Several long minutes of inactivity passed as Spike’s statement began to sink in, and then, as if by unspoken agreement, it was back to business, Xander turning to pick up Tania once again but being prevented from leaving the cave by the inconvenience of a dead body blocking the way.

Meanwhile Spike had quickly checked out their surroundings, and once he’d discovered the shaft that the kidnapper had been using for refuse, he couldn’t think of a more appropriate resting place for the recently departed.

“What are you doing?” Xander asked as Spike grabbed a wrist and began dragging the carcass to the rear of the cave.

“What does it look like?”

“You’re gonna…  You can’t do that.”

“Think he deserves any better?”

“No.  But other people deserve our consideration.  John Randall, the girls’ families, they need to know this guy is dead, John needs to know it’s over.”

“Then you better start figuring out a good way to tell him without dropping us both in it.”

“John will want an identity, he’ll want to see the body.”

“Tough.”

“Spike, you can’t—”  Spike released the dead man and booted him down the shaft with suitable contempt.  “Oh, okay, you can, obviously.  Great.  What happens when the body is found?  How guilty do we look then?”

“No-one’s ever going to find the body.  Search parties must have walked within feet of this cave time and again.  They couldn’t find it when it really mattered, no-one’s going to find it now.”

“Spike…”

“You going to keep whingeing until she dies in your arms?”

Xander immediately started toward the passage that led out through the rocks, only pausing when he remembered how difficult it had been to traverse the first time around.  Although he hated to be parted from Tania now, he knew what made sense, and Spike was there and taking the girl from him before he had to say a word.

Xander took the flashlight from his pocket and switched it on before hurrying back to turn off the gas bottle that was supplying the heat and light, then he led them through the passage and back to the real world.  The air outside was icy and still, and Xander inhaled deeply, unconsciously trying to cleanse himself of the putrid atmosphere he’d been breathing.

“Passing out?” Spike asked.

“No.”

“Good.  Move.”

As they found their way to the Cadillac, Xander called John Randall and asked him to meet them in the chapel’s parking lot, and to bring an ambulance, refusing to go into detail but asking him to be as discreet as possible, and assuring the man that Tania was alive.

Cradling Tania, Xander sat in the back of the car as Spike drove.

“That blanket,” Spike said vaguely.

“It’s disgusting, I should…”

“It’s covered in DNA.  If that bloke is in the system, and I’ll lay money on it, that blanket will give Randall his identity.”

“What do we tell him about how we found her?  We can’t tell him the truth now.”

“You can, about how.  Where…” Spike pondered.

“No, no wait, it’s obvious, from the other cases.  The – the…bodies were left out in the open to be found.  Maybe he did the same to Tania but was disturbed before he could…he could…”

“Or maybe she got away from him and collapsed there…”

“Yeah, either, we don’t know, and I’m not quite sure I can say exactly where ‘cause…dark, led by spirits not by a map…”

“Which leaves me to invent whatever I want to about the location…”

“…and if I don’t know anything I can’t contradict you.”

“Good.  Vague is good.  Polished testimony is always suspicious.”

“So, while we were at the complex, I got a message from Paige…”

“…which led us to an area of brush where we found Tania.”

“Is that vague enough?”

“Should be.  And it’s also good to use the truth as far as possible.  The old biddy in the bar will confirm we were there, and once a piece of the story is verified the rest appears more credible.”

The car fell silent apart from a nearly-not-there muttering from Xander.  Spike listened hard but couldn’t catch more than the occasional word, and it took several minutes before he realised that the murmurs constituted a prayer for healing.  Shifting slightly, he managed to see Xander in the rear-view mirror: the man’s brow was kinked in a concentrative frown, his eye was closed tight, and his cheek was pressed against Tania’s forehead as he gently rocked her unconscious form.

He finally heard, quite distinctly and repeatedly, a heartfelt plea for ‘the great unseen healing force’ to intervene and restore the girl; the trust and conviction in Xander’s simple words made Spike feel very small about how he’d reacted to the question of belief, and how much he’d resented Xander for holding on to what he’d cynically dismissed as little more than a deluded man’s crutch.

…

The handover at the chapel was smoothly carried out, and Xander was relieved to place the damaged young woman in the hands of professionals; with a little manoeuvring he even managed to retrieve his coat, despite knowing it should be passed on for examination for trace evidence.  Despite, or because?  No way he wanted anyone to be led to that cave.

He’d expected to talk to John Randall but the cop had insisted on accompanying Tania to the hospital in the hope she would be able to give him information when she regained consciousness.  Xander appreciated that: the quest for tangible evidence.  He wouldn’t want to be Randall presenting the sheriff with information about this case, purely based on the word of someone the sheriff would automatically dismiss as a screwball.  So, a brief exchange as Randall waited to follow the ambulance to the hospital, and an agreement that the undersheriff would get in touch as soon as possible, then Xander and Spike were left alone to share an oppressive silence that took a massive effort on Xander’s part to end.

“That was…”  He shrugged.

“Yeah,” Spike flatly agreed, staring into the inky sky.  Into the heavens.

The flood of guilt was quite sickening: Xander could no longer suppress the knowledge of what had occurred that night, the implications where Spike was concerned.  But the vampire’s face showed nothing.  Really nothing.  It was completely void of any hint of emotion, and that was horribly disturbing.

“Spike?”  Pause.  “Spike?  Are you okay?”

Spike looked at Xander and, after a few blank seconds, gave him an empty smile.

“Course I am.”

Xander quickly closed the gap between them and pulled Spike into a hug, but it was like embracing a statue, and Xander suspected that it took everything Spike had not to shove him away.

“Let’s get back to the motel, and then we can talk.”

“I’m not in the mood for talking.”

Xander pulled back just far enough to see Spike’s face, reaching up to brush his cheek with the back of his fingers.  Spike jerked away, leaving Xander groping at thin air.

“Spike…”

“Just lay off, will you?  You want nice and I don’t feel like being nice.”

“That’s okay, I don’t expect…”

“I don’t need your fucking permission, all right?  Stop patronising me.”

“I’m not.”

“No?”

Xander considered his actions.

“I’m sorry if it feels that way; it’s not intentional.”  Spike glared, patently unconvinced, but even that was better than the nothingness of minutes before.  “You want me to drive?” Xander asked, eager to be away from this place and hoping he could instil a little of that feeling in Spike.

The glare got glarier and Xander was beginning to feel quite intimidated by the time Spike strolled to the driver’s side of the car and slid inside with his usual grace.  Taking a deep breath, Xander steeled himself for the journey to the motel, and joined the vampire.

…

Spike hated feeling insecure.  It automatically instigated a backlash that left him raging inside, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the rage was kept under wraps.  He didn’t want Xander to be on the receiving end of the potentially violent overreaction, knowing that the inner voice presently forcing blame upon the man for every definable and non-definable grievance in his life was irrational and inaccurate.

But Spike felt insecure and he didn’t know any other way to cope with it than drinking and fighting and fucking it out of his system, using and abusing and coming until he centred his world around those basics – however inadequate they had proved in recent years – and until he felt back in control.

Xander, he knew, was going to try to talk him through this but he had never, in his long existence, found any words that could take the place of his fists dismantling a face or his prick reaming any number of orifices.  Words were useless, and there was no way that Xander was going to be pummelled and buggered to restore Spike’s self-esteem, no way that Spike would lose the friendship, the hints of more, that he’d worked so hard to win.

Once at the motel, he escorted Xander to their room but barely stepped inside.

“You’ll be all right by yourself a while?”

Halfway through divesting himself of a favourite coat he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to wear again, Xander spun to face him.

“What?”

“I need to get out.”

“No.  No, you don’t do that.”

Spike visibly bridled.

“I don’t, eh?”

“Where were you thinking of?”

“Club, bar, haven’t decided.”

“Okay.  I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t want you with me.”

“Why not?  Together is safe, you’ve drummed that into me.”

With a humourless laugh, Spike shook his head.

“Smart.  But no.”

One foot outside the door and Spike was seized and dragged back into the room, Xander forcing him face-to-face.

“Stay.  Please, Spike.  Please.”

“Why?  What are you going to do?” Spike sneered.  “Counsel me?”

“Maybe I can.  If you want me to, maybe I can help you.”

“I’ll tell you what I want: a bottle of Jack, a fight for my life, and a mind-numbing fuck.  Up for it?  Any of it?”  Spike saw in Xander’s eye that he was trying to find the courage to say yes, and that simply made him madder.  “Don’t be stupid enough to agree.”

“I don’t want you to walk away.”

“That’s fucking tough, isn’t it?  And why should I be any more obliging than you?  What part of ‘Don’t go wandering off’ didn’t you understand?”

“Ah, c’mon, Spike, you never realistically expected me to hold back if I had a lead.”

“You could have waited for me.”

“But maybe Tania couldn’t.”

“He was about to cave your head in with a wrench.  Who would that have helped?”

“I was…”

“Thirty seconds from dead.”  Xander opened his mouth to argue but, confronted by the sudden pain in Spike’s eyes, nothing emerged.  “Thirty seconds from dead,” Spike repeated pointedly.

The sensible thing for Xander to do would be back off and give Spike some room, so naturally he did the opposite, pulling him closer and nuzzling his cheek.

“I don’t care if you get drunk.  I don’t care if you fight.  I do care if you fuck someone else; I don’t want you to do that.”

“Would it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Think I care?”

Xander paused momentarily before returning to his nuzzling, dipping to kiss Spike’s neck.

“Yes.”

“Right now?  You’re wrong.”

“Am I?  And you think…what?  That I’m simply going to let you walk out of here and then cry myself to sleep?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Xander forced his fingers into Spike’s hair, grabbing handfuls and keeping the vampire’s head still as the kisses moved to his mouth.

“I’m possessive too, remember?” he whispered against the unmoving lips.  “You go out and I’m coming with you.  You make a pass at someone else and I’m going to screw it up for you, big time.  That’s a promise.”

“And what if I decide we’re over before it’s over?  End it – us – right now, this minute.  You’ll do the job, won’t you?  Even if you’re dumped?”

Xander smoothed Spike’s hair and leaned back to smile reassuringly at him.

“No.”

“No?”  Spike couldn’t help returning the smile at this brilliant show of selfishness.  “Can’t fuck me so you fuck the world instead.”

“Want to take a chance on that?”

“You little bastard.  You gorgeous little bastard.”

Spike snatched a kiss, having progressed from disliking himself to disliking the pair of them, wanting to hurt Xander, but physically now, not emotionally, wanting to fuck the man raw and punish him for…everything.  He finally shoved Xander away and crossed to the fridge, retrieving a can of beer and downing it in one long draught.

“Can we talk now?” Xander asked, having set the bunny-boiler persona aside and seemingly back to his usual self.

Spike crunched the can before throwing it hard in Xander’s direction; Xander didn’t even attempt to avoid it, and it hit his chest and fell to the floor with a dull clatter.

“I’m done talking.  I’m—”  Spike paused, seething.  “We’re going out.”

“I just have to wait to talk to John and—”

The vampire was back before Xander saw him move, snatching up fistfuls of shirt and bashing Xander into the wall, pinning him in place as the private seething became public.

“No.  No.”  Xander’s hands shakily rose and stiltedly stroked Spike’s back, stopping abruptly as a snarl emerged along with the golden eyes.  “Tell you what happens now, shall I?  You put me first.  Just for once you put me first.”

The final words were all but screamed, and Xander wanted so much to comply with everything Spike was asking for, but…

“I have to talk to John.  And…and…you have to.”

Trembling with rage, Spike forced it down and pressed his body hard against Xander’s.

“Tell me, Love,” Spike ground out.  “Words of one syllable.  Putting Spike first is impossible because…?”

“Because…”  The answer was there immediately.  “He’s strong enough not to need it.”

Spike groaned, and leaned a little more heavily, leaned until Xander felt like he was being used as a prop.

“How do you know?  For all your freak show sensitivity, how can you possibly know what goes on inside me?”

The words hurt Xander.  Not the freak show jibe, that meant nothing, but the fact that he’d obviously missed so much, the unpleasant realisation that he’d assumed more than he’d learnt about Spike.  Unwanted affection, he knew, but his arms came up to embrace the vampire.  Unwanted affection, but the golden eyes returned to blue.

“If I’ve been wrong, I’m sorry.  I’m really sorry.  I want to know how you feel.  I also know…you won’t tell me without a fight.”

“Put me first.”

“You…  Emotionally you are first,” Xander uncomfortably admitted, adding quickly, “I think you already know that.  Intellectually…I accept that we have to speak to John before…”  Xander grunted in discomfort as Spike pushed away from him, using his chest as a brace, and if Spike hadn’t been headed for the door he would have allowed himself a few seconds in sulkdom at the heavy-handed treatment.  But Spike was headed for the door and Xander was in rapid pursuit.  “Please, Spike…”

“Why do I have to stay?” Spike swung back to demand.  “To make you feel better about securing my place in hell when this existence is over?”

“This isn’t about me.  I don’t want you leaving and feeling…”

“Feeling what?  Eh?  C’mon, prove to me for once and for all that you’re not fucking clueless.”

“I…umm…”  Xander shrugged.  “Am.  I guess.  Fucking clueless.  And upset that I don’t seem to know you at all.  I really thought you were strong enough…”

“I am.”

“Then…”

Xander huffed a brief laugh at the absolute absurdity of this conversation, just prior to giving up on it and crossing to their bed, sitting on the edge and turning his head away so he wouldn’t see Spike leave.  He was right to: under the circumstances, hearing Spike go was bad enough.

…

John Randall arrived about two hours later; Xander had spent the time alone very deliberately not thinking about Spike and working intensively with Saul, picking over what they already knew and trying to establish other facts that he could pass on to the undersheriff.

Randall looked around curiously, apparently surprised that Spike was nowhere to be seen.

“He needed some space,” Xander offered, and Randall nodded his understanding.

Randall sat in the armchair and talked to Xander as he made coffee, assuring him that Tania was going to be fine – in body at least: neither man wanted to dwell on the psychological consequences of her ordeal – and proceeding to talk about the case as a whole, stretching back over the past few years.  Randall haltingly confided that one of his nieces had walked out of her home eighteen months ago after a furious row with her parents and hadn’t been heard from since.  His very obvious fear was that the killer had made off with her.

“I may be able to help you,” Xander said as he handed over the coffee before sitting opposite Randall.

“You may?” Randall asked warily, not entirely sure whether he should be happy about that.

“By discounting her.”

“How?”

“I think that between us, my spirit guide and I have found all the girls he took.”

The colour drained from the cop’s face, and he had to put his mug down before his shaking hands spilled his coffee.

“She’s called…”

“Don’t tell me.  Let me give you what I’ve got.”

Xander fetched his notebook, and both men jumped, startled, as the door noisily opened and Spike strolled in.

“Have I missed much?”

Xander stared at him for a moment, wondering what lay beneath the nonchalant surface, but remembering that Randall knew about their so-called ‘relationship’, and not wanting to show any signs of a rift, he forced a smile for Spike and delicately explained Randall’s situation before settling on the bed and flicking his pad open to the relevant page.

“Okay…” Xander sighed.  “It’s been impossible to work out a time frame, but I think you can do that better than me.  I haven’t included the girls you already know about, so…”  Spike dropped down beside him and Xander gave him a prod.  “Move away.  If there’s still information to come I don’t want to miss it.”  He turned back to Randall and explained about the Spike zone, but it was plain that the man was too preoccupied to listen to much beyond the crucial list of names.  Once Spike was as far away as possible while still in the room, Xander began to read.  “The earliest victim on my list seems to be Melissa Mor.  Then, not necessarily in this order…  Carmella Goodner.  Allie Mitchum.  MaryLou Dano.  Katy Liverman.  Annabelle Kinter.”

“That’s it?” Randall asked in a choked whisper, and at Xander’s nod he leant forward, face in hands, for a long moment.  Xander waited patiently and eventually Randall looked up, wiping his face and giving a feeble smile.  “If I ever catch up with my niece I’m going to kill her,” he weakly joked.

“Just ‘cause this one didn’t get her doesn’t mean to say no-one else…”

“Spike!”

Spike shrugged.

“Just saying.”

“Well…don’t.”  Xander was relieved to see that there was still a smile on Randall’s face that only faltered when Xander handed over the list of victims, but the evident distress was quickly covered by the cop’s well-worn mask of professionalism.

“Okay, boys.  How about you tell me what happened tonight.”

Xander told his side of the story, and Randall produced his own notebook to jot down the account, asking several questions but accepting the medium’s semi-vagueness without comment.  Handing over to this somewhat unpredictable Spike made for a tense moment, but the vampire’s account was a measured blend of precision and beautifully played embarrassment when the professional investigator could only offer less than specific information.

New voices in Xander’s head made him tune out the living in favour of the dead, and it was with a chill that he interrupted the ongoing conversation about the blanket and recoverable DNA.

“There’s a name…  This seems to be from…Allie, Allie Mitchum.  Something…  …  C’mon, Honey, just a little clearer.  …  Co…Co…Cougar?  No.  …  Help her, please.  …  Co…  No, I’m being shown…”  Xander drew a K in the air with his finger.  “It’s…Koga.  Koga,” he concluded with satisfaction, continuing to pay close attention to the rest of the incoming account.  “She knew him, Allie knew him, and she’d seen him spying on one of the girls that went missing, and…  Oh, Sweetheart, you were so brave.  …  She confronted him and…and…he felt he had no choice but to take her too, and…”

Xander flinched as he received a rush of sensation from the girl.

“Xander?” Spike said softly, taking a cautious step forward.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay.”  Xander paused, the connection with Allie lost, but, having done exactly what Spike had suggested, he carried on with the fabrication that would, hopefully, give Randall his peace of mind.  He deliberately gave Randall such a wary look that the man was instantly on his guard.

“What?  What were you told?”

“I can’t…  Ah, shit.”  Xander twitched away and back, staring at Randall and apparently fighting his own conscience.  Randall played straight into his hands, offering up a weary but kindly, undeniably persuasive smile.  “This is…”  Xander took an undisturbed moment, and chose his words carefully as he looked directly into Randall’s eyes.  “The spirits won’t predict the future for me, but sometimes…they give me clues.  Koga…”  Xander took a deep breath, exhaled slowly.  “Koga is…expected.  I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I feel you have a right to know.”

“When you say ‘expected’…?”

“No more victims, John.  It’s over.  Koga will be dead before he can hurt anyone else.”

“Dead?  You know how?  Where?”

“I don’t know anything that pertains to this side of life, I only know he’s expected in spirit and soon.”

“That’s, umm…”  Randall, having crept to the edge of his seat, sat heavily back in it as Xander’s information sank in.  “That’s good.”

“It is good.  He won’t hurt anyone else and he’ll be somewhere he can be helped.  Although I guess that’s hard for any of us to care about, considering what he’s done.”

There was a long pause.  Xander watched and patiently waited.

“I feel cheated,” Randall admitted.

“I understand that.”

“But…good.”  Randall turned a speculative gaze on Xander.  “You think you’ll know when?”

“I may do.  My guide may be able to tell me when Koga’s in spirit.  If he does, I promise I’ll let you know.  In return…is there any way that you can keep us out of this?  If the sheriff is as prejudiced as you say I’m more likely to end up in an asylum than on the stand.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“Might be easier than presenting the sheriff with a completely non-credible witness.  As easy as…the two hikers who found Tania not understanding their civic duty and taking off while you were at the hospital,” Spike suggested.  “They didn’t know you’d need formal statements, or they simply didn’t want to get involved; maybe not hikers, maybe a horny couple who were somewhere they shouldn’t be for reasons that we can all easily guess.  They could be bashful heroes who didn’t want credit for saving the girl, or a courting couple whose respective spouses wouldn’t be too pleased to see them together on local TV.  Keeping us out of this doesn’t have to be about suspicious loose ends.”

Randall didn’t look entirely convinced but he was starting a slow nod as he got to his feet.

“I’ll deal with this.  It’s the least I can do.  Right now, I have to get back to the hospital.”

He held his hand out and Xander took it, the cop putting so much emotion into that touch that Xander felt quite moved, and was certainly lost for words.  Randall went on to thank Spike and, as before, Spike walked him out to his car.

The silence beyond the white noise of voices was, for some unknown reason, disturbing; Xander crossed to the table and booted up the laptop, turning the media player on and selecting the playlist he’d loaded from his stereo.  Music played but he didn’t listen, he just allowed it to fill a little of the emptiness as he stared at his abandoned coat and let his heart ache.

The door clicked shut behind Spike and Xander deliberately didn’t look, didn’t acknowledge him in any way.  He barely reacted when Spike’s arms looped around his waist and a hard body pressed against his back.

“Was that true?” Spike asked as he rubbed his face in Xander’s hair.  “The spirits expecting that bloke?”  Xander shook his head.  “Nicely played.  John believed it, believed everything I think.  Then again he was so glad to get the girl back alive…”

“Where did you go?” Xander asked in a tense voice.

“Y’know…  Out.”

“Get what you want?”

“Maybe.”

The audible smirk in Spike’s voice was too much.  Xander tore himself out of Spike’s grasp, elbowing the vampire in the face as he fought to free himself.  Across the room and fuming as he glared at Spike.

“Keep away from me.”

Spike rubbed his cheek and studied Xander, pleasantly intrigued by a level of jealousy he often thought only he was capable of.  It was…hot.

“If I tell you the truth will you let me near you?”

Xander suppressed the incipient rant: Spike’s words implied that the truth would defuse rather than inflame the situation, and that was something Xander positively yearned for.  Calmer would mean closer, it would mean not feeling alone in this.  It would mean comfort.  Too easy, and far too difficult.

“How do I know you won’t be saying whatever you think will get you what you want?”

“And what is it that I want?”

“What you always want, I guess.”  Spike raised a questioning eyebrow.  “Your own way.”

“That’s a laugh.”

“Didn’t say you got it, did I?”

There was a thoughtful pause before Spike took a single step forward.

“Never left the car park.  Sat out there and…”  Shrug.  “…hated me, hated you, cursed the situation, cursed the whole bloody world that needs saving, felt…sorry for myself.”  Another shrug.  “There you have it: no booze, no brawl, no getting my end away.”  A further step.  “Know something else?  I can see on your face that you believe me, so can I…”

“No-one gets over being that mad so fast.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  Consider this…a hiatus.  You needed me to talk to John and I wasn’t about to let you down.  Looking at you, I think you need me, full stop.”

“We have to talk.”

“Let’s leave the post-mortem till later.”

“Spike…”

“C’mere, Love, I want you now.”

“Not until…”

“Gimme a break here!”

“Suppressing what happened…”

“I am not suppressing anything other than the desire to jump you.”

“Sex isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Sometimes,” Spike sighed, “you’re so…human.”

“Yeah, and I’m kinda proud of it.  Despite the Kogas of this world.”

And the mention of that name, a ripple of tension ran visibly through Spike; his eyes flashed gold.  So much for the hiatus.  Xander turned to the laptop and reached to switch off the music, planning on goading, cajoling or blackmailing Spike into talking; he hit the wrong key but before he could correct his mistake, he was wrapped in vampire and brought about to be fervently kissed as determined hands tugged at his clothes. 

‘Take me now, Baby, here as I am…’

Great, just the message he didn’t want to send.  He wrenched his mouth away from Spike’s; the kisses transferred to any scrap of skin that Spike could reach.

‘Pull me close, try and understand…’

“Spike!  Will you—!”

‘Desire is hunger, is the fire I breathe…’

“Don’t stop.”

“I haven’t started.  I…”

‘Love is a banquet on which we feed.’

“Yes.  Love.”

Xander’s shirt was gone in record time, his t-shirt well on the way to following it, and his patience gave way at the same time as the cotton.  He struggled to push Spike off, not wanting the only jeans that fitted him well to be shredded too, but every twist and turn was easily countered and Xander accepted that demonic strength and speed were always going to defy him.  Which left reasoning with Spike.  Oh.  Joy.

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t want—”

Xander didn’t have a chance to finish that.  Spike, assuming the sentence ended ‘you’ rather than ‘my pants ruined’ and desperate not to be rejected, took the easiest, albeit least honourable, route: his mouth fastened onto the scar he’d left on Xander’s neck, blunt teeth scraping the surface.  With a stunted cry and a full-body shudder, Xander’s knees collapsed with the intensity of the erotic sensations that exploded throughout his body from that vulnerable spot.

‘Because the night belongs to lovers.
Because the night belongs to lust.

Somewhere inside that crippling rush Xander knew that this wasn’t right, and it was Spike himself who had made him understand why this wasn’t right, why no-one should want this.  Xander knew.

Because the night belongs to lovers.
Because the night belongs to us.’

But there wasn’t an iota of objection or fight in him.  Not as Spike lifted him and laid him on the bed, not as the rest of his clothes were stripped away, not as Spike kissed and touched him, teased the scar to keep him compliant, assiduously prepared him, slid inside his body and fucked like a wild thing despite the sweet words of need and desire and of Xander being his damnation and his saviour.

‘Love is an angel disguised as lust,
Here in our bed until the morning comes.’

Arousal thrummed through Xander, ripple after hormonal ripple, and the mere sight of Spike above him made him as horny as he’d ever been, but…  He couldn’t come.  It wouldn’t happen.  Spike fucked and fussed and played with him, impatiently pulled at his cock, talked so dirty that Xander began to think he’d need therapy when this was done, but…no release.

‘Come on now, try and understand,
The way I feel under your command.
Take my hand as the sun descends.
They can't touch you now, can't touch you now, can't touch you now.’

Xander became aware of Spike staring at the scar, knowing that he could use it one last time to tip Xander into orgasm; despite the glorious sensations that manipulating the damaged flesh could induce, and despite the heady power it gave Spike, the thought of exploiting it was more appalling than sexy, to either of them.  Their eyes met, and Xander saw more sorrow than lust in Spike’s.

“Baby,” Xander whispered, only able to manage a single word and choosing that one, with its implications, and its associations, and trying to fill his tone with what he needed to happen here.

Spike’s expression scrunched in upset but he buried his face in the unscarred side of Xander’s neck and shuddered with rawer emotions than pleasure as he pumped his climax into the man beneath him.

‘With love we sleep; with doubt the vicious circle turns and turns.
Without you I cannot live; forgive the yearning, burning.
I believe in time, too real to feel.
So touch me now, touch me now, touch me now…’

The song played on and on, stuck on repeat and scoring into Xander’s mind; he’d never hear it again without being transported to another place and time.  Not, though, somewhere that reminded him of being overwhelmed and powerless.  The opposite, in fact: a place and time of empowerment, when he’d finally understood how needed he was.  When saving the world for mankind became secondary to saving Spike from himself, from being the screwed-up would-be human who lay quivering against the lover he imagined he’d now irreparably alienated.

‘Because the night belongs to lovers.
Because the night belongs to lust.’

Xander would never hear that song again without becoming unbearably aroused.

‘Because the night belongs to lovers.
Because the night belongs to us.’

…

Xander recovered in Spike’s absence, dozing and wondering where the vampire had disappeared to so suddenly, enjoying the languid stretches as his body gradually became his own once again.  He was also quite content with getting his fascination over the scar out of his system, however that had come about.  No doubt Spike would be moody and difficult over this encounter, finding blame to heap upon himself.  Fucking soul.  Xander sighed and mentally rolled both eyes because, mentally, he still could.

He was roused from his nap by rain.  Not the sound of it from outside the room, but the dripping on his body from inside.  Puzzled, he forced his eye open, and he smiled at the source of the wet: Spike, leaning over him, face turned away but offering his freshly washed, un-gelled hair.  About to touch, to make the most of this treat, a hint of a tremor from Spike made Xander hesitate.  It made him realise that not every drop of water falling onto his skin was from the vampire’s hair.

Xander’s hands detoured from hair to shoulders, pulling at Spike.

“Hey, c’mon, Baby.”  A bigger shudder and Spike let himself be manoeuvred into a cuddleable position and fussed over.  “It’s okay.  It will all be okay.”

“Idiot.”

“Did I ever mention how nothing your sweet nothings can be?”

“Love,” Spike croaked, voice thick with emotion.

“Better.”  Xander pressed a kiss into Spike’s damp hair.  “We need to talk about what happened with that guy, and once we have…”

“You think the tears are for that scum?”

Xander hesitated, already experiencing an inkling of where they were headed and dreading it.

“You tell me.”

“Us.  Me, you.  You.”

“Listen to me, we are not revisiting your post-LA…”

“But this time I did—”  Spike’s voice cracked but he made himself speak.  “I think the world of you and this is how I treat you.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“How about…  ‘Spike, you made me a victim.  Are you proud of that, you utter cu…”

“Can’t say that if I don’t feel it.”

“I take someone as strong as you, that I care about this much, and…and…”

More tears and Xander hugged Spike closer, letting him cry out a little of his frustration and anger, all the while attempting to formulate some sort of ongoing strategy to deal with a demon who misguidedly thought he should be better than a human.

Here came a plan.  Okay.  Ooookay.  Not too nice – positively crass in the face of Spike’s distress – and with plenty of scope for backfiring.  It was probably…perfect.

“Spike,” Xander began slowly, dragging his fingers through the loose waves on the rear of Spike’s head.  “Baby.”

“What?”

“I know my timing is lousy, but with you being so close, and I didn’t get off, and I’m kinda…”  A little pressure to Spike’s shoulder, pushing him away and down Xander’s body, before all of Xander’s fingers clenched in Spike’s hair and guided him to his groin.  Spike opened his mouth to speak but Xander was faster to interrupt.  “Not a word, huh?  Just for once, just…”

The words dissolved into an entirely non-manufactured groan as Spike’s mouth closed around Xander’s rapidly swelling cock and the simmering lust that had been created and left unsatisfied re-emerged with a vengeance.  A gentle undulation of the hips and Xander was thrilling to the low, rumbling growl of contentment that emerged from Spike as his mouth was leisurely fucked.

“Oh.  Yeah.  That’s good,” Xander gruffly commented when he finally found his voice, continuing to ramble appreciatively about Spike’s abilities as he enjoyed the talented mouth, the freedom to wind his fingers through the hair that was drying in corkscrews, the never-ending novelty of the Spike zone that ensured silence in the wake of Koga’s victims and Patti Smith’s melodic brainwashing.

Ten minutes of pure selfishness, and then Spike altering his position alerted Xander to what he couldn’t resist watching, pushing himself onto his elbows to observe Spike’s hand roughly working his own cock.

“Do it.  Do it, Baby, let me see you,” Xander breathlessly encouraged, fighting for self-control as Spike’s head bobbed in time with his strokes, swiping tongue or thumb over sensitive glans’ and causing both men to shudder with the effort of restraint.  “Let me see you,” Xander groaned again, more urgently now, and Spike’s hand sped up, his suction increased, and with a precision that could only be credited to the horny thrill of the other’s release, they came within a second of one another.

Xander flopped down, panting, as Spike crawled up his body, mindlessly smearing semen from his recently busy hand over Xander’s skin.  Xander registered where every speck was left, and grinned at himself for the stirrings of excitement such a non-exciting occurrence could provoke.  There was unexpected acceptance, willingness even, when he realised he was going to be kissed and he was going to taste his come in Spike’s mouth; what had so recently repelled him now seemed such a natural part of this and them, the repulsion was rejected as ludicrous, and Xander welcomed Spike’s mouth, regardless of its unfamiliar flavour.

The kisses were hard and restless, the ongoing effect of a cause Spike would refuse to discuss until he was either good and ready, or ingeniously coerced.  Good and ready felt a long way off, and Xander was feeling less than ingenious and not inclined toward coercion.

“Tell me to stop,” Spike growled, surprising Xander because the vampire’s manner suggested that stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Will you?”

“I’ll have to.”

“How about if it’s just long enough for me to make a point?”

“Thinking.  Too much bloody thinking.”

The kisses resumed, and Spike pushed his thighs between Xander’s, spreading their legs and wriggling to position himself until he could rub his predictably re-erecting cock in the crease of Xander’s buttocks.

“Not yet, I—”

Spike froze for a moment before warily meeting Xander’s eye.

“Did I hurt you?  Before.”

“No.”

“At all?”

“Aside from the care you’re conveniently forgetting you took getting me ready, and aside from the gallon of lube, I think it’s safe to say I was fairly relaxed, so…”

“I will never, never do that again.”

“Never the sex!” Xander exclaimed in faux consternation.  “Never again?  You are so dumped.”  Spike drew breath to speak, glared, and moved to Xander’s side.  Xander gave him a moment before asking, softly, “Are we talking?”

“Can’t stop you, can I?  Like…”  Irritation gave way to guilt.  “Like you couldn’t stop me.”

“You need to chew on that before we get to the main course?”

Spike rolled, turning his back on Xander, clutching his arms tightly to himself.

“What is wrong with me?” he whispered miserably, probably rhetorically, but Xander wasn’t about to let that stop him.

“Same that’s wrong with me, I guess.”

“You would never…”

“I just did.”  Xander watched Spike fall completely still as he took that on board.  “I wanted a blow job, and I didn’t ask, I just took.”

“But I didn’t mind.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I could have stopped you.  That only works one way.”

“You think?  Maybe I don’t know you as well as I’d like to, but I know some of the buttons to push.  It would go…  ‘Blow me, Spike.’  ‘No, Xander, I don’t want to.’  ‘But you hurt me and I need you to make me feel better.’  You’re sucking my dick before I get to the end of that sentence, whether you want to or not.”

Perfectly true, but Spike admitted nothing, refusing to take an easy way out.

“It isn’t the same.”

“Why not?  I didn’t give you a choice, but you didn’t mind.  And although you…”

“Are you seriously expecting me to believe you didn’t mind either?”

“Do I seem angry or upset?  No, ‘cause I’m not.  But…using the scar…  Never again or I’ll be mad as hell.  Once was okay: despite what you told me, I feel like I needed to go there and figure it out for myself.  I did: scar - horny – but not so nice.”

“It doesn’t change the main issue, does it?  I have a soul, and I’m no better than I ever was as pure demon.  I have no excuses any more.  What does this say about me as a person?”

“That you’re as impetuous as you and as fallible as me.”

“The man I once was…”

“C’mon, you can’t force William’s Victorian sensibilities into a twenty-first century relationship.”

“Respect should be timeless.  Once I’d’ve taken no for an answer and…I fought to be that man again.”

“You’re this man, in this world, in these circumstances.  The kind of relationship we have allows certain…liberties.  And, Spike…  There wasn’t a no.”

“There was.  You were saying no and I couldn’t accept that.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You said you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t get a chance to finish!  I didn’t want you to ruin my clothes.  I was trying to tell you not to rip my clothes, my favourite jeans, and – by the way, did you rip my jeans?  I bet you ripped my jeans.  I am totally going to kick your ass.”

“How would you feel if I went and raped someone and used all the excuses you’re giving me to make myself think it was acceptable?”

“Because you’re really that ignorant, huh?  You think us, here, now is comparable to…”

“No.”

“So why are we even discussing it?  In fact…  I’m not.  I’m not going there, it’s pointless.  How about I say…that you probably shouldn’t have done what you did…but I don’t actually mind that you did it.  And although I understand why and how it happened, it was a little disrespectful so I don’t want you to do it again.”

Spike finally un-scrunched his body and rolled back to Xander’s side, still not touching but close enough to feel the contact.

“That’s better,” he conceded.  “A bit.”

“Only a bit?  Doesn’t quite hit the mark?  If that isn’t enough you’re screwed because it’s as far as I’m prepared to go.”

Xander waited patiently for Spike’s response, shuffling around to face him and running his hand over the vampire’s shoulder and upper arm.  It was plain to see how torn Spike was, so when Xander finally received a barely audible…

“It’s…enough.”

…it was with some degree of relief.

Spike let their fingers be linked, and didn’t offer any objections to his arm being led to rest around Xander’s waist, the man edging closer still for a better fit.  Spike simply closed his eyes and silently appreciated the warmth, both physical and emotional.

“Hey,” Xander whispered as he rubbed his nose over Spike’s.  “You think we can…”

“Not talking.”

“No, not talking.  You think we can move on?  Or does John need us to stay here for…whatever?”

“I told him we’d be leaving.”

“And?”

A faint smile lightened Spike’s features.

“Don’t think he was entirely happy about it, but as long as he doesn’t want anyone knowing he went to a medium for help, what can he say?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay one more day.”  Spike shrugged.  “That an ‘okay’ shrug?”  Spike shrugged.  “Okay.”  Kiss.  “You think this is going to work out?”

“I do.”

“I hope you’re right.  I really don’t want to be in the middle of the sheriff’s witch-hunt.  In the middle of any of this.”

“About bloody time.”

“Officially in the middle.”

“Still about bloody time.”

“Hey, time, yes.”

Xander peered past Spike to check the time, and seeing they were only minutes into the latest scheduled news report, he quickly turned and grabbed the remote off the bedside cabinet, switching on the TV and flicking to the local channel to find the delighted newsreader barely able to keep a professionally straight face as she reiterated that Tania Varley had been found, and that she was alive.  Further information was expected shortly, the sheriff being due to make an official statement within the next thirty minutes.

There was Tania’s picture, once again smiling at them and, for the first time since seeing that face, Xander wasn’t dragged down by despair at the sight of it, but lifted by hope.  He groped behind him and grabbed at Spike, catching a wrist and tugging until the vampire was pressed against his back; as far as Xander was concerned the move was about Spike watching the TV with him, but Spike was more preoccupied with the wonderfully distracting body that gave him a little respite from his troubling thoughts.

“We did it, Spike, we did it.”

“You did,” Spike corrected as he rested his mouth on the nape of Xander’s neck.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.  You ended up saving me and Tania.”

“Xander…  Very little of this was about saving Tania.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What shall I say then?”  Spike gently bit down on the soft curve where Xander’s neck met his shoulder, causing a violent shiver.  “That I want you?  Want to be in you?  Need the peace you give me?”

“Don’t,” Xander unconvincingly protested, trying his best to defy the hand that snaked around him to tease his nipples.

“You love it,” Spike growled.

“Oh, gee, you noticed.  Okay, but right now I want to concentrate…”

Spike changed tactics, now focusing on the one part of Xander he knew to be as smitten as he was, but his fingers barely had the chance to brush over the man’s stiffening member before his hand was, once again, fended off.  Undeterred it veered from groin to thigh, gripping and lifting and opening Xander to Spike’s next offensive.  Shockingly, a muted…

“Shh-shh-shh.”

…was all it took to silence the impending objections.

The vampire’s slow penetration of his body seemed wholly inexorable, and Xander groaned with sensation, with need, with inwardly-directed should-be outrage at being taken so easily and not giving a damn.

“Spiiike…”

“There, Petal,” Spike crooned as his hips began to move in a smooth and restrained rhythm.  “I’ll make it good for you, have you coming in no time.”

“Stop.”

“Mean it?”

Despite the confidence of his actions, the surety in Spike’s voice was wavering; Xander was quick to reassure him.

“Uh…no.  Don’t stop.  Permanently.  Maybe…  Temporarily.  I want to…”

Suitably encouraged, Spike prised the remote away from Xander and switched off the TV before throwing the unwanted object to the far side of the room.

“I will stop,” Spike promised sweetly.  “Just after I’ve finished fucking you so full of my spunk that you slosh when you walk.”

“Shit, that should be vile, why isn’t…”

“You want it, don’t you?  Want it all.”

Holding on tightly and taking Xander with him, Spike laid flat on the bed, Xander helplessly on top of him like a turtle trapped on its back, legs forced apart by Spike’s bent knees, body still impaled and being leisurely and continually fucked.  Now Spike’s hands were given free reign as they teased nipples and cock, fingers slippery with Xander’s pre-come, Spike enjoying the array of grunts and whimpers that accompanied every milking stroke, every playful tickle or persuasive squeeze of the swollen glans.

“I love to fuck,” Spike stated the obvious with absolute relish, “and I love to fuck you, Xander.”

Xander gave a breathy, horny chuckle.

“Never would have guessed.”

“And you don’t mind.”

“Nuh.  Would like to…”

Xander’s head struggled to rise so he could see the vampire’s hands on him, falling back after mere seconds and turning in an unfocused attempt to find Spike’s mouth.  Spike was waiting, poised to supply the kisses Xander craved, remaining thrilled by this simple yet dangerously intimate contact, aware that the mounting emotional content of each sexual encounter was outweighed tenfold by the connections being forged with every single kiss.

The upward thrusts became a little more deliberate, causing libidinous shudders as Xander’s prostate took hit after hit, and Xander was struggling to find a way to move against Spike to make it better still but pressure on his hip soon stopped his actions.

“Just let me fuck you,” Spike told him.

Xander snatched up the hand on his hip and squeezed the fingers.

“So close.”  The hand was transferred to his erection.  “Please.”

Spike’s thumb slithered in the slick fluid that, at the lightest touch, pulsed from the swollen tip; desperate for release, Xander vainly attempted to work his cock in the too loose grip.

“I’ll get you there, don’t worry.”

“Do it.”

“Do you like this?”  Spike took his time with several long strokes, letting Xander feel every inch of his cock as it penetrated, withdrew, penetrated.  “Like me in you?”

“Yeah.”

“Feel me?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You feel me when I come in you?”

Xander nodded.

“’S kinda funny.  Cold.”

“That’s right.  And I feel the heat when you come in me.  It’s special.”

“Yeah.  Such a turn on.  Special.”

“Special to us.  Won’t get that anywhere else and we’d miss it, wouldn’t we?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Xander said as he shook his head against Spike’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t?” Spike asked, perplexed that his version of brainwashing had apparently missed its mark.

“Just us.  Don’t want anyone else.”

Or perhaps it was simply less necessary than Spike had thought.  His fist flexed around Xander’s erection and the resultant murmur of pleasure sparked his desire for a more vociferous reaction, and he fucked and teased until Xander was gorgeously loud and demanding, and his hand was gripping Spike’s forearm so tightly that if there’d been a blood supply for the vampire to worry about he’d’ve been worried about it.  A further grind and a gasp and a shudder and Spike knew it was out of his control, Xander suddenly teeth-clenched and silent as he arched against the body beneath him and came, stripping away the last of Spike’s control and back to groaning as the vampire jerked his cock deep into the heat and emptied his balls.

Two attempts to right himself and Xander was left weakly giggling at his incapacity before Spike tipped them onto their sides and rubbed a hand over Xander’s belly and chest, working the spray of semen into the skin.

“Wow,” Xander eloquently stated as he gave up any ridiculous intentions of leaping back into action.  Instead…  “Spike…  Wanna fetch the remote?”

“No.”

“Spike…”

“No.”

“Spiiike…”

“No.”

“Spiiike…”

“All right, just…shut up.”

Spike carefully withdrew from Xander’s body and rose, grouchily stomping across to where he’d thrown the remote and returning it to Xander.

“Spike…”

“No.”

“Spiiike…”

“What?”

“Water?”

More grouchy stomping as Spike fetched a bottle of water from the fridge.

Xander switched the TV on, expecting the usual update on Tania but being surprised to find mundane coverage of the President’s trip to Japan.  He flicked around a few channels before finding the end of a piece on the kidnapping, most of which Xander didn’t catch because he was shrieking and squirming to get away from the ice cold bottle that Spike had meanly and deliberately pressed against his side.

By the time peace had broken out the sheriff was ending his statement and, on behalf of the family, thanking the public for their prayers and support during this ordeal.  Xander turned the TV off and, once again, Spike took the remote from him and tossed it away.

“Tania’s old news,” Xander said with a degree of shock.  “Just like that, she’s old news.”

“Yep,” Spike agreed as he settled down to stare at the ceiling.  “Life goes on.”

Xander mulled that over, understanding that he needed to take a mental step back now rather than remaining caught up in the world of Koga and his victims.  Spike would need some objective – okay, he wasn’t fooling himself, make that semi-objective – help in the very near future, and Xander whining over the fickleness of journalism wasn’t going to benefit anyone.

Water drunk and bedclothes rearranged, Xander took a deep breath and tried to get back to that wonderful post-orgasmic place he’d so casually discarded in favour of a TV remote.  He waited expectantly for Spike to cuddle up and hoped it wasn’t the start of their occasionally contented little world falling apart when Spike didn’t come anywhere near him.

Time passed; still no Spike.  Much needed sleep was strangely elusive without the reassuring contact that Xander now felt he had no right to actively pursue.  With a nauseating sinking feeling that he tried very hard to ignore, Xander experienced an ominous inkling of exactly how bad ‘over when it’s over’ was going to be.

Manifestation 25       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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