OBSERVATIONS 5: Moving Away
by Maz

Xander woke up confused. Something was wrong. Not alarmingly so, but something was out of place. Something didn't fit into the normal pattern of waking up. Closing his eyes in thought, he realised that he couldn't remember going to bed.

Spike was lying next to him and over him, head resting on Xander's chest, knee bent over Xander's thighs, weighing him down, holding him safe, so that was okay. He briefly tightened the arm which was loosely clasped around Spike's shoulders and tried to force his brain to wake up enough to assess the situation logically. Spike stirred slightly, ran his hand around Xander's waist and hugged him, possessive even in sleep. Xander glanced around the room, checking the familiar furnishings. Daylight was glowing faintly around the edge the curtains. That was it. That was what was out of place. Their east-facing bedroom only got direct sunlight in the morning. He reached out to the bedside table and fumbled for the little travel alarm clock he had needed when he still went to work, but which had sat folded closed and ignored for the past week. Flicking it open he saw it was nine o'clock in the morning. Yet he felt slept out. Since giving up work and moving to a mainly nocturnal pattern, nine o'clock was supposed to be the middle of his night.

Xander stared at the ceiling and allowed consciousness and clarity to seep into him. Gradually it came back, individual images and memories reformed, slotting together in the jigsaw of yesterday: the movie and popcorn and Spike's hand on his knee, on his crotch, keeping him aroused and aware. But not maliciously - keeping it low key, so Xander could still concentrate enough to enjoy the film. Walking home, Spike's arm at his waist, hand down the back of his jeans, teasing and tickling Xander's ass, causing his body's autonomic response to Spike's proximity to build almost to the point of discomfort, as anticipation turned to need. A fleeting fantasy of walking down the street with Spike's finger inside him, directing his movements like the handle on a shopping cart, a flash of San Francisco and exposure.

Then he remembered the street and the car and the abuse and Spike shoving him through the door and his immediate, irrational feeling that he had done something wrong, even though he knew he hadn't. And he remembered his meltdown under Spike's questioning and his admissions of loss and failure. He had told Spike about cutting himself. For a moment he remembered the feel of the curved blade of the scalpel against the delicate skin at the back of his knee as he pressed down until blood welled, moving on to the next spot half an inch away; a row of tiny cuts, each lovingly covered by a separate band-aid. He felt his leg twitch at the memory and embarrassment washed over him, an historic response to a once familiar shame. Then he relaxed; for the past six months Spike had had access to his every thought, fantasy and secret and Spike still loved him.  For the last six months he had answered every question asked of him with complete honesty. He had given himself to Spike and that was the deal. He had no secrets now, so he had no shame. 

Vaguely he remembered Spike carrying him to bed and holding him as he wept without tears, mourning the loss of innocence in the chaos of the Hellmouth, before falling asleep. He had confused memories of waking a number of times and being soothed back to sleep by Spike's hushed murmurs of reassurance and love and his gentle stroking hand. He’d been so lost back then. But not now. Never now. Now he was found and held, and in the confinement of possession he was free.

He ran his hand gently up Spike's arm to his shoulder and hugged him, knowing Spike would not wake up. They must have gone to bed at midnight. That was normally the middle of their day. No wonder he was awake. And if Spike had stayed up, looking after him through the night, no wonder he was fast asleep now.

Peace settled over Xander as his mind sloughed off all care. He relaxed further, enjoying the strange sense of floating that came after the emotional exhaustion of purging his past and more sleep than he physically needed.

He felt safe and he revelled in the luxury of that security, allowing himself the indulgence of review. Before Spike, he had never felt truly safe. Not even before Buffy came to Sunnydale. Certainly never after Jesse died. As he learned more about the things that went bump in the night, his remaining illusions were gradually stripped from him. After school was out for good, it just got worse. There was the brief year or so with Anya, when their relationship felt like it would work, when he had begun to build some security around himself. But then came the months leading up to the whole mess of their failed wedding, after which it had all come crashing down again. That had been his lowest point. But also the turning point which had eventually led to his true love. Before Spike, he had been broken. Now he was strong. So many befores and afters; natural chapter breaks in the story of his life. Soon he would have another: 'before they left'. They weren't quite there yet; Spike hadn't said that they would leave, but Xander knew they would. He had asked and Spike had tacitly agreed. They would leave Sunnydale and go somewhere else. Spike had probably already decided where. No doubt tonight he would tell him and then they would go, leaving all their regrets behind.

Suddenly Xander wanted: wanted to move, wanted Spike to wake up, wanted to feel Spike's hands holding him. He looked down at the top of his lover's head as it rested on his chest and knew responsibility. He couldn't do it. This time Spike needed to sleep. And just as Spike looked after Xander, so Xander would look after Spike.

Gently he inched his way out from under Spike's body and rolled out of bed. Spike grumbled in his sleep, an incomprehensible combination of consonants, which sounded as if they should be a language and possibly were. Xander quietly folded the clock closed and moved it away from the bed, making sure the little brass bell was within reach instead and tiptoed out of the room to the kitchen. From the fridge he selected a can of the chocolate shake which had become one of his standard breakfasts in the past few months, since it was easily absorbed into his system and was enriched with all the vitamins, minerals and protein he needed to start the day. Then he headed to the bathroom. Spike would sleep for another two hours, maybe more. So he could really take his time over his morning ritual, really enjoy the preparation of his offering to his Master.

Standing in front of the full length mirror on the back of the door he took inventory of his body, running his hands up and down his stomach and chest, luxuriating in the smooth hardness, loving the way his waist no longer carried the extra thickness it had developed in the months before Spike. He ran his hands over and under the collar, admiring the glint of metal against his tan. Spike had been right, the mix of silver and gold, with the ruby like a drop of blood, looked good. He admired the way the defined contours of muscle on his arms and thighs moved under his skin. He preened, twisting right and left before the mirror, proud of what he had become. Running a hand down over his groin, feeling the prickle of invisible hairs just beginning to grow back, he remembered how odd and childlike his hairless sex had looked the first time he shaved it. Now it seemed natural, just as Spike's dark curls looked right on him. His own nakedness was thrilling, a daily pledge of his gift of himself. Today he would use wax. It was more painful than the razor but the smooth softness would last longer. He reached into the cupboard, getting out the lotions and other materials he needed to produce the perfection he knew he would achieve.

It took an hour and his skin was pink and sore when he finished, but there wasn't a hair on his body beyond that on his head. He was perfect. Running a bath he poured in enough baby oil to make it flow around him like silk as he sank back and relaxed. Luxuriating in the peaceful sexiness of his self-belief he slipped into a meditative state, just breathing and enjoying the feel of his hands as he ran them all over smooth, baby soft skin.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later when he opened his eyes and considered the time. Standing up he grabbed a big, soft towel and wrapped it around his waist as he stepped out onto the mat. Hair next. He didn't want to get the rest of his body wet again so he used the shower-head, kneeling on the floor outside the stall to wash, condition and rinse thoroughly before wrapping another towel around his head.

Back in front of the mirror, he turned on the hair drier and ran a comb through his hair until it lay sleek and soft but still slightly damp, before rubbing it briskly with a new towel to produce a counterfeit of bed head. Picking up the drier again he directed the hot air over his body, removing the last traces of moisture. The warm blast caressed his skin, making him feel sensuous and inducing a mood of languorous pleasure. He bent forward, allowing it to tickle around his groin, causing his prick to thicken further as he lifted it to reach his balls. When it hit his pucker he had to stifle a groan, as the sudden awareness of exposed emptiness caused him to close his eyes and thrust back towards the source of the sensation. He shivered with wanton availability and painted himself a brief fantasy of Spike walking in right now and finding him crouched over, blasting a hair drier up his own ass. Turning the machine off, he laughed at himself and continued his preparations.

As always his prick became fully hard as he smoothed oil over his balls, up his crack and inside, one finger, then two. The lube just added to the growing sense of expectation. He pushed in a smooth, wide plug and he was ready.

Leaving the bathroom he poked his head around the door of the bedroom. Spike was still asleep but had moved from the sprawl he had left him in, so Xander knew he would wake up soon. Going back to the kitchen he put the coffee on to brew and readied Spike's blood. Then he sat on the fur mat in the living room and waited.

It was twenty past eleven and he was lying on his back, rocking his hips gently, running his hands over his chest and belly, enjoying the softness of the fur and the shifting pressure inside, when he heard the bright tinkle of the bell. Getting to his feet he bent over, removed the plug and checked he was still clean and slick. Satisfied that he was the best he could be, he went to heat Spike's breakfast. Pouring two mugs of black coffee and putting them on the tray with the blood, he walked through to the bedroom.

Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, looking groggy and only half awake. Xander entered the room and went to his knees at Spike's feet. On impulse he put the tray on the floor next to him, bent forward and kissed one smooth, high arch. That felt good, so he kissed the other one too, opening his mouth and licking the skin. Above him he heard a surprised grunt, then a hand came down to briefly caress his head. Kneeling back on his heels he picked up the blood and passed it to Spike, keeping his eyes lowered. Spike's knees fell open as he took the mug, exposing his half erect cock. Xander gazed at it for a moment, admiring its shape and colour, the way the head was just peaking free of the foreskin, watching it stiffen and thicken as Spike drank. He knelt up, clasping his hands together in the small of his back and leant forward, taking the tip into his mouth. Spike groaned and the hand returned to his head, providing encouragement and support.

As Xander suckled on the head, the hand closed to grip a fist-full of hair, gently urging him on. Xander took more of the length into his mouth using his hands behind his back to maintain his balance. He swallowed and Spike groaned again. Xander lost himself in the sensation, licking and sucking as he pulled back, until once more only the head was in his mouth. He ran his tongue around the glans and into the slit, tasting salt and sweet and his own desire reflected back at him, then plunged back down, swallowing, so his nose was buried in dark curls. His own pleasure in this act, his sheer wanton enjoyment of kneeling at his master's feet and sucking his cock, the gratitude he felt that Spike allowed him this indulgence, all came together in a rising tide of arousal that shivered down his spine. He moaned deep in the back of his throat, forcing air out of his lungs past the obstruction and felt Spike shudder. The hand in his hair tightened deliciously, pulling him back so he could breathe again and he returned to caressing the head with his tongue. When he was pulled away entirely he mewled his disappointment, attempting to lean forwards and recapture his treasure, even as he delighted in his inability to resist. Held as he was, Spike's cock stood in front of his eyes, wet and rigid, so he blew on it, watching it twitch in response.

Spike's fist forced his head back so Xander was looking up into his face. "Morning, Pet," he purred, with a hint of growl underlying the words.

Lifting his mug, Spike gulped the last of the blood down, tilting his head back to drain it all, while still retaining his firm grip in Xander's hair. He passed the empty mug back and slid further onto the bed, releasing Xander so he could put the mug down. He smirked. "Are you ready, Pet?" he asked.

Xander lifted his eyes to meet Spike's. "Always. For you. Whatever you want, Master Spike."

"Come here, then," Spike ordered. "Come up here."

Xander rose to his feet and stepped forward, placing his knee on the edge of the bed and sitting down straddling Spike's lap. Spike ran one hand around his hip and back to his ass, pushing two fingers inside, reassuring himself that Xander was indeed ready. Satisfied, he nuzzled his face against Xander's chest. "Lift up, Luv," he growled.

Clasping his arms around Spike's neck, Xander rose up and shuffled forward as Spike lined himself up. Xander felt the tip of Spike's prick against his hole and began to sit down.

As always, the initial resistance seemed more than his weight could overcome. Then it wasn't and Spike was inside him again. He was exposed and open, pierced, owned and possessed. Xander felt his eyes close as he sank down the length of Spike's prick, absorbing the feeling of stretch and fullness, the certainty that this was where he was supposed to be, the vulnerability he revelled in because it was Spike who gave it to him, who allowed it, encouraged it and kept him safe. His own cock brushed lightly against Spike's hard stomach leaving traces of glistening dampness and Spike's arms were around his back, holding him. The hairs at Spike's groin pressed against his balls and he threw back his head, sighing his pleasure. 

Spike's hand in his hair again pulled his head down and he lost himself in the kiss, leaning forwards, trying to push them both back on the bed. But Spike moved to cup his buttocks, urging him to lift himself. He did so, until only the head was inside and he felt the thick ridge press on his sphincter. Just before it pulled free he relaxed, sinking down again, taking Spike's length back into himself.

With Spike's help he set up a rhythm, rising and falling on Spike's lap, gasping and panting with both the effort and the sensation.

"Oh yes, Luv. Yes," Spike whispered, catching at his lips with awkward, fleeting kisses each time Xander sat down, while still urging him to move faster.

Xander found a moment to be grateful for all those squats, as the muscles in his legs responded to the demand.

"So beautiful, Pet. So warm. So tight," Spike gasped. "Yes, Pet. That's it. Oh, by all the demonic gods, yes. Now... Now... Yes..."

Xander flexed his ass, tightening his grip on Spike's shaft trying to speed his movements, but Spike's hands gripped him tighter, squeezing the globes of his butt, preventing him, keeping him to the rhythm Spike set. He arched his back trying to get contact to his prostate, but the angle was wrong. His own cock was hard and leaking against Spike's stomach, but there wasn't enough contact there to give him release.

Spike's hands spasmed on his buttocks and relaxed again. "Now... Yes... Fuck... Yes!" he cried, his hands moving to Xander's hips, shoving him down hard, his body going rigid for a moment, before jerking into orgasm. Xander cried out himself, vicarious joy flooding his being as he experienced the familiar wash of cool liquid in his core.

Spike's head fell forwards onto Xander's shoulder and his fangs scraped over the scar from the morning before. Xander tensed in anticipation of release, at last, through the bite - which never came. Instead Spike lifted his head and shook himself back into his human face. Sliding his hands into Xander’s hair, he took him in a deep and satisfied kiss. Xander whimpered.

Spike pulled back, twin fistfuls of silky, dark hair still firmly in his grasp and smiled. "Oh, Pet," he sighed. "That was amazing. You are amazing. Thank you."

Xander raised pitiful eyes to Spike's and glanced down at his own still rigid cock.

Spike smirked. "That was so good. I think you deserve a reward."

Xander looked back at him hopefully, feeling a tentative smile of relief form on his lips.

"Don't move," Spike ordered. Reaching out his arm, he opened the drawer in the bedside table and rummaged around for a moment. His cock was beginning to soften inside Xander's body; Xander sat down harder to prevent it falling free. Spike grinned at him, bringing both hands together at Xander's cock and Xander began to relax - right up until he felt the ring fasten around him and he realised he'd been tricked.

He looked at Spike in disbelief. "Master?" he moaned in protest. "Please... no... oh God... what?"

"Your reward," said Spike. "Anticipation. You'll wear that all day, or until I take it off. Now up you get."

He grabbed a few tissues from the box by the bed and held them around his own cock as Xander lifted up, wiping Xander's ass first and then his own prick.

"Stand up," he ordered, getting up himself.

Xander stood shakily as Spike cleaned him off. Then he walked around Xander, trailing his hand across his waist, chest and back as he circled. Xander felt Spike run his hands down his back and over his buttocks. "Very pretty," Spike sighed, approval clear in his voice. Then with a sharp slap on one cheek, "Go clean yourself up properly," he said. "And don't forget to look in the mirror."

Xander started to walk away as Spike sat back down on the bed. "Oh, before you go... Pass me a coffee would you, Luv?" he asked.

Xander scowled and did as he was told. He could hear Spike chuckling behind him as he left the room.

In the bathroom Xander used the shower head to clean up and stood staring at his reflection in the mirror on the door as he dried himself off. 'Look in the mirror,' he thought morosely. Okay, he was doing that. What he saw was a dejected face and a very red, very hard cock that he couldn't touch. What was the point of that? As he dried himself, he became aware that the soreness extended beyond his asshole. Looping the towel over the rail, he turned around and looked over his shoulder, gazing again at his reflection. On his butt cheeks were imprinted the perfect shadow of two hands. Five fingers and the heel clear on each cheek. He shivered as he ran his own hands down to lay over the marks. Looking at his bound cock he shivered again. Anticipation. Now he got it. He closed his eyes blissfully and absorbed the concept. Oh yes, Spike understood him all too well. He felt a shimmy start in his shoulders and work its way down to his hips and he ran his hands lovingly up his chest to grip his neck over the collar, as he let his head fall back.

He finished drying himself and went back to the bedroom. Spike was still sitting on the edge of the bed sipping his coffee. He looked up and grinned at Xander as Xander sank to his knees at his feet, feeling the pressure of his heels against the bruises.

"Coffee's still just about drinkable, Pet," he said.

Xander reached out and picked up his own, cradling it in both hands as he raised it to his lips. He drank slowly, with small sips.

Spike got up, putting his empty mug down on the bedside table and walked across the room to the chest of drawers. He found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and pulled them on, then he went back to rummaging around until, with a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled something free of the tangle.

Returning to Xander's side he handed him a pair of cut-off jeans. "Put these on, Pet," he instructed. "Then you'd better do your chores, eh?"

Xander glared resignedly as he stood. He stepped into the shorts and did up the zip with care. There was no top button so the waistband gaped and the tip of his cock poked free, seeming to wink at him as he looked down at it. He glared at Spike again from under his brows, before straightening up to stand proudly. The denim was soft with age and wear, but it felt rough against his bruised ass and the zip was cold and harsh against his prick.

Spike smiled and patted him gently on the ass. "Off you go," he instructed. Even bending down to pick up his discarded mug was a trial. "And don't touch the zip," Spike called over his shoulder, as he headed into the living room.

Xander followed him, padding through to the kitchen to wash up, calculating if he really did need to clean the bathroom today or if he could get away with just vacuuming. He didn't think he could face bending down to scrub the tub.

*****

Spike spent most of the day at the computer searching the web and sending e-mails, as Xander pottered around tidying up and putting things away, always aware of the precarious hold of the unsupported zip and the way it rubbed against his trapped cock. He did a load of laundry and dried it, putting the clothes away and taking the time to refold the mess Spike had made earlier, glad of any task that didn't require him to move too much.  At one point he heard Spike on the phone, apparently making a reservation for something and later, giving orders to someone about keys.

It was just after four when he finished and returned to the living room to find Spike closing down the computer. He went to make lunch - cold meat and salad for him and blood for Spike. He wondered if Spike had remembered to order some otter.

Sitting was not so uncomfortable now, so he perched himself at the counter to eat, as Spike sat opposite. Spike still had that glint of amusement in his eye. "So, how you feeling, Luv?" he asked.

For a moment Xander considered saying something smart like 'Anticipatory', maybe throwing in a smirk of his own. But he had actually got better at thinking before he opened his mouth and it occurred to him that Spike might take that answer as a challenge, so instead he smiled sweetly and asked, "You mean besides the sore ass and the pent-up frustration?"

Spike stood up and came around the counter to stand behind him. Leaning into Xander's back he ran his hands down his chest to the waistband of his shorts and gently eased the zip open. Xander's cock fell free.

"Stand up, Pet," he instructed, stepping back to allow Xander to move.

The shorts fell to the floor, leaving Xander naked and hard. He stepped free of them as Spike returned to hold him close from behind. Xander rubbed himself against Spike's clothed body and relaxed back into his embrace.

"Come on, Luv," Spike's said, pushing him towards the living room. The bruises rubbing infuriatingly, deliciously, against Spike's jeans with every step.

As they approached the sofa Spike turned him around and pushed him down to sit. The velvet was soft and luxurious against his ass and back as he leaned into the embrace of the cushions. Spike knelt in front of him running his hands up Xander's thighs, stroking inwards at the top, to his groin, brushing lightly over the smooth, soft skin. Xander arched into the touch, feeling again his total nakedness. Spike circled Xander's cock, teasing touches that tantalised, making him harder still. Then he bent his head and started to suck and lick along Xander's length, one hand reaching to cup and squeeze his balls. Xander arched again, lifting his hips off the cushions and Spike's hand slid back to stroke his hole, before pressing gently inside. Xander groaned, sitting down again, impaling himself further. Spike's mouth descended over the tip of his cock and he started to suck and tease the head. If it were not for the ring, Xander knew he would have come already; he couldn't imagine ever being harder than this. When Spike's finger pressed against his prostate, he realised he was wrong.

Spike pulled back and for a terrible moment Xander feared he was going to stop and leave him to suffer longer. But instead he unsnapped the catch on the ring and swallowed Xander again as he rubbed Xander's hot spot with his fingertip. Xander screamed, his orgasm rushing through him, all the pent up anticipation of the day finally finding its release. He jerked and twitched as Spike's hand on his hip kept him still, until the tremors ended and he collapsed bonelessly onto the sofa.

Spike gently extracted his finger and came to sit next to him, pulling Xander into his arms.

Xander weakly raised his head from Spike's shoulder. "How do you do that?" he asked. "Orgasms were never so... explosive before you."

Spike smiled. "No one else knew you as well as I do, Luv. I know what my boy likes."

"Hmm. Yeah. Must be it, I guess," Xander agreed.

"How's your arse, Pet?" Spike asked.

"Bruised. Sore." He smiled up at Spike. "Nice."

"That it is, Luv. That it is." He paused to take an unnecessarily breath. "So, shall I tell you what it I've been doing all day?"

Xander nodded. "Please?"

"I've been arranging access to our new home. Fancy living in San Francisco, Pet?"

Xander pushed himself out of Spike's arms to sit cross legged facing him. "Really? You mean it?" he asked. "We can go and live there? Like, permanently?" excited anticipation causing his voice to rise with each question.

"'Course we can," Spike replied. "Can live anywhere. But, Frisco's a good start. I've booked us into the Palace for a coupla weeks, while we get the builders in t'sort out the rest of the warehouse." He raised an eyebrow at Xander, who nodded his understanding. "Once it's fit for habitation, we can move in and, if y'like, you can do the rest of it." He shrugged. "Or we can get the builders t'do it." Xander felt his grin grow larger, threatening to split his face in two. Spike smiled back, shrugging again. "It's got what the agents call 'potential' right now," he said, wryly. "But it won't take long t'tidy it up and get the basics in. We can go take a look, soon as we get there and you can decide what you want done and what you want to do y'self." He paused a moment, gazing at Xander, his head cocked to one side. "We'll make you a workshop and have a proper office for the computer and we'll make the rest into separate rooms, or open-plan, just as we like. That good?"

Xander was overwhelmed "Oh yes! Yes, please! That's... that's wonderful. When? When do we go?"

Spike frowned in thought. "Well... Get the movers in t'pack up this place tomorrow. We can go tomorrow night if you like."

"Wow! Yes! Yes, yes, yes. I love it." He threw himself back into Spike's arms. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"'S okay, Pet. It's okay. That's what we'll do, then." He paused and turned serious. "But you do realise that means there's something we need t'do this evening, don't you?" For a moment Xander was puzzled. "We need to tell your friends, Pet," Spike explained. "It wouldn't really be fair not to tell 'em face-t'-face, would it?"

Xander sighed. "No," he agreed, glumly. "We'll have to go see them, or they'll come hunting us. And I guess I owe them that," he allowed. "I wish we could just leave, though."

Spike looked at him sympathetically. "Come on, Luv. 'Snot that bad. You may be at outs with them at the moment, but they are y'friends and you know y'love them."

"Yeah, I do. I really do." Xander agreed. "But they don't understand." He grinned evilly as an idea struck. "I get to choose my own clothes this evening?" he asked.

Spike smirked back. "Okay. But I get to veto anything too extreme. Don't want to give the old boy a coronary." He cocked an eyebrow. "This is about making a clean getaway. So behave yourself and I'll let you say what you want." He grimaced ruefully. "It'll have to come from you anyway, Pet. If I try and tell 'em, they'll think I'm abducting you."

"Far too late for that," Xander said with a smile. "You already have."

* * * * *

It proved remarkably easy in the end. Xander didn't wear the whole outfit he'd worn to the club, as he'd originally intended. But he did wear the black leather pants, a pair of Doc Martens to match Spike's and a tight white T-shirt under a black leather bomber jacket.

The bell above the door of the refurbished Magic Box clattered as they walked in, causing the assembled Scoobies to look up. Willow gasped and Buffy scowled, as Spike hitched himself up onto the counter and Xander settled between his knees, leaning back against him.

Giles polished his glasses and put them back on, before clearing his throat. "Umm. Hello to you two. Good to see you. Are you well? Both of you? Xander?"

Xander smiled. "I'm very well, thank you Giles. Never better. You?"

"Xander," Buffy interrupted the pleasantries. "What have you done? You look like a rent boy."

Xander smiled sweetly. "No, Buffy. Not for rent. Definitely owned. See the collar? Means I'm the exclusive property of Mr The Bloody here."

Spike smacked him lightly on the arm. "Now then, Pet. I said behave yourself." But he didn't try to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Xander glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Okay, Spike. I'll behave," he conceded. He turned back to the others. "I'm sorry, guys. I just couldn't resist." He paused for a moment. "I'm well, Giles. Thank you. And thank you for including as both in your welcome." He felt a grin spread over his face, as he allowed his expansive enthusiasm to show. "I am happy and in love and it's great. Really great." Pausing a moment to regain some calm, he went on seriously. "But we've come to tell you something. Something important." He paused again to see if anybody had anything to say. No one seemed eager to contribute, so he continued. "Spike and I are leaving Sunnydale. We're going to San Francisco and we're going to live there." He glanced at each of them in turn. "I'll miss you guys, but Sunnydale is too small now, and I want to see other places. I want to be free. And I can't do that here."

Willow's eyes widened in surprise. "Leaving?" she asked hesitantly. "Is it... Is it us, Xander?" Her voice hitched slightly. "Is it because we were worried about you last week and... and maybe weren't as supportive as you'd hoped?"

Xander raised his eyebrows at Giles, who had the grace to shrug, disowning any responsibility for Willow's change of attitude. As if Xander couldn't guess the truth.

His voice was gentler when he replied. "No, Willow. It's not you. It actually has nothing to do with you." He grimaced apologetically as he realised how that sounded. "You know I always wanted to travel. You know how I tried once, and how that turned out. Well..." He took a breath. "Yesterday we were abused on the street by a guy I used to work with. A real homophobic jerk." He looked at each of them again, finally settling on Buffy, willing her to understand. "And he has too many friends. I don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding who I am, or looking over my shoulder in case one of them decides that words don't hurt enough and it's time for sticks and stones. Sunnydale doesn't fit me anymore. Or I don't fit it. Whichever it is, it's time for me to leave." He turned to Willow. "San Francisco isn't so far and it's a big enough place so we won't have to hide that we're together, you know?" He smiled at her teasingly. "It's not like I'm a student and they can call it experimentation."

Once again he scanned each of their faces, seeing the slight offence in Willow's face, but the dawning understanding beneath it, seeing resignation and reluctant agreement in Giles' and stony disapproval in Buffy's. Fleetingly he wondered if Spike's defection was causing her more pain than she expected, but her next words dispelled any sympathy he might have felt.

"Okay, Xander," she said. "You run away. That just peachy for you. You can. Good luck to you." And she turned and walked out to the training room.

Giles frowned in annoyance at her retreating back, but remained where he was, being polite for Xander and Spike.

They stayed for half an hour, explaining further their reasons for going, where they would live and that Spike could support them both comfortably. Giles was practical and pragmatic, eliciting a forwarding address and a promise to let him know where they settled. Eventually even Willow realised it was inevitable and attempted a joking accusation of Spike being Xander's sugar-daddy, which got Xander an amused smirk from Spike. He could tell that one was going to come back to tease him in future, probably with inappropriate sexual imagery.

And then it was time to go. Willow gave them both a hug, and a kiss for Xander. Giles shook hands with Xander and nodded to Spike.

Xander looked at Spike and Spike smiled. "Go on, Luv," he said. "I'll wait here."

So Xander took a deep breath and went to say goodbye to Buffy.

She was punching viciously at the large bag as he entered the training room, but when he got closer he saw that her hits were off and tears were streaming down her face. He coughed to attract her attention and she turned, swiping her bandaged hands across her eyes.

She spoke before he could take more than two hesitant steps towards her. "I'm sorry, Xander. I'm sorry." He began to relax, but she went on, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I don't know what happened to you. You were happy with Anya. Now I don't know any more. But I should have done something. I should have stopped you."

He halted in his tracks and closed his eyes, taking a breath to calm the sudden surge of annoyance. "No you shouldn't, Buffy," he said. "I'm happy now. Like I never was before. You don't understand and maybe you never will. But you have to accept it." As she drew breath as if to refute that, he went on, "Spike has never made me do anything I didn't want to do. And he's given me so much." He paused, searching her face. "No," he sighed. "I guess you can't understand." He felt tired, suddenly. "It's really not about you. Or about Sunnydale. Or about demons and vampires. It's about me."

He stopped, realising there was nothing more to be said and she stood similarly dumb. But when he stepped forward again, his arms raised, she went into the hug willingly, clinging with the strength of desperation until he raised his hands to her shoulders and eased half a step back. He kissed her gently on the forehead in absolution and valediction and turned away to rejoin his lover. Behind him the sound of fists on canvas resumed.

Giles walked him to the door with an arm around his shoulders and wished them well, reminding Xander that if he didn't write with his address he could expect a visit from a very cranky shopkeeper. As they left, Xander felt resigned, but better hearted than he had feared. 

Walking away from the shop for the last time, Spike's arm snaked around Xander's waist pulling him close. "So, I heard no screams. I guess you didn't flash your scar at her, Luv."

Xander smiled. "I thought about it, but I just kissed her instead." Spike raised an eyebrow. "On the forehead, that's all. No smoochies. Promise. Those are all for you."

Spike smiled back. "You really are a big softie, Pet," he said.

Twenty-four hours later they were on their way to San Francisco, with Xander's head in Spike's lap and Spike's hand in Xander's hair.

Road Trip