Six in the morning saw Xander hunched over the toilet bowl, his body enthusiastically ejecting everything in its digestive system.  The combination of too much booze and a bar meal that had basically consisted of a plate of grease with a few items of semi-edible meat and potato floating in it was hardly conducive to a settled stomach, especially when the remainder of the night’s activities were taken into consideration.  In between retches he was thinking, and frightened to think, about getting here the previous night, couldn’t believe that he’d driven in that state: somewhere past drunk on his own, conservative, personal scale, beaten and dazed, worse than semi-blind, it was…

“You moan very prettily.”  Xander jumped at the sound of Spike’s voice.  “Shame it’s only about being hung over, not because I’m sticking cocktails sticks beneath your nails for waking me up.”

“There’s a cure, right?  Nice souly Spike is not here to gloat, he’s here because there was a miracle cure in the last batch of stuff Angel sent.”

“He’s here to complain about having his sleep disturbed.  And now you’re up, there’s the shower – take that as an unsubtle hint.”

“If I move I’ll barf.”

“You’re a never-ending source of entertainment.”

“Leave me alone, Spike,” Xander groaned as his stomach rumbled in ongoing protest.

“My pleasure.”

Spike went and threw himself onto the nearest bed with a satisfied sigh, only to stir moments later when the muttering from the bathroom increased, Xander protesting about a spirit’s choice of timing.  The vampire reluctantly dragged himself to his feet and rejoined Xander, moving near enough to his side to allow the man to lean against his legs, knowing Xander would want to be as close as possible for the peace.

At a stretch Spike could just reach the glass shelf above the wash basin and, with some difficulty thanks to Xander’s unconscious decision to let Spike prop him up, managed to one-handedly grab the tumbler that lived there and fill it with water.

“Here.”

“Can’t move.”

“Sodding hell, Harris, what do you want me to do?  Drink it for you an’ all?”

Xander gave a sorry-for-himself shrug and Spike very slowly tipped the glass, pouring a thin stream of cold water over the back of Xander’s head and neck.

“Nice,” Xander murmured.

More manoeuvring and Spike refilled the glass, emptied it over Xander’s head and listened to the water run off into the pan beneath him.  Again, and Xander was taking his own weight, charily turning to sit against the shower stall and accepting the offer when Spike held out the once-again full glass, sipping experimentally before drinking the remaining water down.  Twice more and a little colour was returning to the chalky complexion.

“Better?” Spike asked, sounding stuck between irritation and indulgence.

“Thanks.”

Spike sank to the floor in front of Xander, elegantly folding into a cross-legged sit.  While Xander stared and wished he could do anything that gracefully, Spike stared with amusement at the water trickling from Xander’s hair and face and gradually soaking his shirt.

“You’re a wonderfully coherent drunk,” Spike eventually said.

“Adrenalin,” Xander explained.  “Know that one.  Certainly recognise the feeling.”

“But you’ve still got some explaining to do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Just a little.  I figure if you start now you should finish by the time your pension’s due.”  Xander added a new groan to his repertoire.  “You know I want to leave tonight,” Spike reminded him.

“Not a chance.”

“Bruises or commitments?”

“Bruises, definitely bruises.  I’ve done all I can for Chrissie.”  Xander leaned his head back against the shower stall.  “Want to help me get in here?  ‘Cause, legs: yes.  Whereabouts I left them: no.”

“Let’s get this straight,” Spike mused.  “You want an admittedly bad, horny demon to strip the clothes from your semi-intoxicated, defenceless body and help it’s highly appealing naked self under warm water which will trickle invitingly…”

“Nyah!” Xander shuddered.

“It’s probably the best offer you’ll be getting.”

“You hate me,” Xander whined, and the grin finally broke out on Spike’s face.

Rising as easily as he’d sat, Spike ignored Xander’s sudden alarm as he was hefted into the vampire’s arms, taken back to the bedroom, and carefully lowered onto the bed he’d left so ignominiously an hour earlier.  Spike went to fetch a towel to put under Xander’s head, then sat beside him and began to unbutton the damp shirt.  Xander’s hands came up to stop him.

“You can’t sleep in that.  You’ll get cold and sick and probably die, knowing my luck.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Spike stood and began shedding his own clothes, unselfconsciously bare in less than a minute and heading for his own bed when he noticed Xander watching with surprisingly blatant curiosity.  He paused, then pirouetted, waiting for the embarrassed roll away, or the partly amiable but entirely cutting comment.  But…

“Was it good?” Xander asked quietly.  “With Buffy?”

To say the question was unexpected would be the grossest understatement; jolted by memories, Spike ceased his display and hurriedly got under the covers, tugging them up to his face until all that showed was blond hair and a tellingly creased brow.  All of twenty seconds and the covers were pushed back down.  Spike leaned up and met Xander’s eye.

“Physically?  Astounding.  Emotionally?”  In a brisk move, Spike was beside Xander, half on him, one bent leg draped over both of Xander’s and feeling unnervingly familiar.  “We were better.  Middle of the night and you half-conscious and we were better.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“It’s what you said, Xander.  Not using.  Needing.  It excites me.  Being needed.”

“She needed you.  Right then, I know she did.”

“Used.  Believe me, I know, I was there.  And you…  Maybe you’re a little embarrassed, a little intimidated, but you’re not disgusted by being this close to me, are you?  Or are you?”

“You know I’m not.”

“And I can feel the difference.”

“After the soul, she was looking out for you.”

“Fits and starts, suiting herself.  Did you hear the way she talked to me sometimes?  Like I was a fucking minion she could—”  Spike bit his lip, tried to be reasonable.  “Sorry.  You don’t want to listen to me slagging off your friend.”

“If she was using you, how am I any different?  You said it yourself, Spike.”

“When I was angry.  I’m not angry now.  You’re nothing like her, like anyone who’s been take, take, take.”

“I hope not.”

“And you’ve never exploded my car,” Spike sighed in fake adoration, determined to lighten the moment, satisfied with the smile he received in response.

Xander appreciated the humour, but his ongoing problem seemed to be his hands as he tried to locate somewhere to touch the vampire in a way that suggested friendship rather than many minutes of intense frottage, but all he kept finding was naked flesh that stirred unwanted feelings liberated by the vampire’s unlikely shows of consideration and the high percentage of alcohol remaining in his own bloodstream.  Spike was searching his face for…something.  Or possibly just checking the mess he was in this morning, one or the other.  But the mess wouldn’t explain why the hungry gaze kept flickering down to Xander’s mouth, or why the vampire’s lips were parting, head dipping as he moved in for a kiss.  Xander forced himself to turn away.

“Hey, c’mon, you can’t want this,” Xander insisted, shivering as the cool mouth diverted to his exposed neck.  “I’m all…”  Spike’s hand cupped his groin, gently squeezed an offer.  “Oh, God.  Aches.  I’m all aches and cuts and bruises; you said I need a shower.”

“You’re getting hard for me.”

“I know.  I know that.  I…  Spike.”

The ‘Spike’ sounded as if it might be something more than stonewalling; Spike’s hand withdrew and he backed off slightly.

“What?”  Xander swallowed hard, wondering whether he could get away with cheating, playing the rather belated and demonstrably implausible entirely-straight card, in fact any card from the suite of avoidance rather than having to be honest.  “Xander?”

No.  No lies.  In light of the conversation of moments before, they both deserved better.

“This…  This would be me using you.  If anything happened now I’d be using you.  Not needing.”

A moment’s hesitation and Spike was at Xander’s neck again, tasting and teasing.

“How about…wanting?”

“Using.”  Xander carefully turned his head back, nudging Spike away so he could meet his eyes.  “I won’t do that to you.  Or me.”

Unreadable emotions glimmered in the blue before Spike gave Xander a sexy smile that felt very false, however well it was played.

“I’m bloody horny, Pet, I’d settle.”

“There’s always an after, though.  How we’ll feel after.  And working together is already hard enough.  So…no.”

Nothing.  Then Spike twisted and wriggled, shoved Xander’s arm out of the way, getting comfortable with his head on Xander’s shoulder, body wrapped around the human’s and, with prods and adroit manoeuvring, encouraging Xander to hold him.

“I’m pretending you’re not using me because you genuinely care,” Spike muttered crossly as Xander, sexual shenanigans successfully averted, began to automatically and guiltlessly stroke wherever his hands rested.  “All bollocks but here we are, cosy and…and…  You’re still damp.  Git.  Could’ve got your shirt off before it threatened to ruin my hair.”  Spike roughly jostled himself impossibly closer, tense under the mindlessly caressing hands.  “Not only will I wake up looking like Shirley Temple, we’ll be bound together by the carpet of moss that mysteriously infested your waterlogged grunge-wear, so much so that you have to change your name to peat.”

“You’re crazy,” Xander yawned.

“Frustration sends me mad.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you though, does it?”

“Mr Convenience?” Xander suggested after a moment’s depressing thought.

“Yeah.  That’d be it.”  Xander felt Spike relax, suddenly as loose-limbed as a cat, and the weight on him doubled.  Comfortably.  And with Spike this close the quiet was very…quiet.  “That’d be it,” Spike repeated softly, and the hand resting on Xander’s chest began to touch rhythmically, initially in time with Xander’s movements, then in time with the tune in Spike’s head.

“What is that?” Xander asked ten minutes later, having almost been lulled to sleep but ultimately brought back from the brink by Spike’s low humming.

“Still sick of the sound of my voice?”

“Guess not.”

Xander eeped as Spike sprang up to his hands and knees, crouching over Xander’s body and staring intently into the sleepy brown eye.

“‘I don't care if it hurts’,” Spike sang as he rocked slowly from side to side. “‘I want to have control.

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.’”

“Uh-huh.”

“‘I want you to notice, when I'm not around.

You're so fucking special.

I wish I was special.’”

Spike dipped and nuzzled Xander’s cheek, dropping his voice to a tuneful whisper.

“‘But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

What the hell am I doing here?’”

He pushed up, sat back, settled into the curve of Xander’s hips.

“‘I don't belong here.’”

It may have felt like a long time – the exchanged look drawn out and firmly shuttered – but it was a minute at most and then Spike was off, diving under the covers of his own bed, back turned on Xander.

“If I see Toby again I might have to kill the bastard child,” he told Xander reasonably.

“We need to talk about that,” Xander told him, trying to sound firm but feeling weak and queasy, uncomfortable in both his skin and his clothes.  “Don’t hurt him.”

He rose cautiously, and with measured movements stripped down to t and boxers.  Apparently there was no immediate danger of his internal organs rearranging themselves, and his legs were reassuringly where he usually kept them.

He thought about another drink of water.  He thought about sleep.  Peace.  He thought about Spike killing Toby and weaved around to the vampire’s bed, clumsily getting in and cuddling up; an arm around Spike’s waist and Spike’s hand sluggishly moved to link their fingers.  Xander imagined he was keeping Toby safe, and let himself fall asleep.

…

“I think it’s time for some of that explaining you keep promising but never deliver.”

Xander stopped eating and looked at Spike’s reasonable face.  It wasn’t one of his better ones due to the twitching in his clenched jaw which belied the whole premise of reasonability.  Xander guessed this face wasn’t one Spike practised much.  Or possibly at all if he could help it.  Twitch.  Talking not thinking.

“Where would you like to start?”

Spike drew breath to speak but hesitated for a moment.

“I d’know.  There’s so much I want to give you a hard time about, I’m spoilt for choice.”

Xander painfully swallowed down the last painfully chewed mouthful of pizza and, with a painful grimace, mentally bemoaned the consequences of getting into drunken brawls.  Painful ones.

“I’m so outta practise.  The whole getting beaten about the head thing, it’s for reckless youth.  And vampires, naturally.”

“Start there.”

“The whole getting beaten…”  Spike nodded.  “I left you, drove for a while…”

“Going home?”

“I may have coincidentally driven in that direction,” Xander admitted, finding his soda can too irresistible to look away from, suspecting Spike was wearing the exceedingly well practised ‘once you’ve saved the world I’ll kill you’ face.  “But I turned around.  Came back.  Found a bar and…  All I wanted was a quiet beer, time to think, and I was minding my own business…”

“Toby came looking for you?”

“No.”

“You said…”

“This guy comes over to me, and the minute he starts with ‘Toby said’ I knew I was in trouble.  And several drinks earlier I’d’ve just got out of there, but…  I was so annoyed with you…”

“How does this get to be my fault?”

“Not your fault, but feeling like that I really didn’t have anywhere to go.”

“What had Toby said?”

Xander gave a pained smile.  Painfully.

“He’s been telling people that he’s scared of me.  Trying to convince them that the only way I could possibly know the stuff I know…”

“Is if you’d killed Wayne,” Spike finished for him.

“I tried to be reasonable with this guy, explain what it is that I do, how exactly I know what I know.  He wanted me to prove it, tell him something, but all I had was a blur of so many voices I couldn’t pick out any single one that was for him.  No focus, no control.  Don’t let me drink again, will you?  Before the big day.  ‘Cause…”  Xander stopped and sighed, bringing up his hands to tentatively feel the damage to his face, concentrating on the area around his remaining eye.  “I’m lucky I didn’t get a black eye, that would have been scary.”

“After you couldn’t prove what you do?”

“I was drunk, and the stupid smart mouth came into play.  You have to remember how successful that used to be.”

“What did you say?” Spike asked, already grinning.

“That none of his relatives could bear to speak to him but the family dog wanted to talk about their first time together.”  Spike laughed and Xander wished it didn’t hurt to join in.  “I’m lucky I got out of there in one piece.  But I did.  And got followed to my car and…this happened.  I guess I’m also lucky that the guy and his pal were drunker than I was by then.”

“Just the two of them?”

“Why?  Do I look like I took on the local football team?  No way I’m going near a mirror.”

“You’re all right,” Spike told him, deliberately sounding as if he was lying and glad of Xander’s reticence over the mirror: this way he didn’t have to explain the rapid healing and get into that whole vampire saliva thing that humans generally found so distasteful.  “I’ve seen worse.  And purple suits you.  And blue.  And red.  And yellow.”

“Yellow?” Xander’s hand shot back to his face.

“The last of…y’know…”

“Where you hit me.  Does my bruise have a bruise?  Ow.  Owowow.”

Spike leaned across the bed and stopped Xander prodding his mottled jaw.

“However mad I make you, you don’t do this again.  No walking off and getting yourself into who knows what trouble.”

“No.  Next time I stick around and take a swing at you instead.”

“You can do that.  If we’re not allowed to fuck I’ll settle for a fight.”

“What the hell is all that about, Spike?  Sex?  Us?  It’s bizarre.”

Spike hmmed and scratched his head.

“I think it’s proximity.  I haven’t let myself get close to anyone for a long time, it’s usually such a disaster…”

“And that tells you nothing about the possibilities here?”

“I know, I know, you don’t have to warn me.  But we sleep together and…  It’s the nature of the demon, always wanting more.  But…no longer allowed to try…taking more,” Spike finished stiltedly.  “You’re quite safe.”  Xander nodded.  “You mean that?  Yes, you know you’re safe?  Or is that ‘I hear what you say’?”

“I’m safe,” Xander said after a brief pause for thought.

“That’s…  I probably don’t deserve that.  In fact…I know I don’t.”

“Okay, there are…things, in the past…”  Spike gave an amused snort and rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with crossed arms.  “What?”

“The past,” Spike said sourly.  “The present.  If you knew how I…”

Spike fell silent and Xander waited a while before clearing away the pizza boxes and soda cans, fetching fresh drinks and wandering around the room to try and loosen up his stiff muscles.

“Okay,” Spike said suddenly, grabbing Xander’s attention.  “Memo to Angel…” Spike began, and Xander grinned as he strolled.  “What’s to tell you about Xander Harris?  He’s grown up well. Very nice bloke all round.  Flashes of the old Harris temper, but mostly it’s under control ‘cause he needs peace aside from the voices.  He’s generally happy with his lot, but he wouldn’t deny that he’s troubled: starting this skill of his so late in life has left him with problems, and I try to sympathise but…  I’m too fascinated by him when he’s in that mode to feign pity for long, and it’s only a matter of time before he catches me out.”  The remnants of Xander’s fading smile were lost to the rapidly growing discomfort at what he was hearing.  “I watch him work and I want to claim him, possess him, rip the throats out of anyone who dares come close to him.  He makes me feel special because I can help him in a way no-one else can and, when he turns to me, to the demon, for solace, it’s…a thrill.  The demon has accepted and connected and I want him, I want…  I want to fuck him senseless, which you’ll have figured out by now.”

“No, Spike,” Xander wasn’t aware of saying, a low, troubled murmur that even the vampire’s sharp hearing missed.  Motionless now, leaning heavily against the bathroom doorframe and trying not to believe his ears.

“Lovely face, even when it’s black and blue; sturdy, resilient body.  Beautiful arse, trim from all that bloody walking, but round enough to make the most reasonable bloke want to sink his teeth in deep.  And I shouldn’t be paying attention to any of that ‘cause this is a job, it’s work, and he’s…  Fuck, he can be so vulnerable, that big heart of his, and I’ve exploited my kind, concerned, supportive bullshit persona to the full and Xander’s fallen for it, distractedly and sweetly.  I’m taking advantage of his good nature, I know, from making him take on this job, which he’s justifiably afraid of, to sharing his body heat and more at nights.  When he figures it out this face’ll be more of a mess than his, ‘cause when that temper flares he’s still handy with his fists and I’ll not put up a fight.

“Is this just me wanting what I shouldn’t be able to have?  As stupid and juvenile as that?  I blame it on the demon, keep thinking the demon wants him, but I’m the demon, and I want him, shouldn’t even try to hide behind that.  I s’pose I could pretend to be an unsuspecting victim of fate, carry on exploiting his good nature, tell him that these feelings have only just hit me like a bolt from the blue.  But I have to be honest; I want to be honest.  Somehow…somehow I knew.  The minute he started to sing in that shit-hole of a room at his chapel, I knew he’d turn my world upside down.

“Is this how you felt about Dru?  Were you captivated by her innocence, her skill, her…abnormality?  Did you start to get hard every time her misery threatened to break her up, ‘cause when I see a man as tough as Xander brought to his knees by a force I can’t even sense…”

Spike’s attention wandered momentarily to his sire, his lost love.  Remembering the nonsense she’d come out with, worse than any of Xander’s ramblings.  He’d been ferocious in his need to protect her and he’d missed the duty when it was gone, in fact he’d never felt quite right since.  Maybe Xander was a replacement?  That would explain a lot.  A lot but not all.

Xander watched the internal deliberations, somehow convinced himself not to panic, made himself move.

“Spike?”

Spike felt Xander sit back down, no further away than where he’d been before.  Brave enough to listen to this, to this demon wanting him, not running to find a place to hide.

“Of course I can’t dismiss the demon’s inherent desire to dominate the only other strong male in the immediate vicinity.”  Spike dropped his arms, looked to Xander, who in turn was watching with an expression of horrified interest.  “Master vampires fight rivals as a matter of course, you know that, learnt that from the watcher?”

“Yeah.”

“The winner has the right to take it all: standing, possessions, consorts, minions, mouth, cunt and/or arse; heart, if necessary.”  Spike’s fist reflexively clenched tight.  “In the past I haven’t hesitated to exert my authority with a little brute force and, quite possibly…”  The arms came back up to hide Spike’s face and he returned to his memo to Angel.  “Quite possibly there’s an extremely watered down version of that happening here.  With Xander so distraught, the demon has accepted our fumbling in the dark as the submission of the opposing male and been satisfied.  Or…”  The matter-of-fact, lecturing tone softened into the voice Xander was growing more familiar with, one that he associated with darkness and comfort and quiet.  “Maybe…  I’ve changed, and Xander has changed, and the combination of those changes leaves me…wanting him.  I do want him.  Xander, who is both freak and consolation.  Damaged.  Hardy.  Irritating.  And…delicate.  Unconsciously sexy; unlikely he’ll take my interest in him seriously before he’s flat on his back and I’m buried balls deep.  Except…” Spike sighed, “contact is almost accidental, beyond our night time regime he won’t be touched with any feeling outside of his panics, and…he won’t kiss me.  Let me kiss him.  A few kisses and I could win him over but even when he’s giving in to lust he won’t give in to me.”

In one of the sharp moves that Xander found so disorientating, Spike was up and sitting opposite him, trailing his fingertips over the un-bruised cheek.

“I’m sorry, Xander.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

Spike focused on the dark eye that was understandably filled with confusion.

“He won’t let himself become attached.  He can’t afford to like me any better,” Spike whispered.  “He needs me.  He won’t let himself use me.  He doesn’t.  Want.  Me.”

The focus shifted to Xander’s mouth, and Xander moved just out of reach as Spike tried, once again, to kiss him.  Spike chuckled to himself and kissed Xander’s cheek instead, before standing and reaching for his coat, shrugging it on.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Because of this?”

“No, Pet, not the biggest deal, is it?  I’m crazy enough to want someone who doesn’t want me.  Nothing new there.”

“Everything you said…  It isn’t just about being wanted.  Or not wanted.”

“Don’t fool yourself.”

“Even if it is, this isn’t like you and Dru, or Buffy.  You don’t love me, it’s – it’s…like you said.  Proximity.  The demon reacting.”

“That’s right.  Don’t worry, I’ll get over it.  Just talking about it has made me see how ridiculous the idea is.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“I need to see a boy about an axe.”

That jolted Xander out of his shocked state; he leapt up as quickly as his aches would allow, grabbed Spike’s coat and hung on.

“You’re not going anywhere until I explain a few things.”

Spike wrapped his hands around Xander’s.

“That bastard is going to get a little of what he deserves.”

“Please, Spike, sit down and listen, please?”

Spike considered.

“Does that work both ways?  Will you listen too?  Because if you won’t I have no choice but to deal with matters my own way.”

“I’ll listen, I promise.”  Xander tried to pull Spike back into the room, and felt the resistance.  “Please, Spike.  I promise.”  The resistance dissolved and Spike let himself be drawn along.  “It’s difficult because I have to make decisions based on what I know and…  That’s part of the point, isn’t it?  Sharing with you, not being the only one who knows what’s going on.”

“Yes.”

“I can do that, I’ll get used to it.  Eventually.”  Xander sat Spike down, in one of the chairs rather than on the bed, because…  ‘I want to fuck him senseless.’  …it seemed more businesslike.  And this was business.  Xander opened his mouth to launch into his explanation of the events surrounding Wayne’s death, and…  “This supportive bullshit persona of yours that I’ve apparently fallen for…”  Spike sighed and had no choice but to accept this.  “Is any of it genuine?  Do I have to reconsider everything I’ve thought about you since you turned up?”

“No.  I was reporting back to Angel.  That’s how I report back to Angel, sweeping monochrome statements that he takes with a pinch of salt.”

“Last night you had me fooled.  Completely.  Even if I’d been sober I think I’d’ve believed anything you told me.”

“Because you’d be right to.  Good instincts.”

“But…”

“I’m in there.  That persona.  Just felt shit about using the pumped up mode on you.”

“Okay.  I get that.  And I guess it worked, so from your point of view, job well done.”

Xander couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice, and Spike made the only offer he could.

“You want me to hand over to Angel?”

“Hey, freaked, not insane.  And – and…moving on now.  Wayne.  Wayne, no disturbing thoughts of a Master vampire exerting his authority, even if it is watered-down.”

“Xander…”

“Wayne.”

“Yes.  All right.  Wayne.  Or Toby.  Or plain common sense.  You walked off when you shouldn’t have: how would it have been if you’d got so wound up at the pool you passed out?  That thug turns up, swinging his bloody axe, you’re completely at his mercy.  Or the uber-nasty could have got at you, left you defenceless…”

“Toby…”

“Is a killer.”

“No.  No, Spike, he isn’t.  Toby didn’t kill Wayne, and I doubt that he’d have hurt me.”

“The axe was falling, Xander, I—”  Spike did a double take.  “He didn’t kill Wayne?”

“He didn’t kill his brother.”

Spike blinked.  Rewound.  Replayed.

“Toby didn’t kill Wayne.”  Xander shook his head.  “Then who did?”

Xander paused as he recalled the boy’s – both boys’ – distress.

“His father.”

Spike burrowed into his pocket and pulled out the photograph he’d picked up prior to rescuing Xander the previous day, smoothing out the creases and staring at the family again, trying to figure out how he’d missed the pertinent dynamics.  Toby glaring at Wayne; Mum doting on her youngest; Wayne…  What was he…?  Ah.  Barely caught at the bottom of the picture, Wayne sneakily pinching his brother and earning the glare.  Dad…

“Who was taking this photo?”

“Toby’s girlfriend.”

“And Dad really shouldn’t be looking at her like that, should he?”

Xander shook his head again and went back to wandering, unreasonably glad that after his shower he’d put on baggy old sweats that made his backside look as if it was unappealingly hanging halfway down his thighs.

“The day that Wayne died he and Toby were playing at the pool, and Wayne went through the wood to the picnic area, as he often did, looking for any of his friends who were at the lake.  What he actually found was his father and Toby’s girlfriend in the family car, having sex in the back seat.  When his dad realised he’d been caught, he tried to talk to Wayne, he even threatened him to try to stop him telling his mom, but Wayne got pretty hysterical.  There was a chase back to the pool, Wayne slipped and fell in.  He remembers his dad reaching for him, and thought he was going to pull him out, but he…”  Swept up in Wayne’s memories, Xander paused, hugging himself and fighting back empathic tears.  “He held him down.  And when…when he’d passed out, his father put a foot on his back, kept him down until he was dead,” Xander managed to choke.  A few minutes to calm himself – strictly not looking at Spike, not sure he’d ever be able to look at him in these circumstances again – and Xander was able to continue.  “Toby saw it all.  Saw but wasn’t seen.  Wayne says his brother’s been terrified ever since.”

“That his dad will come back?”

Xander slowly shook his head.

“That he won’t.”  Xander crossed and took the photograph from Spike, studying the family group, weighed down with sorrow at the fate that was to befall them.  “Talking to Chrissie, she makes excuses for him shooting through, the fact he couldn’t cope with Wayne’s death, but…”

“You think she knows?”

“Suspects.  About the girl.  About her husband.”  Xander sank onto his bed.  “That poor boy.  What a mess.  I’m assuming the father did this in a panic, because he was scared of losing his wife.  Instead…  He lost everything.”  Xander put the picture aside and rested his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.  “Sometimes I think I’ll never understand people.”

“Toby was going to kill you to cover this up?”

“I thought about it when I was out driving yesterday.”  Head up, Xander closed his eye and went through the motions.  “I was sitting on the bench, and I kind of…felt Toby move.  When I looked around I saw the side of the axe-head.  Maybe he would have liked to