lavish plantings, Spike and Xander eased the witches out of the car and walked them to the door. Sleepy hugs and kisses were exchanged, and the women stumbled off to bed. Spike and Xander slipped back into the car.

Turning to peer through the lowered partition, Ace grinned at them. "Those two are the reason you didn't need a bodyguard tonight?" he asked.

Spike looked back at him with a very serious expression. "I know you can't feel it, mate, but power pours off those two. Makes my teeth itch, if you wanna know the truth." He shuddered a little as he sat back.

Ace looked at Xander who nodded in agreement, then turned back to drive them to the hotel.