"Spike. I want this with you. Soon, preferably." Xander's smile was
sweet and sultry and sure as he rocked against Spike once again.

Spike tightened his grip in Xander's pockets and listened in
satisfaction as his breath deepened.

"Is now soon enough, pet?" 

"Yes..." The rest of Xander's answer was lost as he claimed Spike's
mouth in a fierce kiss.

* * * * *

part 4a

He groaned as Xander's hot tongue invaded his mouth and battled with his
own. Holding him by the back of the head he ruthlessly crushed his mouth
to Xander's.

Xander was no longer rocking. He had fisted his hands in Spike's shirt
and was instead holding himself close to the cool body beneath him.

A long, hazy while later, Spike tore his mouth away. He didn't need to
breathe, but Xander did, and he sat there, panting and glassy eyed. When
Spike judged that the whelp wasn't going to pass out on him from lack of
oxygen, he grabbed Xander's hands and quickly twisted them low, behind
his back, making him lean back over Spike's sure hold. When Xander made
no protest, he leaned forward and nuzzled Xander's neck. The feel of the
pulse jumping made his cock twitch.

"God, Spike." Low and ragged, his voice vibrated on Spike's tongue, and
flashes of what that vibration would feel like elsewhere rocketed down
Spike's spine.

Shifting to gameface, Spike made sure Xander was watching him, then he
lowered his head and deliberately bit off the top button on Xander's
shirt. Xander chuckled at Spike's playful smile as he displayed the
button at the end of his tongue, then spit it across the small room.
Chuckles turned into gasps as Spike lowered his head and sucked at the
skin he'd uncovered. He worked his way down Xander's shirt, biting off
more buttons, licking and sucking at skin as he went. He stopped at
Xander's navel, enjoying the hiss of an indrawn breath and the
involuntary clench of stomach muscles tightening under his tongue.
Shifting back to his human visage, he thrust his tongue repeatedly into
the tiny pucker until Xander's hips were rocking in time with his thrusts.

"Stop. Spike, stop!" Disgruntled and concerned, Spike looked up.

Bloody hell, he thought, the boy is gorgeous. His face was flushed, eyes
glittering. The ruined shirt was pushed mostly off his shoulders and a
trail of red love bites wandered drunkenly down his chest.

"Bloody hell, pet, you're gorgeous when you're debauched, but why'd you
want me to stop?"

Xander leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Spike's.

"Because I wanted to come on you, not on me."

"Always did like a bloke with a plan." He let go of Xander's wrists so
that he could shrug off the remains of his shirt.

Puzzled by Xander's stillness and about to protest the lack of action,
he stopped, caught by the blaze of heat shining in Xander's eyes.

"Just wondering where to start," he answered Spike's unspoken question.
His hot, sultry look traveled over Spike like a physical touch,
lingering on his mouth, his neck. His nipples were peaked and hard under
the soft black cotton of his t-shirt.

Reaching down, he removed a slim dagger from Spike's boot, sitting
beside the chair.

"Eh? How'd you know that was there, pet?" 

Soft laughter. "How d'you think? How many times did I trip over your
boots when you were living with me?"

A briefly uptilted chin and a wry smirk acknowledged Xander's point.

"Now you've got it, what are you going to do with it, pet?"

"This."

Xander pinched the collar of Spike's t-shirt and pulled it away from the
ivory skin underneath. Setting the tip of the blade in the hollow
Spike's throat, he paused.

"Go on, pet. You can't hurt me."

"I know. But I'm trying to decide if I want to." Spike swallowed heavily
at the intent behind those words.

"Shh. Be still."

Spike swallowed again and nodded.

The tip of the knife bit in, and icy heat blossomed across Spike's
throat. A bright burning path followed the knife's progress slowly down
his chest. The only sound was Xander's quiet breathing and the hiss of
fabric as it parted before the knife.

He could smell his blood beading along the edges of the wound, and in a
distant corner of his mind, Spike wondered what kind of books Giles had
in his collection. Where else could Xander have learned about vampiric
foreplay? 

Cutting deliberately but not deeply, Xander moved down Spike's belly. He
detoured around the navel, then came back up to complete the circle.
Spike desperately wanted to take control, to pull Xander to him and
plunder that mouth, to bury himself in his tight heat and pound into him
until dawn. Instead he sat still, as still as only a preternatural
being can manage, but his struggle for control showed in his face. Blue
eyes had gone yellow, and a low growl rumbled into the silence.

Hearing the growl, Xander jerked the bottom of the t-shirt out of
Spike's jeans and cut it apart with a quick slash. He barely had time to
put the knife down beside the cushion before he was hauled upright. 

Their mouths came together again in a brutal kiss that softened quickly
into something far sweeter than Spike thought he was capable of. 

He was getting lost in the sensations Xander was creating. Warm hands
were everywhere. He knew his neck was sensitive and figured it was a
vamp thing, but the delicate exploration of the rim of his ear made
goosebumps ghost across his shoulderblades. Broad palms covered his
chest as Xander's tongue traced up his jugular.

A sharp nip to his earlobe made him gasp, and he thrust up aggressively
when Xander alternately nipped his ear and pinched his nipples.

Bloody hell. He'd have to remember to send a thank you card to the git
that taught Xander...this. Or maybe Giles, for letting the whelp read
his library

Xander slowly kissed his way down Spike's body. He tried to leave a
hickey on Spike's neck but couldn't, although Spike seemed to enjoy the
effort, twisting and growling as Xander sucked. Licking his way down the
shallow cut he'd made, Xander swirled his tongue around Spike's belly
button, then sat back, grinning in triumph at Spike's dazed expression.

"Stand up, pet. I want you naked. Now." Spike's voice was hoarse and growly.

With a lazy, sensual smile, Xander rose to his feet, standing on the
seat of the chair and bracing himself against the ceiling of the crypt. 

What was it the witch said? Cope and deal. Right. He could do that.

Spike carefully untied each boot and held them steady while Xander
pulled out of them. He pulled off socks next, making Xander squirm when
he ran his fingers down each elegant arch. 

"Get up on the arms, pet." When Xander stepped up Spike laid the chair
back and got to his knees.

"Good, now step back down." Xander stepped back onto the chair seat.
Spike's face was now slightly above Xander's waist.

Spike ran his hands up Xander's thighs and around his hips, squeezing
firmly. He nuzzled his face into Xander's crotch and inhaled deeply,
reveling in the scent of arousal. And Xander was aroused; Spike stropped
his cheek against the hot bulge, feeling it quiver and harden further. 

Backing up a bit, he studied the fastening in front of him, then slowly
pulled on the drawstring with his teeth. He stilled when the knot was
almost undone and smirked when he felt Xander try to pull back. He
dropped the drawstring and looking up at Xander said, "Naughty pet. Be
still, and I'll do nice things to you. Ok?" 

Spike assumed the gasp that answered him was a yes.

Spike mouthed the khaki crotch in front of him, then took the drawstring
in his teeth again. Pulling back quickly, he jerked the knot open, and
used the string to tug loose the corner of the waistband. 

Velcro was a wonderful invention, Spike thought as it came free with a
crackle. Bloody handy, too. Zips could be undone with teeth, but it
wasn't easy.

He looked up when Xander groaned, and nearly groaned himself.

Xander was standing with his legs spread, arms braced on the plaster
ceiling, pants hanging precariously from his hips. He was watching Spike
with heavy-lidded eyes, his bottom lip caught tightly between between
white teeth.

If the whelp had a gameface, he thought to himself, he'd be showin' it
now. The thought of Xander in gameface was enough to make Spike loosen
the tenuous grasp he had on his control. He quickly pulled the rest of
the velcro open and noted the lack of underwear with a raised eyebrow as
the pants slid down. When they tightened over Xander's spread knees,
Spike tapped one ankle and Xander obediently lifted it up so that Spike
could slide the pantleg down and off his foot. They repeated the
procedure on the other side, and Spike dumped the pants on the footrest
in front of him. Then he looked to see what he'd unwrapped.

Bloody gorgeous.

"You're bloody gorgeous, pet."

"Said that already, Fang Boy."

"Still true, though."

And it was. The fine trail of hair that caught his attention earlier in
the evening broadened low down, expanding into a riotous nest of dark
silk. His cock was curved up slightly, flushed with blood, the weight of
it keeping it nearly horizontal. A single drop of pearly fluid oozed
slowly out of the slit. The fact that the whelp was circumcised was a
novelty for Spike; after all, *his* contemporaries were uncut. He had to
remind himself that circumcision was common now. The balls hanging
beneath were drawn up tight in anticipation.

"Spike, don't just look, *do* something!" Xander's voice was deep and harsh.

He kneaded the globes under his hands and licked the leaking crown. The
taste of his mortal was intoxicating. Hot and musky, bitter and salty,
faintly reminiscent of blood. Tightening his grip he rode out Xander's
thrust, then engulfed his cock, taking it deep in his throat and sucking
hard. Xander groaned and thrust. Spike let him.

Pulling his mouth off, he flicked the tight arrow of skin under the head
and delicately probed the slit. Bobbing up and down, he alternated
sucking and flicking until the tremors in Xander's legs increased
dramatically. He let his demon slip, just a bit, and with sharp teeth
nibbled carefully on the steadily dripping tip. Xander's cry was hoarse
and broken, and Spike pulled him roughly back into his mouth to catch
the resulting eruption. He swallowed it all greedily and held Xander up
without effort, sucking gently, until Xander pulled away and leaned his
weight back onto his own feet.

He looked up, grinning, and said, "I told you you were a nummy treat,
didn't I?" 

Xander laughed, deep and rich. 

"Yeah. And now it's your turn. Jeans off, now."


*********
Part Five

Spike eased back and went to work on his jeans. Now that he was paying attention to himself again, getting his zipper open was an enormous relief. He slid them down his thighs and decided that was far enough- any more meant getting out of the chair. He unfolded his legs, careful not to kick Xander, and leaned back.
And sat up seconds later to hold out a hand for Xander to brace himself on as he stepped down. Xander slithered down Spike with a mischievous smile and ended up on his knees in front of the chair. He used his body weight to close the footrest, 'helping' it with a quick thrust of his knee. Hooking his hands under Spike's knees, Xander pulled him forward. Spike got the hint and leaned back as Xander pulled his jeans down around his shins, noting the lack of underwear with his own raised eyebrow.
Xander knelt up and settled between Spike's legs, spreading them with his elbows.
"Get on with it, pet," Spike growled. He'd been hard for so long he hurt, and his respectably-sized pale cock had been dripping steadily, sheening his stomach with moisture.
"Impatient much?" Xander murmured. Spike growled. Xander's warm tongue lapped at the crease between hip and thigh, then moved to the thatch of tight, dark curls, licking at the wetness there, while his hands traced distracting patterns through the fine hairs on Spike's inner thighs.
"Mm, tasty." The vibration of Xander's voice against the base of his cock made him grip the arms of the chair in a way that would shortly be detrimental to the upholstery. 
Xander licked and licked and licked. He licked up every last drop of moisture from Spike's belly button down, avoiding contact with the cock leaking that moisture in steady, pulsing drips.
Backing up a bit, he put his hands inside Spike's knees and pushed up, until they were draped over the arm of the chair, leaving Spike opened wide and waiting. Spike's feet were sole-to-sole on the edge of the cushion, and Xander leaned over them, sliding his hands from knees to thighs and pushed again, opening him further.
Spike closed his eyes in anticipation and opened them a moment later, his shout of surprise echoing around the small crypt. Xander had bitten the sensitive spot behind his balls.
He was definitely taking the whelp with him, wherever he went. There was *no way* he was giving this up. And he was going to take a look at Giles' library, too, if he got the chance.
Xander was licking again, from the bottom Spike's balls down, stopping just short of the pale pucker. Back and forth he went, until Spike was squirming. When he started growling Xander moved up to his balls, taking each tight orb and sucking it gently. 
Leaning forward, he put his hands on Spike's hips and breathed on the tip of the pale cock. It bounced a bit as Spike's stomach twitched, so Xander did it again, this time deliberately blowing on the entire length of it. Spike tilted his hips forward, trying to get closer to the maddening sensation, and Xander obliged. Finally moving his hands, he grasped the ivory column in front of him with one hand and circled Spike's balls with the other, gently pulling them down and away from his body.
Slowly, tantalizingly, he stroked up and down, playing with the collar of loose skin bunched behind the head. As he stroked up, his thumb slipped over the head, collecting the dripping moisture, spreading it back down the shaft.
Spike's entire being was concentrated on the friction in his crotch, so when it stopped, he pried his eyes open to see Xander rising to stand over him. Pushing Spike's outflung legs back into the chair he crawled on, pausing with one knee beside Spike's hip and his hands braced on the back of the chair.
"What, pet?" 
"Bloody gorgeous." 
"I seem to remember saying that already." 
"Yeah, but I mean you. Just look at yourself!" 
Spike looked down his body. The tattered edges of his shirt framed his chest, the black a sharp contrast to the faintest of flushes. His tiny pale nipples were pebbled and hard and further down, his pale, not-so-tiny cock was hard and wet. He could see the whelp's point.
Xander folded his long legs into the chair, settling on Spike's pelvis in almost the same position they'd started the evening with. Leaning down, he captured Spike's mouth with his, and rocked gently. Spike's cock, tucked down and trapped, rode between Xander's cheeks, the fully uncovered tip bumping gently from balls to pucker. Spike raised his hips and rubbed harder, chuckling when Xander broke their kiss with a gasp.
"Like that, pet?" 
"Yeah. OH! Yeah..." A shiver and a sigh. "Yeah, I do." Looking down, Spike noted that Xander's description of 'no recovery time necessary' seemed to be accurate - the whelp's rigid cock was painting abstract designs on his belly. Xander held himself suspended, letting Spike set the pace. His face was a study in concentration, his eyes closed. At Spike's frustrated growling he opened them and looked up, his expression a question.
Spike wanted to be deep inside Xander's tight heat in the worst way, but he didn't have lube --he hadn't needed it with Harmony-- and he wouldn't shag the whelp without it. The chance of pain, for both of them, was too great. He was probably wet enough, but the whelp wasn't experienced enough, and while a touch of pain added spice, great waves of agony tended to put a damper on things. So they'd switch places now, and the next time he'd shag the whelp. And there *would be* a next time - right after he indulged in a bit of shoplifting at Walgreen's.
"Xander...pet, I want IN, but...this effin' chip...stupid gits...if you..." 
Xander's puzzled expression cleared and he sat back. Reaching behind him, he fished around and came up with a handful of khaki cargo pants, still stuck in the footrest where Spike had dumped them. Untwisting the fabric, he patted pockets until he came to the one he wanted. Unsnapping it, he reached in and came up with a small bottle of...Spike narrowed his eyes and read...Wet Personal Lubricant. He snickered. So the whelp came prepared eh? Must've been a Boy Scout.
"Passion Fruit, pet?" 
Xander snickered before he answered. 
"The other choice was Wild Cherry..." 
"Next time, pet." Whatever else he was going to say died unsaid and he watched with disbelieving eyes as Xander popped the top and reached behind him. The smell of fake passion fruit rose up around them. Taking Spike's hand in his own, Xander thoroughly coated the first two fingers, then wedged the bottle carefully in the gap beside the seat cushion.
Leaning forward to lay on cool ivory skin, he took Spike's wrist and drew it around himself, placing it so that Spike's lubed fingers were brushing the cleft. Covering Spike's hand with his own, he directed its movement until a dazed Spike caught on.
"Pet? I thought you were..." he trailed off as their twined fingers circled the hidden entrance to Xander's body.
"Next time. This time, I want you in me." Letting go of the hand he braced himself on Spike's shoulders and thrust his hips back. Spike got the hint and stroked more firmly. Reaching around with his other hand, he discovered what Xander had done when he opened the bottle. A slick trail led from his tailbone down to the back of his balls. Spike played, running his fingers up and down the trail, pausing to press a fingertip into the soft spot behind Xander's balls. Xander grunted and thrust back again. Spike decided it was time for the next step.
Xander's breath hissed out through clenched teeth as Spike eased his forefinger in past the guardian ring. 
"Ok, pet?" 
"Mmm." He pushed back against Spike's finger, and Spike responded by pressing in deeper, searching for that spot...
"Ah, god! Spike, *please*!" 
...and found it. Spike pressed against Xander's prostate rhythmically, using his other hand to rock his hips. When the muscle had loosened a bit, he worked in some of the lube, then eased in a second finger. 
Xander froze, then rocked back hard, catching Spike by surprise and burying his fingers deeply. He rocked as Spike thrust, and then he pulled away and reached for the bottle. Lifting himself up and freeing Spike's cock, he poured a generous stream on the head and down the shaft.
"Now, Spike!" he demanded. 
With one hand on the mortal, holding him open, and the other holding his cock still, he eased Xander down until the warm rosebud was nestled firmly against the tip of his cock. Xander's grip on his shoulder tightened as he was breached, nails digging into pale skin. Putting both hands on Xander's hips, Spike waited for the internal muscle to adjust to his presence.
"I told you I wanted this." 
Spike stared into luminous mahogany eyes as Xander lowered himself until Spike's shaft was completely engulfed.
Spike was in heaven, or as close to it as the evil undead could get. The warmth of the passage surrounding him was incredible. Spike hadn't had many mortal lovers since he'd been turned, and each time he remembered again why he liked to shag them. They were warm. No, they were *hot*. And since he wasn't, the contrast between the two bodies was that much greater, the pleasure that much more intense.
Rocking again, Xander set an exquisitely slow pace. Spike reached out and grasped firm cheeks, feeling between them, feeling the place where they were joined, where his cool flesh entered Xander's heat.
Xander reached back too, and after briefly twining their fingers together to feel their connection, he moved on, rolling Spike's balls.
Shifting his weight, he thrust forward and kissed Spike, his cock rubbing slickly against Spike's belly, and then back, taking Spike deeply. When Spike made to let go and lend a hand, so to speak, Xander pulled his mouth away and stopped him with a quick shake of his head.
"No. I like it. You feeling us, I mean." He took Spike's mouth again. 
Right. Spike put his hand back where it was, using fingertips to stroke the taut flesh surrounding him.
The slow pace was killing him. He wanted it fast and hard, and he knew that neither of them would last much longer. He slouched down in the chair a bit more, then lifted Xander and thrust up almost savagely. Xander caught his breath, then forced Spike down again, long enough to brace himself. Now better situated, he lifted himself nearly off of Spike's cock, then came down on it abruptly and just as abruptly lifted back up.
Not losing this new rhythm, Spike held Xander by the hips and pounded up into him, pulling Xander down against him. Xander met every aggressive thrust with one of his own and fell forward, his face in Spike's neck. 
Spike groaned as Xander bit down hard, muffling his cry as he came, hot spurts scalding his stomach. The tight passage tightened further, rhythmically milking his cock. The faint smell of his blood made him aware that Xander's teeth had broken the skin on his neck and he felt his warm tongue lapping at the few coppery drops.
With a shudder, Xander sat back, forcing Spike to slow his thrusts, although they were still hard and deep. As he pulled away, Spike could feel the whelp's hot essence dripping down over tight muscles.
A bright glint arrested his gaze. Xander was holding the dagger again, this time to his own throat. Spike took his hand and moved it so that the tip was in the hollow under Xander's collarbone. He watched avidly, eyes only slightly yellow, as the tip bit in, cutting until the blood began dripping. Taking it roughly out of hand, Spike threw the knife away with a clatter and pulled Xander to him. His mouth fastened on the cut and he began sucking, tongue probing the cut in time with his cock thrusting.
Xander's blood flowed into his mouth, thick and rich and sweet. The cut wasn't so deep that Spike could take too much, but it was near the subclavian artery, and Spike could feel it thrumming as he sucked.
The distant, observant corner of his mind reminded him to check out Gile's library the first time he got a chance. Xander hadn't learned *this* from Ian Whatshisname. Maybe the Watcher deserved to live after all.
Hot blood in his mouth, hot flesh surrounding him, heat pooling in his groin...his climax roared through him fast and hot, and he howled as he pulled his mouth away from the crimson ambrosia, remembering just in time not to bite. 
Cool semen exploded into warm depths as Xander deliberately tightened around him. Bright pain came when Xander pinched his nipples, adding a sharp note of pleasure. His chest heaved with the remembered effort of breathing. 
As the intense wash of pleasure finally faded, he loosened his grip on Xander's hips, rubbing apologetically at fingerprints he knew would turn to bruise. 
Spike absently rubbed the come on his stomach into his skin. As he softened he slipped partway out, and was greatly entertained by the steady drip of lube and semen than ran down his cock. It was a good thing he wasn't attached to this chair - it would resemble a swamp in a few more minutes.
Xander snuggled against him, making small contented murmurs as Spike slowly stroked up and down the length of his back, ending with his hands cupped around Xander's cheeks once again.
His near-nap was interrupted by Xander's amused, incredulous voice asking, "Are you...purring? You are! You're purring like a giant cat." He settled back against Spike.
Spike was embarrassed. Yes, he purred, most vamps did, but it wasn't a well-known fact. Like cats, a purring vampire was a contented vampire. Before he could respond, or make himself stop, Xander continued, "Cool. It feels good."
With the purring rumbling between them, they drifted into sleep. 
An unknown time later, long after the last candle had guttered, Spike was woken by the sound of birds singing in the trees in the cemetery. Xander was shivering in the pre-dawn chill. 
"C'mon, pet. Wakey wakey!" 
Xander struggled to a sitting position, then glanced out the window. It was still dark, but the false dawn in the sky gave promise that the true dawn was soon coming.
"Shit!" Scrambling off of Spike's lap, Xander got to his feet and started fighting with the chair over possession of his pants. He won, and hoped around on one foot pulling them on, to Spike's open amusement.
"Well, don't just sit there, Fang Boy. There's a shower with our name on it, and a bed, but we have to get there by dawn. Get a move on!"
Xander velcroed and tied his pants, shook the dust from his buttonless shirt and put it on, then stuffed his socks into pockets and stomped into his boots.
Spike stood and stretched with feline grace, then pulled up his pants. Ditching the tattered remnants of his shirt, he shrugged into another one and sat down to put his boots on. That done, he snagged his duster and stood watching Xander, who was checking his backpack.
Their eyes met, and in the sudden stillness Spike could smell passion fruit and semen, a reminder of the nights activities and the deal they made.
Stepping closer, he backed Xander into the door frame. Touching that lush bottom lip with his finger he paused, and Xander snaked his tongue out, tasting.
Slowly, gently, their mouths came together, clung, then parted. Silent promises were exchanged.
Spike stepped away and picked up the duffel he'd packed. 
"Let's go. We need a shower." Xander hoisted his backpack to his shoulder. 
"I'm followin' you, pet." 
Together, they walked out of the crypt and headed into the new day.
********

"Crap." 

"Yeah. Well, sorta." 

"Right, pet. Congrats. And crap." 

"Yeah." 

Spike watched from the folded-up couch as Xander kicked his boots off 
and wearily flopped into the chair, sinking back with a sigh. 

He'd been surprised when the whelp had been late getting home from work 
the Monday after his weekend off. Almost three hours late, and Spike had 
begun to worry. The only consolation had been, since it was after 
sunrise, the problem was probably mundane and not Hellmouthy. 

The problem wasn't even really a problem. Instead of getting canned, 
Xander had been promoted. The head of Maintenance had found Xander's 
immediate supervisor drunk in an empty office - again. Wondering who had 
been running things, since the work had obviously been getting done, 
he'd asked the rest of the cleaning crew, and the answer had been 'that 
Harris kid'. 

The supervisor's job had gone to the crew leader of the grounds crew, 
who needed to work nights. Xander had been given the other man's job, 
and was now in charge of a grounds crew of five. Which was good; 
daylight hours and more money were always good, but he'd had to give up 
his keys to the labs, and he'd had to do it this morning. There hadn't 
been a chance for him to make duplicates on the sly. No access to the 
labs meant no access to the degausser. No degausser meant Spike kept his 
chip for a while longer. Yeah, 'crap' and 'congrats' summed it up quite nicely. 

A soft noise caught Spike's attention. Xander was mostly asleep in the 
chair, sprawled out and still in his work clothes. 

Well, and no wonder, mate, Spike chided himself. Up all night swinging a 
mop, then up all day bein' shagged by you. An' all you do is shag and sleep. 

Spike ignored the tightness in his chest, although he knew he couldn't 
for much longer. This...whatever-it-was...had started off as a 
straight-forward deal. Xander helps Spike, Spike takes Xander. 

And there'd been an awful lot of 'taking' goin' on. He'd taken Xander in 
bed, on the couch, in the shower, bent over the 
kitchen counter, up against the door...everywhere but the chair, come to 
think. And Xander still hadn't taken him. 

Spreading his legs and easing his growing erection away from the 
constriction of his zipper, Spike silently watched Xander sleep. He had 
known, that night in the crypt, that he was getting in over his head. He 
just hadn't realized that it would happen so quickly. 

Somewhere in the last few days, it had stopped being about a deal, and 
had started being about the two of them. Xander had never spoken of his 
feelings, but Spike knew his own. He was well on his way to loving the 
boy, if he didn't already. Deeply, completely, and mushily. If he were 
honest with himself, those feelings had been there since he'd been the 
whelp's 'guest'; he'd just managed to ignore them, stuff them down deep 
so he could pretend they'd never existed. Now that they were spending 
very possible minute together, shagging every chance they got, he 
couldn't. Them planning a future together was doing funny things to his 
unbeating heart, even if it was a future born of convenience. 

Most people assumed that because he had no soul, he couldn't love. That 
wasn't true, he had loved Dru. And Angelus, eventually. The 
disappearance of Angelus and the betrayal that was Angel had nearly 
destroyed him. Would have, except for Dru. His Dark Princess had been 
the rock that he'd rebuilt his world on. And when she'd left, his 
foundation had crumbled. 

Disgusted with his maudlin thoughts, Spike snorted at himself, then 
turned his thoughts resolutely away from the past. 

What were they going to do now? The labs were out; from the sound of it, 
their security system was more than what he could get past himself. 
Simple lock-picking he could do, but that was about it. 

Wait. Wait a minute. What had the whelp said? Three choices; 
electricity, the degausser, and an electromagnet, like at the junkyard. 
Junkyard...was DaV'aarr still around? He'd find out this evening. If he 
was, Operation Zap-the-Chip, as Xander called it, might be a 'go' yet. 

Several hours later, Xander stirred and woke, sitting up and blinking sleepily. 

"Whoa. How long did I sleep?" 

"Couple hours, but you needed it." 

"Yeah, I did. Need some more, though." 

Xander tripped over one boot, stepped around the other, then staggered 
to the couch, which Spike had unfolded into the bed, and collapsed on it. 

"G'night." 

"Half a mo, luv, I need a word." 

"Huh?" 

"Right, then, I'll make this quick. I need some dosh, and I'm going out 
tonight. I'll be at Willy's if you want to join me, back before three if 
you don't." 

"'k." 

Xander's wallet landed at Spike's feet. He helped himself to a twenty 
and a ten, and then, looking at Xander - who was apparently comatose - 
he decided to leave a note. Knowing his habits, Spike propped the note 
on the toilet tank, along with the wallet. He gently spread a blanket 
over Xander and left the light on in the kitchen area as he left. 

Once at Willy's, he splurged on a glass of the good stuff, and took it 
to a far table. Six games of pool later, five of which Spike won, a very 
short demon with coloration strikingly similar to a peacock approached him. 

"Willy zays that you look for DaV'aarr. That is right?" 

"It is. He around?" 

"No. He is in Zacramento, making pickups. He be back in three, four 
days. You want to zee him?" 

"Please. I want to collect." 

"Help with head?" The little demon touched the ruff on the top of his 
own head gingerly. Spike scowled, but explained briefly what he wanted 
DaV'aarr to do. 

"Dav'aarr, he owes blood debt. He help, if he can. You come, four 
nights. If he come zooner, I get you. Yes?" 

"That'll work. Thanks; buy you a drink?" 

"Zurely." He buzzed at the waitress who had come in response to Spike's 
wave, and was shortly pouring a smoking pink concoction into an orifice 
on his abdomen. 

They chatted for a few minutes, then a familiar heartbeat caught Spike's 
attention. He looked up and found Xander standing in the doorway to the 
back room. Spike watched as Xander made his way through the crowd. He 
might not have his bite back, but he had a reputation, and Xander 
smelled like Spike, so most kept their distance, eyeing Xander curiously. 

"Can anybody sit here or is this a demon-only table?" 

Spike pulled Xander down into his lap. He thought Xander would protest 
such 'girly' treatment, but he didn't have to stay in Spike's lap for 
long; just long enough to make it clear to everyone who he belonged to. 
To his surprise, Xander settled back against him with only a raised 
eyebrow for comment. 

"I got up and you were gone. There was a note in the bathroom with my 
wallet, so I came." Xander said uncertainly. 

"S'okay, pet. Glad you did." He followed Xander's gaze to his drinking 
companion and added, "Xan, this is ZZptlppb. Zib, this is Alexander 
Harris, my...mine." 

"Hi." In another surprise, Xander let the possessive claim pass without comment. 

"Him? I touch..." Zib trailed off into a sibilant buzz, but Spike nodded. 

Zib looked Xander over carefully, then placed one lightly feathered hand 
on Xander's crotch, the other on his forehead. Xander twitched a bit, 
but stayed still when Spike tightened his grasp. 

"It is good. You are his, he is yours. Will be, for long time." He 
removed his hands, then said, "I will help you, any way I can. You are 
plbttztlp; it is owed." 

"Thanks," Spike answered. Xander's look clearly said 'You WILL explain 
this later,' to Spike, but he remained silent. 

Zib picked up his empty - but still smoking - glass and turned away, 
disappearing into the crowd. 

"And you say *I* know interesting people. You've got me beat, Fang Boy, 
by a country mile." 

* * * * * 

Slowly they wandered home, making the obligatory turn through the 
cemetery and stopping to make out in the shadows of various trees, 
crypts and monuments. 

In between groping sessions, Spike explained who Zib was, and how he 
thought DaV'aarr could help. 

"Let me get this straight-this DaV'aarr works in the junkyard, but he's 
a demon. And nobody notices this? Oh, wait, this is Sunnydale-nobody 
ever notices anything." 

"It's more than that, pet. DaV'aar is a kind of chameleon demon, only 
instead of changing colors, he can change how he looks. Remember the 
bloke at the gas station?" 

"*That* was DaV'aarr?" Xander interrupted. 

"No, git, but that's what DaV'aarr usually looks like." 

"A redneck Elvis impersonator?" Xander was incredulous. 

"More of the redneck, less of the Elvis." 

"Ok, so this DaV'aar is a demon, works at the junkyard and will help us 
how, exactly?" 

"He drives the crane with the electromagnet on it." 

"Oh. Why? Zib said DaV'aarr owed a debt? What's that all about?" 

"Not really my story to tell, pet. His spawn got into a bit of a jam 
with the Master in Bulgaria, and I helped him out. We got to be friends 
after that. The debt's been owing for about 80 years now, but you don't 
settle a blood debt with just anything, it has to be a life for a life. 
Getting rid of this bloody chip effectively gives me my life back, so 
the debt will be paid." 

"Why didn't you go to him first?" 

"Didn't think of it, did I? Didn't know about the electromagnet, either. 
Didn't think of it until your plan fell through. Besides, I'm not dying. 
If I were, then I might have gone to him, but as much as I hate the 
bloody thing, the chip isn't killing me. I told you - a blood debt has 
to be paid in blood. DaV'aarr probably won't think banjaxing the chip is 
suitable recompense, but like I said, getting rid of it gives me my life 
back, so I'll consider it paid in full." 

They kept walking, out of the cemetery now, toward home. Spike pushed 
Xander back into a convenient alley and proceeded to kiss him breathless. 

"Umm, Spike?" 

"Mm?" Spike had his hands on the bare skin of Xander's back and his face 
buried in the crook of Xander's neck, and he really didn't want to be 
interrupted. 

"Mine?" 

"Your what?" Now he had his hands under Xander's waistband and was 
steadily working his way south. 

"That's what you said to Zib when you introduced me. And why'd you use 
my full name? Never mind that, what you said was 'he's my...mine.' I'm 
your what?" 

"You're mine." Shit. Spike froze. He didn't want to have this 
conversation now, he *really* didn't want to have this conversation now. 
Damn his possessiveness for running away with his mouth in the first place. 

"Yours." 

Spike didn't know how to interpret the new note in Xander's voice. 

"Well, pet, since we were in Willy's, and in case you hadn't noticed, 
you were the only human there, I figured it was safer to say you were 
mine, put you under my protection." Suddenly his hands were being pulled 
out of Xander's jeans and Xander was stepping away. He looked up, into a 
face tight with poorly-hidden hurt. 

"Don't lie to me, Spike." Xander's voice was soft and flat. 

"I'm not-" 

"You *are*." Xander turned and started to walk away. 

"Pet-" Spike hurried after him. 

"Do NOT lie to me, Spike! I'll take just about anything else from you, 
but *do* *NOT* lie to me." 

The rest of the walk home was accomplished in tense silence. By the time 
Spike had gotten his duster hung up, Xander was sitting in the chair, 
and his body language fairly yelled 'leave me alone!' 

Spike knew, from his years with Dru, that there was only one way out of 
this mess: groveling. No matter how badly he really didn't want to have 
this conversation now, he didn't want to lose whatever he was building 
with Xander, either. 

First rule of groveling - this one from Angelus - the groveler should be 
on his face in the dirt. Spike compromised, and dragged the battered 
ottoman over to the chair and sat on it at Xander's feet. 

"I'm sorry, luv. Can I explain?" Whatever had happened to never 
apologize, never explain? He took Xander's continued silence as an 
invitation to carry on. 

"You didn't need to be under my protection. Everybody knows you work 
with the Slayer; that's enough to keep you safe. And if it wasn't, you 
smell like me. I didn't need to say it." He paused. Xander still wasn't 
looking at him, but his body language was more open than it had been a 
minute ago. He still wasn't looking at Spike, but at least he was facing 
in the right direction. Spike took a deep breath and kept going. 

"I didn't need to, but I wanted to. You want honesty? I wanted everyone 
there to know that you're mine. And you are, make no mistake about that. 
You gave yourself to me, and you sealed the bargain with blood and 
semen. You belong to me, Alexander Harris; you are *mine*." Spike's 
voice had dropped to a growl, groveling forgotten. 

Xander stared at Spike in silence, his expression speculative. Then it 
firmed into determination, and Xander spoke. 

"I love you. And I drew blood first, so you belong to me. too." 

Spike stared, surprised. The whelp loved him? That had been the absolute 
last thing he'd ever expected to hear from Xander. 

"Really? For how long?" Suddenly Spike needed to know. 

"I've had the hots for you since before the chip, but it was when you 
lived here that I realized..." he trailed off. 

"What?" 

"That I could love you. That I wanted to do something about the chip 
because I wanted to help *you*, not just because it was wrong. And then, 
when we made a deal, I thought... I thought you were only in it for the 
chip, and the sex was a bonus. I didn't want you to know that I loved you." 

Deep inside Spike, something broke free, or maybe just broke. This man 
loved him. Finally, maybe he could get it right this time. 

"I didn't want you to feel obligated, or sorry for me, or something. I 
was just going to enjoy it while it lasted." 

Spike digested that silently for a moment, then said, "We're a right 
pair, aren't we?" He laid his head on Xander's thigh and felt tentative 
fingers stroke through his hair. 

"Yeah, I guess we are." 

"I love you." 

"I know." 

They sat in silence for a long time. Spike wondered what Xander was 
thinking about. He himself was unable to get past dizzying relief and 
soaring joy. Stern reminders to himself that as a vampire he should be 
above such human emotions made absolutely no difference. Finally 
Xander's husky voice broke into Spike's introspection. 

"C'mon up here, vampire mine." 

Spike stood gracefully and toed off his boots before straddling Xander's 
lap. He slid his hands under Xander's shirt and buried his face in the 
crook of Xander's neck, nuzzling the warm skin. He felt Xander's arms 
come around him, hands tucking into the back of his waistband. Their 
mouths met in a kiss that spoke volumes about love, and need.

They were down to just their jeans when Spike broke away.

"Fuck me." The order was whispered harshly. Spike's hands were busily
undoing belts, buttons and zippers, both his own and Xander's.

Xander went still, so still that Spike looked up. Xander was almost
comically wide-eyed, his expression the dictionary illustration of
surprised.

Spike was concerned. "Pet?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"You want me to fuck you."

"Yeah? So?" Spike's was no longer concerned, he was puzzled instead.

"*You*, William the Bloody, Master vampire, really want *me*, Xander
Harris, ordinary mortal, to fuck you," Xander stated, with blatant
disbelief.

"Yeah." Spike leered hopefully.

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean, 'why'?" Now it was Spike's turn to illustrate
'surprised'. "Why would I *not* want you to fuck me?" Had he missed
something? Did Xander not want to for some reason?

"Umm, because you're a Master vampire so you're never on the bottom?"

Oh. Wait a minute...

Spike removed his hands from Xander's zipper and settled them instead on
Xander's hips. This was obviously going to require some discussion.
"Back up, pet. I think this needs some explanation. Why do you think
that?"

Xander ducked his head, blushing.

"I read it in a book."

"Must've been an interesting book, pet. Where'd you get it?"

"Giles' bookcase. The one in the back, that he pretends we don't know
about. He's got some interesting stuff back there."

Spike's eyebrows rose at that, but he only nodded encouragingly.

"When...it was...I..." Xander stopped, took a deep breath, then started
again. "Remember the knife?"

Spike traced the curl of Xander's ear with the tip of his tongue before
he answered.

"Fondly."

"When I first realized just how bad I had it for you, I did some
research. I wanted to know...what vampires liked, that mortals could do.
I figured, I could do the knife. Anyway, do you know what kind of stuff
the G-man has in his library? Way more than just Watcher's journals and
demon encyclopedias. He's got stuff in there that reads like Hustler
meets National Geographic meets Star Log. I found one called Futuere*
Vampirae. Sort of a Vampires for Dummies." At Spike's snort, he raised
his eyebrow. "What?"

"Sorry, pet, but that book is a vampire in-joke."

"Huh?"

"I'm surprised Rupert has a copy of that rot. I wonder if he knows...?"
Spike shook his head and brought himself back to the present. "It *is*
Vampires for Dummies. See, there was this vampire craze in the early
1800's. Mind you, we had stopped hiding quite so much, so more people
knew we were real. There are - there have always been - humans who know
us, but don't fear us, the Behilflicher. Snobs call them cattle, because
they do provide blood, if needed, but they're more like the Vampire
Auxiliary. Anyway, things were getting hot. We were getting too
well-known, and a lot of us were getting staked. One of the Behilflicher
had the bright idea of telling all, only not quite telling the truth."

"In other words, vampire PR."

"Right. Only with our own 'spin' on it. With the help of the Master of
London, M LaVeau wrote Futuere Vampirae. It's mostly a crock; anything
in there that's true is the sort of thing that can't be used against us,
but it kept the public happy, and kept the vampire hunters running in
circles." Spike paused, taking in Xander's slightly disappointed
expression. "Pet?"

"So the part that says only childer, fledges, and minions get fucked, is
that true or not?" Xander blushed vividly, but met Spike's eyes
steadily.

"Not, but it doesn't matter, pet. You're human, so the whole question is
moot. You chose me freely; you're a consort, not a minion or a fledge.
Or a Childe." Spike worked to keep his face neutral; it was far too soon
to be thinking of Xander in terms like 'forever'. "What you said about
you drawing blood first is true. We belong to each other."

Xander stayed quiet, but the tense set of his face eased.

"So that's why you didn't fuck me that first night, hmm?" Spike asked.
"Even when I offered."

"That'd be why. I figured you were offering because of what I told you,
about Uncle...about that. And, well..." Xander stopped and blushed
again, looking down.

Spike gently tipped Xander's chin up. "'Well' what, pet?"

"It's not like it's a hardship being fucked all the time."

Spike smiled at that, a genuine smile that lit up his face and made his
eyes crinkle up at the corners.

"Now you know why I want you to fuck me, eh?"

"Yeah, I do." Xander returned the smile, his heart in his blazing eyes.

"So do it, already."

Xander pulled Spike towards him until their mouths met in the lightest
of touches. He gradually deepened the pressure, but every time Spike
tried to, Xander backed off.

"Slow, Spike, slow. We have all night and we're going to take all
night."

Spike groaned in frustration but acquiesced, letting Xander have
control. After the first night, when Xander had started things, he'd
always let Spike take the lead. He'd never initiated sex, although he
wasn't above hinting that that he wanted it. Spike figured it was a
result of that stupid book, and hoped sincerely that Xander would take
the initiative more often now that he knew he could.

Warm hands ghosted down his torso and around his waist, pulling him
closer. As Xander's hands slid down the back of his pants, Spike dimly
realized that they were in an almost perfect reversal of their first
encounter.

Unfortunately, Xander's chair wasn't as big as Spike's had been, and
they just didn't fit as well; Spike rocked back and promptly slid from
Xander's knees to the floor.

"Bloody hell." Spike was peeved at the interruption.

"Never mind." Spike got out of the way as Xander slid out of the chair
as well. Landing on his knees, he quickly pushed his jeans down his
thighs before sitting back on his heels. He reached up to help Spike
with his jeans, but Spike was already bent over, untying his boots.

He stepped out of them and reached for the waistband of his open jeans.
Xander's husky voice stopped him cold.

"Spike."

"Yes, pet?" He looked up at Xander, and his first thought was that it
was a good thing that he didn't have to breathe.

Xander was kneeling, sitting back on his heels, bare-chested, the dark
fabric of his jeans framing his jutting erection. His hands were resting
easily on his thighs, his expression calm, but the heat in his eyes as
he looked at Spike burned an almost palpable trail on Spike's skin.

"Turn around, face the other way."

Smiling to himself, Spike did. Anticipation thrummed through him. He
wasn't much for dominance games a la Angelus, where there was no giving,
only taking, but this wasn't about taking. This was about giving; he was
giving Xander control, and Xander, he hoped, would take it and give him
the ride of his unlife.

"Back up." Spike shuffled backwards until his hands were covered by
Xander's. "Good, stop there."

"Push your pants down. Slow."

Spike slid his fingers under his waistband, feeling the contours of his
ass under his hands. He pushed them down until his arms were fully
extended, then he paused. As ordered, he slowly bent over, sliding his
jeans down as he went, until his hands were bunched in the legs of his
jeans, and his fingertips were touching his ankles. As he went to step
out, Xander spoke again.

"Don't."

Spike didn't. He waited.

"You...it's probably girly of me to say this, but you are so...gorgeous.
Sexy. Do you know what having you like this does to me?"

Spike knew. He could smell the heavy scent of arousal, feel the waves of
heat coming from the man behind him.

"I want..." Xander paused. Trying to decide what he wanted, Spike
wondered, or how - or whether - to ask for it?

Spike upped the ante. Xander would take the lead, but would he take
control? Was this what he wanted, that he didn't know how to ask for?
"Whatever you want, pet, it's yours." Spike's voice was low, intense.
"But you have to take it."

"Take it? I can do that." Xander's voice was raspy with lust and
possessiveness, and the faint scent that Spike had tentatively
identified as fear? anxiety? nervousness? faded away.

Good. He had guessed right.

Xander rubbed his hands up Spike's calves and back down, then back up
the back of his thighs until his hands were cupped around Spike's ass.
He squeezed lightly, then harder. Spike groaned and pushed back into it.
Xander let go.

"Show me yourself."

What? Oh. His feet, still trapped in his pants, were as far apart as
they could get. Spike dragged his hands up his legs, digging in his
nails and enjoying the sting. When he got to his ass, he slid his
fingers around the sharp curves in the center and pulled, exposing his
hole. The scent of arousal thickened in the air as the sound of Xander's
breathing deepened.

Again Spike waited, riding the tension coiling in his gut. He'd
suspected the whelp had the potential for this; it was always the quiet
ones.

Xander's hands brushed lightly up his legs and settled on his hips.
Spike jerked as hot breath gusted on his balls.

"I have to take it, hmm?"

Heat streaked between his fingers, then tingled with cool as Xander blew
on the spot he'd licked. He kissed the back of Spike's balls, then
licked around the fingers of Spike's other hand, working his way around
but never over the place Spike was desperately hoping he'd get to soon.

"Xander, come on!" ground out Spike desperately.

"Do you want it, Spike?" asked Xander.

"Yes!" Spike was nearly shouting.

"You can have it, but you have to ask for it." The teasing in Xander's
voice was nearly the undoing of Spike's control.

"Fuck me, then." Ragged, nearly pleading.

"No. Not yet, anyway." Xander's voice was dark, full of promise.

Spike groaned harshly, the sound cut off as Xander tongued his hole.

"Like that?"

"Bleedin' hell, pet, you're killing me!"

"You're already dead." The words were muffled by the fact that Xander
had his face buried between Spike's thighs. "I can't kill you; you'll
just have to live with it."

Xander went back to work. His hot tongue flickered and probed, then
backed out again to lay searing kisses and playful licks on Spike's
backside.

Spike was in a heaven of torment. Or was that hell? He could no longer
think straight; most of his borrowed blood was throbbing in his cock,
which had been leaking steadily since Xander had asked him to open
himself.

Xander was concentrating on opening him now, probing deeply. He sucked
briefly at the muscular ring, then probed, then sucked and probed again,
and again. That hot tongue was slowly melting his insides.

"I'm close, pet." Spike began rocking back into Xander's thrusting
tongue, chanting, "Now, pet, now."

Xander sucked hard, rhythmically, flicking his tongue against Spike's
hole until he was shaking and groaning with the intensity of his orgasm.
He could feel the come drip down his chest and thighs. The only thing
holding him up was his will, and Xander's hands, which were branding his
hips.

"Xander..."

"Okay?" asked Xander.

"Yeah."

The rested for a few minutes, Xander nuzzling Spike's hands.

"When you're ready, take off your pants."

Spike straightened up and stepped out of his jeans, kicking them across
the small room.

"Come down here."

Still facing away, Spike straddled Xander's legs and sank gracefully
down to kneel in Xander's lap. Xander's unfulfilled erection was a
burning iron rod between Spike's cheeks, and he felt himself begin to
harden again as Xander's hands slid around his hips to the inside of his
thighs.

Xander cradled Spike's balls, squeezing lightly. Trailing almost
ticklish fingertips up Spike's torso, he pinched Spike's nipples,
rolling them between finger and thumb until they were tight, hard nubs.

Suddenly, he hugged Spike hard. "God, Spike. I love you so much." The
fervent words were spoken into the crook of Spike's neck.

"So show me."

"I will."

Xander turned slightly and groped under the cushion of the chair. They
had started keeping tubes of lube nearly everywhere, since location
didn't seem to have any bearing on their activities. There was even lube
in the kitchen - in two different drawers.

"I'm going to fuck you so deep. You'll always be able to feel me."
Xander slicked his fingers down Spike's hard-again cock, over his balls
and back to his hole, where he drew slippery circles until Spike was
quivering.

"You are trying to kill me, aren't you, pet?"

Xander's chuckle was throaty.

"Ready?" Spike never got a chance to answer. "Lift up."

Strong workman's hands lifted him. One hand left him and moments later
blunt heat nudged at his opening. The missing hand came back and
steadied him.

"Let me in, Spike."

Spike took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping old human
reflexes would help him relax. It had been a long time since he had done
this, and he and Xander hadn't played like this, not even fingers.

"Let me in, Spike." Xander said again.

Spike sank down. There was a moment of tension, when it felt like the
world itself was holding its breath as he hung there, poised between
frustration and completion.

Slowly he opened to Xander's insistent heat, the burn of penetration
flaming up his spine. Before long, he was completely impaled. He was
shocked to realize that the panting was coming from him, although
Xander's breath was hot on his neck.

"God, Spike. I'm really inside you." The wonder in Xander's voice was
amazing to Spike.

"You feel good, pet."

"Do I? So do you. I don't think this is going to last very long, despite
what I said about taking all night."

They rocked together, Xander rising to meet Spike, Spike lowering to
meet Xander. Hands wandered, stroking, murmurs of love and lust were
exchanged.

"Now, Spike." Xander wrapped one arm around Spike's waist and held him
in place as he powered into him. Spike jerked and morphed into gameface
as Xander bit into the base of his neck. Hard; Spike could smell his own
blood. Before he could think about that though, Xander was forcing his
hand into Spike's mouth, cutting the ball of his thumb against Spike's
fangs. The rich coppery blood filled Spike's mouth and he swallowed it
down, feeling Xander sucking at the wound in his neck, swallowing his
blood.

"Now!" Xander lifted into Spike, once, twice, again, and then Spike was
lost in sensation as orgasm hit him again. He was vaguely aware of
Xander releasing his neck and gasping in his ear.

Long moments later he came back to himself. He was still kneeling
astride Xander, who was leaning against the front of the chair. Xander
was still inside him, but softening quickly. The wound on his neck had
already healed, and when Spike looked at the base of Xander's thumb, it
too was already healing.

"Pet...why did you do that?"

"Because I knew you wanted to, but couldn't. If I caused the pain, it
wouldn't set your chip off."

"Did it hurt?" Spike was concerned.

"It feels funny now. Achy somehow. But no, it didn't hurt. It felt
pretty damned amazing, actually."

"Good. But that wasn't what I meant. I meant why-"

Xander interrupted. "Why did I bite you?" Spike nodded. "Because I
wanted to. I wanted you, that part of you." Xander's voice took a
teasing tone. "You said I could have anything I wanted, but I had to
take it."

"So I did. Need to be careful with that though. Too much isn't good for
you."

"I know. But tonight, it was worth it."

"You drank my blood, pet. We're bound now, you and I."

"I know. And I scarred you. It's healed, but you can see the scar."

"Really?" Spike shifted around to face Xander. "There's a scar there?"

"Um, yeah. Sorry." Xander looked contrite.

"Don't be, pet. That's a good thing, actually. It means that my demon
recognizes you as my mate."

"Mate, huh? Did we just get married?" Xander didn't look like he minded
that idea at all.

"Nope. Engaged, maybe. Until I can claim you, proper-like, it's not
official, as it were."

"Mmm. I love you."

Xander pulled Spike against him and they rested there. In a mirror of
their first encounter, it was Spike's purring that jolted Xander awake.

"Come on, Fang Boy. There's a bed here, let's use it."

Spike stood and stretched, laughing when Xander blew a raspberry in his
belly button. He stretched out a hand and hauled Xander to his feet.

"I do love you, pet. You know that, right?" He pulled Xander close and
watched his face closely. It was important to him that Xander know that
this was more than trade for help with the chip, more than just a fuck.

This was real.

Part Eight

Three days later, Xander's lunchtime nap in the shade on the far side of
the observatory was interrupted by a noise that sounded like someone
making a raspberry. When the noise was repeated, he tipped his hat back
and looked around. A flash of blue caught his attention, and he got up
to investigate. Wondering if will o' the wisps were Slayer-worthy, he
followed brief glimpses to an abandoned folly at the far edge of the
campus. Stepping over the rubble of a collapsed column, he peered into
the shady gloom.

"Hello?" He paused. "Great, Harris, now you're *talking* to a will o'
the wisp."

An amused-sounding raspberry made him start and look around.

"No, AlexanderZpike, I'm not a wisp."

He raised his eyebrows at the name? title? and waited for Zib to
continue.

"You remember me?"

"Yeah. The blue guy that grabbed my crotch at the bar. Zib, right?" The
iridescent blue of Zib's head and neck nearly glowed in the shadows.

"Zpike was looking for my boss, DaV'aarr. DaV'aarr, he be delayed, but
he be back in three more days. You tell Zpike, be ready then, yes?"

"Okay, I'll tell him. Anything else?"

"Yes. DaV'aarr, he owes *great* blood debt. He knows, Zpike is whole,
Zpike leave the Hellmouth. Needs wheels to go. DaV'aarr zay, tell Zpike
to choose wheels, they be ready when he is. Zpike must choose by
tomorrow this time. Tell him?"

"Yeah, sure. Wait..." Xander trailed off, thinking. "Tell you what. Can
you meet me here tomorrow, this time? I'll ask Spike what he wants, then
I can tell you, since he doesn't do the whole daylight thing. Or wait,
you don't either, right? Where can I find you? I'll stop on my way to
work in the morning."

"Is okay. I like zunshine, but I like plants better, ztay in them when I
can. I come here tomorrow, you tell. You come, Zpike knows where, in
three days, and DaV'aarr help. Yes?"

"I can do that. I'll see you tomorrow, and I guess we'll see you in
three days."

"Right. Tomorrow then." Zib hopped nimbly over the back wall of the
folly and disappeared into the undergrowth. Xander shook his head and
headed back to work. Peacock demons and cars in payment for blood
debts...knowing Spike was definitely an adventure.

* * * * *

"Hey, I ran into a friend of yours today." At Spike's questioning grunt,
he added, "And I'm pleased to say that he *didn't* grab my balls."

"Zib?" Spike's head came up fast, and he stared at Xander, curiosity
warring with impatience for predominance. "What'd he want?"

"He said DaV'aarr's going to be late getting here, and that we should
meet him in three days time - I'm assuming he means nights - he said
you'd know where to meet. DaV'aarr'll be back by then and Operation
Zap-The-Chip will officially be a go. He'll come see me at work tomorrow
like he did today to make sure that's okay." He didn't mention the car;
he wanted it to be a surprise.

"Three days? Shit. Well, it can't be helped, I guess."

"Nope. I rented us some movies."

"Got lots of blood and guts?"

"No."

"Sex? Tits and ass?" At Xander's raised eyebrow, he defended himself.
"What? They're nice to look at."

"Yes, they are, and yes, there's T&A in some of them."

"Only some? What's the point, then?"

"Oh, I think you'll like them. The video place was having a theme
special." At Spike's raised eyebrow he continued. "You know, if you rent
two movies with the same theme, you get the third movie free. Tonight's
theme was cars and since I used to work there, Matt gave me one free for
each rental. I've got Herbie the Love Bug, Moonraker, Cannonball Run,
Harold & Maude, Gone In 60 Seconds,and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." The
last he had gotten mostly to see the look that was now on Spike's face;
suspicion, surprise, disbelief, and over all the unwillingness to say
anything that might get his chances for nooky shot down in flames.

Xander made popcorn and they settled in to watch the first movie,
Moonraker. Then they watched Gone in 60 Seconds, and after they finished
the popcorn they put in Cannonball Run.

"Gonna make more popcorn, luv?"

"What, that wasn't enough?"

He made another bowl of popcorn before Harold & Maude, having been
bribed into it by an offer of toe-sucking. By the time Xander had
cleaned up the popcorn and unfolded the couch after the movie, Spike had
enough breath back to actually talk, not just laugh insanely.

"Oh, God...with the cleaver...<snort>...that was just too..."

Well, almost.

"And the look on his mum's face when she saw Maude's picture...and that
*car*...Talk about a classic set o' wheels."

Ah ha. Here was his opening.

"If you could have any car you wanted, what would you want?"

"Any car?"

"Any car."

"Why do you want to know?"

Oops. Spike was getting suspicious. Time to turn on the Xander charm.

"It's called 'male bonding', Spike, it's something human guys do to kill
time. You might not be exactly human anymore, but last time I checked,"
he paused for a quick grope, "you were *definitely* male. And you've
been around since before cars were. So c'mon, tell me, if you could have
any car in the world, from real life or a movie or whatever, what would
it be?"

Spike turned the question back on Xander. "What would you want?"

"I always thought the 'Vette in the beginning of Heavy Metal would be
cool. Not to mention easy to park. Or what about the submarine car in
Moonraker? Ooh, I know! The Impala from American Graffiti. Now *that*
was a sweet ride. I wouldn't want the Chevy; with my luck, it'd turn out
to be Christine's sister."

"Probably would, pet, what with you bein' a demon magnet an' all."

The conversation wandered from Model A's and Duesenbergs, to Caspitas
and Lamborghinis. Muscle cars like GTO's and Mustangs, and the
difference between the old 'Vettes and the new ones that didn't look
like 'Vettes. Sleepers like the
Nissan Skyline that looked like a businessman's sedan but could blow
your doors off. Spike told an improbable story about making it with
Drucilla in the back of an Aston Martin that had belonged to an
unfortunate snack; Xander countered with an equally improbable story
about an event during his days as a pizza delivery driver.

Two hours of carefully directed male bonding later, Xander moved in for
the kill.

"So which car would you want?"

A sheepish look was his only reply.

"C'mon, Fang Boy, fess up."

Spike mumbled.

"I've licked your *ass*, Spike, you don't have any deep dark secrets
anymore. Give."

"Harold's hearse, all right? Midnight blue pearl finish, cream leather
interior. The twelve cylinder engine, not the six." Spike's voice was
sulky.

Xander was genuinely surprised. He'd figured Spike for a muscle car,
something older, with a giant air scoop and lots of testosterone under
the hood.

"Really? Why?"

"I like it. Fast, classy, different. Kinda like me." Spike recovered his
equilibrium a bit and went on. "And it's a hearse, innit? Could put a
coffin in the back for me to nap in, instead of bein' crunched in the
boot."

Xander worked hard to hide his elation. Now he knew what to tell Zib.

"That'd be cool. Hey, you about ready for bed? *Some* of us have to work
for a living tomorrow."

With a fair amount of companionable bickering, they got ready for bed.
Content just to be, they lay wrapped around each other as they faded
slowly into sleep.

* * * * *

Xander got up early the next morning, showered, didn't bother to shave,
downed a quick cup of coffee, smooched Spike, and headed off to work
before Spike could wake up enough to drag him back into bed.

He stopped by the video store to drop off the movies, knowing that Matt
would still be there, doing the inventory. Matt had to show off the
latest equipment, which gave Xander an idea.

"You can do a screen capture and print it out?" he asked.

"Yep. Wanna see?"

"Yeah. Um, actually, could you get me a couple pictures of Harold's
car?" He waved the Harold & Maude tape in the direction of the tape
player.

Matt looked at him strangely, but did as asked. Ten minutes later,
Xander was headed to work, a stack to 8 x 10's on the seat beside him.
Five shots; forward three-quarter, rear three-quarter, front-on,
back-on, and side-on. He didn't know if it was overkill or not; what did
demons know about movie cars? He figured better safe than sorry.

As soon as his lunch break rolled around, Xander headed back to the old
folly. Zib was waiting for him.

"Oh, hey. I didn't think I was late. Have you been waiting long?"

"No. I came early. I like plants here. Old, wild. Not zee many like this
anymore. You know car Zpike wants?"

"Yep, and I brought pictures." Xander handed them over.

"Ooh, nice. Zpike has good taste. This is Jaguar E-type, yes?"

"Yeah, a '69. This one is probably a modified convertible. He wants the
12-cylinder engine, midnight blue pearl finish paint, cream leather
interior. A casket in the back, something dark, with a crimson lining.
Can you do all that? I have a few ideas for other cars he'd like if you
can't."

"We can do." Zib's expression, as far as Xander could tell, was
determined. "Jaguar not put 12-zylinder in until '71, but we can put. Is
easy." He turned the pictures over and produced a very ordinary Bic pen
from...somewhere...to write with. Xander watched with interest as Zib
wrote; beautiful spiraling shapes, circles and French curves. For the
first time, he understood Giles' fascination with demon languages.

Xander couldn't stand it anymore; his natural curiosity got the best of
him. "What are you writing?"

"Color, engine, casket. Make recommendations for adjustments." Zib
answered.

"Um, what kind of 'adjustments'?" In Xander's experience, that sort of
thing very rarely turned out well on the Hellmouth.

"No fear, AlexanderZpike. Only things that will help, not harm. Only
things demon can do, for other demon." He paused, seeming to search for
words.

"What?"

"You and Zpike are...intimate?"

"Um, yeah. You knew that, at the bar the other night."

"Not zex-bound, blood-bound. Have you shared blood? Have you tasted
his?" Zib clarified.

"Oh, that. Yeah. Um, last night. Why?"

"We need to bind car magic to you and Zpike. Easiest way is blood. You
have drunk of him; he is in you. Your blood is both."

"Let me guess: you're saying that you want some of my blood?" He didn't
wait for an answer. Instead, sighing resignedly, he fished in his pocket
for his penknife and handkerchief.

"You will...bleed? You underztand magic?" Zib asked in surprise.

"I live on the Hellmouth. I work with the Slayer. My best friend is a
witch. I understand."

Xander spit on his handkerchief and wiped off the grime of a spot on the
ball of his thumb. Spike's fangs had left faint scars there already, so
hopefully any scar from this would blend in. And what was going on that
he had healed to faint silver scars in four days' time? Leaving that
question for later, he turned to Zib. "Ready?"

"Three drops only." Zib held out the picture he'd been writing on and
pointed to an unwritten-on corner.

Xander braced himself and made a quick, short slice across his thumb.
Blood welled up and he squeezed, dripping twice on the paper. He had to
work for the third drop, and ended up blotting the already-healing cut
on the paper to make it.

"Thank you, AlexanderZpike. I will take this immediately to DaV'aarr."
Zib said formally as he carefully folded the pictures and put
them...away. Xander decided there were some things about demon anatomy
he just didn't need to know.

"You're welcome. See you Friday?" Xander checked his watch.

"Yes, Friday night. Zhould I tell DaV'aarr watch for Zlayer?"

Xander hadn't thought of that. "No. Well, maybe. Um...yes, probably, to
be on the safe side. She doesn't know about Spike and me, and she sure
doesn't know about Operation Zap-the-Chip. She won't be pleased if she
finds out."

On that note, they parted company.

TBC