Spike was overwhelmed when it came to choosing frames in the opticians.  His solution was simple: Xander got to pick.  Xander decided on thin, gold, circular frames…  ‘Hey, can we go Lennon?’  …unknowingly settling on a style that was ridiculously close to what Spike – William – had been wearing over a century before.  They politely turned down the offer of photochromic lenses.

They went to the store where Spike had shopped while they were living in the apartment; the saleswoman recognised the vampire immediately, fussing over him and Xander, and when they emerged they were carrying six bags full of new clothes.  They paused outside the store’s entrance.

“She’s good,” Xander conceded.

“Told you so.”

“She’s really good.”

While Xander took their purchases to the car – coincidentally via the chocolate shop – Spike wandered…  No-one can hurt me, Xander’s close.  No-one can hurt me, Xander’s close.  …found a jewellers, and emerged a short time later with a gold hoop through his left earlobe.  He knew the piercing would be healed by the time they got home and, as ever, Spike would get what he wanted and be allowed to appropriate Xander’s diamond stud.  In however minor a way, it had existed within Xander’s body, and Spike had to have it.

When they met up outside the opticians Xander noticed the hoop at once.  He grinned and shook his head.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Did you buy me something to replace mine?”

“Yours?”

“This.”  Xander rubbed his fingertips over the stud in his earlobe.  “You’re going to steal it.”

“Am I?”

“You’re transparent.”  Spike fished in his pocket and handed Xander a small box.  Inside were four studs: diamond, emerald, ruby, sapphire.  “Okay, I was wrong, you got your own.”

“They’re for you.”

“So you can…”

“Have yours.  I am transparent.”

They collected Spike’s glasses and went for something to eat in the small restaurant that Xander used to frequent in the days before Spike, Xander guiding his partner to a subtly lit table in a deserted corner.  The waiters greeted Xander cheerfully and Spike had to be kicked under the table to stop the low growls of jealousy when the young man waiting their table – Simon, Xander knew without looking at the discreet black and silver name tag – spent fractionally too long paying attention to his human customer.

“What’s your problem?” Xander demanded the moment they were alone.

“You.”

“Me?  What have I done?”

“You’re totally soddin’ oblivious, aren’t you?  He could serve himself on a bed of lettuce and you’d miss the obvious.”

Xander stared at Spike for a long moment, figuring it out and dismissing the implication with a snort.

“I know if someone’s interested, Spike.”

“I was.  You missed that.”

“No, I got that.  Took some time but I got that.”

“Right, it took some time.  And I was blatant.  Not like you with the Jane Austen mentality.”

“I’m losing the will to live.  What are we squabbling about?”

“You underestimating yourself.”

“We are?  I thought it was about being given the once-over by the waiter.”

“You admit he was then?”

“Only in the empty wilderness that passes for your brain.”

“Simon.”

“So?  I know his name.  I always used to sit at this table and he waits on this table.  I was in here every week, I wasn’t going to call him Waiter for four years.  Not rocket science, Spike.  And I think we got off at the exit marked tangent.”

“How many offers have you turned down in the last five years?”

“I don’t know.”

“Male or female, either, both.”

“I don’t know.  It didn’t matter, they weren’t you, I wasn’t interested.”  Spike was waiting; Xander sighed.  “Some.  Not many.”

“Bollocks.”

“Oh, so you know.  You were here.”

“You look better than you ever did and there were just some?”  Simon appeared with the food and Xander glared at Spike, trying to shut him up.  “You have this ridiculous, over-developed sense of modesty that stops you seeing yourself as you are.  You were always the same, putting yourself down, turning yourself into some joke before anyone else could, and you let those selfish bints treat you like a doormat.”  Sharp kick under the table and Spike shifted his legs out of range before turning to Simon.  “You tell him.”

“Sorry, Sir?”

“Just tell him he’s bloody gorgeous and if he thinks people aren’t trying to pull him he’s fooling himself.”

“Fucking hell, you’re such an embarrassment.”

“Tell him.”

“Actually, I really should…” Simon glanced back toward the kitchens.

“Go, go,” encouraged Xander.  “I’m sorry about him, he hasn’t had his medication.”

Simon tried hard not to grin and left them.

“You had this inferiority complex about being the normal one, didn’t you?  No slayer, no witch, no wolf.  The irony is…  No, you won’t want to go there.”

“Go where?”  Pause.  “Spike, go where?”

“This steak is good, what’s yours like?”

“What irony?”

“Usually you ask for meat this rare and they don’t have the nerve to serve it practically raw.”

“Where don’t I want to go?”

“So, this building you work in.  Is it one your company built?”

Realising he was wasting his time glaring at his infuriating partner, Xander took a deep, deep breath and fought the urge to ask Simon for a completely different kind of stake.

“It was built by the company Patrick worked for before he formed the Partnership and I do not believe you have any interest in this at all.”

“Just the Partnership in there?”

“No, it’s a massive building.  We have six floors, twenty to twenty-five.”

“How old is Patrick?”

“What’s that got to…  Forty-two.”

“Looks younger.”

“Probably because he lives a simple, contented life with a wonderful woman who doesn’t torment him and has no vampiric tendencies.”

“Do I get to meet her?”

That surprised Xander.

“Do you want to?”

“Why not?  Unless you’re embarrassed to have any more of your friends meet me.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“I’d understand.  You’re five minutes queer, don’t have the courage of your convictions, not prepared to make a fuss in case you change your mind during the next five minutes…”

Spike broke into laughter at the sight of Xander’s highly unamused expression.

“You’d better be joking.”

“Or is this how we’re going to carry on?  You avoiding my family and me avoiding yours?”

“After what you said about Pat…”

“I was being an arse about Patrick.  He’s a bit free with his hands around you but he’s okay.  More than okay.  If he wasn’t more than okay I wouldn’t be jealous.”

“This is stupid.”

“What is?”

“I like you being jealous.  I want you to be jealous.”

“There’s a piece of luck.”

“But it’s destructive.”

“Now you sound like a human.  Oh, wait…”

“And it feels bad.  Being jealous feels bad.”

“Now you sound like a human.  Oh, wait again…”

“I should know.  This thing with Angel…”

“Oh…Xander.  You can’t seriously be jealous of him.”

“Why not?  You call me oblivious but you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

“If he wanted me he’d have had me when you weren’t around.  Fair point or not?”

“Fair point,” Xander admitted grudgingly.

“We’ll have them over then.  Patrick and whatsername.  Jake and his whatsername.  And the other one and his other one.”

“You truly are a poet, Spike,” Xander smiled.

“I might start writing again now I can see.  Sort of thing dull old codgers with settled home lives are supposed to do, innit?”

And with that he pushed his plate away and fished in his pocket for his glasses, tossing the case aside as he put the spectacles on and picked up the menu to read.  A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth and Xander realised that this was the first time he’d seen Spike read without any trace of a frown.

“Better?”

“Yeah.  Must look a proper ponce though.”  Xander shook his head, laid back in his chair, watching Spike in silence as the vampire scoured the dessert section of the menu for something laden with chocolate for his human.  Five minutes later Spike peered over the top of the frames and met the gaze.  “What?”

“Just thinking.”

“Proper ponce?”

“No.  Just thinking about what I said I was going to be thinking about all day.”

“You mean…”  Xander nodded.  “Desperate yet?”

“Getting there.”

Spike heard himself swallow.

“You hard?”  The briefest of nods and Spike took a long breath, drawing in the musky scent of Xander’s arousal, feeling his body respond instantly.  “Want to go home?”

Xander gave a slow shake of the head.

“Long way from crazy.  Choose me something.”

“Already have.”

Spike gave Simon a wave and ordered, all the while unable to tear himself away from the look in Xander’s eyes.  The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, while they simply…thought.

…

“Pat’s here,” Xander pointed out his boss’s car as he parked.

“Simple contentment with his wonderful woman obviously not keeping him home at night.”

“He’s probably doing my work,” Xander corrected.

“Feeling guilty?”

“Much.”

“Don’t change your mind about this week, will you?”

“No.  Much but not that much.  Maybe I should do some more at home.  Would you mind that?”

“Not as long as I can perch on your knee and take memos.”

Xander used a swipe card to gain admittance at the building’s garage entrance then introduced Spike to the receptionist, informing her that Spike could be admitted anytime.  She made a careful note for all the other receptionists and smiled charmingly at Xander as he and Spike waited for the elevator.  Then she caught Spike’s ice-cold stare appraising her, appearing momentarily flustered before gracing him with one of her smiles and turning back to her computer.

“They all like that, pet?”

“What?”

“Perky,” Spike muttered disdainfully.

“Better than having visitors greeted by depressed psychopaths.  And I know, I lived in Sunnydale.”

“She ever hit on you?”

“None of your business.”

They stepped into the elevator and Xander pressed for the twenty-fifth floor.  The moment the door was shut Spike was heading for him, surprise flooding his features when Xander kept him at arm’s length.

“What?”

“There’s a camera.  Don’t fancy being everyone’s screensaver by next week.”

“Sexy Lexy,” Spike smirked.

“This shouldn’t take long, then we’ll head home and you can find out for yourself.”

“Nothing to find out, mate.  I know.”  Xander smiled and Spike emitted a low growl.  “You’re the best I’ve ever had.  Quote me on that.”

“I’m the best you’ve had because you’re getting some.  Try thinking with your brain instead of your dick.”

“We’re all agreed, Xan.  Consensus of body parts.  And this is exactly what I was talking about earlier, you always underestimate yourself.”

The doors opened and Xander led the way into the empty reception area.  Spike took a look around as Xander went to the main desk and appropriated a pile of message slips from a cubby-hole marked with his name.  On the wall was an A1 enlargement of the photo in the Partnership’s promotional brochure, and Spike stared at it for a while, helplessly impressed with the image of his lover.

“Spike,” Xander said for the fifth time, and Spike finally heard and turned.  “Come on.”

Spike followed Xander to his office, running his fingers over the plaque on the door.  ‘Alexander Harris.  Contracts Manager.’  Then he ran one fingertip over the part that meant the most.  ‘Xander.’  Xander’s voice caught his attention, but it became plain in half-a-dozen words that Xander was talking to himself, or rather into a virtually imperceptible telephone headset that he’d slipped on, leaving his hands free to rummage through the files on his desk.

“Hi, this is Alex Harris at the MacDonald Partnership.  I’ve got a ‘call anytime’ message.  What’s the problem?”  Xander listened for a long moment before laughing.  “You gotta be kidding, Brian, you call that a problem…?”

Spike smiled at the confidence in Xander’s voice, eavesdropping as he wandered the periphery of the room.  It was large, immaculately decorated and furnished; one wall was entirely glass and the night-time view was magnificent.  On the wall behind the desk was a collection of framed certificates, and Spike studied these statements of Xander’s success in his chosen field.  Maybe there’s one thing he knows he’s good for.  On a cabinet beneath the certificates were a few free-standing frames, and Spike picked up the only personal photo: Xander, Willow and Dawn.  Spike remembered taking it, deliberately cutting Buffy out in a fit of pique.  He also remembered how pleased Xander had been about it.  Spike glanced at Xander curiously as he crossed to the far wall and pressed his hand on it; a panel sprang open and Xander hauled out a massive blueprint rack, sifting through a section as he chatted away, unaware of the admiration focused in his direction.  White t-shirt, dark green sweater, faded blue jeans, ancient High Tops.  So simple, but Spike gazed and appreciated and lusted, wondering if Xander would object to him sweeping the desk clear and begging to be taken over it.  But no, the blueprint got there first, and Spike strolled away, out of the office and along the corridor.

‘Patrick MacDonald.  Managing Director.’  Spike listened carefully, hearing only the tappity-tap of proficient fingers on computer keyboard, before knocking and poking his head around the door.  Patrick looked up from his work, surprise swiftly being overtaken by pleasure.

“Hey, Spike, come on in.  How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Gimme a couple of minutes to finish this.”

Spike wandered Patrick’s room much as he had Xander’s, and he found what he’d expected to find, what he’d actively come looking for: dozens of pictures of the Gang of Four.  Jake had been right: all Patrick’s kids, and this felt like the office of a proud father.  He picked up a particularly good photograph of Xander and studied it, experiencing a peculiar flashback of loneliness from a time when all he had of Xander were photographs and drawings.

“Xander,” he murmured, fighting the knee-jerk reaction that almost sent him flying back to the man in question.

“You okay?  Look a bit fazed there.”

“Memories can be total brain-fucking catastrophes.”

“True.  Maybe it’s time to make some better ones.”

“Can I have this?”

Patrick glanced at the picture, mentally cataloguing what would have to be replaced.

“Sure you can.”

Spike brought the frame and sat on the edge of Patrick’s desk.

“I lost him.  Five years.”  And why am I telling this man a thing?

“I know, he told me.  He wasn’t very proud of himself.”

“You took care of him when I wasn’t here.  Thanks.”

“You’ve nothing to thank me for, he’s a joy to know.”

Spike appreciated that, knowing someone else felt it and was willing to say it aloud.

“Spike!” echoed along the corridor, Xander’s voice full of worry.  Seconds later there was a single knock and Xander swept into the room.  He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath.  “Thanks for disappearing, wasn’t concerned for a second.  Hey, Pat, he bothering you?”

“Not at all.”

“Bloody charming.  He’s got a name, Harris!”

“We’re fine.  If you want to get on with anything, we can keep one another company.”

“Yeah, something has come up that I need to deal with.  Spike, can I…?”

Xander gestured Spike into the hall and quickly took him out of Patrick’s earshot.

“What’s wrong?”

“Picture windows.  Blinds up.  No reflection.”

“Ah.  Think he’ll notice?”

“He doesn’t miss a thing.  Ever.”

“So, what…?”

“Sit down in the meet-and-greet and stay put.”  Spike nodded his agreement.  “And, Spike…try to be discreet.”

“Don’t think it matters with him, pet.”

“It matters.  Play nicely.”

“I play nicely.  I’m nicely-playing vampire, aren’t I?  All I’ve got left these days.”

“Oh, right.”  Xander reached up and touched his face.  “Absolutely all you’ve got left.”

“We on camera?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck.”

“Later.”  Xander moved away toward his office, walking backwards and taking a good look at the vampire.  “I’ll be thinking of you.”

Spike rejoined Patrick in his office and sank low in the sofa, out of the line of the windows.  He accepted the offer of a drink, taking a beer and watching Patrick expectantly as he opened another for himself and sat opposite Spike.  Then, knowing precisely what Spike wanted, Patrick began to talk to him about Xander, from the first moment he set eyes on him, through the early days with the company, Xander’s single-minded pursuit of the qualifications he needed to be exactly what Patrick wanted him to be, up until the present day when Xander’s reputation for excellence was well-known throughout the industry and he was the focus of regular head-hunting attempts by other companies.

“Has he been happy?”

Patrick considered.

“Degrees of happiness.  Satisfied with his work but, for a good couple of years, if you saw him entirely socially he was always uncomfortable.  And he was always so lonely.  Y’know that hurts.  When it’s someone you’re fond of it really hurts.  So Beth and I went to work on him, dragged him kicking and screaming into our lives.  He’s been okay.  This last year he’s been a little kinder to himself.”

“How d’you mean?”

“I think he finally took off the hair shirt.  He started to relax with people, with us.  He finally let us in.  He’s great with the clients and they love him, he can be so smart and witty, and if it’s him they don’t care that they’re being schmoozed.”

Spike absorbed the information and finished his beer before speaking quietly, still bemused by the fact he could say anything to this man.

“I hate to think about him lonely.  Hurting.”

“I’d guess you were hurting too.”

“Yeah, but I expect I did something to deserve it.  I always fuck everything up.”

Patrick studied Spike appraisingly.

“I don’t think you did.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Just…get a feeling.”  Patrick brought Spike another beer.  “I know the circumstances of your arrival were horrific, but you being here is what he needs.”

“I hurt him again.  Didn’t mean to, but…”

“It was exactly what he needed.  This massive jolt to make him prioritise, make him see that there is life beyond work.”

“I’m still hurting him.”

“Intentionally?”

“Bloody hell, no.  I’d never intentionally hurt him.”

“You’re quite a pair.  He expects miracles and you’re trying to deliver them.”

“Because he deserves better.”

“He wants you.  He’s got you.  That’s more than better, that’s…best.”

“You’re the one who taught him to schmooze, I’d guess.”

Patrick gave a brief laugh.

“Spike, you have to believe me.  I would never try to schmooze you.”

“Yeah?”

“Not for a moment.”

Spike looked, and looked hard, trying to figure out what it was beneath the surface of this human.  If he was entirely human: Spike had a fairly good idea that Xander the demon magnet had been fairly magnetic the day Patrick walked onto his site and was instantly drawn to the lost soul who desperately needed someone…  ‘Pat saved my life, Spike.’  Xander’s words no longer sounded like a turn of phrase.  More an absolute truth.

“What do you want to say?” Spike asked abruptly.

“That everything happens for a reason.”

“Inasmuch as?”

“Five years isn’t much to pay for the rest of your lives.”

“We couldn’t have one without the other?”

“I don’t think so.”

“And you just have a feeling about that.”

“Just a feeling,” Patrick smiled.

Spike smiled back, stomach knotting and curling and unknotting and uncurling.

“So…  When are you and the missus coming over for dinner?”

Xander drove the long way home, cruising through the countryside.  Spike stared unquestioningly out of the window, mind still fixed on Patrick, wondering what the hell he was.  An incredibly astute human being was something he’d dismissed the first time his insides had apparently rearranged themselves.  Spike didn’t feel as sensitive as he used to be, still dulled down by his recent experiences, or maybe he’d have recognised – as Xander was wont to put it – the tremor in this particular force.

Then Xander was driving into a copse and parking.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re getting in the back,” Xander explained with a grin that did nothing to soften the sheer lust in his dark eyes.

“Fucking yes!” Spike hollered, and was over the seat in less than a second.  Xander chose to use a more conventional method and as he opened the back door to climb in he was unceremoniously grabbed and hauled into a strong embrace…  Not afraid.  …clutched to and being kissed by a very enthusiastic vampire.  “Oh, fucking yes,” Spike repeated, softly, lovingly, before he managed to turn them and pin Xander beneath him.  “Desperate?”

“This’ll last all of thirty seconds if we take it slow.”

Spike chuckled, slipping a hand between them and stroking the hardness beneath Xander’s fly.

“Thirty.  Twenty-nine.  Twenty-eight…”

Xander let out a groan and grasped Spike’s hips, pulling the vampire down as he ground upwards, forcing him to withdraw the tormenting hand.  Spike used a little of his enhanced strength, flattening Xander against the seat…  Not afraid.  …and rubbing their clothes-impaired erections together.  Feeling Xander shudder, scenting him, Spike realised that the thirty seconds hadn’t been a joke, that Xander had wound himself up and up and was more than ready to let go of the desperation.  There were the tantalizing little sounds he made when he was on the verge; Spike lifted himself a little, wanting to release Xander from the confines of his jeans, but Xander knocked his hand away, tugged his body down.

“Harder,” he gasped, and Spike obliged, grinding into Xander and giving himself over to his own desire, running his fingers into Xander’s hair and drawing him up to kiss, fucking the exquisitely hot mouth with his tongue in time with his thrusts.  Long drawn-out moan and Xander was bucking against Spike, tearing his mouth away and throwing his head back against the leather seat, smooth, creamy neck arching toward the vampire…  Not.  Afraid.  …the erotic pull being such that as Spike ran his lips over the exposed flesh he came without knowing he was ready to.  Even as the pleasure pulsed through him he was reminding himself not to bite, not to drink, wanting to take this man, claim him, mark him for life.  Make him mine.  He moaned Xander’s name as he collapsed onto his lover, satisfaction and frustration rampaging about his body in equal parts.

“Doesn’t that make you feel thirteen again?” Xander sighed.  “Misbehaving somewhere you shouldn’t and coming in your pants?”

“I was an innocent at thirteen.  I still thought it was for stirring tea with.”

Xander thought of Spike at thirteen, thought of what he had been, what he had become.

“If it could happen, would you ever want to be human again?”

“Come off it, I was pathetic as a human.”

“You wouldn’t be the same person.  You’d be you, but human.”

Now Spike put in some thought, wriggling down to lay his head on Xander’s chest, listening to his very human heartbeat.  Xander’s fingers wound into his hair and stroked his scalp.

“I don’t want to get old.  Well, I am old, but you know what I mean.  I want to be young and strong, and however much has been taken away from me I want to keep what’s left.  But sometimes…sometimes I’d give anything to be warm again.  To walk in the sunshine.  I loved the sunshine.”

Xander wrapped both arms around Spike’s shoulders, protecting him from the cold night air drifting in through the still-open door.  A tiny creak of satisfaction escaped the vampire’s throat and a massive sense of protectiveness welled in Xander.  He wanted to keep Spike warm forever.  But…  Oh, yeah, BIG but.  Hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts.

Long pause.

“Gonna stick around and watch me die?”

Long, long pause.

“I’m going to make the most of every hour with you.  Is that what you mean?”

Long, longer, longest pause.

“Something like that.”

Xander kissed the top of Spike’s head and gently moved him aside, returning to the driver’s seat and starting the car.

“What will you do when I die?” Xander asked, pointlessly looking in the rear view mirror.

“Get a suntan,” Spike answered concisely.  “We won’t talk about this again, okay?”

“But, I…”

“Okay, I won’t talk about it again.  Put the radio on, let’s have some of your misery for the masses.”

Xander switched on the radio and carefully manoeuvred the car back onto the road.

‘…into my heart, you will find…’

“Oh, yeah, this’ll do it.  Pass the stake.”

‘…There's nothing there to hide…’

“Sentiment is wasted on you.”

‘…Take me as I am, take my life…’

“No.  Sentimentality is wasted on me, not sentiment.”

‘…I would give it all, I would sacrifice.
Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for.
I can't help it, there's nothing I want more.
Ya know it's true…’

“Okay.  Tell me.”

‘…Everything I do, I do it for you…’

“What?  Now?”

‘…There's no love, like your love,
And no other, could give more love…’

“If you want me tonight, you have to tell me now.”

Xander hit a button and the car filled with a sudden silence.  Then he jumped a fraction too hard as cold fingers touched the back of his neck.  I am not afraid.  Not afraid.  Just offered him my friggin’ throat for fuck’s sake!

“I do love you, Xander.”

“So what’s the difference between saying it and singing it?”

“I mean it and that git’s selling it.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

“Say something that makes me want to agree with you,” Xander laughed, shivering as the fingers trailed up and down the sensitive skin of his neck.  Because I am not afraid…  “I love it when you touch me,” he murmured before his mind leapt in another direction.  “Hey, will you write me a poem?”

Spike gave a derisory snort.

“I like you far too much for that.”

“Love letter?”

“Maybe.”

“I want something of you with me.  If I can’t have a photograph…”

“Why not a photograph?”

“I thought that was impossible.”

“Only with reflex cameras.”

Xander thought for a few seconds and it sank in.

“Mirrors.”

“Yeah.  Shouldn’t be a problem with the digital camera.  You didn’t question the security camera’s ability to pick me up, did you?”

“That’s right, I didn’t even think.  A photo of you.  That’d be…special.”

“Interesting.  It’s a long time since I saw myself.”

“That means I can take pictures of you…  Oh, wow.”

“Can I safely assume the you that lives in your head just came fairly dynamically?”

“Assume safely.”

Spike laughed softly and sat back.

“Put your foot down, mate.”

At home Spike was first out of the car, leaning back in to speak.

“Don’t shilly-shally, old chap,” he said in his best Knightsbridge.  “The Consort’s looking forward to taking it hard and fast.”

“That’s wrong,” Xander frowned as he followed the vampire into the house and then into the kitchen.

“What?  I’m not looking forward…”

“You’re not my Consort.”

“Well…”

“You’re a Master vampire, Spike, you have a Consort, you don’t become one.”

“All that research paid off at last, eh?”

“I’m your Consort.”

“No.  I can’t mark you, I can’t claim you.  And before you draw breath to argue, don’t pretend you don’t understand about that.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Spike paused, fingers kneading the blood bag in his hand.

“You think?”

“I’d let you mark me now.”

“It’s not safe,” Spike dismissed the suggestion without further thought.

Xander came up behind the vampire and slid his arms around the narrow waist.

“As for claiming me…  Any time you’re happy to go ahead…”

“No, Xander.  After yesterday how can you want to take any chances?”  His voice dropped.  “How can you want me at all?”  Xander pushed his face into Spike’s clothes and ran his mouth over his mark, causing a massive shudder and a whispered plea.  “Yes?  Now?”

“Later.  When I’m in you.”

Another shudder.

“Be sure.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I am.”

Xander turned Spike to face him, pulling him close.

“You’re not afraid, you can’t be, I won’t let you be.”

“Wary then.  Will you let me be wary?”

“No,” Xander protested, leaning forward and kissing Spike roughly, forcing him back against the counter and ignoring the grunt as the edge of the worktop jabbed sharply into him.  Xander’s hands cupped his face and brown eyes stared hard into blue.  “Show me your true face.”

“No.”

“Change for me, I’ll show you I’m not scared of you, I refuse to be scared of you and I refuse to let you be scared.”

“Stop it.”

Strong fingers dug into the flesh of Xander’s upper arms as Spike edged him away.  The strength of that grip was too much of a reminder and Xander couldn’t help the shudder.

“I will be wary,” Spike told him, voice like silk covered steel.  “And you are afraid.  Over-compensating.”

“I’m sick of all this.  I want things to be normal.”

“You’re living with a vampire!”

“We have our own brand of normality.  That’s what I want.  I’m tired of waiting for the next heap of shit to hit the fan, tired of waiting for you to retreat, tired of feeling on the edge of…something, tired of…tired of…  Oh, shit, I’m sorry, you don’t need this.”

“No, don’t be sorry.  I understand.  To be honest I’ve been waiting for you to let go, let it all out.  You would have once.  I remember some screaming fits in Sunnydale that would’ve scared braver demons than me.”

“We screamed.  At one another.  It helps when you’re not screaming alone.”  Xander let Spike pull him close, shutting his eyes and leaning against the vampire.  “I’m terrified that this will all go wrong and I’ll lose you.  I couldn’t be alone again, couldn’t have you then…”

Spike shushed him, wished he had the right words.  Some poet.

“I’m here.  I’m yours.  Don’t fret, love, it’ll get better.”

“I liked that tonight, being at work.  I felt in control, even if it was only for an hour.”

“Then go back on Monday.”

“I said another week and I want that time.  I want to be with you.  I want you.  Six months ago I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to want someone this much and stay sane.”

Not risking a comment on the sanity, love.

“Go on up.  Have a shower, go to bed.  Hungry?”  Shake of the head.  “Sleep for a while.”

“But I want you.”

“You’ll have me.  I’ll wake you when I come up.  Or simply when I come, whatever’s louder.”

Xander chuckled against Spike’s neck, making the vampire instinctively tilt his head back and offer himself when he felt the warm breath glide over his skin.

“It’s so amazingly sexy when you do that.  You think neck fixations are catching?”

“Different kind of fixation.  Us fixation.”

“Now who’s sentimental?”

“Okay.  I’ll take that as an insult.  Shove off and I’ll see you later.”

“I still want to be crazy for you.  Wake me up later and make me crazy for you.”

“Piece of cake.  Go.”

Xander nodded and wearily took himself off to the shower.

Spike threw a couple of blood bags in the microwave and sat on the counter to wait for his food.  I should’ve stayed away from him.  He had a decent life.  ‘Degrees of happiness.’  Better than being on the edge, surely?

“This can work.  I can make this work.  Oh, right, that didn’t even sound convincing to me.”  My Xan, my poor darling Xander.  So tired, see it in his eyes, so tired.  Make him crazy?  “Think you’re there, pet.  How can you want this?”

Repossession 30       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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