"Okay!" Cordelia crossed her arms across her chest. "*No* more kissing! Just stop it! I don't suffer *enough* with my *visions* of horrors? I need to keep seeing Spike and Xander kisses right in front of me? In the *flesh*? No! I don't!"

Xander sat down on the couch. "Man. Sure could use some TV, right about now." He looked at Cordelia and smiled. "I mean, *really* what's better after bullet removal and sex than T.V?"

"Gee, I don't know. How about a shower?"

"Naw. Not yet." Xander grinned and wiggled, enjoying his stickiness. "I'm okay."

"How about death by former girl friend? Is that a good 'after' thing? Cause I can do that."

"Nope." Xander spread his arms out across the back of the couch as he settled further down into the fluffy comfort of the couch. "That come's *way* down on the list of things to do after bullet removal and sex in a blood stained bed."

"I'm gonna call the Watcher." Spike said, interrupting Cordelia's gagging.

"Yes! Good idea. Call Giles. Go *home* you two!"

"Well, then, get me the bleedin' phone!"

"Oh? What? You don't know where it is by now? You guys have been here, like, for *ever* now!"

Spike made a face at her. "It's been me in a Bleathvore cage for *hours*, pet, and no I don't know where the phone is. Be a dear and *give* it to me!"

"Well. Everything seems to be nice and settled. I'm just going to take Danielle here to a place she can get some rest. If you need me. . .I'll be, um, unavailable, so please, let's try and not need me." Wesley rose and led the vampire out of the room.

Cordelia grabbed Spike's arm and pulled him towards the kitchen, muttering beneath her breath.

"What's that? You'd *like* to give it to me? Cordy! Really? Well, maybe we could. . .Hey! This is just some sick game of I can have my ex-boyfriend's *current* boyfriend, if I *want* to, innit? Shame on you! Slut! But, well, revenge *is* important, isn't it? I understand. So if you wanna have your nasty way with me, *fine*. Do me." Spike held out his arm towards Cordelia, his wrist limp, and his hand hanging. "I ask only that you be *gentle*."

Cordelia stopped in front of the phone and pointed to it. "You are so *not* funny, Spike!"

"Liar. I'm *damn* funny." Spike picked up the phone and dialed Giles' number. "And I'm *cute*, too. You want me. You *know* you do." Spike winked at her.

"Spike! I *so* do not! You-

"Yes." Spike spoke into the phone. "Coroners office, Los Angels county." Spike spoke with a nasal American accent. "We are trying to reach the next of kin of one Alexander Harris. Do we have the right number? Ah, that's so *touching*, Watcher." Spike pulled the phone away from his ear. "*I* thought it was funny!" Spike mumbled, placing the phone back at his ear. "But, I've come to the conclusion that every one I know these days lacks humor. He's *fine*. I was *joking*. Yes, well, I *am* a vampire. What? *No* you can't. He's in the other room. Dammit, if he were dead I'd *tell* you! No I am *not* going to go and get him! Oh, for. . .Hey! Watcher! Is your *slayer* still alive? Yes? Wanna *keep* her that way? Yes. Well, I, *we*, Xander-the still very much alive *Xander*-and I, have the thing. It's a bowl. How's about *that*? A *bowl*. It looks like a plain old *bowl*. The kind you'd put cereal and milk in, *not* the type you'd grind up bones in. *Those* are the bowls *I* like. Yep, the Bleathvore's had it. Cool bunch, they were. Did I? Well, I take it all back. It was a case of them being chock full of stuff that hurts, *us*. Not really them being chock full of *stinging*, stuff. See? We, as, people, or non-people, dead people, if you will, can't take their stuff. We don't get *stung* by them. The *sting* us. They were very cool. Loved them. Oh, sorry, I'm so slow, but I *was* knocked out and held in a small electrified cage for a good bit of time! Yes, of *course* by the Bleathvores! It wasn't Mickey Mouse and *his* band of terrorists! Doesn't make 'em any less cool, Watcher. With my charm and my wits, of course, *and* my way around a deck of cards. Angel was *no* help. We'd be headless if it were left up to *him*. Spell, you say? Need it right away, do you? What? No time for Disneyland? What about Knottsberry Farm? Ya sure, then? Not even a spin in the tea cups? You're such a Watcher. But I promised the boy! Yes, Xander! I've not picked up any *other* boys! Why? Do I have time too? Again, lack of humor. The car? No, sorry, it's fine. Runs like a well-oiled machine. No I did *not* add oil! He's in the shower. He's very dirty and needs to spend some quality time with his hair and his hair gel. Well, I don't think so. That soon? No. It's *late*. Or early, what ever you want to call it. We'll crash here 'till sundown and then head back. Yes, I'll *try*. What if I just leave it on the edge of town, hire a hack, an' you report it stolen when we get there? No? Why not? Well, I'll set it afire! Of *course* that would be *wrong*! It would be insurance fraud. But that'd be practically an American *tradition*! Ha! If I could do that to myself I *would* and thank myself for the good time! You, again, show your lack of humor, Watcher. I've a mind not to give you your present. Bleathvore stuff. Um, yes, *now* be nice to me, once I mention *presents*. Whore yourself to me, Watcher, you know I *love* that. Yes you are, you little be nice to the vamp once he mentions dusty tomes of knowledge, Watcher, you. Um. Yeah. A few sweet words to the vamp with the human and demon skin for pages, books. Whatever. I don't know! I gotta go. I do. I'm gonna find a flat surface to fuck Xander and then go to sleep. What? I said sleep. Are you *sick*? Why would I *say* that? But I do! Leather bound dusty *old* tomes of great importance, I'm sure. Oh, yeah. Nice. Whore *Xander* now. I was, uh, kidding? No? Look, I've the thing, we are safe and sound, so's the car. My apologies 'bout that, can't be helped, the little Honda is a trooper, and we'll be home soon. Love you *bunches*." Spike hung up the phone with a big grin.

"You are so evil, Spike." Cordelia muttered from the doorway.

"Still here, pet? Stayed to seduce me, did you, you deep-eyed wench?"

Cordelia snorted. "No I did-"

"Well, forget it." Spike headed towards the living room. "Had your chance, you did, girlie. Xander! Your trampy ex-girlfriend is trying to put the moves on me!"

"Be strong and don't look her in the eyes. It's the *eyes* that get you!"

Spike found his way back to the living room. Xander was lying on the sofa staring up at the ceiling.

"Bored, pet?" Spike asked, flopping down over him and leaning into Xander's face.

"Yes!" Xander smiled into Spike's face. "Well, okay i *am* counting tiles. *God* yes, I am! There is no TV here. Can we take the bowl and go home now? *No* TV. *No* vamps, to-no offense-, Spike, -to slay. I'm hella bored! And I'm hella *hungry*! I wanna go eat! And I wanna go home! If we leave now we can just make it before you go poof! What say you? Shall we go for it? Live on the edge? I'm okay with the risk factor. I feel nice and safe."

"It'll be daylight soon." Spike told him, settling his hips and hands upon Xander, getting comfortable.

Xander sat up, his back against the arm of the couch. He smiled at Spike as the vamp leaned down and kissed him. "You can get into the trunk of the car, and we can go home." Xander offered, all reason.

Spike smiled down into Xander's face. "I am *not* getting into the trunk, *or* the back seat, or even the *passenger* seat. Just forget about *driving* home, pet. Fucked you, yeah, and while it means I *like* you, it does *not* mean I *like*, like you enough to let you drive us home, it---." CRACK!

And Spike was slumped over him. Knocked out cold. Knocked out dead. Or deader than usual.

"Well, hell. This can't be good. Why'd you *do* that?" Xander asked a grinning Angel, once he'd pushed a knocked out Spike out of the way. A grinning Angel, all shiny clean and spike haired, Angel, that held an. . .oar? "Is that an *oar*? As in, lets go for a boat ride, oar?"

Angel moved it away from his face and smiled at Xander. "Yep. An oar. Come on. He needed a good whack, anyway." Angel pulled Spike off of Xander and dropped him on the floor. "Hurry. He's gonna wake soon. Best get you two in the car before that happens."

"Um, yeah. But for some reason, I don't want you to treat my vampire like that. Be a little more careful with him, would you? But I am *so* gonna blame this all on *you*!" Xander told the dark haired vampire, as he picked up his end of the blond vampire and hefted him out the door.

"Umph. Yeah." Angel grinned at Xander as he shoved him out the door via Spikes dead weight. "Yep. It'll be all funny like once you two are back in Sunnydale, or mostly back in Sunnydale. Quick! Open the back door!"

"No! Put him in the front seat! That way I can see him as he's coming for me."

"Yeah. But I don't think he's gonna hurt you, Xander. Maybe just slap you around a little. You can take that, can't you? Plus, you can blame this all on me."

"Umph, he's heavier than he looks, watch his legs! And I *am* gonna blame this all on you, duh! Already *said* so. Not to mention it's all your doing! Hear the future: It will sound like: '*Angel* hit you! *Angel* put you in the car, and *Angel* grrd at me until I drove away, are you okay, my sweet, Spike? Oh, and Cordy buckled you in.' Sound good? 'Cause that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That's my plan. You like? Sound good? Do I have all the stuff? I'd hate for him to have to come back for his garbage. He's gonna be pissed, if I didn't get it all." Xander told Angel as he buckled the knocked out vampire into his seat belt. "You'd better have loaded all the stuff. Books and stuff." Xander gave Angel a glare. "I mean it. I want *all* his gar-um, stuff! Wigs, included! I don't want to have to turn the car around. But I will, if I have too!"

"It's all in there. You are good to go, Xander. Have a good trip."

"Kay. Um, how long do you think he's gonna be out?"

Angel grinned. "Not long, I'm afraid. You'd better hurry."

Xander grinned, placed a CD in the player, blasted Breakstuff and hit the freeway.

"Ugh. Turn it down. What'd I drink? How much did I have too drink? Did I sell Dru? What I get for her? Xander? Xander?! What the fuck? Did you *hit* me you little shit?"

Xander reached over and turned the music *up*. Fred Durst continued to bitch about his ex and Xander checked the rear view before changing lanes. "Hey, Spike. Amongst the living once again? Or so. Missed you, I did. Sleep good?"

"Did you hit me, Xander?"

"No!"

Spike rubbed the back of his head and winced once he came across the lump. The lump that *hurt*. "I've been *hit*. I *know* when I've been hit! On the back of my head. And hard, too!." Spike sorta snarled at Xander while he *whined* at him.

"Yeah. With an oar. Boat ride kinda oar. He whacked you a good one." Xander told him, changing lanes, once again. "That damn, Angel."

"Did that little soul-full fuck *hit* me, Xander?"

Xander bit his lip and changed lanes once again. "Are you trying to get me car sick, whelp? Pick a lane and *drive* innit! Or I *swear* I'm gonna vomit in your lap! Did he? *Hit* me?"

"Did he who, what?" Xander made to change lanes once again, but Spike grabbed the wheel and held it still and growled.

And how cute was a can't hurt humans vampire's growl? Cute enough that Xander didn't mention it.

"Let's not kill the driver!" He said instead.

"Um, not much of a threat, when the passenger will walk away all safe and sound. Did that soul-full fuck *hit* me and knock me *out*?"

"What? Who? Angel? *That* soul-full fuck? Yep. He clocked you back side the head and shoved you in the passenger seat. Buckled you in and told me to drive home, or *else*. And what? Really, *lover*?" And Xander was pissed enough at this point to snear the word 'lover'. Why'd Spike think *he* had hit him? "What was I *supposed* to do? He wasn't *hurting* you, so. . .yeah, and *fuck*, he'd already *hit* you, so, yeah, I told him to put you in the car. Be careful with you and let us get home! Shit!"

"Be careful with me?"

"What the fuck am I doing, *now* you big baby?" Xander snarled, changing lanes with a *hard* right turn. Fucker.

Spike snickered. "No. You told him to be careful with me?" Spike squeezed Xander's thigh. "Aren't you the sweet vampire slayer's best friend, fucked by a chipped vampire that'd turn you if he could and kill all your friends and bath in their blood if he could."

Xander checked his rearview mirror, signaled, changed lanes, safely, and smiled at Spike. "Would you, really?"

"Oh, Xan-pet, I'd spend *hours* bathing in Giles' and the slayer's blood if I could."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You'd turn me?"

Spike chuckled and began to undo Xander's jeans. Once his cock was free and deep in Spike's throat the vampire nodded his head in the affirmative motion.

Spike pulled free and gave the mortal a dirty look, eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't let you *drive*, pet. Let's not get it all twisted, but I *would* turn you." He sank back down.

Xander took one hand off the steering wheel of the Honda and patted Spike on his talented head. "I *knew* you started to like me, Spike." Xander grinned up at the high way sign letting him know Sunnydale was close. "But I wasn't going all *crazy* with it."

"Mum, Spike? Know what's on the off ramp, home?"

Negative motion from Spike.

"Winches!!!!!!!!!" < = all night donut shop in california. >

*****
Part 19:

Spike removed Xander from his mouth, licked his lips, placed Xander back inside his jeans and zipped him up. "I'm full."

"Good for you." Xander grinned, exiting the highway. "But I want donuts."

"Have you no romance in your soul, Xander?"

"Um. . ."

"You should be telling me what good head I give, whelp!"

"Ah. I see. Okay. Cause I'm fresh out of bloody sheets, right? I know you like those."

"I do. But that's ambiance. Bloody sheets have their place, but *now* is the time for compliments." Spike squeezed Xander's thigh. "*Now* is the time for you to say stuff like: Oh, GODJESUSCHRISTABOVE! *Never* have I had such a blowjob! Are you a *professional*? And you should smile at me and bat your girlie eyelashes at me and then tell me you feel like you should *pay* me." Spike gave Xander a grave and serious look.

"'God-jesus-christ-above'? Really? You think I should *say* stuff like that? Cause, I'm not gonna. And I do *not* have girlie eyelashes."

"Well, if not that, then something comparable. What ever the kids say in the throes of passion these days. And women would *kill* to have your eyelashes. I've know a few who *have* killed for the likes of them."

"That would be the stuff like, 'fuck', 'harder', 'deeper', and, um, 'more'! And I'm *sure* I say that to you."

"Really? That's *all* they say?" Spike sniffed. "Heathens."

Xander pulled into the all night donut shop's parking lot. "If they *really* like you, and if they are *really* having a good time they ask you if you want sprinkles."

"Do they? Lack's poetry, if you ask me. Calling the lord's name in vain? *That* show's the lust. Or at least, it *did*."

"Um, yes, back in the day, I'm sure it did, but for now we have what we have. Spike?"

"What is it, then, heathen-Xander?"

"You want sprinkles?"

"Oh, *Xan-der*!" And Spike fluttered *his* eyelashes. "*Really*?"

Xander unbuckled his seatbealt and opened the door. "Yep. Really. Sprinkles for you, cause you give the best head I've *ever* had while driving home from a going to get a slayer saving thing from the vampire ex-boyfriend of said slayer, who just happens to be the only girl I've ever really wanted and was in love with but couldn't have and you *seduced* me while on said trip and I'm in total *denial* about said seduction and I guess it all makes me kinda gay now and that's *another* thing I don't really want to think about but I *have* learned to love my inner-gunslinger and for *that* I'm grateful. Oh. And for my inner gunslinger's gun. Well, *guns*. Cause I kinda stole a gun or five of Angel's. I thank you for that. So? Want sprinkles?"

"I don't know." Spike grabbed his head and squinted at Xander. "That speech has given me a headache and made me all confused. Sentence? Paragraph? Thought? Or thesis?" Again, Spike made with the eyelashes. "But do you *love* me?" Spike simpered.

"I'm offering sprinkles, Spike. Take 'em or leave 'em."

"Sprinkle me, baby."

Xander shut the door and walked towards the shop door. Spike leaned across the seat and stuck his head out the driver's side window. "But, Xan-der!" Spike yelled over the roar of the five Harleys pulling into the parking lot.

Xander opened the door and held it open as he turned back to look at Spike. "What?"

"So? Was it the best head *ever*?"

*********************************************************

"I don't see what you're so *mad* about. They didn't hurt you. Didn't even rough you up."

"Humph." Xander checked his mirrors and made his turn.

"You bullshitted your way out of any trouble just fine, didn't you?"

"Humph." Xander speed up a little. Not too much. Hit his brights at a dark corner. All clear. He made his turn.

"It's not like you were once the Big Bad and found yer'self *incapacitated* with the very *thought* of ripping their throats out, is it, then? *That* be a hard thing to swallow, wouldn't, then? *That* be something to be in a *pissy* mood about, then, wouldn't?"

"Humph." Xander reached over and into the box of donuts on Spike's lap and pulled out a chocolate cake with sprinkles. He hit a button on his door and Spike's window slid down. He tossed the donut out and then closed the window.

"There were only *five* of them. You kill *vampires*. You hang out with the *slayer*. You've *shagged* a very dangerous, blood thirsty, wanna kill all your friends, vampire! That'd be *me*, pet." Spike sniffed. "You have a *gun*. Or *Guns*, apparently, you little klepto."

"Humph." Xander reached for a cream filled glazed and brought it to his mouth. He made a sharp turn and bit into the deep fried cream filled treat. "Not a *klepto*. I *meant* to steal them." He shot Spike a dirty look.

"They probably weren't even *real* bikers. Just those corporate nancy-boys, like to dress up like and play at being bikers. They did have nice leathers though, didn't they? That one giant bloke, had on a nice set of chaps, didn't he? That was good leather, it was."

"Humph."

"So, sure. Maybe I *shouldn't* have tipped over the bikes. Sometimes I forget about the chip and just start to recall my days of yore! Days of fun! Days of me being *SPIKE* and being able to *have* fun like that! Sue me!"

"Humph."

"That whole me being your retarded brother, while really galling, was pure genius, on your part. See? Who needs super slayer stuff when you can *bullshit* like that? Strength is strength and while it's a good thing to have it ain't *bullshitting*! Now *that's* good stuff. The slayer? She'd *still* be fighting!"

"Humph."

"You *liked* it. You know you did. When the giant helped to buckle me in you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. I know you did. I *know* you Xander. You think you're all deep and secretive, but I *know* you. I *read* you, Xan. You were having fun."

"Humph."

"Fine!" Spike undid his seatbelt and reached into the back seat. "Ha! Got it."

"Put your seatbelt back on! They *ticket* for that, you know!"

Spike sat back in his seat and tossed Xander a grin as he rolled down his window. He placed his right arm out the window. "I'm gonna drop the bowl, Xander."

"What? Bring that back in here *right* this minute, Spike! Right this minute! Do you want me to stop the car? I will. I'll stop."

"Stop. I don't care. Admit it."

"Admit what? You're a fucking nut? Yes! I admit it! You're the nuttiest vampire *ever*!"

"Admit you had fun with the bikers."

"I did *not* have fun with the fucking bikers! You could have gotten us *killed*! Beaten to death by really big guys in leather! *Not* the way I want to go!"

"My fingers are getting numb, Xander. I might drop the bowl. I need truth. Did you have fun?"

"God damn it, Spike! Okay! Maybe!"

"Can't feel my little finger. Gonna drop the bowl."

"Fine! Yes! It was *fun*! It was fucking *fun*! When that big leather dressed behemoth helped me buckle you in and took such *care* with you I wanted to *crack up*! Okay? Yes! That was fun! This is *not*. Bring the bowl back in."

"Okay." *crash*. "Oops."

Xander slammed on the breaks, fishtailing and stalling the car.

"Now *that's* a seatbelt! I mean, really! I didn't even *move*. I might have to look into getting one of these little Hondas, I just might. Don't see what the Watcher is so against."

"You *dropped* the bowl?" Xander asked through gritted teeth.

Spike was pulling at his now slack seatbelt. "What? No. That was just a bowl. Ceramic, circa 1970's. Had a pretty pattern I liked, though. Thought it'd make a nice cereal bowl. Shame I dropped it. Didn't think I'd hold the real thing out the bloody *window*, did you, pet? Think I'm daft? Have Slutty, her great big commando boy toy *and* Rupert gunning for me? What? You think you're shagging a moron?"

Xander took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No. I think *you're* shagging a moron." He restarted the car and, after beating his head against the steering wheel three times, began driving again.

"Okay. Hey!" Spike grinned at Xander. "Only *I* can talk about the bloke I'm shagging. *You* be nice. Or else."

"Yeah. I'll be nice to me."

"Xander?"

"What?"

"Are we there yet?"

Xander turned up the music. How nice. Breakstuff was playing again and wasn't it just one of those days? "We're almost there, Spike." Xander murmured.

"Xander!" Spike yelled over the music a few minutes later, waving his hand in front of Xander's face.

"What, Spike?" Xander asked, glaring at Spike.

"Are we there, yet?"

*****