Xander blinked. <Nope, not an illusion.> Just to make sure, he closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyeballs. Releasing the pressure, the brunette looked around again. Brighter, fuzzier, but in essence the same.

“Spike?”

The rail-thin vampire grunted in response.

“Where are we?”

The blonde snorted, pointing upwards. “B-I-M-I-N-I” He said, spelling the letters out slowly.

Xander’s eyes widened. “Why are we in Bimini, Spike?”

The customs agent, who waved them forward, cut off the vampire’s response. Xander waited impatiently as his and Spike’s passports were stamped and they swore that they weren’t doing anything (violently) illegal, (very) immoral, or extremely fun. By the time they’d finished and had hailed a cab, Xander was bouncing with questions.

“Shut up.” Spike said.

“What?”

He snarled. “At the hotel, ok?” Xander nodded nervously.

An hour later they were in the hotel. “Ok. Now. Spike. Why. Are. We. In. Bimini?”

Spike whirled around, careening off the sliding glass door. “Let’s see, shall we? Willow and Tara are off in the Cascades on a ‘second honeymoon’. Ripper’s boffing Wesley in good old London, Angel’s STILL locked in his bedroom with Cordelia. And oh yeah, Slutty’s taken out a contract on me because I’m…what was it…FUCKING HER BEST FRIEND!”

“Oh yeah. Forgot that for a minute.” Xander smiled.

“No. I’ve got a headache.” Spike growled.

The brunette stuck out his bottom lip invitingly. “I see. So you’re not interested in that which sent you three thousand miles from Sunnyhell with a Slayer on your tail?”

Spike considered. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Besides, Dawn sent us off with twelve, no-thirteen different flavors of lube.” Xander choked out upon seeing the contents of the bag he was unpacking.

“Get right on it then.”