One week. One week.

A constant refrain in Xander's head since - oh yeah - one week after his encounter with Spike. Which should make "one week and one day" his refrain, but it got tiring to repeat that in his head.

One week since Spike had appeared out of nowhere and done things that so shouldn't have been making Xander's lips tingle and his groin tighten just thinking about them. Of course, they were also making his fists curl and his jaw clench and yeah, that was more like it.

Because he knew Spike was keeping William away from him. Knew it and wasn't sure what to make of it, but would have been able to stand it if only he could have been sure Will was okay. But, from what he'd seen, he wasn't quite sure whether William was ever really okay with Spike. Because Spike seemed a bit... possessive.

But who was he to judge? He'd only known Will for four weeks, though he'd kissed him after two and before three and - and the numbers weren't doing anything but making his head hurt. And they kinda made his heart hurt, too.

And he was going to go crazy if he couldn't get his mind off English accents and high cheekbones and platinum blond hair, in duplicate. *And that way lies madness, Harris.*

So lucky for him this week was not laundry week (as a quick sniff test had confirmed), but shopping week.

*Yes, lucky me! Because shopping week means a trip to the closest thing our fair downtown has to a megamart. Shopping paradise of the masses.* So there Xander stood, shopping list in hand and loins girded - whatever that meant - because a man ready for battle was supposed to have girded loins, and he'd run out of Cocoa Puffs that morning, so boy were his loins girded.

He was ready. He was pumped. He was prepped. Xander faced the glass doors of the megastore and took a deep breath.

*God, I hate this place.* Xander plunged into the fray.

*How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.* One, there was the way he always managed to choose the gimpy shopping cart that resisted all efforts at navigation and regularly veered into... two, the small children who seemed to dart out from nowhere with no concept of the people around them trying to navigate... three, the ridiculously narrow aisles of a store that had no room to expand, so instead tried to cram far too much into the limited space it had and to compensate with... four, the mind-numbing brightness of fluorescent lights reflected off too-white walls and too-shiny floors. And Xander whipped out his list - added aspirin, because he was certain to have a headache before he made it through... five, the checkout lines that seemed to be endless no matter what time of night or day.

But hey, they had the best prices within walking distance - and that was what counted.

Xander consulted his list and decided to start in the drugstore section and work his way over to the food. He had nabbed a package of generic plastic adhesive bandages and was about to head for the store-brand aspirin when the gimp-cart steered him into black jeans and a pair of beat-up combat boots. Xander looked up to apologize, but the words caught in his throat.

"What the fuck? Thought I told you to stay away from -" Spike stopped himself and shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Tosser."

Xander opened his mouth to tell Spike that it was a free store - or at least a store that was free to walk into because he was pretty sure he was gonna come out with a big dent in his checkbook - and stopped. Because Spike? Looked like hell, all red-rimmed eyes and reddened nose. And an honest-to-god shopping basket, which was all cans of chicken soup, cough suppressant, aspirin - and a prescription bag. "Are you and Will all right?"

"What's it to you?" Spike didn't raise his eyes or his voice, and all of Xander's weeklong fantasies of asking Spike what was the big idea - with the molesting and the threatening - drained away. Because Jesus, the guy looked so small and wrong in here, the harsh fluorescent lighting exposing the cracks in the street-punk veneer and showing Xander the scared kid beneath.

"I'm pretty sure I told you last time that I actually care about your brother."

"Yeah - well that's two of us then." Spike tightened his grip on the basket until the cheap plastic cracked. "He'll be okay."

But the contents of the bag and the weariness in Spike's tone didn't exactly scream *okay*.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Xander could practically see the stiffness of pride work its way up Spike's spine, setting his shoulders back and hardening his jaw.

"I take care of him. Always have and I always will."

Spike stepped around the cart and started past.

"Wait." Xander reached out and stopped Spike with a hand on his shoulder. Spike shrugged off the touch, but did stop moving. "If I can't help, can I at least see him?"

Spike snorted. "Yeah, right." He started walking again.

"Damn it," Xander called after him. "What are you so afraid of?"

Spike turned back and their eyes met. And for a moment, Xander saw need in there and he thought Spike might actually answer the question, but then the eyes turned hard and fierce, though Spike's tone wasn't unkind.

"Just leave us be and he'll be fine."

Xander resisted the urge to look away, held Spike's gaze. "And what if he isn't?"

Spike's jaw tightened and he stared blankly at the floor. "He's doing all right. He's... got an upper respiratory infection. Had asthma all his life - bad lungs. Gets sick each winter, you know? But he always pulls through." His voice stayed low - quiet but not defeated. Not yet.

Xander couldn't stop his eyes from roving over Spike from the platinum blond curls with the roots showing to the scuffed boots and too-skinny body. "Spike... there's no easy way to ask this..."

"We're not on the streets," Spike snapped before Xander could even try to think of an easy way to ask that very question. He looked away, tucking the basket over one arm and rubbing the knuckles of his left hand with the fingers of his right. "Got some money, didn't I? Got us someplace warm. He'll be okay."

This Spike was so - different from the Spike who'd pinned him up against the wall and counted his back teeth with his tongue that - okay, maybe it wasn't completely inconceivable that Spike was just overprotective. *God, Harris. It's not like William's hard to - care for or anything.*

"Okay, I get it. You've got it all under control. But just in case..." Xander pulled out his pen and jotted his phone number on a corner of his shopping list. He tore it off and held it out. "The offer stands."

Spike just stared at the scrap of paper in Xander's hand until Xander lost patience.

"For fuck's sake, just take it. You can burn it when you get outside, okay? Just humor me. And while you're at it, pretend that you'll tell William I said 'hi' and that I miss seeing him around."

The look Spike gave Xander as he took the phone number didn't fill Xander with confidence. Nor did the way Spike turned and walked away without another word. As Xander watched, Spike disappeared around the end of the aisle. Once Spike was out of sight, Xander let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and slumped over the cart for a moment before re-girding his loins and resuming shopping. He tossed a bottle of aspirin in the gimpy cart and steered it over to the next aisle.

Spike was waiting for him. "It would probably make him happy to see you. Let's go."

The curtly issued order took Xander by surprise. "But I... I haven't finished my shopping."

Spike just raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Right." Xander abandoned his cart in the middle of the aisle and followed Spike to the checkout. He watched Spike pat down his pockets, muttering to himself as he did so.

"What're you looking for?"

Spike gave him a narrow glare, sighed. "You got one of those little plastic discount cards, mate?"

*Mate?* Xander turned over his card, watched Spike withdraw two crumpled twenties from his coat pocket and pay for everything, sweeping up the bag and stalking out of the store. Xander snatched up his discount card from the counter and hurried after him, catching him up at the edge of the parking lot. "Where are you staying?"

"Shady Palms." Spike jerked his head in the direction of the old motor lodge and kept walking. "Look. William's not - he looks bad, yeah? Looks worse than he is an' doesn't need anybody's pity. You got that?"

Xander stopped in his tracks, the words like a blow to the chest and grabbed at Spike's coat before he could get away. "You think I pity him?"

"No." Spike shook off Xander's hold, glared and patted himself down for a packet of cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it, blowing smoke at Xander irritably. "I think you want to shag him, pity or not."

"God you're a pig!" Xander waved the smoke away, short violent movements that were so much smarter than taking a swing at Spike to shut him up. "What is your fixation?"

And suddenly Spike was right there, close, pressing into Xander's space, their bodies and faces inches apart. Spike smirked and curled his tongue over his teeth.

"Weren't calling me a pig last week - when you had your tongue down my throat."

The words pissed him off and the memory turned him on, but Xander held his ground, refused to step back.

"I thought you were - "

"My brother? The one you don't want to shag?"

Xander's hand itched to slap the smug look right off Spike's face. He settled for holding Spike's gaze as he spoke, slow and clear, their breath mingling in the sliver of space between them.

"The one I don't only want to shag."

Neither moved for a long moment. But Spike turned away first, taking a drag off his cigarette and releasing the smoke with a dismissive snort that failed to disguise what they both knew - that Xander had won the round.