---

Xander called Aims and asked for Jake. Jake answered the phone with ‘Lonergan. Talk.' Xander smiled a little at that. Jake had a completely different persona on the phone than he had in person.

"It's . . . Harris. When can I get my pay check? It should be cut on Friday."

"Harris? Oh, Xander. Well, speak of the devil. You did good boy. You've saved the company a bunch of money . . . again. So . . . thanks from all of us. As to the check . . . don't have a clue. Since you're on leave, your check won't come here. You'll have to go to corporate to get it. I'll get you the number in a sec." Jake put his phone down on something with a clunk. Xander could hear papers rustling. "Let me call you back or have someone else call you. There's some confusion as to where your check is. It was cut last week but none of those dummies thought to call you and tell you that it was cut early. Sorry, kid. Trust corporate to fuck up something as simple as getting you a check. Bye."

Xander snarled softly at the phone, sounding uncannily like Spike. "Fuck. Desk jockeys. My ass."

"Wot's up pet?" Spike sauntered into Xander's office casually. "Wot desk jockeys."

"I called Mr. Lonergan to see when I could get my check, but no one seems to know where it is. It was cut last week for one thing. After I get that check, my pay comes from a different account and they are supposed to mail it to me, but this one is . . . lost in the ozone so to speak. Someone's supposed to call me back in a while."

"Sucks, but count on the corporate johnies to screw up something that simple." Spike wandered in behind Xander and began to massage his stiff shoulders. Xander stiffened. "Relax, you git. Not gonna . . . jump ya or anything. Just . . . you look all stiff like, thought I'd see if I couldn't make it better. And I'm not up to anything either. So don't go all . . . whatever."

Xander relaxed, by main force of will, but he did it. "Well, every other time you get behind me, you try to bite me. So . . . sorry . . . Mmmmm. That does feel good."

Spike worked on Xander's neck and back for several seconds and felt him really relax at last. He continued to work, enjoying the scent of ‘his boy' and the feel of his skin beneath his fingers. Xander's skin was surprisingly soft and smooth. Where he could touch it. Which was mainly the back of his neck and what part of his upper shoulders Spike could reach without moving Xander's t-shirt. He knew better than to disarrange his clothing. Xander would stiffen up like a board. Spike knew he was making progress though. Xander wouldn't have allowed the massage at all only a month ago.

"There you go pet. Feel better?" Spike eased around the desk and settled in one of the guest chairs facing it.

Xander shrugged his shoulders gently and twisted his neck. "Yeah, feels a whole lot better. Where'd you learn that? Wouldn't have thought that a master vampire would know how to give a massage. Shouldn't you be getting them instead?"

Spike snickered softly. "Wasn't always a Master. I was made a Childe, not a minion, but I was subservient to Angelus for over thirty years. And he wasn't a kind master. I learned all sorts of things from him. Massage among them. Then Dru . . . she'd get the most hellacious migraines. Sometimes the massage was all that kept her from running out into the sun. . . . change of subject."

Xander absorbed Spike's admission with a blink then handed him a piece of paper. "I'm working on a translation. It's a bit difficult . . . in fact it's a royal pain in my ass. But I think I'm getting it. It's some sort of code but I've identified two letters so far."

Spike looked at Xander with new respect. "Two letters? Are you sure?"

Xander sighed and shook his head. "No, not really. But they're both vowels, due to the frequency of occurrence. And the language is Germanic. Again . . . I think. It's all sort of up in the air. But I'll keep hacking away at it until I either get somewhere or I have to tell Timmins that I'm stuck."

Spike nodded, this was more proof that Xander was a lot smarter than he let on. He wondered again if he could get away with eating Xander's father, the man obviously wasn't human.

"And how about that scroll you were working on? How's that going?"

Xander shook his head. "Well, I got the title translated for sure. And part of the first page or so. Only they're not really pages since it's a scroll. They're actually panels. And it's a direct copy of something older. And probably written on clay tablets. I've found a web site that has a library of tablets photographed and posted up. Interesting and really weird. It seems to be some sort of . . . commentary on the proper etiquette at . . . well, a vampire court."

Spike quirked his scared eyebrow at Xander. "Etiquette at court? What year?"

Xander shrugged, shuffled papers and read one. "Around 600AD? No, sorry, that's when the scroll was written. The tablets were inscribed at the time of Hammurabi, or Hammurapi. What you call him depends on which bible you read or which expert you like. Not that you'd like any of them much. Dry bunch of assholes. So . . . um . . . 2000BC or there abouts. Um . . .court of a vampire lord whose name I haven't found out yet. But one thing I do know. He's really hooked on disemboweling. And may I just say with real emphasis. Eeeewwww! And also. Ick."

Spike cracked up, Xander had gone from sounding like Giles to sounding like Willow in a split second. "Yeah, I can see where you'd think that. But think about this. If a vampire court gets out of hand . . . how many people die a true death?"

Xander nodded. "I have thought about that. Did some research. The last time one got out of hand. And I think you said something about it. An entire town disappeared off the map. Some . . . eight thousand people. Real big city for the time. And ick again. Are we repeating ourselves for some reason other than that I'm an idiot?"

Spike valiantly squashed the urge to smack Xander. "No, just . . . it don't hurt to go over stuff once in a while. When you get that scroll translated, I want a copy."

Xander flapped his hand at Spike. "Ok, ok. Repeat-o-boy. When I'm done, you'll be the first to know. I just hope you can read short hand. Now. If you don't want anything else. I'll get to work."

"No, I don't want anything, you single-minded git." Spike snorted, who'd have thought that Xander Harris the idiot donut boy would be so fixated on translating a several thousand year old scroll. Ancient Sumerian/Babylonian vampire court etiquette, no less. He levered himself out of the chair, stretched and cautioned Xander not to strain his eyes then left.

Xander sighed and looked at the scroll again, or rather the copies. It was driving him crazy and he was sure he was missing something. So he decided to go over everything in his mind again. One, it was a copy of a set of clay tablets. Two, it was in a demon form of ancient Babylonian. Three, it was really, really old. Xander bit at his lip. He'd figure this thing out if it killed him, pulling a pad of paper closer he started working again.

---

Spike retreated to his own office and sat at his desk. He finally realized he was brooding, muttered, "Broodin' like the bloody poofter isn't gonna get me anywhere. Suck it up, Spike. Get on with it." He called Timmins to him and issued orders. Timmins just nodded and left.

Spike picked up a manila folder and read the report from one of his lieutenants. It was nice to have them again. Spike realized that for years he'd been trying to control every single thing in his courts himself, now he delegated a lot of responsibilities. Sunsu was wise and so was De Medici.

After finishing with his paper work, Spike wandered down to the stable to have a snack. He called on one of the men who was in charge of keeping track of who was ready and available. He made sure to keep excellent records. He didn't want any of his ‘cattle' to be addicted to the bite or die because he over bled them. He took the time to gaze around the area and realized that the walls, which Xander held in contempt were actually in danger of collapsing if anyone got too rough with them.

"Have to make sure Xander sets this up proper . . . hey." Spike skipped aside as someone bumped into the wall from the other side, making it slap into his shoulder. "Take it easy over there. Ya wanna knock that shite down?" a muffled apology was offered. Spike started to go around to have a few words with whoever it was but was distracted by his snack calling him to the ‘feeding' room.

He went into the room and carefully took his meal. He was always careful to be courteous and thank them; besides not hurting them. He'd always been told that the blood was sweeter spiced by fear and pain. That was a great big wrong. In capitol letters. The blood was actually sweeter when the subject was relaxed. Adrenalin had a salty, sour tang that he realized wasn't that pleasant. Especially after you had sweet, warm blood willingly given. He wondered where the idea that the other was better had come from. ‘Bloody hell, research time for William. Fuck.'

Spike carefully laved the puncture marks on the woman's inner elbow with his tongue. "Thank you, missus. That was very nice. You see that you eat right now." Spike got up and walked out the door signaling to the attendant, who had been dinner three days ago, to attend the woman.

He stopped by the desk by the door and addressed the woman keeping records there. "I want everyone out of the dormitories as soon as Young Master Harris gets the first walls up. This is more dangerous than I thought it was. Understand?"

The woman made a squeaking noise and nodded. Spike left mumbling under his breath about the state of things, when a Master vampire such as himself had to see to minor domestic details like building proper walls.

---

Xander closed his notebook in frustration. His eyes were beginning to vibrate and ache. He decided to finish the last of his preparations to redo the stable dormitories. He thought changing the open room into singles was a better idea than trying to do something with the mess already there. If he divided one dorm into two, he could do half the rooms then move people into them. Then he'd divide the last half into half and when he finished that go on to finish the last quarter. He wondered if he would have any help on this. He wasn't too sure about having minions that close to humans they weren't allowed to touch.

He got up and fidgeted with his desk for a moment then he called Timmins. Timmins entered and Xander asked him for a guard so he could go to the stable level. Timmins just nodded and walked out to call for a guard. Xander picked up a small spiral notebook and a pen, sticking them into a thigh pocket he rummaged in a drawer for a tape measure. He looked up in time to see his guard.

"Hey, Bud, how are you. Been a while."

Bud grinned at Xander. "Been busy. Master Spike is still trying to get his court in check. The demons are no problem, except for the whole ‘show us your pet' thing. But the minions and fledges are a real pain in the ass. I say stake a few of them, but will Master Spike? Hell no. He says he isn't going to fall into the same trap as old Heinrich." Xander made a face at Bud. "The old master. The Slayer did for him a couple of year ago, I think."

Xander remembered Heinrich well enough. "Why do you call him the Old Master? And I do remember him. Buffy ground his bones. Neat."

Bud blinked. "Well, well. You were there? What happened? I thought there was some sort of prophecy? Slayer died or something."

"Sort of. She died, just like the prophecy. But I gave her mouth-to-mouth and brought her back. She staked him good but he came back so she staked him again and crushed his bones to dust." Xander managed to look amazed and proud at the same time. "I helped."

"Well, damn." Bud gave him a look of dawning respect. "Ok, so what are we doing?"

"I need to go to the stable level and take some measurements so I can finish my materials list. Take me down?" Bud nodded and led the way.

---

Xander finished his measurements, wrote his notes and did his figures. He settled in a squat to finish his list of materials. When he did, he found himself looking through a vent right into the feeding room. Spike was feeding from a relaxed looking woman, gently suckling from her arm. The expression of ecstasy on Spike's face startled Xander. And made him feel a little jealous. He shook it off and returned to his work. But he did hear Spike thank the woman. He shook his head slightly. What was up with that?

He couldn't equate Spike's tenderness with one of the four Scourges of Europe. It was actually a bit unnerving. Xander decided all the thinking was making his head ache so he flipped his notebook shut.

"Ok. All done. I have to work this up into a requisition for Spike. Or Timmins. I'd like to get started as soon as possible. I'm afraid that one of these walls will fall on someone. Come on."

Xander headed for the stairs and ran right into Spike.

"Xandpet. What's going on? What are you doing down here? And . . ."

Xander held up a hand. "And where's my guard?" Xander pointed to Bud. "Right there. Bud."

Bud bowed to Spike carefully, giving him his full name and waiting until Spike acknowledged him. Then he straightened. Spike said something in a language that Xander didn't understand but Bud laughed and walked away waiving at Xander in a friendly way.

Xander waved back and then turned to Spike. "I need these materials and soon. Those walls are . . . "

"Yeah, they are. One of them nearly fell tonight . . . right on me. How soon can you get started on the work?" Spike tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. He blew out a plume of smoke and then popped his jaw, forming a perfect ring of smoke.

"I have a requisition right here for the last of the materials. Timmins can order them tonight. I'll get my heavy duty gun when I get my check. It won't take but a few minutes to drop by the site and get it. I can start then. I don't think even Timmins can get materials delivered before Friday. Ok?"

Spike smiled at Xander, surprising him because it was a simple smile without snark or sarcasm. "Sure. You're the expert. I'm finally learning to delegate things to experts. You tell me what you can and can't do. I'll tell you if it's good enough or I have to find someone else. How's that?"

Xander blinked for a moment. "You're trusting me? I mean, really?"

Spike just nodded. "Yeah. So. Timmins will order the stuff an' you'll start Friday after you pick up your . . . gun? Didn't know you had one."

Xander gave Spike a disgusted look. "Not that kind of gun. I can't afford the ammunition to practice. It's a heavy duty nail gun. I need it to set the base plates. Concrete floors are a bitch."

Spike listened as Xander explained that regular nails just split and chipped concrete so he had to use special nails. The gun had to be more powerful too as the concrete was so much harder than wood. He wondered if Xander realized that he knew so much about something. Spike wasn't experienced in construction but he knew a real expert when he heard one.

"Hate to interrupt this interestin' lecture on the properties of nails. But you're going to be late to your lesson with Master Chen if you don't get a wiggle on. Not a good idea, he's old school and has asked my permission to discipline you proper. I gave it." Spike knew Chen wouldn't damage Xander and, being a vampire didn't see that much wrong with corporal punishment as long as it wasn't carried too far. Xander made an eeping sound and scurried away. Spike watched his tight rear end with a great deal of enjoyment.

---

Xander was just in time for his training period. Master Chen, however wasn't best pleased with him. "You were very nearly late. What were you doing that was so important that you would be late?"

Xander didn't make any excuses. He knew better. Master Chen wasn't unreasonable so if he was upfront with him he probably would avoid punishment.

"I was finishing the measurement of the stable level. I have to build the walls myself." At Master Chen's expression Xander shrugged. "Would you trust a bunch of minions around that stable? Yummy treats just standing around like that?"

"Frankly, no. so you avoid punishment this time. Don't be nearly late again. Now. We start with a new form."

Xander settled into his training routine. He was learning faster and faster. As he built more skills, Master Chen moved him along faster. He was learning down and dirty sword techniques right now.

"Take this sword. I have chosen it for your height and strength. I'll also teach you how to use a gladius. A short roman sword. This wakazashi will give you an advantage with your longer reach, but the gladius is easier to hide. So . . . we start."

Xander spent the next hour practicing sword work. The simple forms were easy to remember, but much harder to actually do right. Simple didn't always mean easy.

Master Chen watched Xander carefully. He wasn't about to let Xander hurt himself or do any of the forms wrong.

Xander had strong wrists and calloused palms from working construction for so long. But right now he felt like his wrists were made of noodles and his palms stung. He really wanted to stop exercising but he wasn't about to give up. His stubborn nature wouldn't let him. So he continued much longer than he should have.

Master Chen had stepped out of the room for a few moments, cautioning Xander to stop at fifty repetitions of the form. Xander had continued to one hundred and he felt it.

He was standing at the water cooler letting the cold water run over the palm of his left hand. He'd almost blistered it and it stung something awful.

"What are you doing?" Master Chen looked at Xander's hand. "You went too far. Didn't I tell you fifty reps and then rest?"

Xander nodded his head miserably. "Yes. But I thought . . ."

"No, you didn't or you would have obeyed me. Now you're in for a punishment. And not extra forms this time."

Xander hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I just want to be good. I mean . . . well, you know what I mean."

"Yes, you want to excel. I understand that. But you won't excel if you over do. Now. Kneel."

Xander knelt, expecting some sort of beating, but Master Chen had other ideas. He pulled Xander's hands behind him and tied them together with a string. "You will stay there until I tell you you may rise. And you will repeat, ‘I will not disobey my master' until I let you up."

Xander shuddered once then nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm really sorry." Xander began the required recitations of the ‘mantra' speaking softly but distinctly.

Master Chen sighed, shook his head and retreated to his zafu to watch Xander. Xander realized that all he had to do was tug a bit and the string would break but he was also well aware that this part of his punishment was to teach him self control. No doubt he needed that. Xander continued his soft chant while Master Chen counted. When Xander reached one hundred repetitions he told him to stop.

Xander started to stand up but Master Chen asked him what he thought he was doing. Xander dropped back to his knees. "Nothing. But . . . I need to be in my office pretty soon. Someone's supposed to call me about my check. I'd really like to get it before it disappears into the wilds of corporate paper work again."

"I'll let you go in a moment. Do you understand why I punished you?"

Xander shook his head. "Not really. I figured that I'd do a few extra and maybe improve quicker."

Bruce nodded. "I see. But what you don't understand is that when you're breaking a bad habit, getting so tired you can't think is good. You just do what you're told. But when you're learning new forms you need to be alert, aware and concentrating on what you're doing. Or you'll do the forms wrong and have bad habits to break again. You will do exactly the number of repeats I tell you to do and not one more or less. Do you understand now?"

Xander bowed keeping his head up, eyes on his Sensei. "Yes, Sensei, I do. I'm sorry I disobeyed you."

Xander was more used to being beaten within an inch of his life for leaving the butter out than he was having things explained to him. He straightened and vowed not to disappoint Master Chen again.

"Well, you only wanted to improve yourself. So it's all to the good. You've learned your lesson at a small cost. You may free yourself . . ." Master Chen stretched. "I'm going to get some tea. I'd advise a shower before you go anywhere."

Xander pulled his gi jacket off and pulled his t-shirt up to sniff at it. "Eeewww! Now that's just plan gross. Stinky Xander. Peee euuu."

Xander slung his gi over his shoulder and headed for his quarters. He'd take a shower, check for messages about his check and settle for some tv. He was still having trouble believing that he had a wide screen with surround sound and the latest and best accessories. He thought ‘I'll call Willow and tell her about it.' then he firmed his resolve, they'd been the ones to shut him out, they'd have to be the ones to invite him back in. And he was really pissed at Giles. All he'd have had to do was pay a little attention to Willow and her penchant for bad mojo. He entered his quarters, tossed his gi jacket and trousers into the hamper, followed by his shorts and t-shirt.

He turned the shower on and stuck his hand into the flow of water, grimacing as it flowed cold. He wondered if Spike would have a fit if he put in a secondary heater so he could have hot water faster. Then decided that he'd just ask. Spike probably would just snark something like ‘ya stupid git, wot difference is it ta me whot ya do.' Xander mouthed the phrase again trying to get the accent right.

---

When he was done with his shower, Xander rummaged in his closet for something to wear. He decided on a new pair of black jeans and a dark green t-shirt. They were a little too tight but Spike had flatly told him that if his clothing was too loose it was going in the rag bag. He claimed that it was dangerous to wear baggy clothing at a construction site, a fact that several of Xander's co-workers had seconded. Xander looked for his boots and couldn't find them.

"Timmins! Hey." Timmins stuck his head in the door with an inquiring sound. "Where's my boots? I have to go find my check so I'd really like them, just in case."

"Sorry, sir, I tried to clean them but they were so dirty and worn that Master Spike told me to toss them. He said that I should get you new. I put it off when I found out that you were on leave . . . don't you have a pair of . . . of . . . cowboy boots?"

Xander remembered the western style boots with the diamond cut steel toe caps that he'd rescued from his father's greed. "Yeah, now all I have to do is find them." He rummaged in the closet again and found them placed neatly on the floor. He picked them up and admired them. "Timmins, you knew I had those. There's no way I could have polished them this nice. Thanks"

Xander finished dressing and went to his office. He got there just in time to answer the phone.

"Harris here."

<<Mr. Harris. This is Lily Jones from the accounting office. I was told you are looking for your check. It was sent to the site last week by mistake. No one has sent it back to us, so I assume that it's still there. You'll have to go down after six to look for it. If you go much before the office help will be too busy to look for it. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience but it can't be helped.>>

Xander bit at his lip, he was sure something was off but he wasn't sure what. ‘That's ok. Do you know for sure where it is? Or do I have to go to every office trailer on the site?'

<<I know just where it is. It's at the time clock trailer. Just where it's supposed to be picked up at. You go there and ask the clerk for it. Oh, boss want's me, gotta scramble.>>

Xander eyed the phone receiver for a second and wondered just what was off. Unable to figure it out he hung up the phone and glanced at the clock on his desk. It was just after four. He decided to find something fun to read on the internet until he had to leave.

He found an X-men fic to read and read until he heard a knock on the door frame. He looked up to see Spike standing in the door.

"Hey, Hi! What's up? I was just reading." Xander shut his monitor off and stood up.

"Heard ya had a' appointment to get your check. I'm goin'." Spike's flat declaration left no room for argument, not that Xander wanted to.

"That's good." Xander rubbed at his forehead. "Call me paranoid but something wasn't right about that call. I can't quite put my finger on it but . . . well, it creeped me a little."

Spike stuck a cigarette in his mouth, lit it and shrugged. "Not paranoid. Maybe jumpin' at shadows, but I'm comin' whether ya like it or not. So now that we're both happy. When we takin' off?"

Xander fiddled with his letter opener. "Need to be there after six because of book keeping having to be done first. My check is with the . . . clerk . . . at . . . now that is odd." Xander brushed away the feeling. "Never mind. They've changed protocol or whatever they call it. My check got sent to the clock in office back in the back of the site. I have to go there to get it."

Spike wondered what Xander had been about to say then shrugged it off as unimportant, if it was important the whelp would have finished the thought.

"Ok. I'm gonna see if I can't take care of some of the stuff my lieutenants couldn't do. Bloody fledges. I'd gut the bunch of ‘em, but healin' ‘em is a right pain in my arse. See you . . . when?"

Xander figured silently for a second. "About quarter after five. That gives us time to get there without driving like a mad man. And the sun sets at about five thirty, so, with my windows you should be safe from bursting into flames. See you then." Xander sat back down at his desk and pulled a handful of notes onto the blotter. He decided to just go over them to refresh his memory.

Spike ambled out calling over his shoulder. "Come get me when you're ready to go."

---

Xander reread his notes for the second time, hoping something would click. It didn't, but the phone rang.

When he answered it, all he heard was some heavy breathing and a funny click. He hung up the phone muttering ‘perv'. He put his notes away and glanced at the clock. It was getting on for four and he wanted something to eat before he left.

Xander wandered into the kitchen just in time to see Timmins making a sandwich. He reached over the vampires shoulder and snitched a bit of pepperoni.

"Mmmm. That sandwich looks great. Make me one too?"

Timmins let Xander have his tidbit. "It's for you. I thought that you would be hungry. If you're going to leave soon, you should eat. I also have ice cream. But you have to eat the salad first."

Xander pulled a face at Timmins. "Salad's ok, if you're a rabbit. But a man needs manly food. And I'm a manly man." Xander grinned at Timmins this was one of those private jokes that Xander had never had before.

"Oh, yes sir, you're quite the manly man. And here's your sandwich, an apple and the salad. If you eat it all, you can have ice cream. Now . . . I have to do laundry so if you want something you'll have to shout." Timmins left the room and shut the door with a snap.

Xander wolfed the sandwich and salad, nibbled the apple and then dug the ice cream out of the fridge. He found a spoon and dug into the tub, ignoring the fact that Timmins would scold him, telling him it was unsanitary. Who else was going to eat it anyway?

After he was done eating, Xander went to Spike's office. Spike was snarling at someone. "Don't threaten me. I don't care. Not havin' ‘em scared or hurt. ‘E ‘as to come to court, I know. But I'm not havin' every Tom, Dickless and Harryballs feelin' him up. Hear me? If I lose control of my court the High Master'll have my guts for garters, but so what? If he rebels because I scare him, it'll be the same thing. Only he'll be dead. So gimme a break. I'm workin' on it. . . . now get the hell out. Tell the High Master I got it under control. Or not."

Xander heard a slam from behind the door he was just about to knock on. Then another voice, quite calm and rather bored sounding said, "Far be it from me to threaten you. I like my head on my body. I'm just the messenger."

"I'm well aware that you're overly fond of that thrall. But if you don't get things under complete control soon. Things are going to take a turn for the worse. You've got control of most of the older vampires and the demons are falling into line too. But there are a few who insist that you can't control your court if you can't even get your thrall to submit to being shown. I'd suggest falling back on older traditions one's that pre date most of these fools memories. Do some research. . ." there was a soft smacking sound. "I have other things to do besides hold your hand. Get things done. The High Master is losing patience. Not a good thing. Good-bye"

The door popped open to an empty corridor, Spike could have sworn he heard someone there. But he said good-bye to the messenger and went back into his office.

Xander leaned on the wall of the corridor around the corner from Spike's office and thought furiously.

It didn't take him long to decide, he chased the demon messenger down and asked him a bunch of very intrusive questions and got some answers that firmed his resolution to steel. He thanked the being for telling him the truth of his situation. Then assured him that every thing would work out.

"Um . . . before you go. Could you tell me who Heinrich is . . . or was?"

The demon shrugged. "Heinrich bar Aurelius. Eighth High Master of the house." Xander looked confused so the demon explained that Heinrich was ‘the' master of the house as opposed to being ‘a' master of the house. "When he was dusted the . . . er . . . crown, for lack of a better word, was passed to the next able high master who is Angelus. But he doesn't want it. We're having real trouble keeping the Hellmouth from opening. Too many fools who don't understand that if it opens the entire west coast is . . . gone. Every living thing from California to the rocky mountains will die . . . that answer enough?"

Xander felt all the blood run from his head into his . . . somewhere not his head. "Yeah. And Spike will have an easier time of it if this thrall . . . submits? How?"

"All the fool has to do is wear the appropriate . . . costume . . . and sit at Master Spike's feet during court. Not that big a deal, but Master Spike seems to think that the idiot is too tender to submit to a pet harness and an hour sitting on a cold floor. It's not as if he can't give the boy a cushion or something. All he has to do is show the trembling flower, not let every ass and idiot abuse the boy, like some do. That's not showing control of a court that's pandering to its prurient demands. A soother for a cranky child. Master Spike is endangering everything to coddle an ape. I just hope we all don't regret it." The demon glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry. I don't tend to rant like that, but this situation has gotten me all upset. Did that answer your questions?"

Xander squared his shoulders. "Yes, thank you, sir. Excuse me. But . . . um . . . is there any reading on the subject of vampire court . . . etiquette . . . well, shit. Sorry, sorry language."

But the demon just shook his head. "There are some texts, but none of them translated into anything useful. There was a journal of The Master's, but it disappeared eighty years ago or there abouts. Now I really must go. Thank you for your interest. Please use whatever influence you have with Master Spike to see if you can't convince him to put that boy on display as soon as possible. It might be the only way to avoid the kind of rebellion we really can't cope with just now."

Xander nodded his head and said he'd see what he could do.

---

Xander tapped at Spike's door right on time. He'd found out that the snarky vampire hated it when he was late. Of all the things Xander thought would irritate Spike being late was way down on the list.

"You ready? We should get on our way if you are."

Spike looked up from the parchment he was reading. The look on his face told Xander that he wasn't pleased by whatever he was reading. Xander decided to get a look at the missive as soon as he could.

It wouldn't be that hard, Spike just left things lying about like no one would dare touch them. Xander considered that thought for a moment then realized that most people wouldn't dare snoop Spike's desk. The consequences could be unpleasant to say the least. Xander decided he still had to see the letter. The worst Spike would do to him was . . . what? Spank him. Xander sighed

"What's that great heaving sigh for? Come on. Let's get going."

Spike picked his duster off the hall tree by the door and led the way to the garage, smoking as he went.

They got into Xander's truck, with a nasty glare from Arnold. Xander gave him his blandest look and thought, ‘You could never do what I'm going to have to do. You'd chicken out. Tosser'

"Spike?"

"Mmm?"

"What the hell is a tosser?"

Spike turned his head to look at Xander for a long second. "Where the hell did you hear that?"

"You say it all the time. And prat. What's that?"

"Tosser just means they're worthless. A thing to be tossed out. Ok? And prat means a fool or idiot. And I don't say it all the time sometimes I call ‘em a berk. So any other questions?"

Xander maneuvered the truck out of the garage and into the parking lot. He eyed the pile of covered lumpy objects and realized that it was part of his materials.

"Wow. Already? I don't believe this. I figured it'd be at least a week. I'll have to move that stuff down tomorrow and get started."

Spike realized he was smoking in Xander's truck swore and put down the window. "Tell me when I'm smokin' in your face, will ya? I don't want you getting cancer or summat." He flicked his butt out the window and left it down. The air was cool and sweet and it was dark enough that he didn't have to worry about catching fire. "I thought you didn't want that stuff until next week. If you want it now, I'll have it moved tonight and you can start work tomorrow. I figured you were busy trainin' and workin' on that translation."

Xander shrugged as he guided his truck into traffic. "I am. But those people deserve better than they have. I can change my schedule a little. Workout, breakfast, translate, lunch, build stuff, workout, dinner. And all evening to mess around with you . . . " Xander's eyes dilated, "I mean . . . not mess around in mess around like mess . . . I mean . . . like men mess around . . . watching foot ball and that, Manchester United and like that mess around, not the other. Which I figure we'll get around to sometime or other but later not sooner. Ok. And shutting up now."

Spike nearly went into convulsions trying not to laugh. "Relax, pet. I swear the first thing I'm gonna buy you is a gag." Xander muttered, ‘please'. Spike went on, ignoring him. "And . . . vampire here. We probably will get it on sooner or later. But I'm not in a rush. Got plenty of time, don't I. And if you really get difficult, I will compel you. But don't worry about that right now. Get used to the idea. Ok? Now . . . where are we going?"

Xander gratefully accepted the change of subject and added another thing to his list of worries.

"To the job site. I told you they sent my check to the trailer where they keep the time clock. Why it's there, I don't know. But there you are. And there it is. So we go get it."

Spike nodded. The boy was worried about something, he could smell it. But with Xander you never knew if he was worried about being dismembered or having bad breath or something else. So he decided to wait until whatever it was broke surface in the idiot's conscious and spilled out his babbling mouth. Spike thought about that for a second and realized that Xander didn't babble nearly as much as he used to.

---

Xander obviously thought that silence was the better part of common sense as he didn't say another word until they reached the job site. Then he pointed out things as he drove to the back side of the lot. He pointed out the dome he'd saved and the place the crew had been storing the cored bundles of lumber. Spike looked at the bundles of lumber and didn't see much, not that he was really interested. Then he turned around and got a good look at the dome. And flipped out.

"Bloody hell! Pet, that dome is . . . over seventy feet high if it's an inch. And you climbed to the top and . . . what, you bloody idiot. That dome . . . nothing is worth your life. You could have fallen, you did get hurt. Prat. You've got bollox the size of . . . I'm not sure what. If I ever hear of you puttin' your life at risk for nothin' like that again. I'll . . . I'll take my belt to you sure."

Xander put on the brakes. "Spike, if you ever hit me with a belt, I'll run." Spike started to say something. But Xander turned a look of such cold determination on him that he shut up. "I mean it. And I don't want to talk about it. At all. Ever." Spike decided to keep his mouth shut until he found out more.

Xander pointed to a trailer ahead of them. "There's the trailer. And a light is on. I'll pull right up to the trailer, run in and get my check. No . . . I better get my nail gun first. That clerk is sure to want to jabber on forever and I'll have trouble finding the locker if they turn off the site lights before I go in." Spike made a soft sound in his throat. "There's lights in the locker area but they only turn them on until everyone is out of the area. Costs a fortune to run them. So gun first, then check."

Spike nodded. "Ok, pet. We'll get the gun first. Where is it?"

Xander parked his truck and gestured. "Over there. You don't have to come with me if you don't want. Why don't you stay here and have a smoke? Um . . . By the way, thanks for not smoking around me. I really hate the smell. Smells like my dad and Uncle Rory. And . . . bad memories there." He strode away, calling over his shoulder. "I won't be long."

Xander disappeared from Spike's sight, walking quickly into the depths of the half-completed building.

As Xander walked away, Spike suddenly got a cold chill down his back. Something wasn't right. He decided he'd better follow the whelp and keep an eye on him.

Xander opened a steel locker and pulled a plastic tool case from it. He opened the case, checked its contents and then closed it again. He put it on the floor and reached into the locker again.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Our little whistle blowing cock sucker."

Xander stiffened but didn't turn around. "Not in the mood for you guys. Go away."

"Go away, he says. Boys, you hear. We're supposed to go away because he says to." All four of the men laughed at that remark. Spike didn't, all he could see was four humans bent on hurting his boy. He grabbed the nearest man and threw him across the space, then fell to his knees screaming in pain.

Xander didn't give the other three time to do much. One of the first things Bruce had taught him was bo-staff. You could find one of those almost anywhere. A broom stick, a curtain rod or, in this cast a closet rod.

Xander snatched it up and took a defensive stance, waiting for someone to do something. He wasn't going to attack, he was in the most advantageous position he could have found. He was backed up into a narrow void between two half finished walls. It was about eight feet deep and twelve feet wide, the lockers were in the back of it. It's size and shape made it very defensible, they could only come at him one at a time and they had no chance of flanking him. So he waited. He was worried about Spike but knew that his scream was only the effect of the chip firing.

"We'll get you boy. Come out and make it easier on . . ."

"You to break my knees. Don't think so. You want me? Come and get me."

The man Spike had thrown groaned, distracting another man. Xander darted out of his refuge and cracked the man over the head with his bo. The man went down like a pole axed ox, but Xander knew he only had a few seconds before he was back on his feet. Guys like these had hard heads. Xander ducked back into his hole before the other two could react.

Spike groaned softly attracting the thugs attention. "If you don't come out of there, your friend will suffer for it." Spike managed to make it to his hands and knees. He shook his head, "Don't do it, pet. They'll do for you sure. I'll be ok. You stay. . ." The nearest man kicked Spike in the side knocking him back to the floor. Xander snarled, "Dumb ass. Stay down."

Spike stubbornly struggled to get to his feet again. He had to help Xander somehow. He succeeded in distracting the man who'd kicked him long enough for Xander to dart out of his spot again. This time he managed to get in a good hit to a knee. The man who'd been watching him squealed and fell down on one knee clutching the other with both hands. Xander took the opportunity to crack the first man in the temple, knocking him out again. "Brain damage, much. I so hope."

Spike wrapped his arms around the legs of the man who'd kicked him. He whimpered in pain as the chip fired again. And again. Xander saw that Spike was nearly unconscious but still fighting to help. He ducked under a rather wild swing and countered with a sharp jab to the rib cage that had his attacker on the ground making wheezing sounds. He spared another glance around and realized that the only one still on his feet was the man Spike had hold of. Xander solved that little problem by cracking the man across the small of the back. He yelped and fell. Another look around told Xander that he could take time to check on Spike.

A quick check proved that Spike was only suffering from the effects of the chip. Xander helped him up to lean against the nearby studded out wall. Spike pressed his hand to his forehead and moaned., "Soddin' chip. Bloody hell."

"Take it easy for a few. I've got some clean up to take care of. Um . . . kinky question, but . . . do you have any handcuffs?"

Spike managed a half-hearted smirk. "Cuffs? Now what would I want with something like that?"

Xander grinned back, panting slightly. "Who knows? Not me, no sir, don't have a clue. So . . . rope? Wire? Not a damn . . . fuck!" This last exclamation brought about by one of the thugs managing to get to his feet and take a swing at Xander. He snarled and whacked the man with his bo. "So not liking this. I wonder where . . . or who . . . Spike?"

"Not a clue. Called you a whistle blower. I assume that they're from that company you're supposed to testify about. So . . . now what? We need to tie them up or something." Spike heaved himself off the wall and groaned. "Soddin' hell. Well, let's figure out what to do with these prats."

Xander listened to the threats from the leader of the four men, mind wandering. He clicked in when the boss announced. "We'll find out who you love the most and they don't stand a chance. Why don't you be a good little boy and have a memory loss?"

Xander lost his temper. "Well, let me see. Because the one's I love most don't love me back? Because I'm a stubborn ass hole? Or maybe because being threatened just makes me pissed? Pick one, or all of the above. Shut up."

Xander let his gaze drift around the half-finished room looking for some way to tie these guys up. It was fruitless. There was nothing.

"Ok. I've got a few questions for you four and I intend to get some answers. Now . . . Spike are you up to helping me?"

"Sure, pet. Not much I can do to help ya though. Got a hell of a headache. What do you want?" Spike dragged his aching body to its feet again and made it over to Xander.

Xander got an ugly look on his face. "You can't actively hurt a human but how about holding them while someone else does it?"

Spike made a face. "We could try it. Worse that could happen is the chip fires again. Maybe it'll fry my brain completely. Useless berk. Damn Initiative. I'm . . . never mind. Let's deal with what we've got and whinge later."

Xander nodded. "Be back in a sec. Just figure out what you want to know and be ready to ask your questions . . . after I ask mine."

Xander was well aware that someone knocked out was only going to be out for, at most, fifteen seconds; that only if they had a concussion. He had about another five or six minutes where they would be confused enough not to be too much trouble, but he still didn't have time to be nice, or kind. So he did what he could.

He was sure there was rope or wire somewhere. It was a construction site after all. But he didn't have time to search for it. So, he'd make do. First he searched each man for something to tie them up with, frisking them efficiently.

One of the men had a belt on, so he used it to tie his hands behind his back. But the others didn't have belts or even shoe strings.

"Spike, you got any thing to tie these jamokes up with?"

Spike eyed his laceless boots with a sigh. "No. And I'm not wanderin' around lookin' for somethin' either."

Xander shrugged. "Ok. Are you sure you can help me? I mean, if you don't actually do the hurting?"

Spike shrugged back at Xander. "I'll give it a go. What're ya up to?"

"We can't control all four of these idiots and I want some answers. So, they've got to be controlled somehow. Got an idea and it's not nice."

Spike ran his tongue over his teeth then grinned. "If I don't actually do the hurtin' I think I can help. Well just have to see, won't we."

Xander thought about what he was about to do and decided that the men deserved it. He got out his heavy duty nail gun and fitted in a bar of nails. He turned on a compressor and hooked up the air hose. Spike watched all these arrangements with interest.

"Whot's that, pet?"

"You'll see. Will you hold Mr. Wriggles for me?" Xander pointed to the first man to start regaining consciousness. Spike obligingly grabbed the man being very careful not to hurt him.

Xander caught the man by one ankle, put his foot flat on the flooring and put the orifice against the man's foot. He raised the nailer about a foot then smacked it down, hard. The thug jumped and screamed at the loud thud.

Spike blinked at the nail head that rose about half an inch from the top of the man's boot.

"Bloody hell!"

"That ought to keep him in one place for a while. I don't think he can pull it out. There's about half an inch in the floor. Maybe I should set the depth to the stop." Xander fiddled with the gun while the man alternately moaned and screamed. "Will you shut up, you big girl? Or should I nail your tongue to something to keep it from flapping until I want it to?"

Spike was impressed as hell, Xander didn't look anything like the goofy Scooby he was used to. He looked grim and fierce. The man shut up.

Xander nodded to the next man to wake up. Spike wearily crawled to him and positioned his foot for Xander.

"Head hurt? Don't worry. It won't take me long to nail these ass holes up. Then you can rest. I even think I've got some Tylenol in the case there. I'll get it for you in a minute . . . Master."

Spike noticed the hesitation and wondered what the hell the whelp was up to. He'd figured he'd have to do some real Compelling to get him to call him more than Fangless.

The next few seconds were interesting to Spike, Xander nailed each man to the flooring by one foot. The first man had screamed, the next one did too. But the third one just flinched and snarled. The last one tried threatening Xander.

"Ok, so not scared. I'll let you in on a big secret. Vampires really exist, and demons too." The man gave Xander a disgusted look. Spike squeezed him a little. "Yeah, give me the ‘are you nuts?' look. Master Spike, will you give our friend a little demonstration. You might just show him your face, if you don't mind."

Spike grinned at Xander, now this was something like. "I don't mind a bit, pet. Can I bite him? Doesn't look nummy, but I'm a bit peckish. Could do with a little nosh."

Xander shook his head. "You'll get indigestion. Just show him."

So Spike gave a very put upon sigh and vamped right in the man's face. He yelped and cringed back.

"Now, I have some questions I want answered and I'm afraid that you're answering them. So. Question, one. Who sent you and what exactly were you told to do to me? And don't lie. Master Spike will know. He'll smell it."

"What's it to him anyway. I thought . . . well, shit." The man shut up as he realized that, as he'd never been interested in horror movies, he had no idea what vampires did.

Spike shook his head. "Boy's mine. You hurt him. Now, answer the pretty boy's question before he gets testy."

Smartmouth had to pick at that one. "So, what? He get's his panties all in a twist. So what?"

Spike eyed the man for a second. "God, you're a twat. ‘E just nailed your buddies feet to the floor, yours too, and you're askin' so what? You're all about in your ‘ead is so what. ‘E's a bad boy. I'll just eat ya."

Xander felt a swell of pride, Spike had paid him a compliment, backhanded or not.

"Now, answer my question. Or I'll nail something else to the floor. And tell me your name, I can't keep thinking of you as smartmouth."

"Otto. All you need to know. But Mr. Parish sent us to get you to back off, not testify in court about the lumber deal."

"How?"

"Well, breaking your legs was mentioned, as well as beating up your girl friend. But we couldn't find a girl. So legs it was."

Spike snarled softly and then clutched at his head. The chip had fired again. Xander patted Spike on the shoulder and nodded. "Go over there. I'll finish up here and we can leave." Spike just got up and staggered away to lean against the locker.

Xander asked the man another question and got a sneer for his trouble. He grinned in a decidedly non-Xander way. "I ask, you answer, or I get nasty. You see, my reputation as an all round good guy is a bit on the exaggerated side. My daddy taught me lots of stuff. Like how to be a real prick when I want to be. Won't mean a lot to you but I backed Angelus down. Now. Answer my question."

All he got was another sneer and the idiot spit in his face. Xander bashed the man in the head with the gun, knocking him cold for the second time that night.

"Easy there, pet. Won't do ta scramble ‘is brains."

Xander nodded. "You're right, but goons like this have hard heads. I'll . . . just. . ." Xander grunted as he straightened the man out. He pulled his arm out to one side and put the gun in the palm of his hand. He raised it preparatory to using the secondary trigger to shoot a nail.

"Wouldn't put a nail there. It'll pull out too easy."

"Well, how do you know that? Or should I ask?"

Spike rummaged around in Xander's case, found the Tylenol and swallowed two, dry. Xander waited impatiently for him to answer.

"Nazis did some experiments on crucifixions, found out that the palm will rip out in no time. The actual crucifixions were carried out by nailing through the radius and ulna got archaeological evidence to prove it . . ." at Xander's rather blank look Spike sighed out a gust of smoke. "Two bones in the fore arm. Nail between them. Put a piece of wood over it and it won't pull out."

Xander nodded his understanding and picked up a piece of waste hard board. He put it over Otto's arm and slammed the gun down shooting a nail right through his arm. "How's that?"

"And I, as a vampire, have to say; good show. As a man, Jesus, you're a regular fiend when you're pissed . . . Hey! Is it really true? Did you really back Peaches down?"

Xander gave Spike a long, slow, insufferably smug look. "Yeah, I did. Right down. Chased him away like a whipped dog."

" ‘m speechless, I am. And sorry as hell I missed it."

Otto had been moaning through all this and Xander and Spike both told him to shut up at the same time. He shut.

"Now, I'm going to ask you questions. ‘I don't know' is a good answer, but remember, Spike will know if you lie. If you refuse, I'll find something else to nail to the floor. If you really piss me off your pants are coming down. You got me?"

Otto did and was now very cooperative. The other three men, strangely, or not so strangely, silent, now tried to get him to be silent too. Otto snarled to them, "Well, shit. It's not your nuts the guy is threatening to nail to the floor. Shut the fuck up yourselves . . ." he turned to Xander. "Why don't you ask them some questions and leave me alone?"

"Because you're doing so damn good. They're not all softened up, you are. But I could let Spike try out the gun on one or two of them. Nailing their flapping tongues to the floor ought to amuse him." Somehow this seemed to make flapping of tongues not so attractive anymore.

Xander got his answers and Spike did too.

It seemed that this particular fraud was a ‘kick back' sort of arrangement. The lumber yard had been doing it for years, without trouble. Xander had blown the whistle on them to a company from out of town, one that didn't understand long standing arrangements. And wasn't in the mood to deal with them. Xander's testimony was going to break a long standing and very lucrative arrangement. The boss wanted Xander silent and he didn't care how it happened. They'd never expected Xander to be so good with any kind of weapon. The boss had described him as a ‘wimp.'

"And who's the boss? And don't sit there and smirk at me. Who?"

"Clive Chase." The man seemed to think that this would send Xander into some sort of panic.

"Clive? Cordelia Chase's uncle?"

"Yeah, so now you know who you're dealing with, you should cut us loose and run for cover. He won't hold this little . . . accident against you. If you apologize real nice."

"Not a chance in the world. I dated Queen C. for a while. And, you know? I really resent the fact that I had to pay for her Prom gown, because Uncle got the whole family in a mess with the IRS but he didn't lose a thing. Funny, huh? Not. So, now you tell me that. I'm sure I'm going to put his tit in a wringer." Xander stood up and started taking his gun apart. "Spike, let's go."

Spike shoved away from the lockers and kicked the hose aside. "What now, Pet?"

"We go."

Spike started to tell Xander that the men were sure to be fair game for any passing vampire, but Xander was already dialing his phone.

He talked to someone for a moment, said. "Yeah, they're not going anywhere until you get here. Might bring along an industrial nail puller and a medic. Bye." and hung up. "We better not be here when they get here. And, damn, I still haven't gotten my check. See what you can do about that when we get home, will you?"

Spike allowed as how he'd see what he could do.

Xander got his case, put the nail gun away and headed for his truck. Spike followed him, thinking furiously. This, new, ruthless Xander was something to think about.

---

If you're interested, here's what Xander's nail gun looks like.

http://www.industrialnailers.com/index.asp?PageAction=VIEWPROD&ProdID=59