“Xander?”

“Go back to bed.”

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Voices?”

“They’re…manageable.”

“Dreams then,” Spike gloomily concluded.

“No, I…  Yes.  But it’s no big deal, go back to bed.”

“What now?” Spike asked as he sauntered to Xander’s side, hoping he could pry Xander’s fingernails out of the back of the sofa without causing too much damage to human or soft furnishings.

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

Spike gently stroked Xander’s knuckles.

“Because it’s not like you’re feeling overly stressed, eh?”

“I’m – I’m…  I will be fine.  I will be.”

“I preferred it when it was me you’d cling to when you felt this bad.”

“That’s gone, I can’t even think of that.”

“I’m still here.”

“And so’s that pesky pride of mine.”

Moving behind Xander, Spike stroked his hands over the man’s rigid biceps as he leant against his back.  Inhaling deeply, he rubbed his face in the dark hair.

“Buffy again, was it?  Or Angel this time?  Extraordinary the damage those two can do, even at this distance.”

“It wasn’t them.  Not this time.”

“When Buffy showed up last time, why didn’t you do what I said?  Join in?”

“Because when I suggested it you were furious.  You vamped out and called me a fucking idiot.  You didn’t want me.  You had Buffy, and then you had Angel, and…”

“What?  Both of them?”

“First Buffy, then Angel appeared.”

“So…how…?”

“You were in him, and he was in her.”

“Sounds like he lost another bet,” Spike chuckled, and for once it was the right thing to say.  Xander began to relax, pushing back against him.  “Then what?”

“I…  Spike…”

“Go on, it’s only a dream, after all.”

“I…I…  Lit a matchbook and threw it on the bed.”

“Ouch.”

“But you didn’t die, not then.”

“How?”

“You ripped out your own heart.  You said you wouldn’t be needing it with me.”

Spike’s arms slipped around Xander and he squeezed tight, understanding better the state of mind Xander had been in when he’d overheard the call to Angel, and once again feeling thoroughly ashamed over the whole business.  He knew by now that Xander’s dreams felt real, and that experience, followed by his own petty cruelty…  He couldn’t bear to think of it.

“Did sorry help?  Before?  ‘Cause…sorry.  Sorry, Love.”

“What for?”

“Being an insensitive wanker.”

“No.  That doesn’t help.”

“What will?”  Xander finally gave up his death grip on the sofa and wriggled around in Spike’s grasp, hugging him, unable to prevent a huge involuntary shudder as he did so.  Spike held him, soothed and shushed his fears into a manageable state.  “Tell me?”

“The usual,” Xander told him quietly, starting to feel idiotic now the dream-induced panic was fading.  “If it didn’t seem so damn real…”

“Bugs?”  Another shudder gave Spike the answer.  “Gone now, though,” he promised.  “You can go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to.  That room was full of them.  I was drowning.  I could feel them scratching about in my lungs.”

“They weren’t in my room, so we’ll go there.  You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.  I close my eye and I can’t get away from the damn things.”

“It was a dream, Xander.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“It wasn’t real.  Real is me being with you, keeping the dead quiet, the creepy-crawlies away, looking after you.”

Studying Xander’s face, Spike witnessed a fascinating blend of the just-fucked zone effect, anxiety, and, to his continued amazement, trust.  He resisted the urge to kiss Xander, even though he thought he could without too much opposition.  Suspecting he could take advantage of Xander’s present vulnerability was the best reason he had not to.

Taking Xander’s hand he began to lead him back to the second bedroom, feeling the drag caused by Xander’s lack of enthusiasm, but nevertheless persisting until they were in Spike’s bed.  The lamps were left on and Xander lay stiffly, staring at the ceiling.  Spike, on his own side of the bed and fighting the urge to be closer, was resigned to holding an inanimate hand and inflicting Xander with some honesty.

“I keep saying you know how I feel because…well, you do, don’t you?  You do know it’s not been just sex.”

Xander gave no indication that he’d heard the statement, but after five minutes he uttered a simple, barely there,

“I know.”

“Then…why?”

“I’m…  I was…scared.”

“Of?”

“Exactly what happened.  Even when I was trying to convince myself it was just sex for you, I didn’t believe it, I wouldn’t let myself believe it because I needed – wanted – more.  I know it sounds crazy, but without admitting anything to myself, and even with you repeatedly reminding me that I didn’t know you at all, I thought I was right about you.  So when…when…”

“Whatever it takes,” Spike supplied flatly.

“Yeah,” Xander confirmed, still pained by the concept, turning on his side to face away from Spike.  “God, that hurt.  What made it so much worse was that I’d set myself up for that big a fall.  I tried not to blame you.  I couldn’t even stay angry with you for more than minutes at a time.”

Anticipating immediate rejection, Spike nevertheless snuggled up to Xander’s back and wrapped an arm around his chest.

“Spike…”

“Shut up, you’re not getting rid of me.”

“Spike…”

“Shut up.”

“I told you, when we were on the brink of…whatever this has been, that having someone and losing them might be what breaks me.”  Xander felt Spike tense; placing a hand on the arm that was tight across his chest, Xander squeezed reassuringly.  “I should be thanking you for making me face that fear, for proving to me that I could lose the kind of attachment that we had and survive.  See?  I’m not broken, Spike.  I could tell you the precise moments when I thought I was going to shatter into pieces, but…no.”

“What saved you?”

“Over when it’s over.  I know you’ve resented the concept, and hated that I’ve kept making you say it, but that was the easiest thing of all to believe.  I always trusted this being over more than I trust either of us.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Maybe.  But I’d rather be telling myself ‘I told you so’ than ‘I can’t go on’.  It’s the one thing that stopped me seriously what iffing.  I think if I’d started to see a future for us then found out you were doing whatever it takes…  It would have been the end of me.”

“I wasn’t.  I’m not.”

“You can stop saying that now.”

“I won’t until I’m sure you believe me.”

“What I believe…  I don’t know.  What I’m expected to believe is…  We had sex, I cracked a joke, you took it seriously—  No, you didn’t take it seriously, but it roused some kind of…of…”

“Instinctive…”

“Instinctive reaction of the demonic variety, that meant you couldn’t reciprocate without us having to stay attached for…ever?” Xander tentatively suggested.

“For ever,” Spike confirmed.

“You didn’t want that for either of us, but for some apparently inexplicable reason it still pissed you off enough to need to vent a little – a lot – to Angel.  Naturally, you being a selfish asshole, we couldn’t have talked it through before…”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“You could have given me the chance not to.  We could have talked…”

“You were asleep.”

“You’ll wake me up for sex but not for something this important?”

“I was still angry with you, that didn’t help.”

“Angry at me for losing you the heaven you profess not to give a damn about?”

“Angry at you for almost getting yourself killed.  Repeatedly.”

“Have you considered that the anger might be about you being sick and tired of me and you’re searching for an acceptable excuse?”

“You get killed and the world gets sucked into inter-dimensional war, my professional standing is well and truly blown, and my heart is broken.  Ever considered that?”

“Hey…  I’m not actually the last line of defence, am I?  Feel free to reassure me that if my attempt to contact Dead Guy fails there are several thousand contingency plans.”

“Stick to the point.”

“The point being…?”

“Do you believe me?”

“Do I believe what I’m expected to believe?”

“That’s a no.”

“That’s an ‘I want to believe you but I’m still feeling…’”  Xander mentally groped for the right words; when they came to him he gave a dry chuckle.  “Beat up, battered around, sent up and shot down.  You can call me Mr Wilbury.”

“Which implies I’m the best thing that you’ve ever found.”

“It also suggests that you should handle me with care so I guess we’re both screwed.”

In a sudden move that made Xander gasp in surprise, Spike had him on his back and staring up at a vampire in full game face.

“Look at me.”

“I’m – I’m looking.”

“I saved you from a lifetime of this.”

“But Xander’s all growed up, Baby, and he gets to make his own decision about whether he needs saving from this.”

The face morphed back to human, a deeply frowning human.

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t make assumptions.”

“You…you want this?”

Xander gave a sad smile as a rapid procession of emotions flitted over Spike’s face.

“What I want…  What I wanted was for us to be good until over when it’s over.  Now…  It isn’t as good, but we can be friends.  I hope.”

Spike groaned and dropped onto Xander, one hand snatching a handful of hair to keep Xander’s head still while he was kissed.  Xander didn’t put up any kind of fight or try to free himself, instead he casually tormented Spike’s naked sides with tickling fingers until the vampire squirmed away to scratch.

“You’re a bugger.”

“You should know.”

“Fancy proving it?”

With a fuck-off look, Xander once again turned onto his side, choosing to ignore Spike’s suggestion.  It was only seconds before the snuggling recommenced.

“Want to get the lights, Spike?” Xander asked pointedly.  “So we can sleep.”

“No.”  Kisses were pressed to the nape of Xander’s neck.  “Hell, I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Missed me too, didn’t you.  Like you said, can’t go from that much shagging to none.  I imagined it, y’know: you dealing with it.  Drove me wild, thinking of you getting off without me.”

“You keep this up and I’ll go.”

“No going anywhere,” Spike growled as he rubbed himself against Xander’s hot, cotton-clad body, losing himself in the presence he’d yearned for.  “Did you think of me?  When you were pulling on that lovely cock of yours?  Imagine my mouth around it?  Push your fingers inside that gorgeous arse and pretend it was me fu—”

As good as his word, Xander yanked himself out of Spike’s grasp and scrambled from the bed, at the door when Spike caught him up and pinned him against the solid oak frame.

“It isn’t going to happen, so back off.”

“Xander…”

“How bad do you want this to get?  Huh?  Want to fuck me over so badly I can’t do my job when we get to it?”  With a huge effort, Xander managed to force Spike to arm’s length.  “I meant what I told you.  Mentally, I’m back to where I should be, where we should both be.  You’re keeping me safe, I’m talking to Dead Guy.  If I live through it your people are  helping me with the uber-nasty.  That’s it.  That’s all, and I’m fine with it.  It’s all back in perspective and I’m fine.”

“Very nicely lied.”

“Okay, I’m not fine.  Yet.  But I’ll get there if you’ll just give me a break.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want!” Xander shouted, shoving Spike further away and feeling good for the outburst.  “You blew it!  Understand?”

“I explained…”

“It doesn’t matter that you explained, or that I accept the explanation, I can’t – I won’t – go back to how we were before.  I refuse to cope with this propensity you have for lying about fucking huge issues as if they’re nothing, and I refuse to the power of n to be at the mercy of your moods, or your demonic instincts.”

“You know…”

“I also refuse to listen to you telling me what I know.  When all I really know is that I’m lucky to be stable enough to recover from your games and your so-called affection and…and…going by your past actions, I know that, having turned you down, I’ll be pretty careful about locking the bathroom door from now on.”

Spike winced at that, and Xander experienced a split-second of pleasurable vindictiveness at being able to hurt Spike back before regret kicked in.

“I probably deserve that,” Spike admitted.

“Ah, fuck, no you don’t,” Xander immediately contradicted, snatching back his hands the moment he noticed them automatically reaching to console Spike.  “I shouldn’t be saying this stuff, I’m better than this, we’re both better than this.”

“I understand you wanting revenge.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Bearing in mind I’ll take you back to bed and try again?”

Xander shook his head and gave a soft, sad laugh before meeting Spike’s eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he asked, reasonably.  “Please don’t do that, and let’s stay friends.  Don’t take away the one person I can’t do without right now.”

A moment’s typical inscrutability, then Spike darted forward to kiss Xander’s mouth before withdrawing.  Xander studied the stiff shoulders and clenched muscles of the elegant back that was turned on him, cursed his principles, and redirected his thoughts.

“Spike…  I’ll sleep in the other room, and tomorrow…”

“What about your bugs?”

“I’ll deal.”

“Stay in here.”

“You know it’s impossible, the two of us together.”

Spike spun back, waving him away from the door.

“I don’t have a problem with the other room, do I?  Makes sense us switching.”

“Oh,” Xander sighed in relief, glad not to have to face another stand off with Spike yet.  “Good solution.”

“Until the bugs catch up with you in here.”

“Great.  Thanks for that.”

“Your choice,” Spike shrugged.  Another dismissive wave and Xander cleared the doorway.  “Night, Pet,” coolly from Spike as he went, more convincingly turned off than Xander claimed to be.

Closing the door, Xander leaned back against it and stared at an empty bed that could have been the latest venue for great and extraordinary delights.

“I hate my life,” he groaned.

“Yeah,” came a muffled response from next door.  “I hate your bloody life too!”

…

One moment Xander was worrying about what would invade him during his sleep, the next he was waking up feeling relaxed and well rested; the reason was swiftly apparent.  Spike’s chest against his back and the arm slung round his waist felt so blissfully comforting and familiar it brought tears to Xander’s eye.  For the briefest period he let himself mourn the fact that every positive emotion regarding Spike now seemed tarnished.

He carefully slid out of Spike’s embrace, waiting motionless alongside the bed until he was convinced the vampire was still asleep and not playing with him by pretending to be.  Having successfully sneaked away, he returned to the master bedroom, risking the memory of the bugs in order to make use of its sumptuous bathroom.  Washed, shaved and dressed, he cheerfully made his way to the kitchen for a quick snack, then took his time wandering around the house – which proved far more interesting that at first impression - reading the residual energy and connecting with the benign spirits that had escaped the purging of the house’s negative community.

The walled garden fascinated him, having once been the site of another dwelling far more ancient than this, and he could see the past so clearly it was thrilling and unnerving.  He longed to share this with Douglas, which he sadly accepted was impossible, and even considered asking Terry Sandwell to come along and help him exploit this aspect of his gift to the full.  But he knew Spike would be against it, and this trip wasn’t about Xander’s education and growth as a medium, so he sighed and let the longing pass.

Returning to the house, sharing the stroll with Saul and Jesse and an unknown multitude, Xander looked up to see Spike watching him from the bedroom window, untroubled by the winter sunshine as the rear of the house was still in shade.  Xander gave him an enthusiastic wave and received a warm smile before the vampire ducked away, no doubt on his way to greet his charge, and hopefully, Xander grimaced, not to lecture him about having wandered off.

“You look good,” Spike told him amiably as they met in the kitchen.  “Sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks.”  Xander shrugged off his coat and threw it over a stool.  “The building’s terrific, and there’s this area outside—  No, I won’t say anything now, I’ll read it for you later when it’s dark, you’ll enjoy that.”  With a gleeful rub of the hands, Xander threw open the doors of the massive fridge.  “I’m ready to eat for ten.  Hungry?”

“No.  But I’ll join you anyway.”

“Pig out yesterday, huh?” Xander grinned.

“Had bugger all else to do all day but stuff my face, did I?  There was a fresh delivery and…”

“Don’t need the literally bloody details, thanks all the same.”  Xander stopped plundering the fridge and took a good look at Spike.  “I can see.  You’re all…pink and…full.”  Spike cocked an eyebrow.  “You know what I mean.  Fresh blood kinda pumps you up.  I can see it.”

“Want to feel it?”

Xander paused, significantly.  Paused and…moved on.

“I want to eat.  Haven’t had much of an appetite for a couple of days and I’m planning on making up for it.”

“This an act?” Spike faux-casually enquired.

“No.  No, it’s not, I’m okay today.”

“Good.”

Spike sat at the breakfast bar and watched in silence as Xander cooked, listened to him singing Christmas carols and pretending to be too much of a demon, but in truth being too heavy–hearted, to join in.

As they ate Xander chattered away, about the previous night’s readings, the house and gardens, the excitement he felt at going home, trying his very best not to notice Spike’s morosity.  Lunch finished, dishwasher stacked, and Xander made an extra effort as he turned to Spike.

“What do you want to do now?  There’s a games room, we can play pool, cards, there’s a dartboard, jukebox, bar, there are pinball machines…”

“I miss you,” Spike frowned, speaking more to himself than his companion.  “That’s what the problem is.  I miss you.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re here, but…  You’re not with me.  For me.”

“Which is what you wanted.”

The frown deepened.

“Supposedly.”

“Look, Spike…”

“I was the one spouting off about being true to myself, and then…this.”  Xander started looking around for a suitable surface to bang his head on.  “Being true to myself isn’t pushing you away, it’s…”

“A game of pool, a few beers, music that’s almost too loud to shout over.  Come on, Spike.  C’mon.”  Nothing from Spike, and Xander groaned.  “I’ll be in the basement, that’s where the games room is.  If you want to join me, great; if you’d rather stay here and sulk…”

“Can I go back to being obnoxious?”

“No, you damn-well can’t!”

“It helped.”

“Not me, and I don’t deserve to put up with you behaving like that.”

“You did say I should be…”

“That was a long time ago, and your present day timing is crap.  I don’t deserve any more of that shit when all I did wrong was want a little fake smush with my sex.”

“You should have told me to say I love you.”

“I don’t want you to lie about loving me, and even if you did lie about it, I wouldn’t want to have to tell you to lie about it.  You lie to me about that and it’s gotta be on your own volition, and don’t do that because I don’t want to hear it anyway.  Got it?  Don’t.  And I will never ask.  I don’t want anyone to lie to me about that.”

“Here, say it to me.  Right now.  Look me in the eye and tell me to say it.”

Xander stared at Spike, aghast.

“No.”

Spike tapped his own chest.

“I want to find out what happens.”

“And I don’t!  We already have your insane inner demon thinking about attachment in ways you’re afraid to spell out, the last thing we need is it being scarily and misguidedly love-struck as well as scarily and misguidedly possessive.”  Spike drew breath to speak and Xander held up both hands, gesturing for him to stop.  Spike stopped.  “I’m going to play pool.  Come along, or don’t come along.”

“I’ll give it a miss, I think.”

“Fine.”  Xander started to leave then u-turned.  “While you’re giving it a miss…” he reached for Spike’s shoulder, tapping on the skin that covered the communications implant, “…find out about Christmas.”

Xander hadn’t got as far as the door before the cell phone in Spike’s jeans began to trill for attention; he swivelled, grinned at Spike, and waved as he made his exit.

“Bugger.  Bugger.  Bugger.”

…

Xander was happily potting balls and dancing his way around the pool table to a crashingly loud Rob Thomas track when Spike sidled in and found himself an inconspicuous spot by the bar.  He helped himself to the beer Xander had poured, and admired the man’s body as it moved to the rhythm; it almost killed him when Xander bent over the table and presented him with a prime view of one truly covetable backside.

The final ball plopped into a corner pocket and Xander ran a victory lap around the table, cue held triumphantly above his head.

“You’re very cheerful today,” Spike observed.

Xander turned down the juke box.

“What?”

“You, today, cheerful.”

“Me, tomorrow, home.”  Spike said nothing.  “Ah, you’re not going to tell me…”

“I am going to tell you.”

Spike watched Xander’s spirits start to sink, and then be forcibly buoyed.

“Okay, couple of days later than I thought.  Still going to get there, aren’t we?  Answer yes or expect to get intimate with this cue.”

“He was distracted.  He’ll call back.”

“It’ll give me time to wrap the gifts, write cards.  Can I mail cards?”

“No.”

“There isn’t time to send them via LA.  Or maybe…  What day is it?  I only know it’s almost Christmas.”

Spike checked on his phone.

“The twentieth.  And it’s Tuesday apparently.”

“So that means…”  Some rapid calculations took place.  “We’ve been on the road for…a month.  Just a month.  It feels like…”  Xander simply shrugged, but Spike nodded in agreement.  “The twentieth.  That’s good, that means home soon.”

“Alone?” Spike asked pointedly.

“I know it would be safer with you there,” Xander tried to be glib, turning away to rack up the balls for a new game, “but you’ll only be bored.”

“I won’t be bored.”

“You don’t like my friends.”

“I’m not there for your friends.”

“I’m a package deal, remember?”

“You’re not going to keep your word then?  I was promised you, a six-pack of slick, and twenty-four undisturbed hours in your bed.”

Xander chose to ignore the question, sending the balls flying around the table with an overly forceful break.  He paused to turn up the jukebox then returned, clenched-jawed, to his game.  He stood up from potting his first ball to find Spike at his back.  He didn’t have time to react before Spike pulled him close and wrapped his arms around his waist, swaying them to the painful strains of a steel guitar.

“‘The world was on fire, no-one could save me but you’,” Spike sang along with the song, the touch of his lips on Xander’s neck bringing shivers.  “‘Strange what desire will make foolish people do.’”

Xander dropped the cue and took Spike’s wrists, prying them away.  Too easily, he didn’t realise, until Spike spun him and held him, gazing deeply into his eye until Xander felt quite mesmerised.  The swaying resumed, their bodies moving together with an effortlessness borne of familiarity.

When the expected pass failed to materialise, Xander loosened up, wrapped his arms around Spike and rested his chin on his shoulder, hanging on every word as Spike half-sang, half-whispered the song, not for the slightly disturbing sentiments, but in appreciation of a voice he’d sorely missed while they were apart.

The songs moved on, and they gradually missed a beat here and a beat there until they were still, dancing having morphed into unashamed cuddling.  Comfort.

“I guess you could,” Xander eventually murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Christmas.  Not me and the bed, but…company.  Nice.”

“Safety.”

“Peace.”

“I’ll learn to like your friends.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re right, I won’t.  I’ll pretend to like your friends.”

“Okay,” Xander smiled.  “Okay.”

“You know I’ll get you drunk and then it’s you and the bed.”

Xander chuckled.

“Okay.  But make sure I’m well and truly drunk, otherwise I have no excuse.”

“I’ll make sure.  Meantime…”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Spike laughed and squeezed Xander tighter, falling in with the rhythm of the latest song.  Comfort.  Yes, comfort.

Rudely interrupted by the ringing of the phone.  Grumbling, Spike released Xander, crossing to turn down the jukebox before answering the call.  Xander resumed his game of pool, half-listening but unable to glean much from the ‘uh-huh’s and the ‘right’s.  It didn’t seem too positive though, and he was wondering if they could at least remain in this house for Christmas when Spike put away the phone and turned to him.

“I’m going to call them at Christmas,” Xander insisted.  “If I can’t be with them, I have to call them.”

Xander threw an inquisitive look over his shoulder at Spike, and knew before the vampire had a chance to say it.

“Tonight, Love.”

“Tonight,” Xander repeated, feeling a chill ripple through his body.  “Dead Guy.  Tonight.”

Spike nodded and, deep in thought, strolled away to the bar.  Ten minutes on, when he offered Xander a drink, he finally noticed he was alone.

…

Xander spent some time finishing and editing the letters to his friends, unable to find the right words and hoping that the circumstances would be taken into consideration when these inadequate documents were read.  If they were read.

“I may live thorough this,” he said doubtfully.

“You will if I have anything to do with it,” came Spike’s voice from the doorway.

“Hey,” Xander greeted.

“Hey,” Spike replied.

They gave one another a weak smile.

“I’m done here,” Xander announced, closing down the computer.

“Anything you want to go through before tonight?”

“Anything new to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then…no.  I’ll go in blindly and hope for the best.”

“It’s worked before.”

“It has.  Anything you think I should do before tonight?”

“Rest.”

“I’m too wired.”  Spike appreciated that, and it was relayed in the look he gave Xander.  “We could watch a movie,” Xander suggested with a complete dearth of enthusiasm.  “Or play cards.  Finish that game of pool or…or…  Damn,” Xander finished quietly.  “I thought I was ready.”

“You are.”

“I should meditate.”

“Want company?”

“Yes,” Xander answered emphatically.  “Don’t leave me alone, okay?”

“I promise.”

Xander stood and walked several circuits of the plush living room, looking for the best place to meditate but dissatisfied with everywhere due to nothing more than the circumstances.  He stopped and took a deep breath.

“Who’ll be there?”

“Angel, obviously.  Zooza.  Some of the huminions, security, representatives of the Escolet family.”

“Any of my friends?” Xander asked cautiously.

“No.”

“They aware of what’s happening?”

“By now, yes.”

Xander swallowed hard: no Buffy to the rescue then.

“Okay.  That’s…okay.”

“This was discussed a while back.  I said they couldn’t be there, that you’d find them a distraction.”

“Yeah, that’s…umm…  They wanted to be there?”

“Bloody hell, yes.  You should have heard the fuss.”

“You talked to them all?”

“Conference call.  Like a pack of yapping hounds they were, but I wouldn’t have it.”

“I’ll see them when we’re done?”

“If you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Then you will.”

Lifted by that news, Xander found himself a cosy spot and sank to his knees; Spike joined him, sitting cross-legged, close enough to quiet the voices.

“Don’t leave me alone, Spike.”

“No, Love.  I won’t leave you.”

…

An hour later, and unable to attain the level of meditation he needed to ease his worries, Xander gave up and opened his eye, swivelling his shoulders to loosen some of the tension.  Spike appeared to have found a peaceful place, going by his relaxed features, and, as ever nowadays, Xander itched to touch.

But he didn’t.  He spent time in thought, studying every inch of Spike’s face, hair, neck, shoulders, arms, hands.  He couldn’t seem to get past the hands.  When Spike felt the feathery touch over the back of his fingers his eyes sprang open.</