She'd said yes. She'd said yes; when they were alone together, dreading the inevitable and he'd stammered out his graceless proposal. It hadn't been how he'd planned it. He knew better than to wait for the perfect moment. Life on the Hellmouth had taught him that love and the people you loved were too important to wait for everything to be perfect to tell them how you felt. But he had hoped for a lull in the action-maybe not moonlight and roses but some breathing space, just a spot of serenity, without a hell god trying to not only kill them, but also to destroy the world. With Glory and Dawn and, oh God Joyce.... And hadn't he tried to explain--looking into Anya's troubled eyes--that no, there isn't a handbook on life. Not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to feel, feeling too much, feeling you're not feeling enough, being confused, being frustrated, desperate to hold on but afraid to want, need, love because it slips away, people slip away like sand gripped in a tightly fisted hand, but he couldn't. Couldn't find the words. Couldn't voice his thoughts. So he held her, trying with his body to say all the things he wanted to say. Say he needed her. That she wasn't the only one who was confused, scared, doubting life, fighting the persistent slide into inertia which seemed to embrace every adult he knew. How could he explain what it meant to be human when he hadn't figured it out for himself yet? The helplessness--the flat out risk of loving and living--of letting someone close enough to hurt you, when the simple truth was that they would; no matter what they did or how they tried, just by being, they offered up potential and inevitable pain. How did he tell her it was worth the pain, now that he was begining to doubt it himself?

They had all been going full tilt. Ever since Glory had first kicked Buffy's ass with her size six designer stilettos, they hadn't marshalled a single offensive move. They'd lost ground length by length. Glory had confronted Buffy in her own house and they had actually packed up and run, not that it had done any good. Glory had Dawn, and desperately, grasping at straws, they had thrown everything they had at her. The seven of them who had stumbled into the magic shop in the gray morning light were as much in shock at being alive and that there was still a world to be on as they were at the loss of the Slayer. Spike had ceased sobbing, and hadn't that been disturbing. Xander wasn't sure if he was bothered more by the sight of one of the fiercest creatures he knew being wracked by open and obvious grief or the guilt he felt for the way he had misinterpreted the nature and depth of the vampire's feelings for Buffy.

Dawn, still in her sacrificial wear, looked like an enchanted princess in a fairy tale. She sat in one of the chairs at the research table, remote and unmoving, her eyes focused on nothing as tears streamed down her face. She was eerily quiet, not a sob or a sniffle breaking her silent heartache. Willow fussed over Tara and flitted about the room checking on Giles and Dawn, anything to keep moving and to keep from thinking about how much they had all lost. Xander set Anya on the research table and knelt down in front of her. He took her ankle in both hands. He was examining it for swelling when she jerked it back and said, "No!"

"What? Honey, it's sprained. We should..." he trailed off looking at her. She was shaking her head from one side to the other as she sobbed out another soft 'no'. He realized how he looked to her, down on one knee. She thought he was proposing again. But why didn't that make her look happy, and why did she say....?

"No, Xander... I can't. I know after the Ascension, when I came back...I..." she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and looked away.

"Anya? Cupcake?" That usually made her laugh. They had watched an Ally McBeal episode where Ling had given her approval for pet names only if they were based on food. He had spent the rest of that evening going through the Hostess and Dolly Madison product lines while he nibbled on Anya to make her shriek and giggle.

"I...Xander...Buffy's the Slayer, I'm not...I meant it, you know, you really are a good boyfriend." She forced a smile while sniffing and widening her eyes in a failed attempt to stop her tears.

"You're not making any sense. I don't..." Before he could finish she stood, favoring her bad ankle but looking up at him with her frank brown eyes which had always before grounded him but now just added to his confusion. "I'm sorry. I-I have to go." She left the shop, the bell ringing as she exited. He took a step to follow her, but stopped. It was daylight, she was safe. This was all too much for him and for her. He would give her time, and give himself time. They could talk later. She would go home and take a shower, get some sleep, and make more sense later. Right now, he should take care of his friends. He smiled at the thought that the term 'friends' now included Spike, but if that was what Buffy wanted, well then, so be it. The smile felt unnatural on his face; in just the past hour the whole world--his whole world--had changed and it would never be the same again. He hadn't felt this empty, this lost, since Jesse had died. When that had happened he had had the luxury of disbelief. There had been someone to hold off the monsters while he dealt with the consequences of a changed worldview. No more. Buffy had been the guardian at the gate; without her they were going to have to pull themselves together, clean up Glory's mess and patrol for the usual Hellmouth activity.

It was late when he got home. He'd left Dawn with Giles. Giles, Willow and he had talked quietly in the practice room while Tara had tried to get Dawn to drink some tea. She had said Dawn needed something hot inside her to combat the shock. Xander figured Tara knew what to do, but thought Spike quietly taking Dawn's hand calling her 'nibblet' had more to do with stopping the tears than the tea. He was exhausted. Being grown up and discussing Dawn's custody now that her only 'relative' was an absentee father, whom she remembered but had never met, was not something for which he was prepared. Another hushed conversation with Willow about how they were going to take care of Giles and Spike in the aftermath of losing Buffy just made him feel old. His apartment wasn't overly large. It took only moments for him to check every room and determine Anya wasn't there. He really hadn't expected her to go to her place. He started to phone her, then on second thought picked his keys up from the table and left.

Minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of her building. Her car wasn't in its usual spot but he went up to her floor, taking the stairs two at a time. He let himself in, turned on the lights and quickly headed for the bedroom. Drawers were open and empty, the closet door stood wide. The pictures she kept on the dresser were gone, all her make-up and toiletries were gone, everything was gone. There was no sign of a struggle. His heart was screaming that something had taken her. Surprisingly, his brain was calm. You always knew this would happen, she's not a demon anymore, no right-thinking person would stay here, and live this life. After pacing around the apartment and checking to see if there was any sign of where she went, or at least a note--something--he stopped in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He took out the carton of pineapple juice and leaned back against the closed refrigerator door feeling numb. He slid down to the floor, wishing he had the strength for tears but so much had happened he just couldn't. Couldn't think, couldn't cry, couldn't imagine the future without her.

He shook the carton, removed the screw top and drank straight out of it. He riffled though his pockets and pulled out the ring. He had bought it the day after Riley left. All that time, carrying it around, waiting for the world to be safe enough for two people to be in love. He had daydreamed often about a simple ceremony, had planned to ask Joyce if they could have it in her garden. He would ask Willow to stand up for him. He figured Giles would walk Anya down the aisle, Buffy would be her maid-of-honor, and Dawn would have been the flower girl. Everyone he loved would have been part of the happiest day of his life. The tears finally came.

* * * * *

Routine was good. Routine let him get though the day without thinking. Routine helped the days slip by, blend together, until one was so much like another that you could lose a week without realizing you had lived through it, or at least survived. It had been two weeks since Buffy died; two weeks since Anya left. Xander wondered if he would measure the rest of his life in relation to That Day. When he was sixty, would it be forty years since That Day? Who the hell was he kidding? He wasn't going to see sixty. He'd be lucky to see twenty-five. That was why Anya had left. His routine started at 5:00 A.M. on weekdays now. He was showered, shaved and on the site by 6:00 A.M. every morning. He had been surprised at how quickly everything had changed.

One day he had met with his boss, to apologize for missing work; yes, another funeral, yes, his family. Then he'd stopped and looked the man in the eye, and told him everything. Not about the Key, not about Glory, but about Joyce, about Dawn and Buffy. About what it felt like to be looked up to as a big brother, by a girl whose whole existence had been shaken to its very core. About how lost he felt without Buffy, how strong she had been when they had watched Joyce slip through their fingers. How he felt he had failed her. How he had to be there for Dawn, he owed it to her, to Buffy, to Joyce, to himself.

He hadn't expected the promotion. He hadn't expected anything and had wondered when the words were pouring out of his mouth why he was burdening this man with his grief, his shame. Now Xander opened the site every morning. His first four hours were spent at a desk, in front of a computer-Willow was so proud.

He managed the crew, the supplies, tracked the progress of the work, prepared reports for payroll and by the time the boss made it in from his morning meetings had up-to-date information for him on every aspect of the job. As someone who had hated school, Xander was amazed at how quickly he had mastered the spreadsheets and databases. But the best part was that he was off by 3:00 P.M. every day. Just in time to swing by the school and pick up Dawn. Dawn wasn't having problems in school anymore, now that she was going.

And hadn't that been surreal, Xander Harris at a parent-teacher conference with Dawn's guidance counselor. Well, Spike was out, 'cause sun, duh, and the nasty tendency to attack anyone who appeared to threaten the Dawnster. And Giles, well, they all were walking wary with Giles; he would have done anything for Buffy, even died for her, but living without her was an entirely different matter for Rupert Giles. Willow said he just needed time. Willow had also deemed that letting Ripper get his hands on any school staff, other than Principal Snyder, to be not of the good. Since Xander remembered that this was the counselor that had used the threat of Child Welfare to blackmail Buffy into becoming Control Freak Slayer, he took the meeting. After all, he had a secret weapon; he had clocked a hell of a lot of field time in that office or the one like it in the old school. Even if she recommended removing Dawn that day, he knew the Sunnydale social services were just as blind as everyone else in this hellhole and Dawn would probably be eighteen before any action was taken. Case in point--somewhere in the debris of the old high school--which he had rigged the explosives on, and wouldn't the overly concerned lady have loved that piece of information--was a thick file on Alexander L. Harris, which had started to recommending his removal from his home in, what was it, seventh grade? So he said he would field this one.

That afternoon, instead of waiting in the car for Dawn, he had gotten out and leaned against the door. Arms folded across his chest, eyes cast down at the ground he wondered if he should have worn his suit. No, the only time he had recently had been the funerals. Dawn didn't need that. He had worn black jeans and a black tee shirt, after taking off the work shirt he had worn over it he figured he was clean and presentable. It would have to do. He was brought out of his ponderings of the fashion do's and don'ts of the parent part of the parent-teacher conference by a burst of giggles from a flock, gaggle? herd? of teenage girls. God, was I ever that young? Dawn broke off from the group, looked both ways good girl and crossed the street to where he was parked.

"Is something wrong?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

"No! No. Nothing bad, just have to meet with your GC, you know, just standard stuff." He gave his biggest smile. He also resolved to point out to said GC that she was putting undue stress on Dawn at a time when life was doing that all by itself.

"Is this about... ? She told Buffy...I don't... oh, Xander..." Dawn blinked rapidly, in an attempt to dry her tear-filled eyes. Xander put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. He leaned forward and until their foreheads almost touched.

"Stop. Right now." His tone of voice was soft, as if he was afraid to frighten her. He gave her a gentle shake and continued. "I'm not Buffy. Buffy wasn't a troublemaker. Buffy was a good student who wanted to fit in; it was just the whole saving the world thing got in the way sometimes. You know, you're a lot like her."

That earned him a sniffle and a shaky smile. "Am not." But Dawn didn't sound very convincing.

"Are too." Xander followed that up with a mild head butt, forehead to forehead, to stop any further protest. "Just play along; agree with anything I say, and we'll deal with anything you disagree with when we get back to the magic shop. The important thing is to show a united front. This lady isn't going to know what hit her. We're Scoobies, remember?"

He slung one arm across Dawn's shoulders and steered her back toward the school. Which oddly enough, earned another burst of giggles from the girl gaggle. Well, what is that about? They couldn't have overheard our conversation from there. He thought.

Inside, Dawn led the way to the office. Xander was surprised he wasn't nervous. He had been last night, with Willow during her coaching/strategy session. He had been today whenever it crossed his mind. Right up until Dawn had come up to him looking all scared and vulnerable, like she was steeling herself for some fresh new horror. Maybe, as the Key, she had the super power to gift those around her with amazing adult-like abilities.

He winked at her when she turned to look at him before opening the office door. She gave him back a conspiratorial smile. He shook hands with the nice guidance counselor, giving her the smile he used when interviewing people he knew were not qualified enough to get the position. He hoped the smile didn't say 'how soon can I get rid of you so I can get on to more important things,' but since her smile faltered when she suggested Dawn wait outside while they talked, maybe it did.

"She's not a pet. Don't you think it's cruel to expect her to wait outside when you and I are deciding her fate? I think her input on this matter is critical." Xander was proud. He hadn't cross his arms over his chest. He hadn't closed his stance. He had pitched his tone into the calm, reasoning tone he had developed for explaining bizarre human customs to Anya. If only Willow could have seen him. He had remembered all the nonverbal cues she had stressed.

"Don't loom, Xander, and keep your body open, you want to appear accepting and willing to negotiate." Willow had been pushing his shoulders back and tugged him forward by his belt loop.

"Keep my body open? Will, that sounds obscene." Which had earned a Spike snicker, since the three of them were on patrol together. Supposedly, they were looking for vampires, but in actuality they had been scouring the town for any of Glory's left over obsequious little minions.

Willow, of course, ignored it and continued her instructions. "Don't cross your arms, and if you sit down don't cross your legs."

"Ah, Will, I'm a guy." He really hoped this wasn't news to her.

"I know that. I just don't want you to scare her, Xand." The witch looked up at him with an earnest expression of concern. That expression was becoming too familiar.

"Will? We are talking about me, right?" That earned him a small smile from the tiny witch. Willow smiles were becoming quite rare. Even small ones were worth major points. "It'll be just fine, you'll see," he reassured her.

"It had better be, whelp. No one is taking Dawn." Spike stalked ahead in a swirl of leather after lobbing his threat. Xander pulled Willow in under his arm and they had followed him through the dark back alleys of Sunnydale. Willow had keep up a steady steam of 'nonverbal message' and 'red flag' words and negotiation techniques. Xander didn't tell her that he didn't intend to offer up a compromise. He wholeheartedly agreed with Spike. No one was taking Dawn, not now, not ever.

The interview with the guidance counselor lasted forty minutes. They both smiled. They both thanked each other for making the time for the meeting. Both of them lied through their teeth. Xander said he appreciated her attention to Dawn considering how many other students she was responsible for. She said that just meeting Xander was a weight off her mind in regard to Dawn. In politically correct language, couched in some of Willow's Psych 101-speak and various catch phrases gleaned from his company's human resource manual, he had told her to back off. That she was making a bad situation worse, and that he would not hesitate to bring her part in any damage to Dawn's recovery before a review board. Judging by the forced smile she gave them as they left her office, Xander was sure this woman would go to any lengths not to have to meet with him again.

Once they were in the car, Dawn said she wanted Chinese, so he told her to get the menu for Ling's Hunan out of the glove compartment. He knew Willow preferred Cantonese, but Ling's was near the blood bank, and it was Thursday. Thursday was the night Laura worked late at the blood bank. It was only five o'clock so Xander gave Dawn money and let her go into Ling's by herself. He told her he wouldn't be long and that he would be back to help her carry it all. Swinging an empty cooler by its handle he walked the two blocks to the office of the Sunnydale Blood Bank.

There had been a bloodmobile parked across from the construction site about a month ago. He hadn't intended to donate, he'd just stopped by to see who was suicidal enough to staff a vampiric meals-on-wheels in Sunnydale. He had been at a loss for words when a tall redhead had tugged on his arm and said "C. O. T. H." almost like a cheerleader. Now wasn't that blast from the past? How many other graduating classes could boast the rallying cry 'Children of the Hellmouth'? She gave a throaty chuckle, which would have sounded evil to someone who didn't know Spike.

"General Harris, how the hell are you?" And he'd been good. Good as in his girlfriend was waiting for him to pick her up from work. Good as in he still believed that somehow they could make it through the Glory thing intact. So he had donated blood. How could he not, with Laura Brendon's full laugh punctuating her own view of life on the Hellmouth and her polite but disinterested questions about how everything was with his 'crew'? As he scanned the mandatory reading material, he had asked about what they did with the blood it mentioned they would not use if the tests were inconclusive.

"Thinking of changing your diet, General?" Her tone of voice was light, but he was reminded of the girl who had shown up at the briefing before graduation. It had been the first time he remembered seeing her without her nose buried in a science fiction paperback. She had been carrying a very large, very sharp katana.

"It's not what you think. Well, it is what you think. But it's complicated." At the time he hadn't even know why he asked. He looked into her gold-green eyes and wondered for a moment if he was about to be doused with holy water. "Do you trust me?" He'd asked.

After a pause that felt as if she was measuring the weight of his soul against a feather she said, "Yeah, I do. It's just medical waste. How much do you want?"

"Can I let you know?" It had been that simple. She had given him her card. He called her after Buffy died. And now Thursday afternoon was part of his routine. He stopped by the blood bank and gave the cooler to Laura and she gave it back filled with bags of human blood. Some of it had minor drugs that donors had overlooked; nothing serious-diet pills, allergy medicine, just enough to make it not good for other humans.

"Kelly, Xander. Xander, Kelly." Laura nodded the introductions as she brought the cooler back. Xander thought Kelly, a dark hard man about his height with a full goatee, would have appeared less threatening if he wasn't holding a two-handed broadsword Sci-Fi geek meet Ares, Ares meet sci-fi geek. Talk about a match made in heaven.

"Thanks. This means a lot." And it did. The steady diet of human blood was making a real difference in the speed of Spike's recovery from the repeated poundings he had endured.

"Just promise you won't carry that stuff around after dark," she said as she held the door open for him. How she managed to convey concern for his safety while still implying 'get the hell out, Kelly is going to show me his sword' was really quite impressive. He should take notes, but not tonight.

In half an hour he and Dawn were back at the magic shop. Xander of course was carrying dinner of the Chinese and the bodily fluid eww variety. Dawn carried her knapsack. She bounced into the shop ahead of him and ran over to Spike, who was waiting as he did for her every day.

"Xander made her cry!" Her voice conveyed awe, and he wasn't sure if he was more disturbed by the pleasure that awe gave him or by the fact that she really seemed to believe he had made someone cry.

"I did not!" Where had this come from, she hadn't mentioned the meeting in the car? He thought, now that it was over, she hadn't even been thinking about it. So much for his ability to read the adolescent female.

"Did too." She started to clear the research table. They had brought enough food for Giles, and Willow and Tara when they stopped by.

"She was not crying." Xander tossed a blood bag to Spike and took the rest to the refrigerator in the back. This too had become part of their routine. Dawn and he would run errands and end up back at the store. Spike, of all people, would make sure she did her homework, helping with anything language or history related. Willow and Tara would stop by, and Willow would field any math or computer-related questions. While Dawn worked on homework, Xander worked around the shop. He cleaned up, made minor repairs and was even helping the witches transfer the inventory onto a database. Giles hadn't replaced Anya yet so they all pitched in to see that he wasn't overwhelmed.

"Her hands were shaking." Dawn was still recounting the battle of the guidance counselor to Spike when Xander returned to the front room.

"Dawn, I just reasoned with her." He handed Dawn a cold BlueSky ginseng ginger ale to go with her spring rolls and dumplings.

"Tell it to Willow. You had her so scared." Xander rolled his eyes, not sure if it was at Dawn's exaggerations or Spike's snickering. He didn't score Spike snickers as high as Willow smiles, being that there was a higher supply of said snickers, but it felt oddly good seeing that Spike wasn't as broken as he had seemed That Day. As the three of them sat down at the table, he thought, just maybe they would make it through this. Not back to where they had been, but if they could just hold on to the routine, maybe they would be all right.

* * * * *

Bronzing. With Spike. Xander had spent his life since Jesse died drowning in estrogen, so the whole beer and pool after the Friday night sweep was new. Odd, he would never have pegged Spike for the male bonding type. Although the only people--in the loosest form of that word--that he had ever seen Spike interact with, outside of the gang, were either dead or dust. Not counting Deadboy, and Dru, and, snerk, Harmony. Whoop; not wise to snerk when the vampire misses a shot. And, hello, William the Bloody. Luckily, even under Spike-glare Xander made a fairly complicated bank shot. Not that he was into the game, but the shot would pass the inopportune snerk off as comment on how Spike had set up the shot for him and not a shot at his romantic entanglements. Guy speak. A grunt or a nod covered most topics. You didn't have to take out the broken pieces of your life and poke them around. There was much to be said for the unexamined life when the wounds were so raw. No need to pick at the scabs with Spike. Not that they didn't talk, they had some spooky parental-like conversations about Dawn when she wasn't with them.

He hadn't really had a guy friend since Jesse. G-Man didn't count. Not that he wasn't a guy. Well, he wasn't. He was an adult. Someone you could go to if you needed to know how to kill a Cltari demon or break a spell, but Xander was pretty certain they would never have a belching contest while watching 'Pinky and the Brain'.

He had tried the whole bonding thing with Riley, but they hadn't been able to fool each other. Xander had been wrapped up in Anya at the time and Riley had pretty much fallen into the category of 'this guy makes Buffy happy so I'll be nice to him'. Like Tara, who, having survived the trial by fire was now part of the pack, Riley had started out as a friend's accessory. Riley had fallen by the wayside, like Cordy, like Oz, like Anya.

That wasn't really fair to Cordy. Willow had told him about the vision thing. So the alpha female had gone off to form her own pack. More proof that once your life was touched by the Hellmouth there was nowhere to run. He felt bad that Willow had made that trip alone. It couldn't have been easy for her, telling Deadboy; Willow could never bear to cause anyone pain.

He hadn't counted Angel in his list of former fringers, because he had never considered him even a fringe member of the pack. He had been alone in those feeling, so once Angel left, the issue hadn't been worth crossing his alpha. Whoa, gotta stop the hyena thoughts.

Xander didn't have the enhanced senses or the drive to hunt thrumming through his body anymore, but he did remember. Remember how simple it had been to divide the world into pack and not pack. You protected pack. Everyone else was prey or predator. He had been surprised how well that had carried over to his life after the demon had been banished. The only difference was you didn't hunt the prey, you protected it.

Giles had never told the girls that Xander still had the memories, so he never talked about them. Buffy had thought that the mating urge was fueled by human-Xander's attraction to her. Attraction had nothing to do with picking her as a mate. Hyena-Xander was only concerned with what was best for the pack. She was the strongest female. She would have been perfect; the best hunter, and the best protector for the pack. He shook off that line of thought. They turned the pool table over to the guys waiting for it and sat at the bar.

"Just say it, whelp," Spike snarled, leaning over the counter and helping himself to a beer and stealing one for Xander as well.

"Huh?" Oh, I should probably pay for those, Xander thought, and pulled a ten out of his wallet to appease the bartender.

"You've been doing an impression of the Poof all night. You're in a snit over my giving the Watcher what for, so spit it out." Spike flipped the top of the beer back over the top of his head. It bounced off a light, hit a moving waitress in the head and landed with a 'plunk' in a pitcher of beer on a table over eight feet away. It didn't set the chip off, and the people at the table were looking in the wrong direction due to the numerous banks. Cool. Oh yeah, Spike, Giles, major blow up, multiple 'sod offs'.

"You mean all that bugger, wanker, piss off and other English-type slang you two were hurling when Dawn and I showed up?" It hadn't occurred to Xander to ask. One thing his parents had taught him, although he doubted they knew it, was the advantage of keeping your head down and pretending you didn't know what was going on.

Spike just snorted and drained half his beer. Using both his vast experience in ducking his friend's menstrual cycles and his inborn guy-speak knowledge, Xander interpreted that to mean that maybe Spike needed to talk. "So what was that all about?" There, that was vague enough, encouraging him to talk while not taking sides. How much worse could this be than a p.m.s.ing Slayer after the whole Parker debacle?

"Xander." Exasperated Spike, so not good and he was using Xander's name; he never used his name.

"He's really hurting, Spike." Suddenly, he didn't want the beer and set it down on the bar.

"We're all hurting; we all loved her." Xander wondered if Spike said 'we' to see if he would call him on it.

"No, we loved her; Dawn loved her. Giles was responsible for her." Xander held up both hand to stop Spike and continued.

"You know what he's been doing every day? Besides trying to pickle himself in single malt? He's been reading his journals. Every line, and between the lines. He's examining every action, every word to see how he let her down. He's trying to find what he could have done different, which time he wasn't hard enough on her, when he missed the opportunity to pass on that one piece of knowledge that would have saved her life." Spike's eyes had never left his, but where they had been the cold eyes of a merciless killer when he started, by the time he finished Xander thought they were starting to gloss over with tears. Oh God, please don't. He hadn't seen Spike cry since That Day. If Spike started crying Xander would lose it, and they would have to scrape them both up off the floor in wet little puddles.

"I promised her..." Spike's voice was low and he was obviously fighting the need to cry.

"I know." Xander spoke equally softly, and hoped he wouldn't choke on his words. "When we were sixteen, and were told how short a Slayer's life was, I promised Buffy if anything happened to her I would look after the people she loved. I never thought I would have to keep that promise. I mean, she always seemed so indestructible." Xander's eyes had been anywhere but on Spike while he spoke, thinking that that would keep him from bawling like a baby. But as he ended his eyes met Spike's and he said, "Let's get the hell out of here."

About a block form the Bronze, Xander said, "That's not all."

"All that you promised?" Spike had his emotions back under control and sounded like his old self.

"All that's got the G-Man courting disaster. The whole Ben thing. I mean, I don't think I could have done it. Not that I'm condemning him but, you know, wow." They had cut across the park and were almost to the playground. The trees were cut back and since it was a clear night the area seemed bright with moonlight.

"What are you babbling about?" Spike stopped, with his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his duster.

"I guess you were up protecting Dawn at the time." Spike nodded, so Xander continued. "Well." This was the first time they had spoken of That Night. Xander turned and walked over to the swings and sat down. Spike followed and sat on the next swing. Briefly, Xander flashed on that peculiar nightmare after Adam with Spike as a Watcher. It was enough to break the mood. He could do this. He could talk about That Night. "Well. I said that already didn't I?" He took a deep breath. "After Buffy pounded Glory into a fine red paste, she changed back to Ben. Buffy left him there bleeding and gasping for air, and went to rescue Dawn." Did my voice just crack? God, I can't even just say it, poor Giles. "Giles knew. He knew even if Glory couldn't complete the ritual, once Ben recovered, there would be no stopping her. She would just make this world into another hell dimension. Giles, he just did what had to be done."

"How did he do it?" He wished Spike sounded gleeful or ruthless, but he just sounded tired. Tired the way Buffy had seemed before the final battle. Tired the way they had all seemed since Buffy died.

"Quiet. He just clamped his hand over Ben's mouth and held his nose shut. One handed." Was he expecting one of the Scourges of Europe to understand what killing an innocent had done to a good man? Maybe. "God, I suggested it, there in the shop and hated myself for it. His life's work is protecting people."

"It's done." Okay maybe, not. "He has the rest of his life to examine his actions and motives. Xander, the bloody Watchers are coming again; he's going to need his full faculties to make sure they don't find out about Dawn." Spike took a swig from his flask, and offered it to Xander. "I don't trust them not to turn her into some sort of lab rat. I won't let that happen to her."

"When are they coming?" The pack, protect the pack.

"Monday, late." Spike was looking at him expectantly. One hundred and twenty-something vampire looking to a glorified bricklayer for a decision. Ironic.

"Let's go see the witches." Xander got up, and Spike followed. Another day, another battle.

* * * * *

Monday afternoon, he picked up Dawn and they drove to the store. United front. He had told her the Watchers were coming, and that the whole Key thing was going to remain a secret. They had their stories straight. Spike had come up with some pretty inventive lies, and Willow had pretty much analyzed the angles to death. But in the end, Xander had pointed out that it was easiest to give them what they wanted. And since the Watchers wanted to believe that the Slayer did all the work, and that they were all there at the whim of Buffy's eccentricity, then they would just play along. Buffy had never told anyone what the Key was, and had taken that information with her to the grave.

"I thought they were the good guys. " Dawn was biting her nails, while Xander parallel parked across the street from the store.

"Most of them are, honey, but there are too many of them. We can't control who they tell or where they archive the information." Xander put the car in park, but made no move to get out. He wanted to be sure Dawn was okay before heading into the shop. They might not be there yet, but he remembered how quickly they had taken over the place last time, and they didn't have Buffy to fling swords anymore if they got out of line. "You're going to be all right with this?" Dawn's eyes seemed to take up her whole face, but she nodded. "Hey, you're a Summers. If they give you any trouble, hit them over the head with an axe."

"Huh?" Well, that was better-he had the 'Xander is so goofy' look instead of the 'I'm about to be sacrificed, again' look.

"When things get back to normal, ask Spike about the night he met Joyce." Xander said, tugging on her hair.

Later, when the Watchers arrived, Giles was behind the counter. Dawn and the witches were at the research table surrounded by spell books and a trig text. Spike lounged on the metal stairs, as close as he could get to Dawn without hovering. Xander was above him sitting on the floor of the balcony. Apparently cleaning weapons; but if he just happened to have a couple loaded crossbows in easy reach that was all well and good.

There were only four of them. The old bossy guy, who had threatened Giles; the nervous, nearly impaled, interrupting-Buffy guy; the lady Watcher, who was so not working the Scully look--if that was what she was going for, it was hard to tell--and the new guy, tall, blond, seemed to be embracing the European hit-man style rather than the fanatical, stuffy British academia look. There was no telling how it would have gone down if the Watchers had stayed true to form and started asking questions. But the Scully wannabe had to gasp out, "William the Bloody!" Xander couldn't tell if she was going to ask for his autograph or pull out a stake and he didn't care, not when he saw the hit man pull out a water pistol.

"Drop it now." Xander didn't even remember picking up the crossbow. Damn, Buffy was better with this, if I miss... The gun went flying one way. The guy went flying another. Oh, of course, Willow and Tara had their hands clasped under the table.

Spike had moved forward and was standing in front of Dawn in game face, growling at all and sundry. Dawn clutched at Spike's bicep.

"Guys." She looked to Willow, and then to Giles. "Why don't we...?" She pulled harder on Spike's arm, until he tuned to glare at her. She giggled. He dropped his game face and laughed at her, or maybe at the cowering Watchers. Dawn had told Xander about that moment on the top of the tower, just before Doc tossed Spike over the edge. Dawn said the creature had said that there was no smell of a soul about Spike, but that after she met his eyes at that moment, she would never be afraid of him again. "Why don't we," she looked up at Xander, he could see her in his peripheral vision, but he hadn't lowered the crossbow, "order pizza?"

The British are not known for their reverence of pizza, but it broke the tension. They might have ended up sitting around, feeding the Watchers the 'we know nothing line' if at that moment the door hadn't opened and Laura hadn't entered. She stopped by hit-man guy and kind of nudged him with the toe of her boot. "Hey, General." Another nudge. "Human?"

"Ah, yeah. What's up." Xander kept the crossbow and picked up a small helm axe, and descended the stairs. This was not a place Laura would come so near dark.

"Monster. Oh, hey, Willow." She rocked back and forth on the heels of her well-worn riding boots.

"What kind?" Xander recaptured her attention.

"Dragon. Can we blow it up?" Xander blinked. She really thinks I know what to do with a dragon? Geeze, you explode one giant snake into ground meat and suddenly you're the Dragonslayer. This isn't even funny.

"Where is it?" he asked while Giles pulled out a large book. Spike had headed back to the training room and dragged Dawn with him, probably to get more weapons. Tara and Willow were huddled in a conference. The Watchers just watched. Like this was some play, or maybe they thought the gang was trying to get one over on them.

"Out near the paddock by White Cross Beach. You know, where they rent horses. Kel's keeping an eye on it." She walked over to Giles and looked over his shoulder. "That's not it. It has four legs, and it has bigger wings, and Kel said it's not a reptile and that we should have at least two hours before it moves."

"There are no dragons." The lady Watcher said, as if that would make it so.

"Who's Kel? And what makes her think we have some time?" Willow asked.

"Kel's a he, and that thing killed four horses. It's fast but I doubt it will be able to fly right away once it finishes eating all that." Laura was beginning to show interest in the sharp shiny objects Giles kept away from the public. "Ooh, do you have an Ivanhoe, one not more than thirty pounds in weight?"

"There are no dragons." Useful piece of knowledge; ignoring Watchers pisses them off.

"I saw one." Dawn said, coming out of the back room. Spike was hovering close but he didn't silence her. "I saw one the night Buffy died." Dawn looked at Giles when she said it, and her eyes watered but no tears dropped.

"Will, ideas?" Xander was hoping for a 'this is wonderful, now I can try out that dragon banishing spell'. Instead she gave him the 'It took you all this time to figure out smart chick were hot?' look.

"Giles, do we still have the rocket launcher?"

* * * * *

Watcher panic did not ensue until they actually saw the dragon. Because, after all, dragons do not exist. Vampires, demons and the Hellmouth, they wrote papers about, but dragons sent them into a tizzy. It had to be a British thing. Ok, that's not very PC, maybe it's just that normal British people don't join the Watchers and we get stuck with all the Principal Snyder types.

While the Watchers were arguing with Giles about the extremely large flesh-rending beast a quarter of a mile away which did not exist, Kelly and Willow had moved on to the 'kill it now/we can't just kill it' argument. That was originally Tara's argument but Willow had taken over when Kelly had done the Ares scowl thing, doubly effective when you happen to be holding a broadsword, and Tara's voice had trailed off to a whisper. All Tara had suggested was that maybe they shouldn't kill the dragon, being it was one of a kind and all. But Willow now looked like she was going to change Kel into something icky, and so help him if that guy raised his broadsword to Willow, Xander would feed him to the dragon.

Dawn was staying close to Spike. He was excellent Watcher repellent. The Scoobies hadn't wanted to bring her, but there was no way they were leaving her alone at the shop, and when they suggested dropping her at Giles' place she had said, "You're not leaving me. I'm coming with you." And that settled that.

"We're not going to kill it." Hey did that come out of my month? Don't I sound sure of myself? I wonder what I think we are going to do with it. Now Xander had Willow looking at him like, 'hey you have a plan,' and Kelly looking at him like 'I already don't like your plan.'

Laura said "Why not?"

"Because if it smells this bad on the outside, we'll probably all drop dead if we open it up." Which was an excellent point even if he hadn't realized he was going to make it. Dragons smell bad; really bad, eye-watering, nose-running and maybe even skin-peeling bad. Dawn had inched over to him, with Spike shadowing her, keeping one eye on the Watchers and one on the dragon.

"That's the one that came through the vortex, before Buffy..." She stood on her toes and pulled on his arm to lower Xander's head to her, her voice hushed. She trailed off, eyes big, looking at the Watchers, who were ignoring her. "It's not from here; can't we send it back? Like the troll guy."

Spike looked at Xander. Xander looked at Spike. They both turned to Willow, but it was Xander who asked, "Wills, you think we can use the Olaf Maneuver on this thing?"

Well, that put an end to the discussions. The Watchers looked baffled. Giles looked pensive. Tara looked hopeful. Laura still had that 'whatever you say, General Harris' look, which was just wrong. Kelly looked suspicious, but that could be the whole Ares thing working for him. Willow, well, Willow just looked incredulous and said, "On something that size? Xander, do you have any idea of the mass we're talking about?"

"Mass? Um, Physics? Not really my strong suit. Couldn't you just use more of whatever you used before?" Oh well. That look just said Xander shouldn't even think about magic, let alone make suggestions. But on the plus side, it did spark a flurry of activity. The end result of which was Willow and Giles taking Dawn and two of the Watchers back to the shop to get books and supplies, while Tara and the third Watcher established a sort of base camp to wait for them. Spike, Xander, Kelly and Laura were supposed to cautiously circle the area and keep the dragon in sight. Do they really think we're going to lose something that size?

'The Battle of the Dragon' was almost anticlimactic. Except for when they had nearly been eaten. Giles came back with about thirty disposable hibachis. Yeah, Wal-Mart! The Watchers and witches began filling them with herbs and parchment, then sent the four who had been circling to lay out the braziers in a large circle around the dragon.

One second it was somnolent, the next it was there, roaring. It snapped at Laura, nearly taking off her head, but Kelly slashed it across the nose and it reared back and howled in pain. Apparently wherever it had come from, food did not fight back. It futilely flapped its wings, bottom-heavy from its recent meal. It didn't fly but sent great gust of air, full of hay and sand, swirling around the area. Xander and Laura scrambled to get the rest of the braziers lit. Crack. A tree snapped by its flailing tail sounded like a gunshot. Another crack, but it wasn't a tree.

One of the Watchers had pulled a gun. Not having thought to move away from the base camp before he started to fire, he was now drawing the beast's attention to their most vulnerable area. Giles, the witches, and the Watcher who Buffy had nearly impaled, were on their knees holding hands around a basin of water. Dawn stood well back, with the lady Watcher and the old guy. Xander, who had been running at full speed since he heard the shot, vaulted the Watchers' rental car, tackled Dawn and shoved her under Kelly's pickup truck; just in time to hear the lady Watcher's screams. Since the screams didn't cut off abruptly and started to be interspersed with "bugger all" and "fuck", Xander ventured a look at the carnage. Can you be a Watcher and say fuck? She wasn't dead, or maimed. She had been slimed by dragon goo, or ichor, or sap, whatever it was that wasn't blood. It was thicker, and smelled worse, a lot worse, and probably couldn't be removed from tweed. He hoped she wouldn't have to shave her head.

Xander motioned for Dawn to stay down and cautiously looked around. It was quiet. No sound of the wings flapping, no roars, even the Watcher was calming down. Tara was holding Willow and stroking her hair. Willow's eyes were closed and her nose was bleeding. Giles had removed his glasses and pulled himself into a standing position, but didn't look steady on his feet. The other Watcher looked unconscious, or dead. Nope, definitely unconscious-dead people don't drool, except for Spike when he's sleeping. Spike, who was heading across the clearing toward Xander, had also been doused with dragon fluid, but not as bad as the softly sobbing lady Watcher. It had missed his head completely.

"What happened?" Xander asked, meaning Spike's goo-covered Docs and jeans. Spike just shrugged and knelt down to look under the truck.

"You can come out," he said to Dawn.

The old guy, who was looking back and forth from the goo-covered lady to the paddock which still contained the remains of the dragon's meal, answered Xander. "He, he," the Watcher swallowed and Xander wondered if it was the smell that made him look like he was going to hurl. "He impaled it with a grounding rod." The stunned Watcher was back to staring at where the dragon had been. "It reared back into the circle and vanished." I wonder what's got him more rattled, that William the Bloody saved their lives, or that they were wrong about the no dragons deal. Xander didn't think it would be diplomatic to point out that Spike would have gleefully sucked out their eyeballs for putting Dawn's life in danger, or that it had been Dawn's location near them that had forced Spike to save them, not any previously cut deal with the Scoobies.

Instead he commented on the vanishing part of the story. "Go super witches!" Willow opened her eyes and gave him a weak smile. Tara helped her to her feet and Dawn, who had rolled out from under the truck, brought her a juice box from her knapsack. Laura was bouncing beside Kelly, gripping his arm while telling him how wonderful he was, and how it was too bad they didn't have a video to show all the other Rennies. Apparently Kelly worked weekends at the fairgrounds up north for the Renaissance Festival. He was a knight, but just killed other knights, not dragons. He was surprisingly good with a broadsword for an actor. After the rocky start, Willow and Tara had warmed up to the Rennies. They were making plans to visit the fairgrounds with Dawn next weekend. Giles was speaking softly with the other Watchers. Xander really hoped Giles took the opportunity to point out that there were no such things as dragons.

Dawn came over and stopped about six feet in front of Spike. "Oh, you really smell bad." Spike snorted. Dawn giggled. "I saw a hose. Follow me," she added.

The Rennies offered Spike and the goo-covered Watcher a ride back to town in the back of Kelly's truck. Xander wasn't sure what happened to the lady Watcher, but he got custody of Spike. After removing all the towels and the rug from his bathroom Xander showed Spike his clean-up supplies.Beside the first aid kit, which saw a great deal of use, he had a pile of rags and a row of refilled twenty-four ounce soda bottles all labeled with their contents: gasoline; turpentine; mineral oil; vinegar; bleach; salt; baking soda; powdered carbon.

"I've found that if you can't get something off with some combination of this stuff, it just isn't going to come off," he said in answer to the strange look that Spike had given him. He knew most people didn't keep this stuff in their bathroom, but most people didn't end up covered in dragon juice. "By the way, impressive move with the grounding rod. Not thinking of changing your name, are you?"

Spike snorted and started peeling off his clothes. Peeling being the operative word, since the dragon juice was no longer in a fluid state. It sounded like a very large band-aid being removed. Xander thought it was lucky Spike didn't have a great deal of body hair, because he probably wouldn't have any by the time he was naked.

Naked.

Naked Spike.

Is it warm in here? Ventilation. Fumes. Oh, I should probably do something about that. Xander flipped the switch and the bathroom fan whirred softly to life. "You'll want to watch the fumes on most of that stuff..." Xander trailed off. Spike had just started to push the wet jeans down over his hips and had stopped when Xander spoke. Xander in turn was staring at the fine dusting of dark hair that seemed to form an arrow starting at Spike's navel and trailed down the pale skin revealed by his partially removed jeans. "Um..." Xander eyes almost audibly snapped away from the hypnotic flesh at the sound of Spike's snicker. Well, you're not going to get me to acknowledge I was just checking out the semi-naked vampire; as if that would be the only reason you have to laugh at me. "Right. Fumes. You don't breath. Stupid Xander. Just try not to set yourself on fire. I'll go make up the couch."

Xander had fallen asleep while Spike was still trying to smell normal again. He looked very clean and surprisingly young when Xander shuffled by the couch on the way to the kitchen the next morning. Spike hadn't left the bathroom a disaster area either. Which was unusually considerate, from what Xander remembered from when they were living together. He poured a large glass of milk and alternated drinking from it while peeling one of the three hard-boiled eggs he had grabbed from the bowl in the refrigerator. Hard-boiled eggs were cheap, portable protein; they were also the only eggs he felt safe sleeping in the same house with since the whole egg baby incident.

He hoped he wouldn't feel awkward around Spike after getting caught checking him out. Most of the guys he knew casually maintained that you couldn't find another man attractive and not be gay, but Xander had never hesitated to admit if a man was physically attractive, even if he didn't like him, like Angel. But he did like Spike, and he remembered the Willow debacle. He didn't want that estrangement with Spike, not when their friendship was so new. Hopefully, Spike, being a guy, wouldn't want to examine all the sticky emotionally feelings and talk about what was happening. With luck maybe they could both ignore it.

The Watchers had stayed. Xander wondered if they were going to reread every report that Giles had filed, and all of his old journals. The were obviously reevaluating certain assumptions they had previously made. He tried to not let it disrupt what passed for normal life for Dawn and the rest of the gang, but having the academics loitering around the shop--or worse, asking inopportune questions--was unsettling. Apparently Buffy not staying dead the first time, and splitting the Slayer line, had interfered with their ability to find the new Slayer. They had to wait until they stumbled across a girl dusting vampires, or wait for Faith to die. Xander wasn't sure they planned on waiting.

It came to a head Wednesday night when shouting erupted over the test they had run on Buffy when she had turned eighteen. They implied Giles had weakened Buffy by interfering, and Giles maintained the whole test undermined the credibly of the organization. Xander figured that with the 'test', and the attempt to whack Buffy while she was in Faith's body, and then the 'we will deport Giles if you do not follow our orders' maneuver, the Watchers had no credibility. Somewhere along the way they had moved from the prey we protect, to the predatory against which we must guard the pack. And again with the Hyena thoughts, bad Xander.

Especially since Dawn had slipped like a ghost off to the practice room. He saw Spike, in his usual spot lounging on the staircase, watching her and almost get up to follow, but he met Xander's eyes and gave a tilt of his head in the direction Dawn had vanished. Xander nodded to him and casually followed her back into the practice room. He was quiet at the door for a few seconds, just watching her pound the heavy bag with her little fists. He was struck, not for the first time, by how much she was like Buffy, except for the whole strength thing; when she hit it the bag it barely moved.

He slowly paced the length of the room, stopping just behind the bag. He placed both hands on it and asked, "Want me to spot you on it?"

She answered with a strange blend of laughter and tears. "Xander."

Frustrations, grief, anger; so much in one word. He pulled her under his arm, wondering when she had gotten taller than Willow, and steered her over to the inner wall. They slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Xander kept his arm across Dawn's shoulders and she sniffed and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. The arguing in the other room had quieted, but it still reminded Xander of so many nights lying awake listening to his parents and feeling so powerless. "I feel like I'm always crying," she said resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, me too." Dawn went very still at his soft words.

"You cry? Wait I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's just...you always seem so...you're just always there. You're always ready...for whatever.... I don't think I'm saying what I want to say." She had tensed up while speaking and Xander lifted the hand from her shoulder and gently stroked her hair.

"I know. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Well, Buffy would still be dead, and Joyce. They still hadn't heard from Mr. Summers, and wasn't that odd. But tonight was going to end and soon the Watchers would leave. They had people they trusted to watch their backs and their pack, such as it was, would stand together against whatever life or death threw at them. He hoped she understood that, because he wasn't sure he could put it into words.

"How do you do it?" she asked.

"Do what?" What had he done? Xander wondered if he should have tapped Willow and tag-teamed this conversation.

"How do you know what to do? What to feel? Who to ...I don't... Xander, everything is so complicated." She punctuated her frustration with a light rap on his chest. Xander remembered when Dawn was younger and cried tears of frustration because Buffy would bar Dawn from her room because she was always pestering. Yet the reason Dawn pestered was because she wanted desperately to be with the 'big kids'. He used to take her down to the kitchen, because hey, the kitchen, food. He would make up outrageous stories for her with Willow, Buffy and himself as the main characters. Never Angel, unless he was a monster, although sometimes Giles made an appearance as an oracle or a wizard. She would listen so seriously, all the while serving up whatever dessert Joyce had made the night before. Xander couldn't really grasp that all those memories of milk and pie had been planted by the monks. He bet Dawn couldn't really wrap her mind around it either, even knowing she was the Key.

So instead of answering her questions he said, "A very long time ago, when the world was new, people discovered that not everything was what it seemed. They knew the world was dangerous. It was very wild. You could die from a fall or a fire; wild animals saw you as dinner and wouldn't hesitate to attack. There wasn't always food to eat. Crops would fail, and animals died. People would die and other people didn't always know what killed them. But they dealt with it, because it was part of life. Life was short. Twenty was old. People started their families at fourteen or fifteen and often never lived to reach thirty.

"One day something horrible happen, no one knows what because it was so bad hardly anyone lived through it, and those who did where so traumatized they could never speak of it. The most horrible thing about it was that it wasn't natural. It was supernatural. It was outside the normal rhythms of live and was so devastating because the only way to stop it was to step outside of the sacred balance.

"One day a great king approached this great Evil and said 'I have come to fight you.' And the Evil replied 'Why do you fight me?' The king answered 'This is my world, and I will not have you slaughter my people.' and the king was no more. Another day a famous hero confronted the Evil and said 'I will destroy you.' And the Evil replied 'Why will you destroy me?' 'I would rather die fighting for what is right, then live under your rule,' the hero replied, and was no more. A holy man was next to oppose the Evil and he said, 'I banish thee.' And the Evil replied 'Why do you banish me?' 'You are unnatural. You are not of this place. The balance must be restored.' and the holy man was no more.

"Now, people had pretty much given up hope. The apocalypse was over and the world had lost. The Evil would always be a part of this world and there was no use fighting it.

"Then, quite unexpectedly; without the pomp and ceremony of the King; or the war drums of the hero; or even the incense of the holy man, a young girl approached the Evil. There was a tremble to her step, but she straightened her back and climbed the steps to the dais where the Evil sat on its throne of skulls. She said 'I'm going to stop you from killing any more people.' And the Evil replied 'Why will you stop me from killing any more people?' and the girl said 'Because I love them.' And the Evil was no more.

"Now that wasn't the last evil, you know. We still fight it today. But what you have to remember is it started with just the girl. She wasn't alone. Even then there were people who considered her to be their girl. They loved her. Back then, they were her parents, her siblings, her friends, and her lovers. They fought alongside her, helping where they could, sometimes just loving her, letting her know she wasn't alone. Eventually, as in any story of a life, that life ends. The girl died. But when she died another was chosen. The people, who loved the first girl, helped the next one. They passed on what the first girl had learned, hoping the knowledge would help the next girl live longer, hoping it would give her some advantage in the fight that never ends.

"But they were just people, and the girls never lived long. It was hard to reach out to the newest girl. Hard to love her, or hard to let themselves love her when they knew no matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, they would lose her too. So they organized and concentrated on teaching and training, but never loving, because that would interfere. They became the Watchers. And they record and research and do everything but the most important thing.

"Which is why, in answer to your question, I know everything will be fine. You see," Xander leaned over and kissed Dawn on the forehead. "It's not complicated if you remember the most important thing. Love the girl. Everything else is just window dressing."

The clapping startled them both. They looked over and saw Spike and Giles standing at the doorway. Giles ignored Spike's applause, but added, "While not historically accurate, once again you've managed to reduce a quite complex dispute into its basic components. Quite well done, Xander." Giles entered the room and looked down at Dawn as she huddled against Xander. "It is getting late, dear, and it doesn't seem likely that we'll finish here in the immediate future. Tara and Willow have extended an invitation for you to spend the night with them. Would that meet with your approval, Dawn?"

Dawn love staying at the dorms, and even though she did it about once a week now she still would get bouncy and excited. At least she got as bouncy and excited as she ever got since That Day. No, she didn't need to stop at Giles' place for an overnight bag. Yes, she had clothes at Willow's room. Yes, she had a toothbrush in her knapsack. Why did he want to know why she carried a toothbrush? Can we leave now please? Xander liked seeing her like this, she seemed almost the same as before. As Spike followed the girls out onto the dark streets of Sunnydale, Xander paused at the door. He caught Giles' eye and raised an eyebrow. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Giles alone and outnumbered.

"It's fine, Xander, we're only going to exchange information."

As he nodded and turned to leave, he noticed that slime lady and almost-impaled guy were giving him uneasy looks. That reminded him that no one had referred to him as 'the boy' during this visit. He wasn't sure he found that very reassuring.

By Friday, things were back to normal. Sunnydale normal. The Watchers had left the day before. Giles had hinted that they might stop by the LA operation and have a chat with Wesley and Cordy. Remembering their original meeting with Spike during their pre-Glory Buffy investigation, Xander had to wonder just how many crosses and stakes they would need to be in the same room with an unchipped Angelus. But all in all, better them than us. Xander sighed. It hadn't been very Hellmouthy lately. Except for the dragon. Vamp activity was down and the Glory thing had wiped out a great number of demons. Spike was scowling as he stalked back to where Willow and Xander waited in the cemetery.

"Anything?" Willow sounded disappointed, and Xander was hoping it didn't mean there was a spell in the testing stage she was preparing to use. Spike just shook his head and stomped off in the other direction. As Willow and Xander followed in his wake she said "I'm going to call it a night-we want to leave early for the Faire tomorrow. We're going to rent costumes; I gotta admit I'm almost as excited as Dawn."

"You just keep an eye on her, witch," Spike growled back at them. Willow frowned and looked as if she was going to give Spike more than just a piece of her mind, and not in the Glory sense, because eww. She took exception to Spike's attitude that no one but him was capable of taking care of Dawn.

So Xander poked her gently in the ribs and teased, "Aw, he's worried about you. You know in Spike-speak what he just said was 'even though you're leaving Sunnydale, don't let your guard down. It's a big bad world out there.' And on behalf of myself may I just say, renting costumes, my you do like to live dangerously."

Willow poked him back. Then she said goodnight, and walked off towards campus. So Xander and Spike followed her back to the dorm, then walked in silence until they were back at the cemetery. "She's right, this place is dead." Xander winced at his own pun, and gave Spike an apologetic smile.

"Bronze?" Spike asked raising an eyebrow.

"Too many kids. My place? It's quiet." Oh God! Did I just proposition him? Does he think I just propositioned him? If I did, do I want to have done it? Do I want to do it? Do IT? Oh God? He's not laughing, and hey, we're walking in the direction of my apartment. Can he hear my heart racing? Wait, get off the train, Xander, you're not fifteen, it's entirely possible that he assumed that after the week of the Watchers you don't want to spend the evening in a club packed with sweaty bodies and loud music.

* * * * *

This is nice, Xander thought. They sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, with only the glow cast by the television illuminating the room. On the way back from the kitchen to get a couple of beers, Xander had noticed that the lighting made Spike look eerie and otherworldly; not scary, just beautiful and aloof. Now that they sat side by side in the dim quiet room he reexamined his attraction to Spike. Spike was attractive, very attractive. Hell, he reeked of raw sensuality; Xander could admit that. Willow was smart, the Hellmouth was dangerous, and Spike was sexy, there were just certain truisms you knew down to your bones. A commercial came on and Spike turned and caught Xander looking at him.

"You sure she'll be all right?"

"She'll be with Willow. Can you imagine what would happen if anyone crossed Willow?" Spike snorted and looked back at the TV. Just to rattle his chain, Xander added, "Summer vacation is starting soon. How are you going to handle her being out on her own every day?" He regretted it the minute he saw Spike's wild-eyed look of panic. Spike was willing to let Dawn stay with Giles, although Xander knew he occasionally stood guard outside, smoking and making it clear to everyone that what was inside was his and they had better stay clear. But it was obvious that the idea of all those hours of sunlight when Xander was at work and Spike could not follow Dawn did not appeal to him. "It'll be okay."

"I'm not Dawn, whelp. I know what's what. Someone finds out what she is, there's a hundred different rituals they could use her in." And so not a reassuring thought. Thanks, Spike. Xander sighed. He set his empty bottle on the table, and tucked the leg closest to Spike underneath him. He put his hands on his knees and looked into those angry blue eyes.

He took a calming breath and used the same tone he had used with the guidance counselor. "That's not going to happen. No one knows but us and we are not telling anyone. Listen, I know you made promises to Buffy. I respect that. But you're not alone in this." He tried to lighten the mood and added, "Look at it this way; even I managed to survive growing up on the Hellmouth with Willow's help."

Spike was not amused. "You had Buffy."

"Dawn has us, she's not alone. You're not alone. None of us are alone in this; we never will be." That was when Xander lost his mind. At least that was what he told himself. In fact he could hear the same voice that had been screaming at him about propositioning Spike earlier asking just what the Hell he thought he was doing. What he was doing was leaning forward and, oh yes he was, he was kissing Spike on his bottom lip. When Spike didn't pull back, Xander parted his own lips just enough to take that bottom lip in between them. Spike surprised him with a low-throated rumbly noise. Xander felt quite daring when he raised his hand and tentatively stroked the side of Spike's face. He pulled back to watch his fingers trace the sharp angles of Spike's face. When their eyes met, Xander was at a loss for words. Words normally bubbled up, with no consideration to his brain, but now they were gone and he had no idea what to say to the naked hunger in Spike's eyes. So he tried the truth, "I...I really don't want to be alone tonight. Will... will you stay?"

And it had been that easy. There hadn't been a mad rush to the bedroom. None of the frantic scrambling like with Anya. There had been more soft kisses on the couch while they slowly undressed and took time to admire each other's bodies with glances and caresses. It was much like Xander had always imagined his first time would be, before Faith had introduced him to the joys of autoerotic foreplay.

When they moved to the bedroom Spike had asked for lube as if this was something Xander did every night. "I think we'll have to improvise. Oil?" Spike smiled. It was a real smile. Not sneering or maniacal, it was the kind of smile Xander had only seen directed at Dawn. And isn't that a disturbing thought when I'm naked. By the time Xander's conscious had finish chastising him for thoughts of Dawn when sex was imminent Spike had come out of the bathroom with couple towels and the bottle of oil.

"It's likely to get a mite messy, Pet." Spike said in answer to what Xander was sure was a look of utter bewilderment at the towels. Spike laid one of them on the bed and positioned Xander in front of it and gently pushed him back until he was first sitting and then lying on the towel. Spike lay down beside him and brushed Xander's hair off his face and, well, petted him. He caressed his face and stroked his hair, but it was different than it had been on the couch, more soothing.

"You've never done this before have you?" Was that Spike? His voice was barely above a whisper, even his accent sounded different. Oh God, do not let me start crying. I started this and now he's treating me like a skittish virgin.

"I...Spike, I think...Please, I think I really need this." Xander looked over into those blue eyes and willed him with all his might to see him as an adult, not some scared kid, holding on to anything in a world turned upside down. And it worked. It must have worked because Spike was kissing him. Oh was he kissing him; it felt so good. These weren't the teasing; tasting kisses from before, these were invasive and possessive, demanding and colored with lust and desire. He was breathless when Spike stopped to open the oil.

Unexpectedly, he poured some on Xander's stomach. Spike laughed at his gasp as the cool liquid contacted his skin. But Xander didn't have a chance to say anything, because Spike's mouth was back, stealing his breath and scattering his thoughts. Spike dragged his fingertips through the oil and began to coat first his cock and then Xander's balls with the slippery substance. Spike's hands were never still and when the first finger breached and then slid deep into Xander's body, Xander reach blindly for Spike. Spike made the softest shhhing noises while Xander whimpered with need. A second finger moved inside and sparks exploded behind Xander's eyes. He tried to pull Spike closer but he seemed so far away. Xander gulped in air like a drowning man, and managed to say "Please..."

Spike crooned in that strangely accented soft voice, "Luv, this will be easier for you on your stomach."

"No. Here. Stay. Please. Stay." Xander had no idea what he had just said, but it didn't sound like English. He moaned and prayed Spike spoke whatever language that was. By the size of the grin on Spike's face whatever Xander had said had pleased him. For a moment he seemed to be moving away, but a whimper from Xander summoned him back for a kiss.

Spike positioned himself between Xander's legs, and lifted those legs up and over his shoulders. It was only then that he removed his fingers, and almost before Xander could register the loss, he began to slowly replace them with his cock. Xander had expected many things, but not this, never this. He had never felt so connected. He looked up and Spike was so close, so near. This felt right. Spike moved. He moved so slowly, his eyes locked on Xander, so focused. Xander felt his face start to hurt and realized it had be too long since he smiled this much.

He laughed out loud, which made Spike grin and ask, "Good, pet?"

"Yes!" Yes, God yes. I need this. Don't stop. Wait what's he laughing at? Please tell me I'm not saying this out loud? "Move, damn it!" Spike moved. With every thrust Xander felt fuller and closer to him. Xander didn't know when Spike's hand had started to stroke his cock in time to those thrusts but he felt his whole body shudder as if he hadn't come in years. A few more thrusts, and before his own seed could cool on his stomach he felt Spike follow him over the edge.

After Xander's breathing returned to normal--Spike's had never stopped being normal since being normal meant that it wasn't there--Spike slowly slipped out of Xander's body. Oh yeah, the towels were a good idea. Xander felt boneless. He wanted to reach out to Spike, who was wiping them both down with the oil and remaining towel. Spike seemed to sense that, and after sealing the bottle, tossed it and the towels in the general direction of the bathroom. Spike tucked Xander under his arm, and kissed his temple and stroked his face, rubbing his thumb against Xander's bottom lip.

Xander's eyelids were starting to droop and he was surprised to hear Spike whisper, "Thank you."

Xander made the colossal effort and turned his head to look into Spike's eyes. He really intended to say thank you back, but really good sex sometimes disconnects the brain so what came out just before he plummeted into sleep was, "I need you."

* * * * *

How the hell did that happen? Xander couldn't tell if it was minutes or hours later that he found himself blinking into the darkness. He wasn't sure if he was seeing or imagining the vague shapes. It was his room. Since his brain knew what was there, maybe it was supplying impressions of what he thought he should see. What was real? Did perception make reality? Hey, no, stop that, see this is why I don't think, his internal babble shouted at him. Here, there be dragons. He suppressed a sigh and admitted to himself that questioning reality was probably a bad idea for someone who had lived though the lowering of the walls between the worlds.

Hey, wait, there had been a dragon, hadn't there? The day Buffy died. The day Anya left. The day Dawn became a ghost of her former self. The day Giles started to doubt himself. The day Spike had transformed into the adult of their little group. Willow was still Willow, but between trying to take care of all of them and trying to hold herself together even she was starting to look worn around the edges. If she hadn't had Tara with her constantly, Xander thought, she might just shatter into a million pieces. She was his best friend, his soul-sib, he would have cut off a limb for her, but that wouldn't help and he didn't know what would. He wanted to ease her stress, her fear, whatever it was that seemed to vibrate through her spirit and made her appear even tinier and more fragile than he had always seen her. But he didn't know how. Didn't know what to say. Didn't know if anything he did would help, or if it would be that one last thing that would fracture her, finally breaking the strongest one of them.

About six feet ahead of him the flat black shape was a window. He lay on his side, looking with all his might, trying to make out the outline of the window. It should be easy being that there was no curtains or blinds. He'd left it that way so the sun would save him from sleeping in and losing his job. No curtains, Xander thought. Or blinds. Sun. That could be a problem for the undead guy whose arm was wrapped around his waist. The undead guy pressed so tightly against Xander's back that he would have been breathing down his neck, if undead guys breathed.

Hmmm, morning after conversation, versus removing recent lover from the bed with a dustbuster, tough call. Xander didn't have a dustbuster, so he stealthily slipped out of the bed. He had some supplies left, from when he had built the training room at the shop, in the storage closet near the balcony. He turned a light on in the living room and sorted out what he would need. Hammer and nails are out if I don't want shot by the neighbors, he mused. He settled on a heavy drop cloth and some wood clamps, it was quick and quiet and would do until he could rig something more permanent. Hey? What? More permanent? See, thinking bad. Bad Xander.

He left the bedroom door open while he worked, enough to shed light on the window but not on the bed. He made sure that the cloth wasn't heavy enough to pull down the clamps or what they were clamped to, and soon had it secured. He spent more time fussing with the edges to make sure no light would sneak in than it had taken to get, and hang the drop cloth. Room-temperature hands gently slid from his waist to his abdomen, stroked down and back out to his hips. His hips were pulled back until his ass came into firm contact with his naked lover.

"You've got a gallant streak in you, Pet." Spike purred in the low growly voice that bent Xander's mind into abstract shapes. "You really are a white knight, aren't you?" Xander could hear the smirk in that voice, but it was gentle teasing, from the gentle man whose cock was twitching against his bare ass. He turned slowly, luxuriating in the feel of Spike's hands never leaving his body as they slid across said ass, and stomach, to end up on the opposite sides they had held before. He tilted his head until their foreheads touched, and thought again how perfectly Spike's height complemented his own.

"Well," he said suppressing a smirk of his own, "I don't have the proper cleaning supplies for combustible lovers." Xander moved his parted lips to just barely brush them across Spike's lips. Once, twice, and in between the brief contacts his own warm breath ghosted against Spike's mouth, and the patented Spike Smirk was replaced by a genuine smile. Xander kept teasing and soon felt a hint of wetness as Spike upped the ante and brought his tongue into play. Spike's hands slid back and down, until they firmly grasp both cheeks of Xander's ass. Xander felt a wide grin spread across his face as he desperately tried to continue the kissing/sparring, maneuver his lover back into bed, and not break out laughing.

It was almost impossible to keep up the persistent worrying. He wasn't alone; he had to trust the others not to break the way they trusted him. And hey? "White knight?" He had never told anyone what Angelus had said outside Buffy's hospital room, just that he had come to kill her and left after the making the appropriate threats.

"Think I didn't hear about that? You really pissed him off, Pet." Xander leaned over and claimed Spike's mouth. This is so not a person we should be talking about during sex. We are going to have sex, aren't we? Just to confirm it, Xander trailed kisses across Spike's jaw and down his neck. When he met the bunch of muscle above his collarbone he gave it a soft nip.

Completely independent of his brain, which wanted nothing to do with thoughts of Angel while feeling up Spike in bed, his mouth said, "Oh, yeah. Nothing like threatening to die loudly and messily to really get under Angel's skin." Since Spike had made such a nice noise the first time, Xander nipped him again.

There was a blur of movement and Xander found himself underneath Spike staring at his game face. His gold eyes reflected the limited light from the living room. "Now, Pet, it's not nice to bite when I can't bite back."

For a moment, Xander just lay stunned, looking up into the face of a demon. He knew Spike was soulless. He had always prided himself on being aware of his place on the food chain. He had never trusted Angel. He knew, chipped or unchipped, that Spike was a dangerous killer. But Spike was his friend, he was sure of that. Spike was pack. He trusted him. Slowly he lifted his hand to stroke the ridges of Spike's face. Xander slid his hand to the back of Spike's neck and gently pulled him down. He kissed him softly and then slipped his tongue in to slide against his fangs.

In a voice so quiet it belied the ridges and fangs Spike said, "You really have no idea how special you are, do you, luv?" Xander didn't have an answer to that so he just pressed their cocks together and began to thrust against his lover. After they came, Spike again cleaned them up and pulled Xander against him. This time Xander faced him and wrapped Spike in his arms as well.

* * * * *

The routine changed over the next few weeks, or rather evolved. Dawn's school let out, Tara and Willow started a new summer schedule. The patrols continued, but usually ended with Spike coming home with Xander. Giles hired Jonathan of all people to help in the shop. Well, it's not like he doesn't have an interest in magic, and at least this way we can keep an eye on him. Dawn was with them in the evenings, but spent most days with her friends; swimming, shopping, doing girl stuff. Xander was surprised she came to him instead of Giles to ask things like, 'can I go to the mall, can I sleep over at Stephanie's, can I go to the concert?' The answers were 'Yes you can go to the mall, just be back before sunset. Who's Stephanie? You're staying inside all night, right? You'll call if her parents are aliens or demons or robots? You can go to concert only it you promise not to get pissed when Spike and I follow you; those things are a freaking smorgasbord. You don't want to get eaten do you? Err... wait!--you don't...erm, ah, Spike, help me out here.' All in all Dawn was amazingly tolerant of their smothering... ah, hovering... err, concern.

The first time she caught Xander who had oh-so-casually stopped by the mall after work to buy...um, shirts, yeah shirts, she had let him lie himself into a corner. She had spotted him unobtrusively using one of the security mirrors to watch her, while pretending to check out the merchandise. Dawn had been with a group of three other girls, and had disengaged herself to the sound of catcalls and giggles. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here." Poke. Poke. Poke. A sharp little finger to the rib cage punctuated each word.

"What? Shopping." Disbelieving look, and raised eyebrow. Hey, that's Willow's look. "Dawn, I shop." Oh oh, arms crossed, foot tapping, time for a defensive diversion. "You think it's easy to look this good? The Xander style takes constant maintenance." Okay, it wasn't that funny.

"You are not buying that shirt." Dear God, she sounds like Cordelia. Wait, what's wrong with this shirt?

"You don't like orange and pink?"

This just proved lying was bad. The whole 'Willow said to kick his ass, Buffy' thing and the Amy spell deal, which in addendum had been blackmail, not lying, but still had spooky scary end results, so there you go. Here he was, shopping with Dawn, Spike and the witches. The whole hell concept was so overrated. Why worry about the afterlife when you could suffer immediately for the consequences of your actions, right here on Earth? I should have stuck with the truth. Yes, Dawn, I am stalking you. It's not that I don't trust you, I just wanted to make sure none of your friends were going to turn into a hyena. But no, I had to go with the 'I desperately need new clothing' excuse. So help me, if any of them show me one more black shirt I'll bang my head against the wall. You'd think they've forgotten I have a pulse.

"How about this one?" Tara held up a dark gray, loose-knit sweater, and Xander went over to look at the display from which she had selected it.

"Hey, it comes in green." Well light green, but it's a larger size and that's what's important.

"Spike," Dawn cupped her hand in front of her mouth and whispered loudly. "Do you think Xander is colorblind?"

After two hours and buying more clothes than he could possibly ever need, Xander manipulated... ah, maneuvered the gang into the food court. Willow had gone to the Potato Patch to get fries and drinks and had dragged Spike with her to help carry. Tara and Dawn were having a hushed discussion about Willow's birthday dinner. It wasn't a surprise. Willow had suggested that they stay in this year, but Dawn and Tara were keeping the menu secret.

"I'll get the cake." Xander said, when he heard they were now having salmon.

"Xander." Dawn gave him the junior varsity version of the Buffy pout.

"I want to do something, too." Xander saw he pout and raised her big eyes.

She laughed, "You want to get the cake so that you can be sure it's chocolate cake with chocolate icing."

"Dawn." Busted

"You're supposed to try to get something Willow would like."

Yes, Joyce. "I think I know what Willow likes." Did she really think she could win this?

"Okay, what does Willow like?" Dawn had that 'girls remember everything about each other' smile, and was daring him to guess wrong.

"Willow likes to make people happy. Chocolate makes me happy. Therefore Willow likes chocolate."Xander folded both arms on the table and was leaning forward when he finished, because Spike and Willow were on their way over.

Tara laughed. "Well, you can't argue with that flawless logic."

* * * * *

The dinner was subdued. The food was excellent, and it felt so good to be together with no prominent crisis, but something was missing. Obviously. Xander kept looking around, expecting to see her. When Tara and Dawn had splashed water all over the kitchen, and then shrieked with laughter as they tried to clean up before the party started, he could picture Buffy with them right in the thick of things. When Giles toasted Willow and commented on 'what a wonderful young woman she had become' he could see the tears that would have formed in Buff's eyes. Even when Spike had said "You're all right, Red," he almost heard the classic Buffy comeback of, "She's much more than all right, bleach boy."

Tara had brought videos, so they grouped around the television the way Victorian families must have gathered around the fire. He would have to ask Spike about that. Xander sprawled on the couch next to Spike. Giles sat in a rocker to the right of the reading lamp and was paging though Xander's yearbook; it had been on the end table. Willow took an oversized chair to the right of the couch. Tara and Dawn sat at her feet. Xander felt his eyes droop and he forced them open, thinking it would be in bad form for the host to crash at the party. But it was a Julia Roberts film, with no sex and no car chases and for as quiet as it had been, the evening had been emotionally draining. Willow was French braiding Tara's hair. Dawn had asked to be next. The movement of the brush through the golden strands was mesmerizing. Xander felt hypnotized watching Willow's fingers weaving the hair back and under.

The next thing he knew Willow was looking down, wearing her concerned look, and stroking his face. "Xan, we're leaving. Don't get up. I had a really good time." Xander was never at his best when he first woke. He blinked, and decided he should probably try to say something.

"Happy Birthday. I love you." Well, that must have been coherent-she's smiling. He had almost rolled over and went back to sleep. In fact he started to, but got a face, full of Spike's lap. He sat up and ran both hands through his hair, and ventured a look at Willow. Great, she's smirking. Since he was felt like living dangerously he decide to see how Giles was handling his head gravitating into Spike's lap while he slept. Yep, that is definitely a 'we will talk about this later' look. Dawn took it in stride.

She kissed him on the cheek before saying, "Good night Xander. Get some sleep." She kissed Spike and led the others out the door.

"You all right, Pet?" What no smirk, no snort, no merciless teasing for my lap diving? He looked into Spike's eyes, and occasionally, like now, he was almost certain that he saw what William had been like before he met Dru in that dark alley. Xander remembered how when Jessie had been turned, there had been something of him there. Not a soul; but something, something that made him Jessie and not Bob or Steve. That was there in Spike's eyes, some memory of humanity.

"I..I just..." Xander hated that he never seemed to have the words. He never could hold on to the emotions long enough to choke them out. "I'm...really glad you're here."

"What brought this on, Luv?" Funny how the softer Spike spoke the closer he felt. Right now, right now felt so good. Just, this. This was good. If he only had the words.

"I... tonight... When the shit hits the fan, and hey, the shit always hits the fan, you look back on times like these and you think of the people you lost." His voice broke and Xander took a steadying breath. "You wish you... you wish you had told them how much it meant...how much they meant...how important...I...I'm just really glad you're here."

And it was all right, because Spike was petting him. Running his fingers through his hair, across his chest, up his thighs, and it felt so good to have him here. It wasn't always like this. After patrols, there was frantic scrambling that started before they finished undressing and ended in the shower, on the floor, even on the kitchen table or against the wall. But sometimes, it was almost like the first time again, reverent and hushed. Xander pulled Spike up to face him from where he'd been dipping his tongue in Xander's navel. "It's just, important, you know?"

And Spike had nodded, "I know, Xander. I know."

* * * * *

It was his own fault. With Dawn staying over at Stephanie's and the witches engrossed in spell books at the research table, he should have known he was walking into a Giles lecture.

"How did you get it in the first place?" He never asked how I get over fourteen units of whole human blood a week, but he want to know where I got the beer? Can you say priorities, G-Man? The blank look had worked and Giles continued in a more reasonable tone. "She looks up to you, Xander, you must realize that your actions speak louder than your words. The fact that you're only a few months under age and she is several years is not a justifiable excuse."

"Hey, I told her it was Spike's." An improvisation I was rather proud of.

"Really? As in the community property sense?" I am so not ready to have that conversation with you. Time for a diversionary tactic.

"I gave her the 'Beer Bad' speech. I told her how it de-evolves people a la cave Slayer." Take that, Ripper.

"Did you also give her the 'Boy Smells Good' lecture?" Erp? Sex? Talk about sex with Dawn? Help?

"I thought you'd do that, you're the adult." Ha! I still have the sex with Joyce on the hood of a police car in my arsenal.

Giles looked at Xander. Xander looked at Giles. Blink. Blink. Blink. Ding! Light bulb! "Willow?" Oh look, stereo.

* * * * *

After the party, Xander expected the concerned look from Willow, or a sternly worded lecture from Giles. It never happened. Willow never said, 'I want to talk'; Giles never took him aside and recommended he read ancient texts on the dangers of vampiric lovers. He knew they knew. It wasn't overnight, but gradually the names Xander and Spike became 'Xander and Spike'. They started calling Xander's apartment instead of checking Spike's crypt when he wasn't at the shop.

Spike hadn't taken Buffy's place. There was still a gaping hole in their lives. Not one of them didn't occasionally look around, expecting to see her there, and realize all over again that she never would be. Spike still grieved, they all did. Xander wished he had the words to tell him how much Spike staying and keeping his promise to Buffy meant to them, meant to him.

Not much changed; Dawn became more Dawnlike, Willow and Tara started a new summer schedule of classes, Spike still laughed at him. Oh, like sex was going to stop that, snort. Now I'm snorting like him, next it'll be smoking and bad fake accents. I so know that's a fake accent. Not that he doesn't have an accent, and a damn sexy one, 'cause I heard it, but it's not the one he uses every day. No, it comes out to play with the moans and the purrs and the whimpers. The everyday one hangs with the snorts and the snickers and the "Nice to see you're embracing the lifestyle, Pet." I dye the laundry pink once and I'm branded for life. To think that when it happened I thought I was lucky it had only been a load of socks and underwear. I forgot who sees my underwear. Accident my ass, lurking around the Hellmouth laundromats and throwing demonic red items in with unsuspecting loads of whites is probably in that '101 evil acts you can still perform while chipped' book he's writing.

Xander took off his tee shirt and wiped his face with it. It didn't help; it was soaked. Summer had hit Sunnydale hard and the basement of the magic shop was hot and stuffy. Xander had spent all morning building a new storage unit and was now organizing the eclectic stock. Spike had joined him about an hour ago, and while his tee shirt was dusty, it wasn't marred by sweat. And yet another advantage to no body temperature. Xander draped his wet shirt over the banister of the stairs leading up to the shop, and started to sort though a new box. He didn't know how long he had been staring at the button eyes of the floppy bunny that had so scared Anya That Night when he felt Spike's arms slip around his waist. His whipcord body felt firm and sure, and Xander leaned back, knowing Spike was more than strong enough to support him.

He hadn't talked to anyone about Anya, not really, other than a reflexive 'I'm fine, really' to Willow's frequent offers to talk about how he was feeling. He wondered if he could talk to Spike, if he should.... What was the relationship etiquette involving this? He had never been too sharp on major do's and dont's in the conventional boy/girl relationships, let alone this, whatever this was. Where did the line between friend and lover blur? Would it be uncaring and insensitive to talk to Spike now? He desperately did not want to hurt him; God knew they had all had enough pain. Maybe he should say nothing. But if he did, wouldn't that be just as cruel, not letting Spike know what he felt, especially now that Spike had, at least Xander hoped he had, a vested interest in what was in his heart? Xander didn't have a clue, but at least he thought, I'm smart enough to know how clueless I am. That's a start, isn't it?

"What magical properties does that have, Pet?" Spike's voice was low and suggested inopportune sex with the possible discovery by Giles, or, oh no, Willow, or eep, Dawn.

"It scares the bejesus out of vengeance demons." He gave the toy a menacing wag and felt Spike smile against the side of his neck. "You wouldn't happen to know how this got here, would you?" Oh yeah, you are so busted.

"Might." Spike's hands slid back until they rested on Xander's hips. "Might have hid it for that girl of yours. She had a fine scream, and it's not like it would set off the chip." Spike's tone had hushed when he spoke of Anya, like you would talk to an animal to keep it calm.

"She didn't scream, not really, but she was scared, she thought it was an omen." Xander picked at the rabbit's fur; it was amazingly soft, the kind of toy you got for really little kids so that they couldn't hurt themselves. "She was sure it meant that the world was going to end."

"But it didn't." Spike pointed out.

"Yes, it did." Xander dropped the toy and turned to face Spike. "We're just to stupid to give up." Xander softened his words with a kiss, much like that first one they had shared, and then he continued, "That's why we're rebuilding it." He pulled away and took Spike's hands in his and looked down. He thought he was probably making the worst decision of his life but something told him he had to open this wound. He just prayed that opening it with Spike was going to help it heal, not add salt. "I...I asked her to marry me." It was hard, but Spike's silence compelled him to look up, to meet his eyes.

"What did she say?" He used the real accent, the one that spoke the truest words, the one that matched the wide-eyed concern and let Xander know he hadn't ruined everything by mentioning 'his girl'. Because Spike never called her Anya, always 'your girl' or 'the demon girl' and come to think of Spike never mentioned her at all now that she was gone.

"She said yes, and no. She was angry and scared and frustrated." Xander looked away. He couldn't help but laugh when he thought of it, so he did. "I asked her That Night. I carried the damn ring around for weeks, and I picked that night to ask her. Can you imagine it?"

Spike wasn't laughing. He pulled Xander close and wrapped him in his arms. It took very little maneuvering before they were sitting on the wooden steps. Xander sat one step below Spike and leaned back into his embrace.

"The thing is ...I understand why she left ...I just..." Xander pulled away again and twisted until he could look Spike in the eyes. "It's the how that hurts so much...Spike, we were friends. Beyond the orgasms and interlocking parts.... I thought we were friends. I was her first friend...but I thought even after everything else, we were still friends."

Xander waited and watched Spike. He looked for some sign that Spike didn't want to hear this, or a word that said he did. Instead, those riveting blue eyes never broke contact and strong fingers reached up to gently stroke his face. "Is it stupid of me to want a letter, or a call? Just 'Xander, I'm okay, I'm happy, the world outside the Hellmouth is fine.' I can live without the 'wish you were here' but this not knowing... It's bad. If I knew she had her center of power, then at least she could..."

Xander was stopped by a blatant eye roll, and bit his lip thinking he'd said too much. "Luv, are you listening to yourself? You do remember that when she had the bloody trinket she worked for the other side." Spike leaned in for a kiss, which took the sting out of his trademark sarcasm.

"You mean your side." Xander murmured into the kiss and nipped at Spike's lower lip.

"Oy!" Spike pulled back and tried to scowl, lost it and laughed. "Only you love, only you."

"Only me what?" Xander asked. Did he call me Luv or love?

"Only you would feel the need to take care of a chit who spent over a millennium finding creative ways to make men's heads explode." Spike said and gave one quick pull, and had Xander sitting on his lap.

"Hey, a little sympathy for the fellow demon." Xander whispered as he lowered his head so that he could nibble Spike's earlobe, and continued more seriously, "Can you imagine eleven hundred years, never feeling pain, never being sick, anytime you have a problem you wave your center of power and poof, it's gone. Then one-day bam! Bad hair days, zits, P.M.S., indigestion, and you're trapped in this flesh sack that you can feel dying around you. And on top of that, she had all of her memories, every case, year by year. God knows she recounted most of them to me during prom. She didn't even have the luxury of denial, she knew the worst of what was out there; hell, she had been the worst and now she was trapped here on the Hellmouth." Xander had pulled back to look Spike in the eye while he spoke. Hell even I know talking about your ex while making out is just wrong. So why is he still petting me, why doesn't he say something? "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this."

"I need to hear whatever you need to say." Spike's hands were busy, but they had stayed above Xander's waist. They had been together long enough that Xander had figured out that hands below the waist meant 'shag now' Well, duh. but that hands above the waist meant you're tired; you're stressed; you're empty; you're sad; come let me fix it.

"You want to hear a story?" Xander peeked up though his lashes and the over-long locks of his hair, which really did need to be cut.

Spike snorted, then tilted his head to look past the hair and tucked Xander against him. Spike rested his chin on top of Xander's head and said, "Yes Luv, tell me a story."

"Not so very long ago, on the Hellmouth, there was a school. It was a very scary place filled with math and history and teachers, some of whom were really giant preying mantises. Vampires occasionally came to that place to bash people in the head with science equipment. Children were imprisoned there and only the lucky ones were allowed to leave, after enduring the torture for twelve years.

"Time went by and an evil man decided that he needed a final evil act to culminate his ascension to greater demonhood. He decide that the most evil thing he could do would be to wait for the day the children were scheduled to be released from the horrible prison and destroy not only their lives, but their hope of freedom. The children decided to fight back.

"Shortly before the day of release, a boy saw a girl crying in the courtyard. Other students walked past rushing to class. No one seemed to see the girl. The bell rang, and still the girl cried. Now the boy knew the girl had been laid off from a job of which she had been very fond, and he knew that she was an eleven hundred year old girl and that she knew the evil man was not going to let the children leave the horrible school. He thought that either of these were very good reasons to cry, but when he saw her cry his heart hurt. Being rather fond of his heart he thought he should do something to make her stop crying.

"So he walked over to her and asked, "Why are you crying?" And she showed him; on her finger was a tiny cut. She had turned the page of a book too quickly and the book had bitten her. The tears that streamed down her face weren't angry tears for the power she no longer had. The tears weren't frightened tears because she knew the time was approaching for the evil man to come. The tears were the tears of a child. A child hurt for the very first time, who can't conceive that there is an end to pain or that it will get better. Because all that the girl knew was the now, and the now hurt. And at that moment, the boy realized how alone the girl was. It wasn't just that she had no friends, and had no family. She was trapped in a bubble of 'me'. Her whole world was so new and so strange that she couldn't understand anything but herself, and because of that no one could understand her. At that moment the boy decided that he would try and understand her, that he would be her friend."

Xander sighed and added, "I really tried to be a good friend."

"What did you do about her paper cut?" Spike asked absently.

"Bought her a soda from the vending machine and told her to hold the can against it." Xander squirmed on Spike's lap so that he could see him. "I never told the others about that. For a long time they thought it was just sex, but...but she needed me, and it was good... to be needed."

"I need you." Spike said in a very serious tone.

"You do? What do you need me to do?" Xander ask in an equally grave voice.

"Move some more," Spike whispered, using blunt teeth to trace the line of Xander's jaw. Xander tilted his head back to give Spike better access to his neck. He felt Spike's face morph while it pressed softly against his skin and the blunt teeth were replaced by bladelike sharpness tracing the pulse points with a feather-soft touch. Xander squirmed again, torn between desperately wanting more contact and his finely honed survival instincts that still, on occasion, backhanded his cerebral cortex and asked 'What the hell do you think you're doing?' Spike's fingers moved up to tease around, but never quite touching, Xander's nipples. Blindly, Xander grabbed Spike's hand and placed it on the fabric of his cargo pants that covered his rising erection.

The door opened and Tara stood at the top of the stairs. She blinked, she blushed, she looked at her feet. Willow's voice came from behind her. "What? Giles said he was down..." Willow blushed. She looked at Tara. They both grinned.

Tara said, "I don't think he wants sushi." Willow shut the door. Xander blushed and looked down, then he looked at Spike, laughed and pulled him close for a kiss.

"You're one of a kind, Pet." Spike picked him up, and can you say disconcerting, and moved him out of sight of the door, near the old shelves. He set Xander down to stand by a sturdy table Xander had used earlier to brace the planks he had cut for the shelves. Spike reached into a basket on the top of the shelf and pulled out a tube of lube.

"You are so busted." Xander started to turn towards him, but Spike placed both of Xander's hands firmly on the table, then removed his own shirt.

"Now, now, you have a suspicious nature. I just had that there for an emergency," Spike purred and place the tube on the table. He kicked off his boots. And just when did he untie those? Then he dropped his jeans and stepped out of them.

"What kind of an emergency?" Xander had trouble following the conversation since Spike was busy; his hands were unzipping Xander's cargo pants and pulling back on his hips and Spike's foot was nudging Xander's feet into a wider stance.

"This kind of an emergency." Xander felt air replace fabric from his mid-thighs up, and the light, soft kiss Spike placed on the spot where his neck met his spine. Soft kisses trailed down the vertebra, each bump worshipped as Spike slowly sank to his knees. By the time Spike's mouth reached Xander's tailbone Spike was softly caressing Xander's inner thighs with light sweeping strokes which started almost at the knees and stopped just shy of his balls. Xander felt his whole body tremble and Spike hadn't even reached for the lube. He bucked forward wildly when Spike's tongue penetrated him. If not for Spike's strong, sure grip he would have hurt himself on the table. The table and Spike's hold on him were the only thing keeping him standing as stars exploded behind his eyelids. When he was sure he couldn't take any more without losing complete use of every muscle in his body for days, Spike stood up and turned him around.

"That was the most amazing thing..." Xander whispered.

"Like that, do you?" Spike grinned, and softly kissed him.

"Hell yeah!" Xander looked at the table, and the tube Spike had been so obvious in placing there. Not that this wasn't good, but why...? "Spike? What's the lube for?"

He climbed onto the table facing Xander and lifted his knees and said, "Thought you might want to use it."

* * * * *

Either Willow didn't tell Giles about 'the basement incident' or he was implementing the same denial skills he had perfected during the Anya/Xander circus of debauchery and semi-public sex. Xander was betting on the latter. The smell alone, in an area as poorly ventilated as the storage room, would take days to dissipate. So he endured Willow's knowing smirks and Tara's shy smiles, yet was spared any awkwardness with Giles, for which he was deeply grateful.

Dawn knew, not about the sex in the basement, or that time in the training room, or the kitchen, but she knew that Xander and Spike were more than just friends who spent a lot of time together. Xander had only one truly terrifying moment when Dawn had looked at him all wide-eyed and earnest and said, "You realize you've scarred me for life, don't you?" But when that remark had met with blind panic from Xander, she had been unable to keep a straight face. "I'm joking, you moron. Although," and her voice became so wistful that he wasn't sure if it was real or shammed. "It isn't every girl whose first two major crushes end up together, but I think I'll get over it."

June ended with a 'bugger' call. The kind of phone call where Giles said 'Bugger!' loudly, and then proceeded to grill the caller for details, while the rest of them waited for him to get off the line and tell them how the world was going to end. They gathered around the research table while Giles was on the phone. After a while, Willow looked at Xander with a single raised eyebrow, so he returned it with two raised eyebrows and a "humph." Dawn giggled. Spike snorted. Tara said, "I'll make some tea," and went to in the small galley kitchen. Giles was still on the phone when she returned with the tea things.

Dawn took Giles a cup fixed the way he liked it and was rewarded with a smile and a nod, but he gave no sign of wrapping up the call. "Any idea what it's about?" she whispered as she perched on one of the iron stairs, on a step slightly lower than the one on which Spike was lounging. She was answered by assorted shrugs and head shakes, but the focus of their attention was still Giles and his interrogation of the caller. Tara and Willow sat at the table with Xander and fussed with the tea and cookies. Tara handed Spike the blood she had warmed. Go T, with Martha Stewart's Undead Living. Dawn had opted out of the 'at least beverages give us something to do with our hands' stall and worried the skin along her thumbnail. Willow reached over without looking and gently tugged her hand away from her mouth, but replaced it with a cookie so that it didn't count as nagging.

Giles finally hung up the phone. "Apocalypse?" Willow and Xander asked in unison, paused for a startled look and said "Jinx!" And then both hung their heads, at least appearing guilty for acting like kids.

It was Tara who voiced the question they all had been thinking. "Has something bad happened?"

"Well," Giles paused to refill his cup. Oh so not good, a two cup crisis, something bad has happened, all right. "Actually," Giles continued, "it seems that something bad is about to happen. Something that the Powers That Be have brought to Angel's attention; he's apparently involved in the resolution. That was Wesley, it seems Cordelia has had a vision concerning the Hellmouth."

And, oh bonus, the LA team is road-tripping it to the Hellmouth. Xander watched Dawn for her reaction. She seemed to have come to terms, though it had been a struggle, with the whole 'Key' concept. It had helped that when she did find out, she had had a few months of real memories to back up the manufactured ones. He knew she had memories of Cordelia and Angel, and even Wesley, but had never really met them. This might just serve as a test run to what her reaction to Mr. Summers would be when he came back into her life. Xander had thought about asking Willow if there was a spell involved in his continued absence, but wasn't sure he wanted to know if there was. He wasn't sure how he would handle it if a complete stranger, albeit her father, showed up and tried to take Dawn, but he was pretty sure how Spike would react.

Willow hadn't told Angel about 'the Key', just that Glory had needed something to lower the walls between the worlds and that Buffy had stopped her, with her life. Willow had also told Xander that Angel was keeping eye on Faith, and visited her frequently in prison. Xander had been concerned about Faith himself. Not the way he worried about the gang, more along the lines of how he worried about the Watchers, and the Initiative and didn't Riley's bailing put to rest any false hope we may have had that that bunch of genocidal thugs had dispersed with the Adam catastrophe and akin to the way he worried that Angel would one day check that pesky soul in a locker at the nearest bus station and show up one night and kill them all. Xander had always considered it wise to know who wanted to kill him and where they were, but over the years the number had grown to the point he was thinking of starting a Rolodex.

Giles decided that since the vision had been sent to Cordelia that they should wait for Angel to arrive before attempting any physical reconnaissance. So they hit the books, checking out demonic holy days and various enigmatic prophecies. They were well ensconced in the research when the four of them strode into the shop like they were on camera. Sheesh, Hollywood.

"Cordy...your hair...it makes you look..." OH GOD! Abort! Abort! She'll kill me. Think of something, think of something. "famous." Xander stammered and it's a fabulous save by Alexander Harris; the crowd goes wild. Well, maybe not wild, but it did earn me Queen C's million dollar smile and a big hug. Wait, did she just growl? Spike? Jealous Spike? Okay, in a stunning display of my ability to multitask I have warm gooshy feelings and am scared stiff at the same time, and not stiff in a good way "Angel. Wesley." Xander nodded to each and checked out the new guy while Cordelia introduced him around. From the way he was sizing him up Xander figured this Gunn must be Cordy's new boy toy. Xander wondered if she let this one be seen with her in public.

Giles and Wesley went back to the office, to exchange secret Watcher handshakes or swap gossip about who was who in the 'even though we study things too weird to be believed we can still manage to make the dissertations about them boring' club. They couldn't have been talking about the 'case' since between the limited information Cordy had, and what the rest of them had found with the research they had done so far, they had squat. Apparently Cordy's 'visions' weren't full-blown SenSurround experiences like Buffy's dreams had occasionally been. Even Buffy's dreams had been open to interpretation and usually could only be completely understood after it was too late.

Willow and Tara, after making the polite social small talk, excused themselves, saying they were going to get some components for a scrying spell out of the storage room. Xander saw right through that and figured they were going to the storage room for the same reason he and Spike would have been if he had been quick enough to call it first. Angel and Spike, after a brief round of 'wanker vs. psychopath', had retired to neutral corners. Spike was not-so-casually lounging on the stairs near the research table and obviously, to Xander, standing guard over Dawn. Angel lurked near the front of the shop, feigning interest in the merchandise. Xander figured Dawn's presence would forestall any bloodshed, so when Cordy asked to see the rest of the shop he gave her and Gunn the tour, Angel having declined to take in the highlights so that he could continue to not watch Spike not watch him.

Xander was preening under Gunn's praise of the training facility. He had seemed especially impressed by a storage unit Xander had installed along the wall near the back door. It was built in, but Xander had kept the design simple. He wondered which the tall black man was really impressed by, the functional design or the fact that one of Cordy's spoiled suburban friends had a job from which you actually got dirty and developed calluses. They hadn't been there long when Dawn rushed in and without a word began trying to pull Xander toward the back door. The silent tears were back and she didn't even seem to notice. "Dawn, honey, what's the matter?" Xander soothed and began to stroke her hair with the hand attached to the arm which was not in the death grip. She didn't answer immediately but turned a wide-eyed, suspicious stare on Gunn and then Cordy.

"Dawnie, you know me..." Cordy didn't finish; she had reached out while she spoke and Dawn stepped back out of reach and pulled Xander close.

Dawn stood up on her toes to get closer to Xander's ear and whispered, "Angel...he... Angel and Spike were arguing... I...They went outside." Her eyes pleaded with him to do something, to fix it, to not let her go through yet another loss. She was scared and frustrated, and yes, Xander thought, looking at the deepest, most basic raw emotion in her eyes, she was resigned. Resigned to the belief that Fate was yet again going to kick the legs right out from under her, and leave her broken and alone.

"You stay here, with Cordy and Gunn. I'll take care of this." Gunn made as if to come with him, but Xander just shook his head and nodded at the girls. He paused at the storage unit by the door. Most of the cubbyholes held personal items, textbooks, shoes, umbrellas, sweaters, and purses but the two nearest the door held a supply of stakes and several flasks of holy water. Xander grabbed one of each and went outthe back door.

The alley was wide and had plenty of room for a fight. As he suspected, Spike and Angel had degenerated past the name calling stage and had moved on to slamming each other against the walls. He had to stop this before someone got dusted. Angel currently had Spike pinned face forward against the wall and was growling out something about Spike's lack of brains. Xander resolutely walked over and stopped just out of reach before saying, "This stops now, right now."

"Xander, get inside. This has nothing to do with you, it's between Spike and I." But Angel had taken his attention off of Spike for a fraction of a second and it was a fraction of a second too long. Spike reared back and cracked his skull loudly against Angel's face and in a flash their positions were reversed. Xander stepped forward, and placed his hand on Spike's bicep, not grabbing, just touching.

"Spike, go inside. Please." Spike looked like he was about to argue and Xander added, "Dawn is really upset." And he went, without a word. That seemed to surprise Angel more than the broken nose.

"We have to talk." Xander watched as Angel pulled out an old fashioned handkerchief and blotted his nose. But hey, vampire, so it'll probably heal by the end of the night.

"I said that this is between Spike and I." Angel growled.

"Wrong. It ceased to be just the two of you when you dragged Dawn into it." Xander snapped. Am I insane? Well, obviously. I wonder if he'll kill me?

"Xander, he's a killer." Angel reasoned.

You know Angel I'd be more inclined to listen to you if you didn't always talk to me like I've had one too many head injuries. Xander thought, but what he said was, "So are you." Oh, and what's with the pained look? You supposedly spend all your time working on penance for your sins, but no one's allowed to point out the truth?

"Xander, listen," Angel started, but Xander saw where the conversation was going and decided it would be a waste of time that they didn't have.

"No. You listen. Spike is part of the team. If that's something you can't or won't deal with you should have just called this one in and stayed in LA. Do you understand? You don't get a vote. He is one of us. Whatever is between you two, deal with it." It had taken every bit of Xander's control to keep his voice low and emotionless. He wanted nothing more than to rage at this man who seemed to posses the uncannyability to sweep out of the shadows and mess up his life.

He walked back to the door of the shop, but stopped and whispered just before opening the door,trusting that the vampire would hear him. "You selfish bastard. I know you're hurting. We're all hurting. But whatever you feel, it's only a fraction of what Dawn's going through. Did you even notice what you did to her?"

Xander walked back into the main room of the store. Over at the table, Dawn was sitting on Spike's lap and someone had made hot chocolate. It has to be ninety degrees out. This is taking comfort food too far. Tara and Willow had been looking for scrying supplies, or at least they were smart enough to follow through with their cover story. Cordy just looked stymied as she watched Spike stroking Dawn's hair. Spike and Dawn spoke in hushed voices as Willow bounced and explained a great idea; she had a 'new spell in the testing stage-everybody duck'. Gunn wasn't faking interest well, and Tara had a mildly worried look that Xander found telling, and he went to warn Giles.

Angel had come back inside while Xander had gone to the office to fetch Giles and Wesley. Xander wasn't sure which had Angel more off center; the frightened glances Dawn now leveled against him, or Spike's tender nurturing of Buffy's little sister. Currently, instead of just glaring at Spike, he seemed to be taking in the whole dynamics of the group's interaction, evaluating the changes which had taken place since he had left after graduation.

They were none of them the same people they had been. Giles no longer treated them as students but as colleagues. Willow was more assertive; she had found her place with her witchcraft and seemed more at ease in her body and the world around her. She trusted her own judgment more than when they were kids. Xander knew it was partly due to her testing her limits and not yet having found them, but mostly due to Tara's quiet faith in her and her rock-solid support. He knew he himself now thought more before speaking, and no longer needed to be reassured that he had a right to be there. This was his pack, and although Xander still regarded Angel as an unpredictable predator, he no longer feared that Angel would or could usurp his place.

"Breathe, Wills." Xander's comment earned him an annoyed glance but didn't slow down the petite redhead's description, complete with gestures and diagrams, of her great idea. Said great idea involved summoning an elemental, hence Tara's worried look, which was now accompanied by anxious lip biting. Even Wesley looked askance at Willow's theory.

Giles had once told Xander that he blamed the computer for most of Willow's, how did he put it, "creative catastrophes" with magic. When Xander had mentioned that Giles had a built-in prejudice towards the 'infernal machines' because they clashed with both his stuffy British intellectual image and his bad-assed Ripper persona, Giles had said that what he had meant was that Willow tended to think of spells as programs; and that that lead to both her powerful successes and her equally spectacular disasters. So loved the whole demon magnet thing, thanks, Wills. Giles had pointed out how for most magic users, spells were an extremely formal intellectual ballet with every word and gesture choreographed, where the slightest deviation would change the results. One spell, one result; no mucking about with it. But Willow tore spells down to their basic components and reassembled them to achieve unpredictable results. Just like programmers would cut and paste pieces of various subroutines together to perform more complex functions, Willow took smaller harmless spells and combined them and strung them in sequence until you got a human who could stand toe-to-toe with a hell god.

Xander felt a rush of pride for his friend and thought he should tell her more often how impressed he was by her, unless she was going to be actually doing magic, then he should be far, far away. The elementals Willow was describing were usually harmless. It was at that word that Giles gave Xander the look and arched one brow toward Dawn. Xander gave the look right back and arched his brow toward Willow. Briefly they were at a stalemate. Xander wondered if any of the LA crew had picked up on the silent battle of wills raging in the same room with them.

Willow reassured Wesley that as long as they picked the right place they should not have any trouble with the gossamer-like sprites, which she claimed would be and excellent source of information. The trick, and the reason they had never used this solution before when research had failed, would be getting far enough from the Hellmouth that the creatures would not be influenced by its malignant power, but close enough that they would have information about it. The sprites were supposedly shameless gossips and excellent sources of information. The were also often liars and very mischievous, and had all the powers of the air. Xander didn't know what that meant but he did know he didn't want to let Willow out of his sight when she stirred them up.

Although he couldn't help her if they attacked magically, Giles could. He conceded defeat and dropped his gaze. Someone had to stay with Willow and someone had to stay with Dawn and in this case Giles was the best suited back-up for Willow. He looked over at Spike and Dawn. Spike's nod was almost imperceptible. He would watch 'Red' and if it was something Giles couldn't take care of with knowledge and magic, Spike would tear it apart with brute force.

Xander walked over to Dawn and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, feel like catching a flick?" Over Spike's shoulder he saw Cordy's shocked look. She seemed just about to let loose with one of her prom queen diatribes when something, or someone, caught her eye and she swallowed it.

Dawn looked at him, then she looked at Giles. She looked back at him, then turned to Spike. She swallowed, looked back at Xander and smiled. "Sure." She got up and picked up her backpack and added as she stopped by the door, "Good luck with the airy things. Be careful."

Xander held up his cell phone and gestured with it. "Call, keep us posted." Then they left.

* * * * *

When they were in the car, Dawn said she couldn't sit still for a whole movie and suggested going to her house. She said at least that if he were busy then one of them wouldn't be worrying. Xander had arranged for a sub-contractor to repair the major damage Glory had done to the house, but had spent a great deal of time there recently. There was much to do, fixing the general wear and tear that had accumulated in a house full of females who defined maintenance as fixing something that was broken. Once they were at the house, Dawn had wheedled him into walking her to a neighbor's to hang with her friends. She promised to stay inside and to call when she wanted him to come get her.

He called the shop to check on the progress. They were going to Lanier's Bluff outside of town, feeling the high windy area would be conducive to the summoning and far enough from the Hellmouth. He still couldn't go with them and chafed at the restriction. They had reached an agreement shortly after the Dragon's visit that one: They were not taking Dawn on anymore Hellmouthy field trips, and two; whenever possible, one of them would sit out the potentially fatal activities, like parents who take separate planes to ensure that one crash does not orphan their children.

* * * * *

Hours later, Xander vigorously scoured his hands at the kitchen sink with a stiff-bristled brush. He had grouted Joyce's bathroom. He was running out of things to do before the appraisal. Truth be told, he was putting it off; this house had been a home to him as well as Dawn. They had all talked it over, the six of them, over dinner in the shop one night. They would sell the house and put the proceeds in a trust for Dawn. After paying for her education the balance would pay out to her when she reached twenty-one. The contents were to be put in storage. So Xander had stalled. He didn't think Dawn was ready to go though Joyce's and Buffy's things, to sort through all those memories. Hell, he wasn't ready. Drying his hands, he turned and leaned back against the sink. The memories crowded around him like a thick fog and were just as impossible to hold. Flashes of Buffy and Dawn in a mad scramble for the phone, with Slayer strength and speed no match for little sister determination and whining. Joyce finding a way to make it seem like he was doing her a favor to take that last piece of pie. It all seemed so real, so now, yet he knew if he reached out to touch these memories that they would slip though his fingers, as insubstantial as mist.

He tossed the towel on the counter and moved though the house like it was a museum. He stopped to look at personal kn