Giles’ door closed behind them and Spike turned to look at Xander. “Where to now?”

Xander yawned. “I’m tired.”

Spike fought back disappointment. It was late and Xander had every right to be tired, but he’d hoped they could –

“So let’s go to bed.”

“To sleep?” Spike said cautiously.

Xander looked at him quizzically. “That’s the first thought that comes into your head? Has the passion gone from our relationship already?”

His tone was light but there was a questioning note in it, a plea for reassurance that puzzled and pleased Spike. “You said you were tired.”

Xander sighed and began to walk slowly out of the courtyard, Spike by his side. “Let’s start over. This has been one hell of a night and yes, I’m tired. Doesn’t mean I want to go to sleep right away. I want to – ” He paused and shook his head. “If I say ‘make love’, is that too girly?”

Spike studied him solemnly, fighting down a surge of amused tenderness. “Maybe. What’s wrong with telling me you want to fuck me?”

“It doesn’t leave much room for misunderstandings but – this’ll be our first time with me not possessed and you with your memories.”

“So?”

“So, I’m nervous. God, make that terrified. And I’ve got stuff to tell you, questions to ask you, a dozen problems waiting to leap out and grab me and –”

Xander stopped walking as he babbled, the words spilling out. Spike put his palm, not gently, against his lips, silencing him. “That’s tomorrow, all of it. Tonight, the only thing grabbing you is going to be – oh for fuck’s sake!”

Xander found himself thrust to one side as Spike launched himself at a vampire who had been about to attack them. “I am trying to have a conversation here!” he howled. “Is a little privacy too much to expect?”

The vampire, who must have died before he reached twenty, didn’t look all that scary even with his game face on. He held up his hands placatingly, whining, “Didn’t know you were a vamp, too – sorry. Kill him, go ahead, just...I’m kind of hungry; can I share?”

“He’s not on the menu, you pillock! He’s my fucking –”

Spike paused, trying to think of the right word. Xander chuckled. “Now see how you like it. What am I? Boyfriend, lover, partner?”

Spike locked his fingers around the vampire’s throat to hold him in place and turned his head to look at Xander. “No,” he said mildly. “Don’t get fancy, pet. You’re mine. Simple as that.”

Xander didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but Spike felt the air between them turn to syrup, sweet and heavy. Without taking his eyes off Xander, he dragged the vampire in front of him, let go, and whispered, “Run.” The vampire gulped and backed away, melting into the shadows.

They were separated by more than a few feet of sidewalk, held apart by years of soured expectation and disappointment, spells and secrets, but Spike knew that if he beckoned and said, “Come here,” Xander would. He saw it in his eyes; he remembered how it had been before. Xander hadn’t endured; he’d enjoyed. Every test, every trial, every chance he’d had to go farther, he’d taken. If he had limits, Spike hadn’t found them then. Now? It was different. Spike didn’t want that from Xander, not now. He wanted ...

Three steps, and he was close enough to stretch out a hand and have Xander reach out to touch it with his own, but he didn’t. Four, and his hand could have rested on Xander’s shoulder, against his face, but he kept his hands by his side. Five steps and he was so close that – and Xander kissed him and all thought fled.

***

Xander watched Spike walk towards him, his face intent, his eyes unfocused, as though he were dreaming. The word, ‘mine’ was thrumming in his head, getting louder with every repetition until he wanted to scream or kneel to silence it. Either. Both. Spike did that to him; challenged him and tested him as he had done that morning, a handful of hours ago that felt as distant as Christmas in July. Xander had refused to surrender control, had drawn a line in the dirt and dared Spike to cross it, knowing he would and knowing he wanted him to, just to see...He’d seen, he’d won, but so much of him had wanted to give in. Two years ago he would have. Two years ago, it would have been Spike’s hand on his ass, punishing him for reluctance in a way that drove everything from his head but the need to come. Just that, nothing more. Not then.

He would have gone to Spike, spurred on by that single word, just as his years of dreaming had been fuelled by a single sentence, a quotation he’d meant to look up and never had – “My only love, sprung from my only hate”. There had been plenty of both emotions but one had burned out; silver ashes all that remained of blistering, scalding, scarring hatred. He would have taken those steps, fallen to his knees if Spike had touched his shoulder just so, let the relief and worry slide away as he was ordered, instructed, bound to obey.

Then Spike came towards him. Stood without touching, patiently waiting, refusing to force the decision with a caress or a command, telling Xander mutely that this was how it was going to be – and Xander kissed him gently, kissed him hard, kissed him until they were swaying together like trees in a storm, bodies locked, hands roving, kissed him until Spike’s mouth yielded and his body relaxed, leaning away from Xander enough to look up at him with satisfied, gleaming eyes.

“You’ve done it again, Harris,” he said. “What is it with you and the open road? Too good for a bed, is that it?”

“You...talk...too ...much,” Xander said, punctuating each word with an action. Belt, button, zip...Spike shuddered against his hand and Xander grinned mercilessly as his fingers - busy, deft fingers, eased out Spike’s cock and wrapped around it, with a practised, swift slide of palm and flick of thumb.

Spike’s hands gripped Xander’s shoulders hard, biting bruise deep, but he managed to whisper, “Can’t wait then?”

Xander squeezed hard and jerked his wrist three times fast, forcing out the incoherent moan he knew was lying just below the whisper. Then he leaned forward and kissed Spike again, a teasing, loving kiss. “Can wait. Just don’t want to.”

Sometimes kneeling was just convenient.

***

They woke together, eyes heavy with tiredness. “We need to stop waking up,” Xander murmured, the words shaping themselves slowly in his mouth, emerging as a strangely slurred whisper.

Spike snuffled against the pillow, his hand already blindly reaching out. “Why?”

“Need to sleep. Not fuck.” That had been much more eloquent and logical in his head. Spike’s head lifted and he turned his face enough for his mouth to be visible. “Oh God, I want you.”

The lips curled up. “Here, aren’t I?”

Xander wasn’t sure he could move sleep-weighted limbs and his cock had been kissed better so often it hurt just to think about it getting hard, but somehow Spike was fitting against him and they were kissing, eyes shut, drifting on a sea of sleepy satiation, pulled down away from the brassy glare of the sun, fathoms-deep, where the sunken waves did no more than rock them gently and ...

***

“What did he give up?”

“What?”

“Giles. You were there at the demon. You know. Tell me.”

“Shit. You remember all of it, don’t you? Said you didn’t but you do. Not just Giles, everything.”

“I was going to tell you –”

“Why didn’t you? Why did you lie?”

“Think about what I was listening to, what I was saying when I was awake...”

You know Xander doesn’t like you; why risk losing the first person to love you for yourself- One kiss from him and I’d forgotten you ever existed -You want to fuck me, Rupert? Him, I love.

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Now you’re lying.”

“What if I am? Man made a choice. Did it to save you. If I could have, I’d have done it. You know that?”

“I know. But Giles...never thought he –”

“You’re an idiot sometimes.”

“That’s what I thought he thought.”

“Probably does.”

“Hey, we’ve been awake for six minutes and we’re not – ”

“Oh, yes we are.”

“That hurts...no, don’t stop...”

“Never.”

***

And somewhere else Buffy was staring at Willow, as slipping towels, borrowed T shirts and suspicions were poured into her disbelieving ears in a belated, bewildered torrent. Soon after that a Watcher and his Slayer were arguing, with victory – for once – not with the Chosen One.

Somewhere...but not where Xander lay beside Spike, propped up on pillows as they talked and squabbled, kissed and fucked, and then did it all over again.

Not there.

The End


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