“What is it?” Spike demanded.

“Where?”

“In your head.”

“Nothing.”

“That explains a lot.”

“You told me to be quiet and I’m being quiet.”

“I didn’t mean for…”

“I can’t tell you I’m going to follow your orders like some sort of automaton so I’m shutting up.”

“I didn’t mean that either.  Well, I did, but…”

“And I have…”  Xander peered at the milometer.  “…sixteen miles to go before I regain the power of uncensored speech.”

“Very unnerving: a silent Xander.”

“You should have thought of that before you started issuing commands.”

“I don’t want to care, have you thought of that?  I wasn’t looking for any kind of attachment either, but now it’s there…”

“It isn’t there,” Xander untruthfully protested.

“Now it’s there, I don’t want to see you suffer a horrible death.”

“I’m not listening,” Xander insisted and turned away, frigid back to Spike, but a grin on his hidden face.

Spike glanced over.

“One of us has a reflection, wanker.”

Xander began to giggle and gave up the charade, relaxing and throwing a hand across to rub Spike’s thigh.

“Wanker, huh?”  The hand crept higher.  “Maybe, but can you afford me?”

Spike wriggled down in his seat a little, giving Xander room to manoeuvre.

“I’ve given you a thousand dollars on deposit, get to it.”

The hand withdrew as Xander grimaced.

“Oh.  Oh, yeah.  About that.”

“The wank or the money?”

“The money.”

“What?  You lost it?”

“No, I’m not that irresponsible.”  Beat.  “Quite.”

“So…?”

“We had that fight over the brooch, and I went out and…  Umm…you’re right, I lost it.”

“What did you spend it on?” Spike sighed.

“I lost it.”

“It’s not like it matters.”

“It doesn’t?”

“I don’t care whether you lost it or spent it.”

“You don’t?”

“Unless it was spent on the most expensive whore in the county.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Spike thought over that particular day…

“We fought, you went out, we ended up at Jo’s…” and Xander saw him figure it out: “You gave the money to the chapel, didn’t you?”

“Will that make you mad?”

“No.”

“Then, yeah, I did.  They were raising funds to buy cushions to make the seating more comfortable for the congregation.  Doesn’t sound like a great cause, but I know the older members will really appreciate it, so…”  Xander shrugged.  “You’re really not mad?”

To Xander’s relief, Spike began to laugh.

“That is so typically you.  Putting old biddies’ bums before your own safety.”

“Do you have any more money that I can give away?  ‘Cause we have a few projects at the Stokes that…”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I thought you weren’t mad.”

“I’m not, but I sometimes wonder if you are.  Clinically.”

“How clear is clear?  Clear of that place?  Are we clear yet?”

“Want me in the back?” Spike asked with a satisfied smile.

“Yeah.  I was thinking in the trunk.  Then my questionable sanity and I can drive the rest of the way without being insulted by a man who thinks the best way to keep a low profile is to have hair that attracts moths.”

“Don’t start on the hair.  Not when yours looks like it’s been cut with a knife and fork.”

“It practically was, that’s why.  It was much longer than this and I got fed up with it and cut it myself.”

“Why not get it done professionally?”

“That would have meant going out, and I don’t like to go out,” Xander admitted self-consciously.  “I’d have been trapped with the hairdresser’s biography in one ear and their entire departed family’s in the other.”

“I’d forgotten.  Your life, your real life.”  Xander shrugged and went back to silently staring out the side window.  “How about you have it done this week?  I’ll keep you company and…”

“No.  It’s okay, I don’t need anything fancy.”

Spike nodded, accepting.

“The way it is: I do actually like it.”

“And I don’t actually care.  What does it matter how it looks?  Not as if I’ll be having an open casket.”

Xander clutched at his seat to steady himself as Spike swung the car off the road and slammed on the brakes, finding himself grabbed and brought around to face Spike before the Cadillac had stopped moving.

“None of that.  You go into this manifestation thing with that attitude, you’re bound to get yourself killed.”

“You think we’re going to die.”

“I don’t know what to make of what’s going on but I certainly plan on living through it, and not alone,” Spike finished pointedly.  “You think I’ve seen so many people die to let that happen again?”

“I hate this.  If I die and you don’t you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“I wouldn’t deserve forgiveness.”

“This is…  This is way too heavy for me, I don’t want this.  I don’t want to think about either of us dying, I don’t want to think about either of us being left behind, I don’t…”

“Either of us?”

“Yeah, either of us.”

“It never occurred to me that you’d feel anything if I died.”  Xander stared at Spike in utter disbelief.  “Why should you?”

“I can’t believe you said that.”  Spike shrugged.  “Spike…  I…”  Xander shook his head, looked away and back.  “Speechless and not for good reasons.  Just…”  He waved a hand at the windshield.  “Drive.  Let’s just…go somewhere.  Drive.”

“Not until…”

“What do you think of me?” Xander suddenly demanded, trapped between exasperation and upset.  “What kind of person do you think I am that we could spend this time together – this kind of time together – and I wouldn’t care if you died?”

“You would, then?” Spike asked hopefully.

“Trying to get a rise, yeah?”

“No.”

“Trying to…  You need me to say I care, is that it?  You tell me to be just sex and I’m trying to be what you want or not so much what you don’t want and I’m trying not to ‘what if’ and—”  Xander abruptly stopped, considered his situation, juggled with courage and conviction.  He could do this.  I can do this.  “Spike, I have to tell you…  Since I figured out we’re going to die, I…”

“We’re not going to die.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to make it easy for me.”

“I’m not.  I think it could be rough and, I admit, at one point I had a pretty bad feeling about it, but I’ve totally swung back the other way since we came across those tossers in the club car park.”

“Okay, if the end of the world was in the hands of those guys we wouldn’t rush back from lunch, but they’re not the ones waging inter-dimensional war.”

“Yeah, but if they’re all that’s stopping us getting the information to prevent it happening…”

“Wait, wait.  We’re really not going to die?”

“I don’t think so.”

“All of the ‘what happens to Spike’ was for nothing?”

“Looks like it.  At least this time around.”

“And…I…you…we…  Ah…fuck.  Fuck!”

“You’re not pleased?”

“Fuck!”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Why are we running then?  All that stuff at the house…”

“Was true and it has been from the start.  Low profile, safety, blah, blah, blah, I’ve said it until I’m sick of my own voice, and that’s rare for someone as narcissistic as me.”

“I thought it was all settled, I was…  Never mind what I was, I can’t be now and…  Fuck.”

“Were you looking forward to going?” Spike asked quietly.  “That face-to-face meeting with Saul and Jesse you spoke about?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…  I’m pleased, I am pleased.  Relieved.  And…unattached,” Xander finished weakly.

Spike looked at him strangely for a moment before his head jerked around and he was lowering the window, listening hard.

“Can you hear that?”

“Actually…I think I forgot to pack my bionic vampire ears.”  Xander watched Spike listen, relieved to pass over a conversation that bore a rather disturbing message of continued life and resurrected the unwanted necessity of emotional caution.  “What is it?”

“Let’s find out, eh?”

…

They cruised up to a police roadblock, Spike parking at the side of the road before the nearest officer could begin to gesture.  Xander pulled on his eyepatch and, windows down, they waited to be approached; a weary, grim-faced individual crossed to the driver’s side of the Cadillac, taking the car’s documentation that Spike had ready and handing it over to a sidekick to be validated.

“Hi,” Xander said.  “What’s happening?”

“Can I see some identification, Sirs?” the officer requested, firmly but politely, and wallets were found, cards passed out.  The cop – undersheriff by the insignia on his uniform, Randall by the name plate – studied what he’d been given before crooking a finger, standing back as Spike, then Xander, climbed out of the car.  “Do you have any objection to a search of your vehicle?”

“Knock yourself out,” Spike offered.

Spike handed over the fob with the car’s controls, and this was passed to another officer who performed the search as they stood aside, both exceedingly grateful that there was no blood on board.

“Where are you folks headed?”

Spike waved a hand in Xander’s direction for the explanation.

“We were visiting the spiritualist chapel in Woodbury, and we’re on our way to the chapel in Lestor.  I can give you contacts if you need to check us out.  I’m based at the Stokes Chapel in New Forest; we’re all a part of the same group.”

“So, you’re…?”

“I’m a medium.”

An eyebrow rose curiously as the cop took a better look at Xander before turning to Spike.

“And why does Mr Harris need a private investigator with him?”

“I’m not here in an official capacity; we’re old mates and I’m along for the ride.”

“English.”

“American citizen,” Spike reminded him as he pointed to the ID card Randall was re-reading.

The sidekick returned with the car’s documentation, glancing over Spike’s ID in the Undersheriff’s hand to confirm the name against what he’d been given by the registered owner.

“Friends of Mr Lincoln,” he told his superior.  “All checks out.”

Randall made a couple of notes, took Angel’s, the Colbergs’ and Jo’s telephone numbers and returned the IDs, just as the cop searching the car found the stake Xander had carved, and waved it at his boss.

“What’s that for?” Randall asked.

“Vampires,” Spike and Xander said together.

“Vampires,” Randall repeated slowly, looking over their frighteningly sincere faces before he gave a nod for the stake to be returned to the trunk.

“Can you tell us?” Xander urged.  “What’s happening?”

“Course he can,” Spike said.  “After all, it’s going to be all over the local news.”

Randall stared up the empty road for a moment, his expression deeply troubled.

“Missing person,” he finally told them.

“Can we help?” Xander automatically volunteered.

A tired smile crept over Randall’s face.

“I don’t think the sheriff would be too happy with a psychic…”

“No, as a medium I’ve never done that, I wouldn’t know where to start, I meant if there are any searches.”

“We won’t be here, Xander.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re on a set itinerary.”  Xander turned back to Randall.  “I come from Sunnydale, you know the place that…”  Randall was already nodding, so Xander was able to stop before he delivered his least convincing lie.  “Well…missing person, kinda hits a raw spot, even now.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think we have it covered.”

“Happened before, hasn’t it,” Spike said quietly.  “This one isn’t the first.”

Randall didn’t even bother trying to deny it.

“How do you know that?”

“I can see it in your face.”

Xander tensed, worried that Spike was pushing the man too far, but the cop smiled again, genuinely, sadly, and he nodded.

“You sound like you’ve been there.”

“There’s always one,” Spike sighed.  “Always one that gets away.”

“I’m hoping this isn’t mine: this is the case I want to crack before I retire.”

“How many victims?”

“This would be the fourth.”

“Get any back alive?”

Randall paused, just for a telling second.

“No.”

“I’m so sorry,” Xander told him.  “I wish we could help.”

“Xander, you can’t help everyone.”

“I can try,” Xander retorted belligerently.

Spike rolled his eyes and held out his hand to the cop, sharing a firm shake.

“Best of luck.  You’ve got our numbers if the Sheriff starts hankering after a good medium.”

“Sure.  Or if it turns out to be a vampire.”

“Especially then,” Spike agreed.

Two minutes along the road, Xander had to ask:

“What did he call you?  As we drove off?  Mr…whatever it was it wasn’t Armitage.”

“Hang on.”

Spike dipped into his inner pocket and once again pulled out his wallet, handing it over so Xander could rifle through the detritus to find the ID card Spike had used.  The minute Xander found it and read the name he began to laugh.

“Did you choose this?” he wheezed as the laughter finally died down.

“Angel.  He called it the Sunnydale grand exit persona.”

“He has a sense of humour.  I never knew that.”

Angel’s involvement made it funnier still.  Another glance at the card and another guffaw.

“I thought it sounded rather dignified,” Spike grinned.  “William Burns.”

…

They found another faceless motel – this one on the outskirts of Lestor – and the moment they had access to their room, Xander rushed in to switch on the TV and try to discover more about the case they’d stumbled upon.

As Spike had predicted, the local station had half-hourly updates, even if there was little new to say on the subject at this hour.  The missing person was Tania Varley, a nineteen-year-old student, home early for the Christmas holiday.  Her pretty face smiled brightly from a recent photograph, in contrast to the ashen and devastated appearance of her family as they spoke to journalists the previous evening, desperately pleading for the person who had Tania to return her to them.

“That ever happen?” Xander asked Spike. “People being returned?”  The vampire simply snorted in response.  “Yeah, I figured not.”

“Let it go.”

“That’s not so easy.”

“Turn the telly off, and let it go.”

Spike deliberately got between Xander and the screen, constantly moving to block the view as Xander attempted to see past him.

“Will you get out of the way!”

“Not until I have your complete attention.”

A focused glare was better than being ignored, and Spike smiled the enticing smile that might, with a bit of luck, get him exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not in the mood, okay?” Xander snapped.  “Now, will you…”

“Hang on a minute.  You wind me up for hours and then you’re not in the mood?”

“I want to watch this.”

“We’re not going back.”

“Okay, we’re not going back, but I still want to watch this.”

Spike slowly peeled off his t-shirt and held it out to his side before letting it drop.  He stretched and flexed, ran his hands over his chest and stomach, down to rest on the waistband of his jeans.  He heard Xander swallow.

“Not in the mood?  Fair enough.  Have to take care of myself then, won’t I?”

“Do that.  And do it away from the TV.”

Remaining exactly where he was, Spike took his time with the button, then undid his zip, tooth at a time, guaranteeing there was an erection waiting to push past the unfastened material and be delicately caressed by waiting fingertips.  Xander gazed on in dumb lust, wanting to be the one touching, wanting Spike on his back, simply…wanting.  But he was going to live through this, and he was already fatally attracted, and attachment was only a hair’s breadth away, and…

“Sorry, Love, am I distracting you?”  Spike took the tiniest step aside.  “That’s it.  You watch your telly.”  An obvious case of ‘TV?  What TV?’ as Xander’s attention went with Spike, practically drooling as the vampire squeezed out the first dewdrop of pre-come.

“Tell me,” Xander said, throat tight and dry.

“Lie to you, you mean?”

“Tell me.”

More bullshit, but Spike good-humouredly went with it, even tried to sound convincing to ensure they both got what they wanted.

“Just sex.  Over when it’s over.”

That was enough, and Xander virtually leapt at Spike, yanking him into an embrace and kissing him fervently.

“In the mood, in the mood,” he earnestly explained as he edged them toward the bed and toppled them down, kissing Spike some more, and then some more again as he fumbled over clothes and footwear, trying to find ways to strip them without stopping the kisses.

And there it was.  That awesome moment when they were naked and pressed together, hot against cool, hard against hard, rocking their hips and murmuring with too-long-delayed pleasure.

“Going to fuck me?” Spike panted.

“Can we just…”

Xander eased Spike onto his back and went with him, copying everything he’d learned from Spike and confident this was okay for them both, because he wanted okay and he wanted to get off and he wanted…just about now.  Grinding their cocks together, he was acutely aware of every barely-there touch Spike trailed over his flushed, way-too-sensitive skin, eventually halting the flow of kisses long enough to take a few breathless breaths.  The hands on him crept around to cup his buttocks, squeezing the firm globes encouragingly, and Xander groaned as he thrust and wriggled a little harder, so close now, so close.  A single fingertip of Spike’s dared to go further, and as it tickled the opening to Xander’s body he abruptly came, yelping with protestation and surprise, wanting less and more and squirming uncontrollably until he finally collapsed onto Spike in a quivering heap.

Not aware of dozing off but jerking awake with a start, Xander instantly began an inner tirade about his own selfishness, muttering apologies to Spike before moving aside and reaching for the vampire’s cock.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I—  Oh.  Don’t.  Have to.”

“You think I could have resisted coming with you?  That display would have got a statue off.”

“Display,” Xander repeated with embarrassment.  “That’s great, I’m…”

“Sexy as hell; let me enjoy it, eh?”

It was just about impossible to resist the smugness brought about by that comment, but Xander covered it by making a big show of wiping them down and getting comfortable.  He stretched out alongside Spike and admired the view, wanting to touch but knowing where touching would lead; of course Spike had been absolutely right that Xander could be persuaded into anything, and Spike now had this reputation that intimidated Xander a little, but…  After this encounter, how believable was that?

“Six hours, my ass,” Xander taunted.

“Is that an offer?”

“We can all last six hours if we don’t have to prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.  Besides, it’s your fault I was so het up.”

“No, I don’t think het is the word you’re looking for.”

“Was it an offer then?  Six hours of your arse?”

“Nyah!”

“Predictable, predictable, pre…”

“I’d never walk again.”

“I’m willing to pit my sexual prowess against your ambulatory priorities any time you like.”

“Uh-huh,” Xander murmured distractedly.

The TV was still playing in the background, and Xander’s attention had been caught by an item documenting the history of the case that Undersheriff Randall was trying to close.  Giving Spike an inattentive pat, Xander sat up to watch.

“You need some sleep,” Spike pointlessly told him.

“Yeah, I know, I will.  Don’t worry about me.”

“You mean I can instantly stop worrying because you tell me to?  I wish I’d know that a couple of weeks ago.”

Xander smiled at Spike’s snarking, not noticing as it grumbled into silence, too troubled by what he was seeing on the television.  It wasn’t in his nature to not help, and maybe it was fortunate that he couldn’t figure out any way to do so, unless the girl was dead and able to contact him as Wayne had but that was the last thing he wanted.  The latest footage of the search for Tania Varley was shown, the Sheriff taking time out to speak to the reporter; by his side was Randall – John Randall, the text at the foot of the screen revealed – and in the glare of the lights the man looked grey and haunted, far older than he could logically be, even if he was headed for retirement.

Doing his best not to disturb Spike, Xander turned off the TV and left the bed and the zone, semi-dressing and moving to the far end of the room; he leaned against the wall, concentrating on his connection with Saul.  Maybe he was too tired or disturbed to convey exactly what it was he needed, but no help there, just the usual cacophony of voices that had no bearing, and no loved one present to listen.

“Come back to bed.”

Spike’s voice startled Xander, wrapped up as he was in his own private world.  He inhaled deeply, released the breath slowly, scrubbing his fingers in his hair before leaving his hands linked on the top of his head.

“No point.  I can’t sleep.”

“You don’t have to sleep.”

Xander was about to snap a terse reply but the glare he threw in Spike’s direction discovered the vampire rearranging the pillows as Xander did when he sat up in bed and talked.  It made Xander feel good, and it made him feel bad.  Cared for was great, cynical bastard was…not so great.

“I apologise, wholeheartedly,” he told Spike as he crossed to and dropped onto the bed.

“For?”

“Thinking you were talking about sex.”

“Talking about talking.  Although, sex…”

“Ruin the moment, why don’t ya?”

Spike smiled, only teasing, and they both knew it.  Up and swivelling, he sat cross-legged alongside Xander and surprised him by taking his hand, stroking it in a seemingly unconscious act as he focused on the man’s troubled face.

“So talk,” Spike encouraged.

Xander hardly knew where to start until a factor common to them sprang into his mind.

“It reminds me of Dawnie.”

“That girl is nothing like Dawn.”

“When Glory took Dawn, we had Buffy on our side, and we knew that somehow Buffy would save her; together we would save her.  But I remember how bad it felt: the waiting, the fear.  All Tania’s family has is the knowledge that a serial killer has their daughter, their sister, and the chances of getting her back alive are barely this side of zero.”

“I’m not unsympathetic, but…I have to be objective.  Apart from almost getting lynched last time you interfered…”

“Don’t exaggerate, and…  Hey, helped not…”

“Plus you need to be constantly available for the Dead Guy event and…”

“I’ve heard it all before, Spike, and it means as little to me this time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spike sighed.  “Bloody tedious, aren’t I?”

“You’re good at your job.”

“C’mon then, give me the details.  Tell me how you think you can help.”

“Details, I can give you, but how to help?  Haven’t a clue.  My only chance would have been the residual energy in the area she was taken from, but as nobody is exactly sure where that is…”

“Does that mean this is all about beating yourself up for being useless?”

“No.  I can be realistic.  And I can be unhappy for the right reasons; this isn’t about me.”  Their fingers knotted together, hands falling still.  They sat in silence for a while.  “How would you go about this if it was one of your investigations?” Xander eventually asked Spike.

“The trail’s already cold so…  I’d start with as much information as I could gather, take a look around her home, the last places she was seen, talk to her family and friends, compare the previous cases.  All pretty basic and obvious.”

“Couldn’t you…”

“They don’t want our help, Love.”  It took a while before Xander could nod an agreement to that.  “Why don’t you concentrate on what you can do, the difference you can make?  We’ll visit the chapel tonight, and they’re bound to ask you to muck in: that’s where you’ll find people to help, and you’ll do it brilliantly.”

“I d’know.  Maybe not tonight.”

“Yes, tonight.”  Xander looked curiously at Spike.  “You need it, Xander, you need to feel your worth.”

“As if the mindless fluffing from you isn’t enough.”

“My fluffing is well considered, I’ll have you know.”

A gradual smile lifted Xander’s expression from the depths of gloom.

“Yeah?”

“Good, cheerful again!  Now, about this sex you mentioned…”

“I didn’t…”

Spike sprang down to the foot of the bed and, leaning over to grab Xander’s ankles, had him flat on his back in one quick yank.  A giggled protestation was quietened by Spike prowling up Xander’s body, passionate growl strengthening as he morphed into his true face and comically pounced on Xander’s neck.  A joke, but he’d picked the side with the scar, and as he brushed over it Xander gasped and his hands shot up to clamp Spike in place.

“That was accidental,” Spike immediately assured.

“Do it…un-accidentally,” Xander requested shakily, turning his head to emphasise the offer.

“No.”

“It feels…  I have no words for it.  I’ll settle for extraordinary.”

“Know why?” Spike relaxed onto Xander’s body and the demonic features reverted to human.  “To make sure our food is obedient.  Our saliva heals flesh to keep our food fresh; this…sensitivity ensures our prey doesn’t turn us down when we come back for another snack.  It might feel erotic but it’s about maintaining you as a victim.”  Xander turned his head back, blinked away the lust and studied the honest expression on Spike’s face.  “You’re no victim, Xander.  I don’t want a victim.”

“But if you know that – we know that – and it feels…like it feels…  Doesn’t that make it kinda harmless?  Just a little…kinky?”

“Harmless?  If you’d been able to stop drooling over him long enough, you could have asked the smorgasbord that was Riley Finn when you had the chance.  Course there’s nothing to say he’d’ve been able to concentrate long enough to answer you, not after you’d put the idea into his head and he’d started craving another fix.”

“Shut up about Riley, I was teasing you over him, and that’s all.”

“He might have hated me for it, but I did him the biggest favour.”

“That’s right, you’re all heart.”

“And I’m doing the same for you.”  Shifting his weight onto one elbow, Spike’s free hand moved to caress Xander’s face, brush back his hair.  “You don’t want to be addicted, do you?  I thought you valued your free will.”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed.  “I guess I wasn’t looking at it like that.”

“If it were…  Oh, I d’know…  A game, on the other hand…”

Blue eyes twinkled suggestively, and Xander stopped feeling ridiculous over the bite just long enough to start feeling ridiculous for a whole new reason.

“Maybe, if I knew you better.”

“If you…!  How many times do you need to unload up my arse before…”

“It’s not about the physical.”

“You think I’m contradiction after contradiction.”

“Why is this—  No, forget it, you have that killer look on your face that says you’re going to be right even if rightness isn’t on the same continent as you.”

“Killer look?”

“It’s all…don’t fuck with me, and…and…”

“Hot?” Spike smirked, and twitched his hips.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”  The smirk morphed into a pout, all prettiness and fake sympathy.  “Pooooor Love.”

They stared at one another for a moment, barely able to retain straight faces.  Then, with a theatrical sigh, Spike pushed off of Xander and, flopping onto his back, flaunted his much admired body with a smooth, luxurious stretch that left Xander gawping and appreciating and, very especially, lusting.  Spike smugly saw it all, and in that same, liquid manner, wrapped a few strands of Xander’s hair around a finger and used them to draw the man to him for some passionate kisses.

Even at his most naïve, Xander would have known that he was in danger of losing a grip on what he could and couldn’t have.  Spike had such a wonderfully seductive way about him, a physical availability that assured Xander he could ease Spike into the perfect position and enter his body without hindrance or objection.  Fantasy.  The vampire was more fantasy than reality, the partner that took and took more, took and wanted, wasn’t afraid to show the want.

It was hazardous in a way that Xander wished he could refuse to see, but if he was going to live through this….  Abandoning the sensual delights on offer, he sensibly, reluctantly, rolled away and stared at the ceiling, concentrating on quelling the desire so his fuck-addled brain could start to deal with the barely manageable problem of wanting Spike in more than a physical sense.

“What’s up?  Other than this?”  A nail traced over Xander’s erection and he shifted onto his side to face away from Spike, vainly hoping to make himself just a little less accessible.  “Xander?” Spike coaxed, using the soft and silky voice that the human seemed to have no defence against.  “Talk to me.”

“You don’t want to hear this again.”

“Try me,” Spike encouraged.  Soft.  Silky.  Irresistible.

“I’m…  I am so bad at the sex only.”

“No, Petal, you’re good, very good,” Spike contradicted as he moulded himself to Xander's form, intentionally missing the point.

“Don’t be…!  Aren’t you supposed to be being obnoxious?”

“Can’t bear to think of you hating me again.  A month ago you thought you hated me and…”

“A month ago I never thought of you at all,” Xander assured.

“Now?” Spike purred as he nuzzled Xander’s ear, beginning a slow rub of his erection against Xander’s backside.

“Now?  I…I…oh, God…”  Xander hastily turned and fell onto Spike, between thighs that were already opening in welcome.  He felt his cock being cooled by a handful of lubricant as the passionate kisses were mindlessly resumed.  “Now…” he gasped, as he was manhandled into Spike’s body.  “Now…I never stop.”

…

Blow.  Job.  Xander’s brain slowly dragged itself back to consciousness after an insufficient six hours sleep.  Blow.  Job.  Blow job.  Blowjobblowjobblowjob.  Blooooooooow job.  Yep, had that sussed out.  One of Spike’s finest, he judged, although they were all Spike’s finest as far as he was concerned, and he confided that in a mumbled nonsensical way that left Spike chuckling around him.

Close to coming and Spike’s fingers, somewhat predictably now, wormed between Xander’s cheeks, and even if Xander didn’t want to be penetrated again it didn’t make Spike’s attempts to get him accustomed to this kind of attention any less horny.  Xander knew he’d have to remember to use the same technique when he finally got to go down on Spike and…

The thought of sucking Spike, the sensation of a fingertip fucking him, and Xander was back to verbal nonsenses as he spurted into Spike’s throat, body spasming as it tried to deliver yet a little more at the sound of one of Spike’s purrier growls.

“Enough,” Xander panted at the vampire’s continued coaxing.  “You’re gonna kill me.”

A naughty snicker and Spike was crawling up Xander’s body, licking and nibbling his way to Xander’s mouth and thoroughly amused by the face the human pulled when Spike moved to kiss him.

“What?”

“You just…  I don’t want to taste me.”

“Ah, come on, you might like it.  I do.”

Another try for a kiss and a comical tussle before Spike gave up his not-entirely-serious attempt.

“Mouthwash,” Xander urged as he tried to prod Spike off the bed, “mouthwash.”

Spike sighed and snuggled up to Xander’s side, nuzzling and kissing his shoulder.

“You’re not a very gay gay,” he observed.