If the Woodbury was a more chapely chapel, then the Lestor venue shouted church, very loudly and very clearly.  The expected warm welcome didn’t detract from Spike’s sense of unease when he glanced around to catalogue the many statements of overt Christianity, unconsciously counting the large ornate crucifixes adorning the walls, a stark contrast to the sparse selection of understated crosses that the other chapels had worn.

He’d never spoken to Xander about religion, strange as that may seem, and he’d have been completely honest if asked how he felt at this moment: he didn’t like seeing Xander surrounded by the trappings, and he hated the fact that the old boy who appeared to be the leader of this community was pressing one of the symbols on Xander as a gift, despite the polite refusals.

“Spike, isn’t it?” the patriarch asked when he came over to follow up their earlier fleeting introduction.  “Walter Battin,” he reminded Spike with an amiable smile that Spike had a difficult time matching.  “I haven’t forgotten you.  Please, as a token of our fellowship…” and he offered Spike a similar jewellery case to the one he’d insisted on giving Xander.

“Not for me, thank you, Walter.  I appreciate the gesture but…”

“All of our friends, new and old…”

“I don’t want to offend you,” and that was true, especially with Xander throwing concerned looks in his direction, “and I do respect your beliefs.  But they’re not mine, and I ask you in turn to respect that.”

The case disappeared into Walter’s pocket instantly and he clutched Spike’s hand in a firm hold.

“Please forgive my presumption.”

“Forgiven,” Spike confirmed with a tight smile, and pounced on a change of subject.  “I’m looking forward to tonight.  I assume you’ve asked Xander to participate?”

“Indeed, and he seems more than happy…”

“Hang on, I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” Spike interrupted, pointing vaguely and successfully sending the man away to pursue a non-existent hail.

Spike now focused on Xander, staring unwaveringly until Xander felt obliged to excuse himself from the conversation he was in the middle of to come and discover what Spike’s problem was.  As Xander approached, the stare switched from his face to the crucifix that lay on his chest.

“What’s wro…”

“I hate that on you.”

“Keep your voice down.”  Xander ushered Spike to a slightly more private spot.  “This is just for now, okay?”

“Take it off.”

“Hillary insisted on putting it on for me, I couldn’t just…”

“Yes.  You could.”

“No.  It’s a gift; I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“Anyone but me, obviously.”

“It’s not offensive to you, don’t try that.”

“It is: offensive and tacky.  You know if that business had happened in another era, you’d be wearing an electric chair around your neck.”

“It’s a symbol of faith, Spike, it has meanings beyond the…”

“Want me to whip out a symbol of my faith?  Check out the level of tolerance in this place?”

“You don’t have faith.”  Xander paused, frowning.  “Do you?”

“Well, let’s all thank the presumptuous halfwit for asking,” Spike snarked.  “My faith presently lies in two demons and a medium who are about to save the world.  That’s real faith, Petal, that’s legitimate.”

“Symbolised how?” Xander asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer; a flash of gold eyes and the cruel smile that twisted Spike’s mouth proved him right.  “Let’s not see the fangs in church, huh?  As a favour to me?”

Spike considered that.

“As a favour…” he mused.  “Will it be reciprocated?”

“Sure.  But…later?”

“How about now?”

“Spike…”

“One touch from you.  One meant touch.  In this place where, if our…truth were known, there’s every possibility you’d be as abhorred as this vampire.”

Spike saw and heard Xander nervously swallow, and he waited with barely concealed sneering superiority for Xander’s refusal.  With his back to the growing congregation, Xander had no way of knowing they were being ignored but, eye fixed on Spike’s and defiantly accepting the challenge he saw there, he took up Spike’s hand and rubbed it between his own, before bringing it to his mouth and kissing the fingers.

“You have a lot to learn about tolerance,” Xander told Spike coldly.

“And you apparently have as much to learn about prejudice.”

Xander was strangely reluctant to drop Spike’s hand, taking strength from the contact he needed strength to deal with; tolerance may have been the ideal, but he wasn’t naïve enough to try kidding himself about the prejudice.

“Assuming we’re not about to be thrown out…”  Only now did Xander cautiously peer over his shoulder and heave a sigh of relief at not being discovered.  “Can we sit down and appreciate the readings?”

“Back row?” Spike smiled suggestively but nicely, and Xander found himself gawping at the rapid change in Spike’s demeanour.

“Much more of you and I’m going to be begging to die,” he muttered.

“Begging for something,” Spike muttered in turn, and he caught the filthy look that Xander threw before stomping off to find a good place to sit, good being roughly translated as the opposite of where Spike would choose.

Xander sat near the front of the nave, and Spike took the hint, finding himself a solitary spot as far from the medium as possible.  Before the readings began the community was asked to join in prayers and blessings that left Spike’s skin crawling, and it crossed his mind that this was one reason why Xander had wanted to be away from him and any bitching that ensued, but he saw Xander look around for him, check with several glances that he was okay, and that degree of consideration made Spike feel a lot better.

Walter Battin effortlessly progressed from prayers to readings, and Spike grudgingly acknowledged how proficient the man was, but his bias wasn’t about to be shaken, and as far as he was concerned no-one was as good as Xander; he refused to relax and enjoy until Xander was introduced and on his feet, chatting amiably to the congregation as he felt his way into the first contact.

“Music,” Xander said as he listened.  “Music was very important to this person, and he’s letting me hear…  I know the tune but don’t know the name of the song.”  Xander proceeded to hum until a gesture from the audience caught his attention.  “You can understand the relevance?”

“Yes, I can,” the woman, who Spike couldn’t actually see, confirmed.

A smile for her from Xander and Spike was immediately jealous, thinking of Marcie, and of Xander kissing someone other than him.

“Magnolia…drive…  That’s either a street called Magnolia Drive, or a drive with magnolias?”

“Where we lived when we were first married.”

“Yes, married in…nineteen sixty-seven,” Xander grinned, “and you wore a mini skirt so short it barely covered your…”  Xander laughed at the spirit’s description.  “…dignity.”  Spike worked out the woman’s age from that reference and felt a little better.  “San Francisco.  …  You went to San Francisco to…get married?  No, you married here and…  San Francisco was meant to be a two week honeymoon but you didn’t come home for…eighteen years.”

“That’s right.”

“Was your husband a musician, ‘cause we’re back with the music.”

“Yes, he was.”

“And there’s another tune, it’s associated with…  Ah.  Have to…”

Xander came into the congregation, to the woman, and Spike stood to watch as Xander whispered something privately to her and she laughed, automatically hugging the bearer of the message.

Now Spike could see her, and she was no threat, an aging hippy who looked like she’d lived, and lived hard, but his possessiveness flared and was barely controllable as Xander laughed too and hugged her back.  Despite being aware that his presence was required in case the uber-nasty returned for another shot at Xander, Spike knew that he was more likely to disrupt proceedings when it became impossible not to yell at some unsuspecting mourner to keep their hands off his boyfriend; he could already feel the beginnings of a demon-sized tantrum bubbling in his gut, the slightest provocation would trigger an outburst Xander would surely never forgive him for.  Waiting until Xander turned and presented Spike with his blind side, the vampire silently left, hoping that his departure wouldn’t be noticed, and that Xander wouldn’t be left feeling vulnerable because of it.

On a bench outside the church, Spike could hear well enough to vaguely follow the proceedings – he’d certainly know if Xander was in any kind of trouble – and he half-listened as he let his mind wander.  He took time out to eavesdrop on passers-by, eventually engaging a young couple in conversation to find out about local entertainment, and being quite happy with his discoveries.

Listening closely by the time the service came to an end, Spike rolled his eyes contemptuously at the prayers, ignored the attendees as they emerged from the building, and was just emotionally preparing himself to return and claim Xander when the man in question sat alongside him on the bench.

“Finally got bored with me, huh?”

“No.”

Pause.  Xander shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Removed the crucifix and returned it to its case.

“Spike…  I had no idea this set up was so intensively Christianity-based.  I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known, at least not with you.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?  You weren’t comfortable in there, not for a moment.  It may be my work, but on this trip it’s also your fun.  Tonight…that wasn’t fun.”

Spike shrugged, hard-done-by demon rather than peeved boyfriend, that worked for him.

“Get back to the car, shall we?  Before your fan club mobs you.”

A gesture from Spike directed Xander’s gaze to a small group of people who’d been in the church and, once he’d acknowledged them, they rushed across to thank him for the readings.  Xander gratefully accepted their appreciation and encouragement, but was equally grateful when they left and he could catch up with Spike, who’d wandered off toward where they’d parked in the countryside that skirted two sides of the church.

“Wait up.”  Xander ran to join Spike, who seemed to hunch inapproachably into his duster.  “Are you mad at me?”

“No.  Bit narked with myself.”

“Why?”

“Questions I should have asked.  Obvious ones.”

“Like?”

“Do you believe in God?”

“Oh.  That kind of question.”

Pause.

“I’m asking it now: do you believe in God?”

“I don’t want to discuss this.”

“It’s simple: yes or no.”  Xander hesitated over his answer until Spike pressed for it.  “Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…”  They walked a little further as Spike thought.  “Can I re-phrase that question?”

“Why do you have to?”

“Do you know there’s a God?”

Another hesitation by Xander, but this time Spike waited it out.

“It’s one of those things…I don’t want to know.  I prefer to believe.”

“That’s interesting.”

“No, it isn’t.  It’s just the way I am.  Obvious example is choosing to believe that Anya’s in heaven rather than knowing…something else.  Belief gives me strength that knowledge can’t.  Whether it’s regarding a divine spirit, or Buffy’s ability to kick the bad guy’s ass.  And I’m really not comfortable talking about this, so can we change the subject?”

“Your version of faith’s a damn sight better than that claptrap tonight.”

“I guess it’s pointless asking you not to be so disrespectful on this one.”

“I was polite when it mattered, despite that wanker trying to foist his dodgy wares on me.”

“Spike…”

“Don’t Spike me, not in that tone of voice.  Demon, remember, it’d be wrong if I didn’t hold religion and its morals in contempt.”

“The demon thing is just an excuse; you have your own version of morality and, whether you like it or not, I got to see it before the soul.  Tonight you’re just pissed because this caught you by surprise and ruined the show.  Get over your hissy fit and maybe we can talk about it.  Or preferably not.”

“What that bloke was peddling…”

“Basic Christianity, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  There’s nothing wrong with religion.”

“Now you sound like an idiot.  Religion is responsible for more bloodshed than any other cause in the history of humanity.”

“No, that’s people using religion as an excuse.”

“And this piece of tat…”  Before Xander could stop him, Spike had the box containing the crucifix out of Xander’s pocket and was hurling it as hard as he could into the scrub that bordered the road.  “…has no place on your body.”

“Spike!” Xander screeched furiously as the case disappeared into a cluster of straggly bushes.  “You had no right to do that, I wanted to keep that.”

“It’s not you.”

“I don’t care whether it’s me or not, it was a gift!”

“I’ll buy you gifts until they’re coming out of your ears.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Xander snapped as he tentatively ventured into the undergrowth.  “Come and help me find this, the moonlight isn’t strong enough to…”

“Sod off.  If you don’t want anything from me, then you don’t want my help.”

“That isn’t…”

“I’ll be in the car.  Ten minutes I’m waiting, and then you’re walking home.”

“Spike!  Will you—  Ah, fucking hell, Spike!”

Spike slowed a little at that last exclamation, hearing defeat in it and hating that from Xander in any context.  Circling back he joined Xander’s search for the cross, finding it easily with the advantage of his night vision, and handing it back in resentful silence, Xander receiving it with much the same attitude.

“It’s not as if I’ll wear it again,” Xander said quietly as they resumed their walk to the car.

“I know,” Spike sighed.  “Not what it is, but what it represents.”

“Yes, and not in a religious sense.  They could have given me a brick out of the wall and it would have meant as much.  It represents something I belong to, somewhere I belong, the people I…”

“You don’t belong to them, you’re—”

Spike bit his tongue and the men glanced at one another.

“Want to finish that sentence?” Xander enquired lightly.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll…I d’know…scare you.  Anger you.  It’ll sound worse than it’s meant, at any rate.”

Xander stopped walking and waited for Spike to wander away, wander back, face him.

“Could you cope with that?  Being told you belonged to me in the least romantic sense of it?”

The point Xander was trying to make slipped away into the night at the sudden longing on Spike’s moonlit face.

“Tell me.  Tell me, and mean it, and let’s see.”

“You can’t want that,” Xander weakly protested.

“Let’s see.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

“Emotionally?  You betcha.  Not just sex is one thing, this’d be a whole new something else and I don’t want…”

“Anything?  You don’t want anything, that’s what you keep saying, but we both know you’re lying.”

“Anything from you,” Xander corrected.

“Shall I let you in on a little secret?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“Something you said to me after that business with Marcie…”

“Ah, Jesus…”

“Something I hated.”

“…let it go.”

“Something I’m still trying to understand.”  Xander sighed and accepted the inevitable whinge, waving it on.  “You said that you were lonely.  Xander…  You’re with me all the time and yet you’re lonely?”

Okay, that surprised Xander, not at all what he was expecting.  He shrugged awkwardly.  Then, with no relevant point to make, no explanation he could easily give, he simply shrugged again.  Spike studied him closely and, once he’d realised that was all he was getting, turned his disappointed self away and this time, they made it as far as the car.

“I wasn’t trying to be hurtful when I said that,” Xander assured as he leaned against the driver’s door before Spike could get it open.

“I know.  It would have been easier to deal with if you were.”

“Why do you need to deal?  Why can’t you ignore?”

“It’s not in my nature.”

“It is when it suits you.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”  Spike inched his way closer to Xander, and Xander automatically held open his coat, welcoming Spike inside.  “Are you lonely now, Love?” was murmured as Spike nuzzled a scar-free patch of Xander’s neck.

Xander twisted them and flattened Spike against the side of the Cadillac, catching the back of his head and holding him in place to be kissed.

“No.”  Kiss.  “Not lonely.”  Kiss.  “Wasn’t then, not in the sense you mean.  The sense you thought I meant.”

“Then what…”

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

“Lonely for the familiar.”  Kiss.  “Missing people rather than lonely.”

A glimpse of approaching headlights brought the kissing to a halt, and Xander reluctantly let Spike go so they could climb into the car.

“But you’re not missing anyone right now?” Spike asked the moment they were settled.

“I’m fine now.”

Spike patted Xander’s thigh, gave him a patently unconvinced smile…

“Good.”

…and patted his thigh again.

“I’m fine.”

“Right.  You’re fine.”  Spike briskly switched his attention and started the car.  “We’re going to the pictures.  The crossroads we came through getting here tonight?  Turn north and there’s a complex about five miles away.  Cinemas, bars, restaurants, nightclub, take your pick.”

“Umm…  Yeah, movie would be great.  Any idea what’s on?”

“It won’t matter providing we’re in the back row.”

“You think?”

“Haven’t you noticed the change in you?”

“What change?”

Spike chuckled and drove.

“It’s not only me that’ll be grateful for the back row.”

“Uh-uh, not in public.  We watch the movie and you behave.  Promise me.”

That deceptively innocent smile from the vampire and Xander was already getting hard.  Harder still as Spike took a deep breath and the smile became somewhat less angelic.

“You smell lovely, Petal.  Let me…”

Xander slapped away the inquisitive hand that bee-lined for his swelling crotch.

“Stop it.  And…and…promise.”

“All right: I promise.  I promise to behave exactly as you want me to.”

“Exactly?”

“Exactly.”

Xander slid down in his seat with a groan.

“I am so damned.”

…

Back row, and even if this was the first movie Xander had seen in years that wasn’t disrupted by the voices in his head, he swiftly lost track of what they were supposed to be watching as Spike mercilessly toyed with his body.  ‘One kiss, just one’ had rapidly become a passionate interaction, Xander unable, or perhaps unwilling, to fend off the kisses, the teasing mock bites, the touches that began quite innocently but had soon proved how sensitive his nipples could be when given some persistent attention.  Spike was obviously determined to send him mindless with lust, working his cock for a long time through his pants, scratching his balls, squeezing and rubbing his shaft, playing with and pinching the glans until the denim was damp and Xander was panting with the need to come.

It was all about lessening resistance to the moment when Spike adroitly popped open the button of Xander’s jeans and began to slowly tease down the zip.  A movement elsewhere in the almost empty auditorium, and Xander automatically reacted, grabbing Spike’s hands to stop himself being exposed; Spike growled, a muted, lust-filled rumble that went straight to Xander’s groin, and the already inadequate defences weakened, allowing Spike a little access as his head bowed over Xander’s lap, face pressing into the half-undone fly and making Xander stifle a gasp as the head of his cock was mouthed through the cotton of his boxers.

Another movement and once again Xander tried to put a halt to Spike’s actions, but tugging his head away merely gave his hand time to rearrange Xander’s clothes a little more before ducking back down, and now Xander gasped aloud as a cool tongue tickled the eye of his cock, lips tightened around the naked crown.

More overpowering than the sensations Spike was creating was the troubling sensation of being watched, and Xander made a final concerted effort to drag Spike upright.  He leaned in to whisper in Spike’s ear as he scrabbled to refasten his clothes.

“Not here.  Not joking.”

Spike studied him for a moment before giving a brisk nod and standing, grabbing up their coats and waiting for Xander to follow him into the corridor outside of the auditorium and bustling him into the nearest restroom.  Spike threw open a stall door, hurled their coats onto the closed toilet seat, and gestured.

“Privacy.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Uh…  Maybe…”

Still feeling quite breathless, Xander grabbed the last of his loose change from his pocket, scattering coins as he fumbled for what he needed.

“What are you doing?” Spike demanded tetchily.

Xander nodded toward the machine on the wall.

“They’re lubricated, and with some lube we can…”

Spike made a fist and hit the machine with the side of his clenched hand.  It obligingly opened with a dull clang and Spike grabbed a handful of condoms, stuffing them into Xander’s grasp and herding him into the stall.

“Want you so fucking much,” Spike panted between ardently kissing and groping Xander, loosening their clothes, making all the important body parts accessible.

“Getting there,” Xander assured as he dropped all but one condom and ripped open the foil, hands shaking as he rolled the fine rubber over his rigid cock.  “Want me to sit down, so you can…”

“Do me up against the wall,” Spike ordered as he turned and braced himself against the stall partition.

The tiny objection that reared in Xander at the crudity of this was immediately squelched by the force of his desire when presented with Spike’s body, ready and wanting, and he nudged Spike’s feet as far apart as possible, given the restrictions of the tangled jeans.  A lightly probing touch reminded him of the lack of preparation and he tried to turn to pick up another condom but Spike reached back and tugged him into place.

“I don’t want to hurt you.  I’ll use the lube from…”

“Do it!  You can’t hurt me, not really.”

“I don’t want to risk it.”

“You had me earlier, and you overdid the slick then.  I’ve still got half a tube of the bloody stuff inside me.”

“But…”

“You’ll find out when you fuck me.”  Impatience gave way to a persuasive purr.  “C’mon, Love, have me.  Fuck me.  Want you, Xander, want to feel you in me.”

With a groan that was an unbalanced mix of reluctant capitulation and downright horny, Xander lined his cock up with Spike’s opening, nudging toward a tentative penetration until Spike took matters into his own hands and rammed backwards, and as Xander froze in sensory overload, Spike happily used the man and fucked himself.

Less than a minute before Xander was drawn into the action and, Spike having been proved correct about the lack of hurting, he began to compliment Spike’s rolling actions with his own movements.

“Hold me,” Spike told him.  “Do it right.”  ‘Doing it right’ was rather daunting, Xander having barely learnt the basics of gay sex, but he took a guess, grabbing onto Spike’s hips to give himself better leverage and being relieved at the approving nod he received.  “Now…fuck me.”  Spike leaned his crossed arms against the wall and nodded again.  “Fuck me.”

The cautious beginning gave way to growing fervour as Xander stopped worrying and started enjoying, encouraged by the low grunts of pleasure that were forced from Spike by the stronger thrusts, grinding himself deep as he bent forward to kiss and nibble on the back of Spike’s neck.

“Fucking awesome.”  Spike snapped into protective mode at the strange voice, upright and masking Xander as best he could, backing him into the wall behind them as he glared upward.  To discover your average teenaged pervert, wearing a uniform that stated popcorn stall and a badge that introduced Tyrone, watching their coupling from an exceedingly good vantage point leaning over the top of the partition.  “No offence,” the young man said with a dopy, probably doped, smile.  “Saw you inside and…whoa…fucking awesome.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Xander grumbled into Spike’s ear as he tried to shift the vampire in any direction that would lead to having the space to dress and flee.

“Like this, do you?” Spike said, shocking Xander with the humour in his voice.  “Like this?” as he grabbed his cock and waggled it at Tyrone.

Predictably, it was…

“Fucking awesome.”

Spike slid his hands back to grab Xander’s and wind their fingers together, squeezing encouragingly.  With a low chuckle he started to ride the cock that was still inside him, feeling it spring back to full hardness at the stimulation.

“You’re not serious?” Xander whispered, even as his own hips once again matched the vampire’s actions.

Taking Xander with him, Spike guided the hands he held to his waist and then braced himself at arm’s length against the partition wall.  He grinned provocatively upward as he whispered.

“Serious, Love.  Xander.  Fuck me.”

Knowing he should be mortified, yet hopelessly aroused by Spike’s cavalier nature, Xander ignored the stranger and concentrated on the smooth glide as, time and again, he sank deeply into Spike’s body.

“Can I suck you?” Tyrone asked Spike, and Spike laughed as the grip on him tightened.

“Touch him and I break your arms,” Xander snarled.

“Touch me and he breaks your arms,” Spike repeated, still laughing, “And I really think he will.”  His hand dropped to his cock and he began to pull on it with long, enticing strokes; the man licked his lips.  “Pretty thing, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

The partition trembled as the Tyrone unzipped himself and jerked off in time with Spike.

“Nearly as pretty as Xander’s, but you don’t get to see that, that’s all for me.”

“Let me see Xander’s.”

“I’ll only break your arms, Spike’ll go for your neck,” Xander warned.

“Whoa.  Awesome.”

“Yeah, fucking awesome,” Xander agreed.  “He is.  Completely deranged but fucking awesome.”

Spike leaned back against Xander, turning his head and chuckling into the possessive kisses that accompanied some equally possessive fucking.  As Xander grew close to his climax the verging on painful grip became a tender embrace, hands affectionately caressing as they crept over cotton-clad chest and stomach until his arms encircled Spike’s torso, holding him firmly against his chest as the thrusts slowed in a bid to postpone the inevitable.

“You going to shoot in his ass?” Tyrone demanded, “I’d like to shoot in his ass.”

“And I’d like to shoot in yours,” Spike added, “although my weapon of choice would be a Magnum.”

“Ah, fuck, ah, fuck…”

“Yeah, all right, don’t need the commentary.”  Spike’s flippancy was short-lived, Xander’s fist wrapping around his cock and pumping like he meant it.  “Love…” Spike groaned, closing his eyes and concentrating on clenching his inner muscles around Xander’s erection, highly successfully if the sharp intake of breath was any gauge.

“Can’t wait,” Xander desperately whispered, “Spike…”

“Don’t wait, don’t.”

Spike’s hand covered Xander’s and he began to jerk quickly forward into their joined fists, back onto Xander’s cock, letting the shuddering breaths and concentrated heat within his body as Xander gave up the fight bring his arousal to a peak.  Xander clumsily shifted, just enough to drop his head and bury his face in Spike’s shoulder, hiding from public view as his expression contorted with the searing pleasure of his orgasm.  No such modesty from Spike as he blatantly fucked himself on Xander, staging a mind-blowingly erotic show that culminated in his semen spattering across the partition wall, his ardent growls and groans alarmingly loud in the confined space.

Xander’s kisses were soft on Spike’s neck as they recovered, and the vampire’s eyes opened to slits to view the face of their voyeur; Tyrone’s flushed features were slack with spent lust and he was panting with exertion.  Lazily scooping a fingertip-full of his semen from the wall, Spike flicked it at their audience, an accurate shot that landed on the corner of the man’s mouth.  It was immediately and greedily licked up.

“Fucking awesome.”

“Going to clean off this wall when we’re gone?” Spike asked, and Tyrone swiftly answered with a wobbly nod.

“Yeah.  It’ll be fucking awesome.”

“Get down from there,” Xander said sharply.

“Hey, Xander…”

“Get down!”

Tyrone wavered for a moment, before giving Xander a wide grin and wrong-footedly tumbling out of sight.

Xander pulled out of Spike, automatically removing and knotting the condom, stopped by Spike from throwing it into the toilet pan.

“Why…?”

Spike took the condom and casually tossed it over the wall.

“Fucking awesome,” came the dazed response from outside, and before Xander could voice his obvious disapproval, Spike was distracting him with intense kisses, lips, face, neck, before dropping to his knees and instantly taking Xander’s softening cock into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, careful, no,” Xander protested as he pushed Spike away, “sensitive here, Dumbass!”

Spike looked up with an amorous smile, and Xander tried not to notice, adjusting his clothing and urging Spike to do the same.

Leaving the stall, they walked straight into Tyrone, who was impatiently waiting for them.  At this level he was short, scrawny and – Xander thought – way too young to be doing something as potentially hazardous as hanging out in restrooms to watch strangers go at it.  Not that Tyrone seemed to have any concerns about his dubious pastime.

“Hey, Spike, do me now, huh?” the young man pleaded as he gazed longingly at Spike.

“What?” Spike responded with exactly the level of incredulity Xander was expecting.

“Y’know…do me now.”

Spike chuckled nastily and shook his head.

“Now, pay attention, Boy.  You, Tyrone, are a pug ugly, inadequate little wanker.  Xander, on the other hand, is bloody gorgeous, thrill-a-minute and, whether he likes it or not, presently owns me, body and soul.  Given the choice…”

“Stop now,” Xander told Spike firmly, wanting to save Tyrone from the stream of insults he knew Spike was building up to.  “Let’s go.  Leave him, Spike.  Let’s go.”  He turned to Tyrone.  “Try to be careful,” he pointlessly advised.

“Will you do me?”

Xander sighed and nudged Spike out into the corridor.

For a moment they stood in silence, regarding one another curiously.

“Are you angry with me?” Spike asked warily.

“Angry with you?  For turning our sex life into a spectator sport, encouraging a kid to lick your come off the wall and giving him a condom full of mine to do God knows what with?”  Xander’s tense expression broke into a smile, and he laughed.  “This is the most fun I’ve had in years.  Fucking awesome.”

Wariness became smug satisfaction, and Xander laughed again at that.

“Want to catch the rest of the movie?”

“I can’t even remember what we were watching.”

“Club then?”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed happily, “why not.”

Spike turned away and back, meeting Xander’s eye and asking, in all seriousness:

“Will you dance with me?  Openly?”

Xander considered the proposal.  Although he hated admitting it to himself, it made him a little nervous; before he could be as honest with Spike he took another look at the vampire’s expectant face.  Xander couldn’t truly understand why it should be so important, but it was evident just how much this meant to Spike.

“Yeah.  That’d be good.”

Spike turned away again, unconsciously treating Xander to an incongruously coy glace before they began to walk toward the elevator that led to the nightclub.

Distracted by a strangely out-of-place café that promised ‘home-baked’ delicacies at a time when he was getting sorely tired of diner fare and take-out, Xander found a table and ordered a pot of coffee and a selection of what the menu promised were delicate pastries.

“Don’t build your hopes up.  The definition of delicate in this town probably means you don’t break more than three teeth.”

“And why has this town pissed you off, precisely?” Xander asked as he picked up a  local paper and stared at Tania Varley’s face for an incalculable time.  He didn’t notice the not answering that followed his question, didn’t actually notice anything beyond the article he was reading until the smell of strong coffee drew his nose from between the printed pages.  “Okay?” he asked Spike with a frown, unsettled by the vacant stare that was focused on nothing in particular.

“You’re not overly religious, are you?”

Xander demolished an iced pastry before getting around to replying.

“Not overly.  If I’m honest, that was too much for me tonight.  Spiritualism doesn’t exclude any faith and I don’t like it to feel…”  Xander shrugged.  “…hijacked by any single one.  But it didn’t make the people any less nice.  And just because I don’t agree with their approach doesn’t make them wrong.”

Spike gave a distracted nod, mind already having moved on.

“When you say meditate, do you mean pray?”

“No.  When I meditate, I meditate.”

“Do you pray?”

“Sometimes.  Not for me.”  Xander filled the subsequent silence by munching his way through another pastry.  “You have to try one of these,” he nudged the plate in Spike’s direction.  “I’m not about to turn ultra-holy and cast the demon out, if that’s what’s bothering you.  Baby,” Xander finished with a smile.

“There’s a degree of affection suggested by that endearment,” Spike said coolly.  “If you don’t mean it…”

“I just did.”

“You—”

Spike didn’t cover his surprise at that admission well, and Xander got a glimpse of his unguarded emotions before they were concealed behind a chocolate butter twist.  It was quite moving to see Spike so touched by a minor show of affection, but Xander knew better than to comment on it, and went back to what was supposedly the ongoing topic.

“The basic principles of spiritualism,” Xander explained, “cover the fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man, the communion of spirits, and the ministry of angels.  Personal responsibility is in there along with the continued existence and progression of the human soul, and I’m starting to hope that includes human souls with good guy demon accessories.  Acceptance and toleration are important to us; treat others as you want to be treated is a big deal.”

“That explains the change in you.  I’ve thought it was a hell of an evolution: from ‘Vampire!  Kill!  Kill!’ to…acceptance and toleration.”

“It was a hard lesson, but one I had to learn – one I’m still learning.  Very necessary if I’m to grow as a medium.  And…as a person.  I guess I shouldn’t forget that.”

“Is this why you didn’t give me a hard time over the brooch?”

“Oh, I wanted to,” Xander admitted with an embarrassed chuckle.  “For a while I wanted to share how it had left me feeling, but…  You looked as awful as I felt, and…there was no way you’d deliberately do that to me, there was no logical reason.  I’m glad I walked away, it gave me time to calm down a little, see things more clearly.  I know we had that bust up at Jo’s, but I knew I trusted you, despite everything.”

“You want me to throw it out?  The brooch?”

“No.  It’s a memento, it means something to you other than…than…what I…experienced.”

“I can live without it.”

“You don’t have to.  And you don’t have to humour me.  When this is over I’m sure it will mean more to you than the stake I carved.”

“I’m not.”

A long look passed between them, saying so much and so little, only broken when Xander closed his eye and rubbed his temple.

“Don’t do this to me,” he said under his breath, and Spike chose not to hear.

“Headache?”  Xander nodded as he frisked his coat and found the painkillers that now accompanied him everywhere, downing a couple with his coffee.  “Club’s out then,” Spike sighed, but Xander was already shaking his head.

“No.  I’m looking forward to it.  To working off some tension.”

“That’s a shame.  I was looking forward to building up a little more.  The right kind, naturally.”

Xander despaired of himself as he felt his body responding to Spike’s cheeky smile.

“We dance twenty feet apart.”

“You said you’d dance with me.”

“I will be dancing with you.  Just…twenty feet away.”

Spike gave a humorous snort.

“Like you can resist me.”

“I can resist you.”

“Really?  Do I get to see you try?”

“No,” Xander answered immediately, and began to laugh because this was all so preposterous.  “I’m going to dance until I’m hot, sweaty and wholly unattractive, then I’m going to jump you.”

“You’re never wholly unattractive.”

“Hey, that’s right.  I’m bloody gorgeous and thrill-a-minute,” Xander sourly repeated what Spike had said to Tyrone.  “Think in future when you want to take a shot at someone you can avoid doing it at my expense?”

“What do you mean?  Your complimentary vampire was…”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No,” Spike frowned.  “I wasn’t lying, if that’s what you think.”

Xander abruptly stood, turning a tight circle as if he was looking for escape and finding none, stopping and glaring before looking self-consciously away.

“As you pointed out earlier, some of us do have reflections.”

“But…”

“It’s not funny, all right?”

“Xander…”

“Pay for this, will you?”  Xander walked away, muttering to himself.  “Let’s hit the club, see all the pretty girls line up for Spike.”

Spike did as he was asked, exchanging a few polite words with the young woman who had waited on them and noticing, as no doubt Xander had, other than businesslike interest in her eyes and smile.  It was with some difficulty that Spike stifled the urge to take his annoyance out on the girl, admitting to himself with some difficulty that ever since…

“It’s true, y’know: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  Look at you.”

“The last thing I want to do is look at me.  I’m afraid that if I look too closely I’ll see that you were right.”

“I was right?”

“Mmm.  Freak.”

…he’d known, and refused to know, just how bad Xander felt about his appearance.

Turning his back on the café, Spike headed for the club but came to a premature halt so he could take a good look at Xander.  The human was staring out of a plate glass window, pretending to be interested in the complex’s surroundings, but his body language said…crushed.  Yes, crushed.  Spike knew that wouldn’t last, it never did, and when Xander perked up his spine would straighten, shoulders pull back, he’d stand tall.  Superficial appearance…

“Bloody gorgeous,” Spike murmured, knowing he’d got that right all along.

It didn’t matter about the ill-cut and windswept hair, it didn’t matter that the eyepatch had been in place since before their visit to the church, Xander was unquestionably attractive and…  Sod the superficial.  …it was the kind of attractiveness that ran deep.  He doesn’t know.  Oddly painful, that.  Xander didn’t believe he’d spoken the truth when he’d explained to Spike that his lifestyle, the difficulties associated with his new abilities, kept people away.

Spike knew he had better get Xander back to the motel, to some privacy, because they were going to fight about this, and he was going to bombard Xander with the truth until…until…  Xander hated him again?  The oddly painful pain resurfaced.  No.  No, they weren’t going to fight.  Xander couldn’t hate him.  He’d find a way to deal with this, but not at any cost.

“All right, Love?” Spike asked cheerily as he arrived at Xander’s side.

“Sure.”

“Want to go in?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Being…”  Xander shrugged.  “Jealous.  For sulking.  For calling you a liar when I know you’re just trying to be nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“You’re not?”

“No.  And I wasn’t trying to be nice.”

The implications were obvious, but it seemed like Xander didn’t want to fight over this either; he kept quiet and followed Spike into the club.

…

Xander’s brief funk was quickly forgotten, and he seemed more than happy to be with Spike.  They propped up the bar, or they danced, usually together and always closer than twenty feet; they were, understandably, approached by women, and bearing in mind Xander’s feelings about himself, Spike jokingly insisted they dance with a few.  As he was unable to pay attention to anyone other than Xander, it didn’t take long for Spike’s partners to grow disappointed and go looking for less distracted company; Xander seemed permanently uncomfortable – naturally Spike refused to notice that a vampire’s constant scowling scrutiny might be a major part of the problem – and it wasn’t long before Spike cut in and took Xander back, seeing off any further interested parties.  He only needed Xander’s company and arrogantly decided that the feeling was mutual.

Xander got the message fast, and Spike felt the difference.  One minute the atmosphere between them was a couple of mates on the town, the next they were more, they were together, and Spike was pleasantly surprised that Xander wasn’t afraid to show it.

Every time they danced Spike became a little more turned on and, Spike being Spike, Xander had to be reminded who was responsible for his condition and told in graphic terms how Spike would like to relieve those persistent erections.

Four in the morning and they were in each other’s arms, gently swaying, brows and more touching, wonderfully ignored and anonymous in the midst of the gradually thinning crowd.  Both fully aroused by now, Spike pressed their bodies together, murmuring about ending this delicious torment in terms that left Xander trembling with desire.

“I’m desperate to be in you,” Spike groaned, a split second’s weakness, certainly something he hadn’t intended saying.

Xander manoeuvred them to a quieter spot and Spike waited for the inevitable rejection.

“Will you hurt me?”

“What?”

“Desperate to be in me but will you hurt me?”

“No.  I want you to want me, Xander, to keep wanting me.  This has to be about pleasure so you’ll keep wanting me.”

“I’m…I’m…”  Xander took a deep breath and huffed it out.  “I’m sorry, I’m…”

“I know.  I didn’t mean to say that, just…”

“A little worked up,” Xander grinned.  “Yeah.  Know the feeling.  Boy, do I.”

Spike returned the smile, glad that no damage had been done, and he drew Xander back to the floor.

Xander thought about it as they danced – what Spike wanted – getting harder still as Spike’s body ground against him, eager to be close; Spike loved to be close, yet Xander knew that he’d back off with a word.  Little to be scared of if he could reconcile himself to the possibility of a backside sore from welcome use rather than necessary abuse.  The slightest encouragement and Spike was kissing him, seductively, because Spike kissed seductively, not because Spike was trying to seduce him.

Not being seduced was enough to tilt the scales, and he dragged Spike back to the fractionally quieter spot.

“You know what you did before?” Xander asked awkwardly, glad he was flushed from dancing so his blushes would go unnoticed.  “When I was sore?”

“Stuck my tongue in you?”

“If you did that before we, or rather you…”  Xander took a deep breath.  “If you did that prior to fucking me, would that make sure it didn’t hurt?”

“I have no intention of hurting you.”

“But would it?”

“I’d do it anyway, just to have you wriggling around and…”

“Would it help?”

“…hard as a rock.  Liked it, didn’t you?  Hard isn’t the word – beyond hard; could’ve cut diamonds with your prick.”

“Spike…”

“I don’t know what difference it would make.  Vampire saliva heals humans.  If there’s nothing to heal, and I don’t intend to leave you needing that…”

“Okay,” Xander blurted out before he could change his mind.

Beat.

“Okay?”

Beat.

“Okay.”

Beat.

“You mean…  Okay?” Spike repeated weakly.

“When we get back to our room.”

“Say it.”

“You can fuck me.”

“Say it.”

“You can fuck me.”

“Xander, say it.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Another move, now into denser shadows, Xander kissing Spike passionately and knowing exactly what was needed: whispering about the thrilling prospect of being fucked by a demon, being fucked by Spike, being full of Spike, Xander massaged the vampire’s steely cock with the heel of his hand until Spike was clinging to the wall in a post-orgasmic daze.

“Xander…  Love…  You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I do.  I hope I do.”

Spike kissed Xander, so gently their lips barely touched.

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Say it.”

“I want you—”

Another kiss stunted the sentence.  Leaving Spike with exactly what he wanted to hear.

Manifestation 21       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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