It was good to be home, Xander didn’t question that.  Good and…lonely.  Yes, he could have had company if he’d picked up the phone, but it wouldn’t be the company he wanted.  He felt a little guilty, knowing how eager his friends from the chapel were to see him, but not guilty enough to make that particular call.

He’d arrived home on the Friday, and had lasted until Sunday before trying Spike’s cell, not caring by then how much he was likely to irritate the vampire.  No answer, no facility to leave a message.  Xander wasn’t only missing Spike, he was also worried about him.  For him.  No word, and Xander knew that eventually he’d give in and call Zooza or Dylan or, at a push, Angel.  It had been folly to insist they shouldn’t keep in touch once he’d arrived home: they might have let a few clues slip as to Spike’s whereabouts or wellbeing.

He’d received reproachful calls from the Scoobies chiding him about his quick getaway from LA, but he didn’t feel able to ask them for news.  He still wasn’t entirely sure if they knew about him and Spike; if they did, he chose to pretend that their reaction was ‘lucky Xander’ for what he’d experienced, rather than ‘poor Xander’, for having Spike shoot through.  He knew things had moved on and it was less likely now, but he hoped that Buffy wouldn’t give Spike a hard time over this.  Hmm, Spike and Buffy in the same thought, but no pang of jealousy.  Maybe Xander really had grown up.  Or maybe all that talk of trust hadn’t simply been talk.

…

He carried on with his exercises, and felt the benefits as his body grew stronger, his sight virtually perfect, but he wasn’t able to sleep and soon fell back into his old habit of rejecting his bed and simply letting himself doze in his armchair whenever he was exhausted enough to ignore the voices.  His lack of appetite might have been about weariness, but since he’d lost the desire to eat when Spike walked away it was hard to tell.

Too cold really, but he enjoyed the garden.  He’d missed this tranquil, overgrown little oasis and the birds that gathered there to feast on the substantial leftovers from barely touched or aborted meals.  It surprised him that he recognised so many, and he had to repeatedly remind himself that he’d only been away for a couple of months or so, not the extended period his mental clock seemed to insist upon.

He could no longer concentrate on the puzzles in his book, but he did enjoy the little notes and doodles that Spike had left for him in the margins.  It reminded him of the great affection that had existed between them.  It also reminded him to look for another book, however much that saddened him now because he couldn’t share it with Spike.  He rifled through the volumes on his shelves, searching for one in particular that Henry had left there.  It was about England, very out-of-date because Henry had bought it when he was at university, but full of information and pictures of the sights that Xander was unlikely to ever see for himself.  He stared at the maps at the back of the book and wondered about ‘William’s Patch’.

He persisted with his reports, revisiting the file entitled Manifestation daily but writing nothing.  On the rare occasions he slept deeply enough to reach dream state his head was full of too-real nightmares featuring Ezequiel Escolet and his gruesome family.  It made the prospect of documenting the uber-nasty’s machinations all the more difficult.  It also made his Spike-based fantasies as much about comfort as sex.

Thoughts of comfort led to moments of analysis.  It wasn’t, Xander decided, any of the obvious reasons that had allowed Spike to get under his skin.  Sure, the vampire was gorgeous and charming and fun to be with and smart and so sexy it ought to be illegal, but it was the quiet moments, the softer times when Spike would be melancholic or vulnerable or lost, when he needed Xander the way Xander longed to be needed.

Xander would relive those times over and over, mentally recreating the instances when he could hold Spike and bring him comfort.  Find comfort.

…

A glimpse of yellow through the window and Xander knew the Mustang had arrived.  He was relieved, not only because of the past associations, but because he needed to know he could escape for a while, drive away from this place and find a little freedom, far away from any kind of a population in the hope of cutting the voices down to a minimum.  Yes, okay, he stroppily admitted to himself, he wasn’t physically up to such an escape, but it was still a relief to know he had the means.

For a brief, mad moment he hoped it would be Spike making the delivery, but it was daylight, and there was a dark head of hair atop the man walking up the drive.  Xander ambled into the hallway to collect the keys.  He could chat to the driver, ask how things were in LA, casually drop Spike into the conversation; he’d play it as general interest, no big deal, no, not at all.  Maybe end with a, ‘Say hi to Spike for me when you see him’ and, if the guy saw Spike, and if the ‘hi’ was passed on, Spike might feel the need to reciprocate.

But just before Xander reached the door he heard the keys drop onto the windowsill and, after a single rap, the footsteps walked away.

He felt his depression quite keenly at that moment, and for a while he couldn’t deny it, allowing himself to be as miserable as the situation warranted.  A part of him had been torn away and left a gaping wound.  The fact that he didn’t regret a second of being with Spike ensured that the wound would heal cleanly rather than fester and eat away at him until there was nothing left, but at present, that was no consolation.

…

Valentine’s Day brought a card from Simone, a handmade card and a photo from Kirsty.

It made Xander think about his belated Christmas, and the bagful of unopened presents sitting on the spare bed.  He’d enjoyed making his plans for a February Christmas but it was impossible to instigate them.  He pretended it was about a lack of genuine seasonal cheer.

…

Three weeks at home and Xander was obliged to speak to Simone.  He was feeling ill, fluey, and he suspected it was about neglecting himself.  More than that, his loneliness had reached a point where it felt as if it were crushing him.  Although he insisted he still didn’t want to meet anyone face-to-face, it was nice to talk, to be verbally fussed over and brought up to date on the chapel gossip.  He spoke to Simone, and then he spoke to Henry.  After suffering the usual palpitations recalling what Escolet had done to Douglas, he called his mentor and spent several hours discussing the intricacies of his psychic experiences on the road.

He felt better for the contact, but Xander knew that now he’d mentioned feeling poorly to Simone, it wouldn’t be long before she turned up on his doorstep.  It was with quiet resolve and a brief flurry of inner panic over explaining his brand spanking new eye that Xander answered the tap on the front door that evening.

To find Spike on the step.

They stared at one another for a long minute while Xander tried to figure out if his flueyness was making him hallucinate.

“Spike,” he said unsurely, making no move to allow the vampire inside.

They stared.

“Can I…?”  Spike gestured.

Instantly flustered by this need to act, Xander stumbled back, waving Spike to enter.

“Sorry, yes, yes, come in.”

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“I, er…”

Xander shut the door and leant against it.  Spike studied him and frowned.

“Actually, you look like a ghost, what have you been doing to yourself?”

“Nothing.”

“And does nothing include sleeping and eating?”

Embarrassed at having so rapidly resumed the lifestyle that Spike had denigrated, Xander brushed Spike aside, heading for the living room.

“I’m okay, tired, that’s all, you know how it is.”

Spike was with him instantly, refreshingly cold hand pressed to his clammy brow.

“It’s more than that.  Should I do something, get someone, what do you…”

“Stop, stop, stop.”  The fussing ceased and Spike took a reluctant step back.  With this assumed rejection the expression on his face stated, quite eloquently, crushed.  “Uh-uh,” Xander murmured, not wanting that, not wanting to see a reflection of himself, of the sadness or the loss or any of the other negative emotions he’d been learning to live with.

“Uh-uh?”

“I don’t…”

Xander couldn’t help the tears that filled his eyes; lost for words, he shook his head, reaching for Spike and taking for granted that he would be held in return.  He wasn’t wrong: Spike responded promptly, but gently.

“Xander,” Spike whispered, a single word filled with yearning.

“Are you okay?” Xander asked hoarsely.  “I’ve been so worried.”

“Shh, shh, shh.  Don’t have to worry about me.”  Oh, sure.  With a shudder, Xander tightened his grip.  “Still not properly well, are you, Petal?  How about we put you to bed and I look after you?”

“How long?”

“Until you’re better.”

“No.”

“No?”

“How long?”

“How long?  Oh!  How long.  As in, am I here?”  Xander nodded.  “Well, we need to talk about that.”  Spike leaned away to examine Xander’s pallid face, brushing the hair out of his eyes, off of his forehead.  “But…  Later.”

Expecting objections that never materialised, Spike carefully picked up Xander and headed upstairs, waiting for an indication of which bedroom and carrying him inside.  He sat Xander on the edge of the bed and, confidence once again slithering away, seemed unsure of himself as his gaze flicked about the room.

“If you stay I can sleep,” Xander told him, seizing this unforeseen opportunity before Spike evaporated into thin air.  “Then I’ll be fine.  When I’m fine we can talk.  Y’know…  Later.”

Xander stared at Spike and Spike stared at Xander.  They…stared.

“Can I help?” Spike eventually asked.

“Uh-huh.”

Spike helped Xander out of his thick plaid shirt, pausing to examine the recently damaged elbow.

“Looking good.”

No reply from Xander and Spike grinned as he recognised why.  From the fucked look on Xander’s face it was all about the demon’s proximity and the peace.  Trainers and socks soon went, jeans following a little more slowly, Spike being ridiculously careful over Xander’s knee.  Moving away, he waited for the voices to bring Xander to attention.  Xander blinked and blearily focused on Spike.

“I didn’t dream you then?”

“No.”

“’Cause…it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’m putting you to bed, and I’m staying with you.  Anything you want before we settle?”

Xander chuckled to himself.  Who else but Spike could walk in and take over as if he’d stepped out for five minutes rather than five weeks?

“Tell me you missed me,” Xander said quietly as the humour faded.

Spike glanced away, but too late to hide his pained expression from Xander.

“Might have.”  He cleared his throat in a bid to clear the tremor from his voice.  “Used to you, ain’t I?”

“I’ve missed you like crazy.”

With a shake of the head that Xander found impossible to interpret, Spike hurried over and eased Xander under the covers before moving to the far side of the bed and stripping off, climbing in beside Xander and cuddling up as if it was still the most natural thing in the world to do.  Xander groaned and pressed himself closer.

“Quiet?” Spike smiled.

“Mmm.”

“How priceless am I?” Spike joked, and Xander warmed to the tone, raising his own dozy smile as the zone and the comfort kicked in.

Xander wanted to know if Spike would still be here when he woke, but he was too weary, or possibly scared, to ask.  So…the moment.  He existed for the moment.  A brief and precious interlude of peace, of being stroked and cosseted, of having never reached over when it’s over.

Spike watched Xander fall asleep.  From standing on the doorstep feeling terrified of outright rejection, to being wanted and toasty in Xander’s bed: less than thirty minutes.  Bloody hell, he was good.

Real or imagined arrogance aside, he knew that if Xander had slammed the door in his face it would have shattered an already fragile heart.  He’d needed the time away, to deal with both the Vree’vathets and his own distressing, infuriating issues, but…had he missed Xander?

“You ask the stupidest questions,” he told Xander as he nuzzled into the man’s scruffy hair.

Xander nodded and dreamily murmured,

“It’s a submarine.”

“Nah,” Spike sniggered, “just showing my affection.”

Xander sighed and snored; Spike hummed and snuggled.  Eventually they both slept, and peacefully, for the first time in…five weeks?

…

Xander woke at dawn, snapping out of sleep in fear that the drapes were open.  He peered over his shoulder, over Spike’s sleeping form, to the covered window.  Safe.  Spike was safe.  Here and safe.  Safe and here.  On cue, the vampire stirred, closing the miniscule gap he’d allowed to open between them.

“I’ve missed this,” Xander whispered.  “You.  I’ve missed you.”

“Sleep, Love,” Spike mumbled.  “Not well.”

“I’m fine.”  With one of his strange little rumbles of contentment, Spike drifted back to sleep, leaving Xander with the soppiest smile on his face.  “I’m fine.  Now.”

…

Feeling hugely better for the good night’s sleep, Xander was fully alert by mid-morning and managed to ease his way out of Spike’s embrace without disturbing the vampire.  He went through his exercises, invigorated by the fact that Spike was around to see the positive results, showered, and then peeked into the bedroom to find that Spike was still asleep.

It gave Xander a few private moments to study his…lover?  Were they back to being lovers?  It was barely possible to accept that Spike was here, here and in his bed, here and caring enough to mollycoddle Xander, to do nothing more than give.  Spike’s arrival seemed a hazy memory now, but it hadn’t left the impression of someone who was simply passing through.  Did that mean he was staying?  Did that mean he was staying for now?  ‘Until you’re better’, so did that mean Xander would have to fake illness to keep Spike around?  He considered the extent of his acting skills.  Appear ill, yes.  But Spike would soon figure out it was a ruse, and then…

Xander shook away the thought of Spike leaving, so happy to have Spike here that he wanted to be positive.  Yes, they had to talk, but was there any reason to expect the worst?  Okay, there was a sensible answer to that question and it suited Xander to completely ignore it.

Refusing to listen to any inner voice that sounded remotely like his own, Xander went downstairs to check for mail and feed the birds.  When he came in from the garden, he found Spike pacing, pissed off, waiting for him.

“You’re shivering,” came an immediate accusation.

“It’s cold out.”

“And you’ve been exercising.  Before you try denying it, I heard you.  That much heavy breathing and groaning should have involved me and a few creaking bed springs.”

“But I…”

“You shouldn’t be outside in the cold, and you shouldn’t be exercising if you’re not well!”

“Spike…  I’m okay.”

“How okay?”

“Uh…”  Xander wandered through to the living room, Spike in scowling pursuit.  “I do have a sore head – non-eye related – and a few aches and pains, but…”

“You’re not well.”

“Yeah, I guess I could be coming down with something…”

“I rest my case, you sodding nitwit!”

“…but it’s more likely the way I’ve been living.  When I was with you I got used to the good things in life,” Xander joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.  “The many hours of undisrupted sleep, the whole appetite and eating thing, the stimulating company, the vigorous sexercise regime…”

“I don’t want you ill.”

“Okay, okay, enough.  You’re here for a few hours and you’re already mad at me for being me.  If I’m sick, why don’t you just turn around and go back to LA until I’m well?”

“No,” Spike snapped.

“’Cause this stress is exactly what I need, huh?”

“What you need—”  Spike finally stopped pacing and made himself loosen up.  “Xander.  You forget that I travelled half the world to make Dru better; a little chicken soup and TLC isn’t exactly beyond me.”  More self-enforced calm.  “Stress-free me.  All right?  Stress-free Spike and a happy Xander.”

“Happy, healthy Xander.  Wait and see.  Little more rest, some decent food, and…  Jeez, I’m starving, how come I didn’t notice that?  You hungry?”

Nice swerve there by Xander, exploiting a known weakness.  Spike replied with an implausibly casual,

“I’d eat.”

“Good.  Okay.  Good.”  Xander left for the kitchen and immediately returned.  “What?”

“What have you got?”

“Everything.  Simone sneaks in, leaves fresh, sneaks out.  So…everything.”

Spike shrugged.

“Fry up?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds great.”

“Can I help?”

“Uh…  That a general offer?”

Spike nodded, and all at once his expression was open, unguarded, sweetly attentive.  Untroubled and un-anxious and un-all those depressing emotions Xander remembered too well from the hospital.

“Love?” Spike prompted.

“Yes,” Xander told him vaguely before crossing to him and staring hard and expectantly.  “Do you…  I mean…can I…”

“What?”

“Umm…  I don’t know…”

“How is it if I just say yes?”

“OhthankGodforthat.”  Xander yanked Spike into his arms, kissing him with passionate abandon, before pulling back with a jerk.  “You can’t catch anything from me, right?”

“Uh…”  Spike dragged himself out of his smooched daze.  “No.”

“OhthankGodforthattoo,” Xander announced before launching a further assault.

Spike had barely recovered from this barrage of kisses before Xander’s grumbling gut sent him hurrying determinedly fridge-ward.  An instinctive grab caught the tail of Xander’s shirt and Spike dragged him back.

“We have to talk.”

“Food first, then I’ll have the strength for…whatever.”

“Come and sit down.”

“No,” Xander protested, tugging himself free of Spike’s grip.  “’Cause it sounds like you’re going to tell me stuff I don’t want to hear, and if you only turned up to say goodbye then it can wait until after we’ve eaten.”

“I’ve already said I’m staying to look after you.”

“You think that’s enough?”  No answer, but Spike managed to persuade Xander to sit.  “Why’d you let me think…  Why’d you let me kiss you?”

“You caught me by surprise, it was the last thing I expected.  Then again…I like you kissing me.”

“If you’re here to re-dump me…”

“I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did!  You made up your mind about what you thought I thought and you dumped me for it.  And I didn’t think what you thought, I listened, like you told me to, and…  I believed you.”  Xander took a deep breath to calm himself and looked Spike square in the eyes.  “I believed you.  I’m upset about the rest, but I’m angry that you didn’t give me the chance to say that I believed you.  Because I trusted you, Spike.”

“How about now?”

“You mean…  Trusting you?”  Spike nodded.  “Does it matter any more?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Then…it matters.”

Xander thought.

“I do, I do trust you, of course I do, I’m just…a little…shaken.”

“It really does matter,” Spike said with great sincerity.

“There you go again, sounding like bad things…”

“No.  All right?  No.”

“Not bad but…serious?”

“This business with the Vree’vathets.”

Spike saw Xander’s whole body tighten.

“You mean Mrs Uund’d’tar, don’t you.”

“It’s more than…”

“I told you I listened in the hospital.  You said I had to grow up and I understood what you meant and I’ve done the best I could.  At times you have to do whatever the job requires and I’ve come to terms with that.  What I don’t need at this very moment is a blow by blow account of your glorious bouts with Mrs Uund’d’tar, okay?  I don’t want to know how magnificent you were, or about demon passions that a human can’t match and how you can be as wild and perverse as you like without worrying about damaging…”

“Oi!” Spike shouted.  “Oi!”  Xander looked away, vocally quiet now but body language screaming out his unhappiness loud and clear.  “Xander…  Even my stupidity and insensitivity knows some bounds, I’m not about to…”

“You—  You did what you had to?”

“I did what I had to,” came the quiet agreement, and Xander’s eyes clenched shut, his hands curled into fists.  But briefly.  Because the listening and learning was real.

“Okay.”  Knowing that he had to accept and move on if they were to have a chance at togetherness, Xander took another deep breath.  “Okay.  I knew that.  It hurts.  But I understand.  Half of LA, what choice did you have?”  Xander made himself look at Spike, almost managed a smile.  “Thank you for being honest.”  A little unsteadily, Xander got to his feet.  “Food.  Comfort food.  Plates and plates of comfort food.  You like big guys?  I’m gonna be a big, big guy.”

“You really can handle this,” Spike said to Xander’s back, sounding quite awestruck.  Xander nodded.  “Am I worth the pain, Xander?”

“Yes,” Xander whispered, barely able to get the word out.  Spike was instantly there; Xander slumped as strong arms crept around his waist and cool lips pressed against his neck.  “You’re here, Spike.  Whatever you’ve done you’re still mine and I want you here.”

Spike gently brought him about and held him, rocked him.

“Thank you, Love.  You’ve given me everything I need.”

“To do what?”

“To stay.”

Slowly and curiously, Xander leaned away and studied Spike’s face.  He seemed sincere.  And unexpectedly sane.

“You…?”

“If the offer’s still open.  Well, even if it isn’t.  You say no and I’ll only stalk you, you know what I’m like.”

“You…  Stay?”

“For good, Xander.  If you’ll have me, I’m here for good.  I’ll be nipping back to LA if there’s the right kind of job for me, the kind where it’s only me at risk, but…”

Xander clutched Spike to him, emotionally defenceless yet feeling entirely secure within the vampire’s embrace.  Cocooned in the silence that was one of Spike’s greatest gifts to him, Xander began to process the incredible news, to stretch his belief a little further.

“For good?”

Kisses peppered Xander’s jaw and cheek until Spike found his mouth.

“For good.”

The kisses were tender and loving and ridiculously horny, but Xander’s grumbling stomach prevailed and Spike sent him off to the kitchen.  Spike stood in the centre of the room and looked around, trying to see it with the eyes of a man who’d just come home.  Old fashioned, a fraction shabby, but comfortable, warm and clean; Xander liked the place, so that counted for a lot, but it wasn’t exactly what Spike would have opted for, given the choice.

“I’ll have to check about making changes,” Xander told him from the doorway, having apparently read Spike’s mind.

“What changes?”

Xander shrugged.

“So the place feels more like you live here too.  More like yours.”

“It all feels like mine, Love.”  Xander questioningly raised his eyebrows.  “Vampire, remember?  It’s the mentality.  Lord of all I survey.”

Xander tutted and returned to the kitchen.

“Read my reports,” he called as he went.

“What?”

“Reports.  Laptop.”

“Where’s…?  No, got it.”

As Spike booted up the computer he listened to Xander cooking, setting the table in the adjoining room, singing as he worked and sounding genuinely happy.  Reassuring sounds.  Despite the time Spike had taken making up his mind about this move, it continued to feel alien and unlikely and…possibly the best thing he’d ever do in his souled life.

Spike scrolled through Xander’s files and his eyes were immediately drawn to the one marked Manifestation; it didn’t take any kind of a genius to figure out it was the tale of Ezequiel Escolet, and it didn’t surprise Spike to find the document was empty bar the heading.  Still, recording their adventures would be good for the both of them, Spike decided, an opportunity to share the better memories, and to help and council one another through the terrible ones.  Catharsis.  Just what they needed as they embarked upon this new life.

He began to read another of Xander’s accounts, easily able to tell how distracted the man had been during its writing.  He made change after change in the first paragraph.

“Your punctuation is appalling,” he called out.

“What?”

“I said your punctuation is appalling.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.  I always try to get places on time.”  Once again Xander appeared in the doorway, there to find out what Spike was laughing at.  “What?”

“Nothing much.  I think you misheard.  I hope you misheard.”

“Oh.”  Xander gestured to the laptop.  “Not making a fool of myself, am I?  You would tell me?”

“The Council will be glad to have these, I promise you, and they’ll pay you well for it.”

“Giles said you bullied the price up,” Xander grinned.

“And Giles’d be right,” Spike grinned back.

Xander simply stared for a moment.

“This is so strange.  You being here.  Don’t you feel it?”

“Of course I feel it, I should.  But didn’t you ‘what if’ me here?”

“I did,” Xander admitted, memories of the more domestic fantasies flitting through his mind.  “You here, yes.”

Spike set the computer aside and stood.

“So…what now?”

A long, intense look reminded Xander of just how gorgeous Spike was, and stirred many of his saucier, undeniably non-domestic fantasies.  But hunger won out.  Besides, food was strength, and Xander thought he might need to build his up a little if Spike kept returning his gaze so lustfully.

“We eat.”  Spike’s focus skittered down to Xander’s groin.  “Food, Spike, food.”

“Right.  Food.”

Spike gave Xander the cheekiest smile, and paused to kiss him on the way to the dining room.

“Think you can die of sex?” Xander asked hoarsely.

“Only one way to find out.”

Oh, yeah.  Xander followed Spike to the table.  I am so gonna find out.

…

“There’s more to tell,” Spike announced as they approached the end of their meal.

“About?”

“Mrs Uund’d’tar.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.  Unless you caught something from her and…”

“She wanted a chance to rule in her own right, and that couldn’t happen if she submitted to me.”

Xander paused in thought, trying to figure out if Spike was saying what Spike appeared to be saying.

“Then…”

“We fought, and she was a hell of a scrapper, I can tell you.  She certainly put Uund’d’tar to shame.”

“You fought and…?”

“We reached the point where a fuck would’ve sealed the deal, given me the status I needed to send the lot of ‘em to the Gobi, and…  I let it go.  Once I’d’ve taken her and made my claim without a second thought, but this time I just…  I couldn’t face it.  I didn’t want her to lose the respect of her people when she was so much better than her old man.  I didn’t want her, full stop.  It was impossible to get you out of my head and I had to find a way around the problem that wouldn’t hurt you.  Us.  Hurt whatever was left of us.”

“But…the Vree’vathets left.”

“Because the missus appreciated me not carrying on with the claim, she was happy to support me.  Her acknowledgement of my right to be their Superior turned out to be sufficient to make them go and, like I said, she retained the chance to take Uund’d’tar’s place once they got home.”

“You didn’t…”

“No.”

“Then why did you say that you had?”

“I didn’t.  I said I’d done what I had to.”

“You let me believe…”

“I needed to know you understood, Xander.  That in my line of business certain requirements aren’t agreeable but they’re sometimes necessary.  For both our sakes I had to know that we can survive whatever I might have to do.  Be it killing or fucking or…”

“That’s not so likely now, is it?  With you being choosier over your work.”

“Not so likely.”  Spike gave Xander a few quiet minutes to take the latest revelations in and witnessed the moment when it all fell into place.  There were none of the expected fireworks over being duped.  There was deep-in-thought, despondent prodding of the last pieces of food on his plate, then Xander was evidently and astonishingly quietly concluding that fidelity was of greater import than being misled, shrugging and wolfing the remains of his breakfast down.  Apparent acceptance, and that was a relief, in each and every way.  “Want to hear about our booty?” Spike asked, eager to move on.

“Booty?  Y’mean…”

“Treasure, rather than the shaking of.”

Xander’s eyes widened.

“There’s treasure?”

“Uund’d’tar’s non-marital possessions.”

“Is it cool treasure?  Or is it Vree’vathet type treasure?”

“What would be Vree’vathet type treasure?”

“I have no idea: we’ve known some weird demons over time.  Could be expensive luggage labels, could be rubber lingerie, a collage of bat wings, a collector’s edition print of the world’s largest ball of string, jar of dog’s noses…”

“How about…  A knackered Rolls-Royce; six-and-a-half grand which, before you ask, yes, the Stokes’ can have; an apartment in LA that I’m thinking of hanging on to because it’ll be handy if you want to come along when I’m working there; a collection of antique chess sets that are probably headed for Christie’s.”

“A Rolls-Royce?  Like in Thunderbirds?”

“Equally as pink and many times as thrashed.”

“It’s pink?”

“You want it?”

“I already have a Screaming Yellow Mustang; my reputation can’t survive a Thunderbird-pink Rolls-Royce.  Give it to Dawnie, it’ll go with her hair.”

“If not her alleged social conscience.”

They chuckled, nodded, and that was decided.

“Can we keep one of the chess sets?” Xander requested.

“Whatever you like.”

“And what do you like?”

Spike finished up his food and pondered.

“Vamp-friendly glass.”  He gestured to the closed drapes.  “Better for you than living in the shadows.”

“You can get that done?”

“Not a problem.”

“Okay, I’ll need to ask if we can make changes to the house, then…”  Xander looked at Spike doubtfully.  “Maybe I need to ask if we can stay on here.”

Under no illusions as to the basis for Xander’s doubts, Spike gave a derisive snort.

“Whatever happened to acceptance and toleration?