Early morning, and Xander sat at the kitchen table, clutching a mug of coffee that he hadn’t  felt able to move to take a sip from in two hours, precariously balanced between despondency over the lack of any control he seemed to have over his abilities, and fear of being driven to a state of lunacy by the effects of them.

Exactly as he’d told Spike he would, he’d meditated, he’d been calm, the voices were at a bearable level, and he’d felt perfectly in control when he’d laid down to go to sleep in his own bed.  Too stubborn or proud, or something equally as futile under the circumstances, he’d dismissed Spike’s suggestions of sharing a bed, or even just moving the mattress (and himself) closer.  By four a.m. Xander was pacing and frantic, desperate for help and literally throwing himself at Spike the moment the vampire had even hinted at a renewed offer.

Okay, he usually had difficulty sleeping due to the constant stream of voices, but that was his life, that was normal.  Constantly tired was normal.  Right now…anything but normal.  Screaming, screaming, screaming, never resting for a moment.  Screaming.  Not normal.

So, exhausted, overwhelmed, and feeling quite hopeless.  Plus there were no words to describe this level of frustration.  Dread.  What if this doesn’t stop?  What if something about me has changed and it’s permanent?  Not about Dead Guy, nothing to do with Spike’s problem at all.  At this rate he’d be Spike’s problem.

Spike.  Spike was…peace.  How the fuck did he get to the point where Spike was peace?

And how did getting off for a second time with the peaceful dead help?  Can’t happen again.  So wrong to take advantage of him like that.  Can’t happen again.  But…Spike was peace.

The only peace, and rapidly being made inaccessible by Xander’s wholly inappropriate physical reaction to the unexpected kindness and soothing touches, to the proximity of a real and solid body.

Peace, and the comfort of someone to hold.  Comfort, yes.

“You’re…comfort.”

They understood one another, it seemed, he and…  Spike.  How the fuck did he get to the point…

His phone was only inches away from his hand, tempting him to make one quick call home, the Colbergs, or Douglas: couple of questions, timely reassurance, where was the harm?

Funny you should ask that, he answered himself brusquely.  The harm, I decided at six this morning, is the killers of Dead Guy going after my friends rather than me.  If someone believes my friends have any information they might be in danger, but if they say they don’t know a thing and aren’t believed they might be in danger anyway, and maybe they already are and if I don’t go back they’ll be hurt or worse and…

So it went on.  Over.  And over.  And over.

Trying to ignore the fact that peace was a flight of stairs away.

Trying.

“I don’t need Spike, I can do this, I can cope by myself,” Xander said aloud.  With a little help, to himself.  And as he tried for the nth time since dawn to reach out for that elusive help he was abruptly able to identify a major part of his problem, shocked that he’d been too preoccupied dealing with the disruption, the psychological trauma resulting from the massive volume of noise to notice the significance until now.  Help.  “Help?”

It wasn’t peace that Xander pursued now, but the only sounding board he had.  Up the stairs at a run, he raced into the room he was sharing with Spike and…came to an indecisive halt at the sight of the vampire’s still form, envious of the untroubled sleep and reluctant to disturb that coveted state.

But Spike was already waking, slowly and rather foggily because an automatic scenting proved the interruption to be Xander, and no threat; he dozily reached out for the human.

“Xander?” he muttered, and smiled as he felt the mattress dip with Xander’s weight.

“Hey, Spike.”

At the sound of Xander’s miserable voice, Spike was fully awake in an instant, eyes springing open and hand already reaching to rest consolingly on a bare forearm.

“Tell me.”

“What’s to tell?” Xander said with an insuppressible tremor in his voice.  “Bad night, couldn’t sleep, first because of the jackhammers, next because I felt so screwed up.  I was wrong about taking control, I can’t do that.  Meditation doesn’t work, all the lessons Doug taught me are useless, and…  Since I got up, it’s been so loud, in my head, like…like…  Imagine a hundred people shouting at you at once, amplified and amplified again, all somehow able to stand…”  Xander held his hands up, either side of his head, no more than two inches from each ear.  “Screaming.  Nothing makes sense.  Nothing.  I’m scared that I’m losing…  Fuck!  All I am.”

“Don’t panic, that won’t help.”

“Help, yes, that’s what I came to tell you.  I can’t get help.”

“Your guide?” Spike speculated.

“Saul and Jesse.  Whatever is happening here is pushing them away.  Jesse is gone, completely gone, and I can barely feel Saul, can’t hear a word he says, not clearly.”

“Is it me?  What I’ve got you into?” Spike frowned.

“That’d be easy, wouldn’t it?  To blame you for everything.  But I can’t do that, and not just because I should be able to stop the worst of this.  I made the decision to help you, I’m not being coerced, and I have to take the consequences, whatever happens.”

“Is there a chance,” Spike began tentatively, “that you’re doing this to yourself?  No, let me finish.  I know I don’t really understand any of this, but I’m wondering if you’re so scared of losing what you’ve got you’re somehow…overcompensating.  Opening yourself up to more.”

“I’ve been trying to stop the voices, not…”

“Any chance it could be…I d’know, a subconscious reaction?  It’s been a hard few days for you, maybe…”  Spike shrugged.  He also tried to fathom what was going on behind that glazed expression Xander now had on his face.  “What?” he asked when he couldn’t.

“Quiet,” Xander murmured, and his eye closed in blissful appreciation.

The hand still on Xander’s arm squeezed and gently tugged, Spike coaxing Xander to lay alongside him.

“Yes.  Quiet.  You relax now,” Spike suggested as he gave a few calming strokes to Xander’s stomach.  “I’ll shut the ghosts up for you.  You take it easy, have a bit of a nap, everything will seem easier when you’re not exhausted.”

“You think?”

“C’mon,” Spike smiled, “few of those deep breaths humanity seems to find so useful.”

“Just humanity?  I’ve noticed that you sure breathe a lot for someone who doesn’t have to breathe.”

“We all have bad habits.  If I turned you…”

“Can you not?”

“Turn you or speculate?”

“Yes.”

“Deeeeep breath,” Spike encouraged with a grin; Xander almost smiled and absolutely obeyed.

Few breaths, peace and quiet, and the tension began to ebb, leaving Xander thinking that maybe Spike was right, that sleep and deal was the way forward.  New meditative mantra: sleep and deal.  Sleep and deal.  Sleep and…

“Not happening,” Xander groaned.

“It will if you’re quiet.”

“Talk to me.”

“Bore you to sleep?  Got the wrong bloke here for that, you should have opted for Angel when you had the chance.”

“You trying to give me nightmares?”

“Talk to you.”  Spike considered.  “With you or at you?”

“Either,” Xander yawned.

Pause for thought.

“You know when we were talking yesterday, after…after my father showed up?”  Xander nodded.  “I said I wanted him to be in hell and you said it’s not that simple.”  Xander nodded again.  “Can you explain that?  ‘Cause I’ve always thought heaven or hell, not options.  When we spoke about the soul before you never mentioned options.”

“You sure about this?  You were pretty upset about Edmund not…”

“I want to understand.”  Xander drew breath to talk Spike out of this but Spike pressed on.  “Edmund is clearly not in hell.  How close was rehabilitation to the mark?”

“You’re not going to lose your temper if you hear something you don’t like?”

“Probably.  But like I said last night, no taking it out on you.”

Xander turned to face Spike; whatever reassurances the vampire gave him, he needed to see Spike’s expression so he could gauge exactly when to shut up.

“Anyone who passes into spirit damaged, or ill, or not right in any way is helped to become well.  If they’ve been bad they’re encouraged to see that and…”

“Back to sodding repentance, are we?”

“Sodding repentance can be a part of the healing process, yes.”

“Buffy went to heaven not hospital.  Heaven.”

“Buffy got what she needed and that’s what it’s all about.  Y’know the average person with an average life will get something…”

“Average?  There’s motivation to live as long as possible.”

“Tell you what: you snipe, I’ll sleep.”

Xander started to roll away but Spike caught him and tugged him back.

“Sorry.  Sorry, carry on.”

Xander paused, taking a moment to decide whether carrying on was worth the effort: this was a Spike he remembered well, stroppy and demanding, only hearing whatever was necessary to feed his acerbic comments.  But he also had that infuriating way of looking deeply interested if it suited him.  Like now.

“Sure?” Xander asked wearily.

“The average person…?”

Sigh.

“Wants what they’re familiar with, and they can have that, they can have the family members they’ve lost back with them, they can have their pets, they can have an eternity of – of…watching baseball.  Lying on the beach.  Or travelling the world seeing the wonders they’d missed out on seeing when they were alive.  Pick a heaven, every one is personal.  Wayne wanted to be with his grandparents on their farm, that’s where he is.”

“Everything’s hunky dory, no matter what kind of bastard you were in life?”

“Some of the worst characters get trapped here, on this plane, no eternal rest, just the constant reminder of everything they did wrong.  No peace.  Ever.”

“If they give a toss.  I don’t believe every…what are we talking about?  War criminals?  Serial killers?  You can’t tell me that every one of them regrets their actions.”

“I wouldn’t try to.  They’re just people after all, and some people can’t ever be helped.”

“But no hell?  Fire and brimstone?”

“Hell dimensions, we know.  Hell, as such, for humans…not sure.  It may be that spirits in a human hell can’t contact mediums.  That would explain why I’ve never had contact with one of them.”

“It’d be a privilege, they wouldn’t be due privileges.”

“Yeah, see, that works.”  Xander gave Spike a sleepy, apologetic smile.  “I did warn you that I wasn’t sure about all this stuff.”

“Edmund…” Spike said thoughtfully.  “If the people around him knew how he’d behaved, and disapproved…  Edmund might have cared enough about their opinions to…reconsider his actions.”

“I’ve experienced instances when a person gets what they think they deserve, projecting themselves into a hell of their own design.  But they’re helped.  I get the impression that very few souls are beyond healing.  Even if it begins with the wrong motivation – and I don’t doubt that you know Edmund well enough to judge – it usually ends with the right results.  A lot of spirits come through to apologise for something they screwed up in their lives.”

Spike laid his fingertips on the back of Xander’s wrist, remaining motionless as he mulled over what they’d been discussing.

“We going to listen if he comes back?” he eventually asked in a quiet, guarded tone, more William than Spike, Xander imagined.

“I may not have any choice, but you do.  If you want to listen to what he has to say, then I promise you I’ll be as accurate as I can, even try to get something directly back to him if that’s what you need.  But the choice is yours.  William’s.”

“William,” Spike snorted, before he switched to a mockery of his nineteenth century accent.  “Yes, Papa.  No, Papa.  Young Master Harris may allude to the choice being mine, but one cannot utter boo to a fucking goose.”

“Lucky you have Spike to speak for you.”

“Too bloody right!  And all I’ll have for him is…fuck off, Papa.”

“So.  You want me to tell you if he…”

“Don’t even give him that much consideration.  He turns up, you come to me and we’ll let the demon scare him away.”

“I’ll do that,” Xander yawned.  “Now, you mind if I…”

Xander closed his eye.

“‘Nother minute, that’s all.  Xander?”

Xander opened his eye.

“Yeah, still here.”

“William – the soul – will get what he wants.  But the demon will get what it deserves.  Real not projected hell, supposedly.  Even a demon like me who’s doing their best to fight the good fight.”

“Sorry.  I didn’t make the rules.  But at least William…”

“I’m not William, I’m Spike.  Not a truly bad man, not anymore, but I’m Spike and I’m damned.”

“You’ll carry on as…”

“Someone I don’t want to be?”

“The impression your mother gave me is that William was a fine person.”

“But it isn’t me.  I’m what the demon made me, what I made myself, I’m Spike.  What would be left if that was stripped away?  William Armitage with William the Bloody’s memories?  Or William Armitage with no memories of the life I’ve lived since I was turned?  Without those memories I wouldn’t be me at all, and I’m not talking about the blood and gore, I’m talking about the world around me, how I’ve seen it change, what I’ve learnt, observed, been a part of.  Thousands of experiences I…”  Spike stopped and sighed.  “That’d be it, wouldn’t it?  Losing all of Spike, good, bad and indifferent.  I’d be the William that died in that alley.”

“What about the memories since you got the soul back?”

“Yes,” Spike considered, “what about them?  Demon-tainted so they’re out too, I’d guess.”

“Maybe…  If you didn’t remember Spike you wouldn’t miss him.  That sounds cruel, I know, but…”

“I want to remember, and I’d settle for bad as well as good.”

“No, that’d be wrong.  Without the influence of the demon, some of the things you’ve done would be unbearable.  No demon and you – William - would be better off without the memories.”

“William knew bugger all about living, and everything I know will be lost.”

“Back to if you didn’t know you wouldn’t care.”

“But it isn’t right, it isn’t…fair.”

Xander raised an eyebrow at the demon who’d murdered uncountable humans whingeing about fairness, and Spike had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Where were you between Sunnydale and LA?  Do you remember?”

That quietened Spike for a while.  A deep frown lined his brow as he tried to recall anything about that time.

“In the amulet?” he eventually suggested in a less than confident tone.

“The amulet.  You mean…the bling that ate Sunnydale?”

“Didn’t you ever hear the full story?”

“No.”

“Where did you think I’d turned up from then?”

“At the time?  Didn’t care.”

“Angel was sent the amulet and I popped out.”

“Like a genie?”

“Near enough.”

“Wow.  And…wow.”

“So that must have been where I was.  In the amulet.”

“You don’t remember…”

Spike was already shaking his head.

“For me, it was…turning to ash, and a minute later…un-turning.”

“Kinda screws with where I was going but…  Maybe it means that the Powers will intervene when you finally finally get dusted.”

“I’ll get to heaven?  Whole me?”

“It’s a theory.”

“When I came out of the amulet I was, effectively, a ghost, and there was a time when I was being dragged toward hell, I could feel what was waiting for me.  The threat was enough.  The reality…”  Spike shuddered.  “You asked me if I ever got scared and I don’t mind telling you I was terrified of that prospect.”

“That’s a while back now.”

“Yeah, but I’ve had a couple of near misses recently.  We’ve.  Me and Angel.  That’d really be hell, wouldn’t it?  Having to spend eternity with him.”

“Can we leave tearing Angel to shreds until I’m awake enough to enjoy it?”

“Right.”

“Though…  These must have been scarily near misses to fix your mind on all this.”

“They were…”  Spike’s expression fleetingly exposed more ghastly memories before he forced himself away from the past and toward the hopefully distant future.  “The Powers could send me to heaven, yeah?  And it’d be whatever I want it to be?  Could I…catch up with my mum?”

“Yep.”

“Or sit in the sun?  I’d have decent beer, constant nooky, and …  Oh.”  The growing smile disintegrated.  “Does that mean I’d have to meet Edmund?”

“Only if you wanted to.  If it ever happens you won’t have to do anything or meet anyone unless…”

“You’re making this up, aren’t you?  It’s all too…perfect.”

“That, Spike, is why we call it heaven.”

Nothing further from Spike, and Xander began to seriously doze, rousing himself only to turn onto his other side, noticing that the vampire’s hand had not only come along for the ride, but brought the rest of its body for company.

“Comfort, huh?”

Spike pressed in close and tightened his grip.

“Comfort.”

…

It was with great trepidation that Xander crept from the Spike zone later, but his fears proved ungrounded.  Miraculously, it seemed, he was back to business as usual, low hum of voices, Saul’s reassuring presence.

“What happened?  …  All night, this morning, how could you not be aware?  …  That’s…creepy.  How come only I…”

“You’re as bad as those people who can’t read to themselves,” Spike interrupted as he sprawled out over the area Xander had recently vacated.  “I had a cousin who did that, constantly did that.  All the voices too, and it’s not like he had a talent for it, he completely ruined Dickens for me.  Can you imagine a Macawber who sounded like an English Barney Rubble?  It was worth being turned just to kill him.”  Spike stopped griping long enough to notice that Xander was leaving.  “Hang on, where are you off to?”

“I’m going back to the pool.”

“Why?”

“Because I think it will be productive.  You might have been right about me panicking and making things bad for myself, and you were absolutely right about catching up on some sleep, I feel great, rested, on top of my game, I want to exploit that.”

“Wait a few hours and I can go with you.”

“But going in daylight gives me a better feel of how it would have been for Wayne.”

Spike clicked into automatic protestation mode, hesitated, clicked out again.

“Get yourself killed,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“Thanks,” Xander grinned, delighted not to have yet another argument on the subject.

“If the next time I speak to you it’s via Douglas, my first words will be…”

“I told you so.  Yeah, I can imagine.  I’ll be careful.”

“Oi!  Mr Convenience!”  Spike called Xander back from the hallway.

“What?”

“Be careful.”

“I said I’d be careful.”

“Yeah, but this is me telling you.  Be careful.”

“Are we being bugged?  Does Angel have to hear you say that or you get your ass kicked?”

“Piss off,” Spike grumped, and Xander smiled brightly in agreement, leaving at speed before Spike thought of new ways to delay him.

Spike rose and crossed to the window to watch him go, Xander’s exuberance plain to see as he bounded down the path that eventually led to the thicket that eventually led to the pool.  A movement caught the vampire’s peripheral vision and his head snapped around as he tried to determine the source.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Apparently.

He continued to study the immediate vicinity, grateful that the shade from the house’s eaves meant he could take his time without fear of ignition.  It didn’t take long to work out the best way to get to Xander should he need to: leave by the front rather than the back door, skirt the wall of the house, along by the chicken coop, then he’d be risking the daylight until he got to the shade of the trees.  If he was careful to avoid any stray sunbeams that managed to sneak through the canopy of branches, he should be able to get close enough to the pool to carry out a dash and grab if saving the human became necessary.

Shouldn’t become necessary, Spike knew, despite all his scaremongering.  But there were worse ways of spending his time than plotting to save Xander’s arse.  And, as he’d unfortunately noticed, as arses went, this was a rather nice one.

…

The walk to the pool was chilly and windy, and the rainfall during the morning had left the ground slippery and, in places, treacherous, but Xander enjoyed every step, skid and scramble of it.  No appearance by Wayne as yet, and that disappointed him a little, but he had Saul for company, plus, amidst the drone, various other distinct voices that appeared to have connections with people in the town; he was tempted to ask Chrissie if it would be possible to arrange a very low-key meeting for any interested locals, but the joint threat of the uber-nasty, and the predictable tirade of Spike’s single-minded objections was off-putting enough to get him past that questionable idea reasonably quickly.

The pool came into view and Xander experienced a surge of spiritual energy that stimulated all his psychic senses to a point where he felt like he was buzzing with the strength of his abilities.  Knowing this was going to be a successful encounter, Xander picked up speed, determined and excited and recalling earlier days when every contact, however vague, made him feel as energised.

Powerful impressions hit him as he finally arrived at the water’s edge; such a beautiful, tranquil spot, even today, protected from the worst of the blustery weather by the density of the surrounding trees and shrubs.  He made his way to the bench that was little more than a storm-broken branch hefted across two boulders, sat, and relaxed.  Dropped the few defences he had and opened his mind.  Smiled.  He could feel Wayne here, playing and laughing…  Safe, this should have been safe, it was always safe.  …but the thoughts of childish fun were rapidly usurped by echoes of the truth, the horror that would be imprinted on this idyllic spot forever: Xander felt Wayne, became Wayne, experiencing many days, not just the one that saw his death, confused and overlapping: the inner sensations of familiarity and fun being overwhelmed by insecurity and fear; playful splashing became a fight for survival, an innocent ducking…  Not so innocent.

Xander unconsciously gasped for air as he felt Wayne/himself sinking, feeling with sickening clarity the hand on his head, then the foot on his back, holding him under the pool’s surface.  He heard bubbles as the oxygen burst from him, choked as water rushed into his lungs.  Encountered…the beginnings of death.

Xander yanked himself out of the re-enactment, shaky from the vivid sensations and needlessly whooping in huge breaths, but recovering quickly and well, knowing he was in control.  In control: after the disturbed night, and morning brimful of despair, it was quite thrilling.  With Saul’s help he explored the residual energy for more information, and it wasn’t long before an invasive sensation of being spied on made his skin itch, causing tingles that ran up and down his spine; the feeling was so strong and persistent that Xander began to wonder if this was about now as well as then.

Possibly now rather than then?

Now.

Spike’s casually dismissed warnings about the killer rushed through his mind and left a smirking, vampiry ‘I told you so’ in their wake; as his heart began to pound, it was all Xander could do to fight the urge to look around, determined not to warn anyone hiding in the shade of the trees of his suspicions, taking time out from his investigations to force himself a little calmer.

On alert now, but belligerently determined not to be frightened away when he was working so well, he continued his reading of the area, careful not to outwardly react to any new revelation, and eventually, unhurriedly, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, pretending to make a call and clearly telling the imaginary recipient that there was…

“Nothing.  Chrissie is going to be so disappointed that there’s nothing more, but I can’t tell her what I don’t know.”

…and faking a few more sentences of mundane conversation before putting the phone away.

With defeated body language, Xander left the pool, listening hard and hearing a branch crack, but distantly; picking up speed, he hoped that meant whoever had been watching had been assured by his act that the killer’s name was not about to be revealed.  Always a chance he was about to be ambushed by someone who knew the short cuts, but Xander chose to concentrate on getting back to the house as fast and as safely as possible, and not scaring himself with scenarios that ended with him sharing Wayne’s fate.

One thing he pretty much knew: it was doubtful he’d ever be quite so happy to see Spike again.

…

Spike’s newest pastime: Xander watching.  He’d been studying him closely since he’d come back from the pool and, although the man had barely spoken a word, Spike was able to judge that something had either occurred, been revealed, or had troubled his charge enough to bring about a great deal of intense thought.

As Xander thought, and Spike watched, Chrissie returned from the diner and chattered on to the pair of them about her sons, home, work, life, not noticing that her audience was preoccupied, obviously just glad to have adults in the house to talk to for a change.  A decent, unremarkable woman who didn’t deserve what the fates had heaped upon her, Xander considered as he emerged from his deliberations in time to hear her suggestions for the evening meal.

“Is there a Chinese take-out in town?” he asked; Chrissie nodded.  “Great, that’ll save you cooking for us again.  Providing you like Chinese food,” Xander finished with a questioning look.

“I do, we both do, and we haven’t had any for such a long time.”

“Associations?” Xander asked reticently.

“Cost,” Chrissie countered.  “It’s an extravagance we do without.”

“Well, tonight, you be as extravagant as you like: Spike’s paying.”

“Is he?” Spike asked, switching on to the conversation at the mention of his name.

“He is.  Or his bos—”  Glare.  “Er…business partner is.”

“Oh, right, yes, whole menu, three times over if Angel’s paying.”

“I have their leaflet in the kitchen somewhere.  The prices will be out of date but it’s the same address.”

As Chrissie hurried off to search, Xander went into the hallway and called up the stairs.

“Toby!  Spike’s buying Chinese.  You want some?”  Xander dropped his voice.  “Or are you so full of shit there’s no room?”  He heard Spike’s snigger next door, a timely reminder of the vampire’s enhanced hearing.

Toby evidently didn’t loath their guests quite enough to pass up the chance of a free meal and was quick to join them and make a list of his preferred dishes; Chrissie’s face fell as he kept adding and adding, and when Xander asked for her choice she demurred, saying she’d share with her son, earning herself a filthy look from the boy.

“If you don’t pick, Spike really will buy everything,” Xander insisted, and Chrissie apologetically pointed out a couple of favourites.

Dangling the keys on one finger, Xander lured Spike out to the car before ceremoniously handing them over.

“You come with me to pick up the food,” Spike told him, glancing back at the house’s open front door.  “It’ll give us a chance to talk,”.

“You’re hardly the last of the romantics.”  Xander pressed his hand to his chest.  “I’m sure, deep in your heart, you don’t want your first time with the Mustang to be a threesome.”

“C’mon, get in.”

“No.”

“You’re going to tell me what happened, Xander, you might as well accept that and spit it out.”  Xander just stood and stared, unsurprisingly stubborn.  “What went wrong?”

“Nothing, and I’d rather you didn’t assume I always fuck up.”

Another rapid look toward the house then Spike moved, grabbing the front of Xander’s shirt and pulling him close before he could back away.

“You know, don’t you?” he asked confidentially.  “What happened to the boy.  Who happened to the boy.”  More obstinate silence, and Spike’s grip loosened, fingers smoothing out the crumpled material.  New strategy: perhaps he could coax where he couldn’t threaten.  Still lightly stroking, he dropped his voice, filled it with concern.  “You’re an intelligent man, Xander, you don’t need me to tell you how much danger you could be in, keeping that kind of information to yourself.”

Xander’s hand flattened Spike’s, stopping the movement before patting patronisingly.

“Don’t forget the fortune cookies,” Xander told him with a strained smile, “and don’t forget…what’s a convenient lie for you is truth to me: I’m smarter than you think.”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“It wasn’t the truth, and don’t make it worse by lying about that now.”

“All right, you’re an idiot and if you carry on like this you’re going to die.  Happy?”

A shout from the doorstep disturbed them mid-scowl.

“Hey, Spike!  Get soda.”

“Fuck off!”

“Ah, gross.  You two ever stop?”

Toby made obvious retching noises as he stomped back inside, leaving Xander and Spike to take a look at their proximity to one another.  Neither was particularly bothered: Xander’s mind insisted Spike-plus-close-equals-peace, circumstances be damned, and Spike…  Spike’s hand twisted beneath Xander’s and tangled their fingers, staring at the contact and once again pondering the strangeness of any kind of physical connection.

The sound of a fresh row came from the depths of the house as Chrissie objected to comments still being made by Toby, and Xander sighed and disentangled himself.

“We have to move back to the motel.  I refuse to be the cause of even more upset here.”

“Before we leave, Xander, promise you’ll let me remove his tongue via his arse.”

“Hardly low profile.”

“Let’s make an exception, eh?  I’d even give up heaven for the pleasure of dismantling his ribcage with a…”

“Whoa, whoa, enough.  I want to be able to keep the food down when you finally get it.”

Spike shut up, took the hint, at long last got into the car, and Xander cringed at the squealing of tyres as Spike drove away as only Spike could.

Seconds later Xander felt Wayne join him, and with the boy chattering in his ear, Xander made his way back inside to share more of his words with his mother.

…

After dinner Xander grit his teeth when Spike, having noticed the boy drooling over it on several occasions, offered to take Toby out for a spin in the Mustang.  Xander knew it was to give him what might well be the last chance to talk to Chrissie about Wayne, and also to explain that they were moving out and, as diplomatically as possible, why.  But he didn’t know if Toby was in more danger than his beloved car or vice versa, and Spike looked suspiciously pleased with himself when the boy leapt at the offer.

“Don’t let her talk you round,” Spike told Xander firmly before he left.

“I’ll do what I think best.”

“Every decision is yours, eh?”

“About this, yes, you know that.”

Spike looked at Xander in contemptuous disapproval before starting to walk toward the car and waiting teenager.  It was only seconds before Xander called him to a halt and hurried over, throwing his arms around him in a hug.

“What the…?”

“I may never get another chance to freak out Toby,” Xander explained quietly as he nuzzled Spike’s neck and sniggered.  “You have to see his face.”

Spike smiled wickedly and hugged Xander back.

“Now, Love, you’re making him jealous,” Spike said, perfectly audibly.  “You know he’s only so difficult ‘cause he fancies me.”

With a deep, deep sigh, Xander nodded and made a show of reluctantly letting the vampire go.  He glared at Toby, who was in turn staring with wide-eyed horror at Spike.

“Hey, you,” Xander snapped.  “Start groping Spike and you’ll have more than the spirits to be scared of.”

Jaw flapping to accommodate words that wouldn’t come, Toby shook his head frantically from side to side, then it was back to staring at Spike as he approached and aimed the remote at the car, unlocking the doors.

“In you get, Pet.  I promise I’ll be gentle with you.”  The boy’s eyes flicked from Spike to car to Spike to car, and he evidently decided the Mustang was worth the risk, getting into the passenger’s side and sitting squashed against the door.  “Ready for his emergency exit,” Spike laughed as he turned back to Xander and, receiving a warm, open, connecting smile in return, abruptly wanted to abandon his plans to terrorise the boy with his particular brand of driving skills and stay here, close to Xander, giving him peace and protection.  The strength of his feelings caught him by surprise, and maybe some of this, any of it, showed on his face because Xander looked at him curiously before holding up a hand in a farewell gesture and backing toward the house.

Perturbed and confused, Spike climbed in beside Toby, slapping away the stocky hand that was prodding at buttons on the inactive stereo.

“Fuck off,” came the predictable response.  “You want me to tell my mom you been touching me?” Toby asked with an ugly grin as he turned his attention back to the player.

Spike snatched up the boy’s wrist and put on a little pressure, causing a gasp and a whimper.

“You can tell Mom anything you damn-well like,” Spike told him, eyes flickering to gold and back in a second, chuckling at the fear that transformed Toby’s face.  “Whether she believes you is a whole other matter.”

Xander listened for the screech of burning rubber as the car took off – possibly quite literally – and there may have been a hint of maniacal laughter in there too but, hey, Spike could make his own fun.

…

By the time an exceptionally smug Spike and a pale-faced Toby returned it was obvious that the evening had been tense and traumatic for both Xander and Chrissie.

“You look shattered, mate,” came involuntarily from Spike’s mouth as he laid worried eyes on his charge.  No way they were moving out tonight.  “Want to go up?”

“I’m okay.  Just a while longer.”

“C’mon, Xander.  You need a break.”

“I’m fine,” but the tone of Xander’s voice made it plain he wasn’t.

Spike treated them to one of his exasperated sighs, and Chrissie gave him a brief look of…  Spike couldn’t quite define it.  She seemed torn between highly grateful and seethingly resentful for the interruption.

“You understand that he needs his rest, don’t you?” Spike said pointedly, and Chrissie was too polite to do anything other than nod and offer bedtime drinks, which Spike refused on both their behalves, wanting to get Xander to their room and undisturbed as soon as possible.

Spike gently persuaded an almost-too-tired-to-protest Xander to his feet, and guided him to and up the stairs with a hand on the small of his back, a hand that felt suspiciously caring.

“Is he gonna die?” Toby asked with undisguised fascination as they passed.

“What?” Xander asked, bemused.

“You never know.  Best keep out of the way.”

Toby – reluctantly – kept out of the way.

Once they were alone Xander shrugged the hand away and turned on Spike, obviously unhappy.

“What?”

“I’m not about to pass out, not this time.”

“Good.”

“So will you stop treating me as if I’m going to break?”

“I’m concerned, that’s all.”

“I know you have to get me wherever we’re going in one piece, but I can look out for myself, Spike, I’m certainly old enough to choose my own bedtime.  I don’t need anyone to nanny me, especially you.”

“Oh.  Offended now.  Why especially me?”

“Because I know how false it is.  And why is it offensive for me to be realistic about that?”

“Why is it false?”

“Oh, please.”

“No, spell it out.”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?  You’re…Spike.”

“Yeah.  This Spike, not Sunnydale Spike.  I’m a changed man, Xander, and you know it.  You can’t go through what I’ve been through…”

“Let’s forget it, huh?  I don’t want to fight, I just want to hit the sack.”

“’Cause you’re tired, I could see that, it’s why…”

Xander glared and Spike scowled.  And Xander gritted his teeth and smiled.  None of the warm, open, connecting now.

“Okay.  Thank you for your concern.”

“Now you’re taking the piss.”

“I am.  But it may get me into bed.”

Spike stalked over and Xander took a wary step back, yanked forward again by his shirt front before Spike began to undo buttons.

“Excuse me?” Xander said pointedly.

“Being nanny,” Spike grinned.

Thoughts of the Darling’s overprotective Nana in Peter Pan filled Xander’s thoughts and he gave in to an irresistible chuckle as he nudged the hands away, continuing with the buttons himself.

“Want to explain why Toby thought I was going to die?”

“I said that what you do could kill you at any time.”

“Why did you tell him that?”

“He thought you were some interfering git, in it for gain.  I just wanted to shock a little respect into the moronic twat.”

“I’m such a hero,” Xander laughed.  “Do I finally get top billing?”

Spike smiled and nonchalantly stripped off his own clothes, sliding into the bed and making it plain he was sharing with Xander tonight from the offset.  Xander thought about that as he undressed down to t and boxers, coming to the conclusion that the demon in his bed allowing him to sleep and nothing more was actually a better prospect than starting the night alone and joining Spike on the mattress later.  When Xander might possibly have had a few fraught hours and he was desperate enough for…things…to happen.

He thought about going to wash and shave, but Spike was right about that: why bother?  And he didn’t want it to seem as if he was making the effort for the vampire sharing his bed.  Without so much as a look at Spike, Xander got in alongside him, feeling the last of the more persistent spirits leave.

“Quiet,” came the usual murmur.

“Going to tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“Today, tonight.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you need to know tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Maybe you’ll sleep better…”

“You’re doing enough.  The quiet’s enough.”

“I know you’re troubled, I can see it.”

“Tomorrow, Spike.”

“I thought I was here to help.  What did you say in the car?  You need someone to lean on?”

“I appreciate the offer of support but…”

“You’re not going to take it.”

“We will talk.  I promise.”

Xander moved onto his side, facing away from Spike; before he had a chance to relax Spike was there, curling into him and moulding to his form, rubbing his face in Xander’s hair and running an arm around his waist.  Forget any requisite protestations, Xander wanted the contact and didn’t care that this was Spike, especially when the vampire was such an out-and-out cuddler – or was that coddler? – probably more attentive in this respect than any lover Xander had ever known, and how ridiculous was that?  Xander half-shrugged Spike off, just to feel him re-attach.

“Talk to me,” Spike whispered, the pitch and situation bringing words that were far removed from work to Xander’s mind, and he giggled softly to himself at the thought of Spike’s reaction if they were aired.  “I’m serious,” Spike insisted, naturally misunderstanding the humour.  “I want to help you.”

“Concentrate on what you’re here to do, I’ll tell you when I need help.”

“Xander…”

“Your gig is keeping me safe,” Xander reminded him, snuggling back and feeling the hold on him tighten.  “Here I am, safe Xander.  Congratulations extended to the bodyguard.  Mr Convenience is still on the planet.”

Manifestation 8       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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