Prologue

Before eternity began, there was the Fall, and among the fallen there was the demon. The demon knew desolation, pain and rage. Among its own kind viciousness was virtue, and weakness was eradicated. In abject solitude among the teaming hordes of the nether regions it dwelt, fighting to subsist, subsisting to grow in power and influence, gaining power not for pleasure but to ensure survival. At last, in time, it ascended to the world of man though the will of the Maker. The Maker gave the man unto the demon to consume and through that consumption the demon was brought forth into the waking world. The man gave the demon form and face, mind and memory, and so in a fashion the two were made one.

But the Maker was flawed and new to the world. Unlike others of its kind it sought not to dominate its childe but to be nurtured and protected by it. So the demon drew on the memories of the man and from its first moonlit, blood-filled night it was set apart from its own kind. The Maker's Maker had shackled her power through his deliberate shattering of her mind and spirit. Her gift brought forth her pertinacious childe to stand between her and her Master's whim.

But Fate removed the Maker's Master and the demon called on the man's compassion and bound itself to its Sire not only by lust and blood, as was the way of their kind, but by loyalty and honor. Together the Maker and her childe roamed and hunted, ever at her caprice. To provide succor to his fragmented sire, drawing on his lost humanity, the demon used the man's patience and intellect, but hid this weakness from his own kind. To hide his humanity he made sport of legends, and unable to rise in stature through his Maker's deeds, sought the Chosen Ones and became the Slayer of Slayers.

His Maker, seeing her flaw reflected in her imperfect childe, cast the demon adrift. And the demon dwelt apart; separated from the darklings by the very traits the Maker crafted, shunning the light-kinder it hunted, even as it was hunted.

Time passed and the world changed, man made new magic of caged lighting and studied dark arts of the mind and body. Humanity, no longer cowering in fear or oblivion, bred new children ripe for war. The demon fell, as prey became predator, and was torn apart and reborn with synthetic magic. The magic harnessed the demon but not the man, and so this one, unique among its brethren, secured freedom. The demon's nature was obstructed and turned more and more to the man's reason and guile to survive. The memories of the man suggested sanctuary lay not among its own kind, who by nature would turn on the weak, but with the light-kinder, whose very fostering of such weakness made them prey to the darklings. Upon receiving sanctuary among the warriors of light the demon made study of their weakness and plotted its rise back into power.

But the man studied also and noted their strengths. The demon was unsuccessful. Its bid for freedom was foiled and its dark hopes were sown on infertile ground. Alone again, the hunger for security and kindred raged as strong as the bloodlust, and the demon was schooled by the man. He saw the very weakness he had attempted to exploit turned again and again into strengths. The demon waited and the man studied and forced treaty on the defenders of mankind.

Weakened, he craved strength, and worthy foe became worthy ally. The very one he had hated was now desired, and the demon chose his mate. The mate was fierce and strong, loyal and beautiful without the fractures of his sire. She gathered around her unworthy minions and the demon was jealous. He called on the memories of the man and pursued his mate, but his suit was rejected. The demon raged, and the man studied. The minions lacked its mate's fierceness and strength yet were valued and accepted. The man reasoned that the demon must embrace loyalty and show compassion for these were the weaknesses the mate valued in her minions. The demon had honed both in caring for its damaged maker, and again pursued its mate. Again the mate spurned him, but called on his strength and wisdom to guard the light. The man despaired but the demon accepted cruelty and returned loyalty to the mate. And in the end the demon's mate gave unto him that which she most valued; not her love, but those whom she loved, and entrusted to him the care of her most precious one.

* * * * *

Bid me weep, and I will weep while I have eyes to see And having none yet I will keep a heart to weep for thee. [1]

The 'cold' gray light of morning was anything but as it danced along the surface of his skin. Even wracked with pain after his plummet from the tower and his previous capture by Glory, Spike couldn't summon up the wherewithal to focus past his numbing sense of loss. The emotion of the shocking realization that she was gone blanketed his perception. Buffy, his beautiful golden Buffy was dead. Over and over those words repeated in this head. Yet still the concept that she was gone slipped from his grasp. Her strength, her perseverance, her raw, focused determination against insurmountable odds had been his bulwark during the single most unsettling time of his unlife.

When he had first been chipped, he had denied her power. He had been at a disadvantage-couldn't hunt, couldn't feed, shaken to his very core. It had been worse than when he had been fledging, the sense of powerlessness. The Big Bad had never had to depend on anyone, not to feed. Spike never had found he could depend on anyone, not since his death or before. Reluctantly the Slayer had offered him sanctuary and obediently her minions had followed suit. He hadn't been able to bring himself to depend on that sanctuary. Unable to bring himself to rely on humans, he had been unable to believe they would hold up their end of the deal. No more than he had been able to believe that the bonds of that little group, not being enforced by pain and fear, could stand against his interference. He had been wrong, painfully wrong.

He had first admired Buffy as a worthy opponent. Gradually over time, watching her with her 'minions', he came to respect the way she had enhanced her Slayer persona with their support. Her loyalties and loves had not weakened her, as any vampire would believe. These qualities had not left her open to attack or distracted her at a crucial moment but had time and time again turned the table on more powerful antagonists.

Her relationships with them were so unlike the way a vampire used its minions. When they put their backs together they could stand against anything. There was no struggle for power, no jostling for position. They each gave all they had; building on each other's strengths and without conscious thought they fortified each other's weaknesses. Nothing could sway their faith in each other. Spike had learned that first-hand from the results of his attempt to divide and conquer them in his agreement with Adam. And now they had placed their all-too-brief and fragile lives between all the power and rage of a Hell-God and the rest of humanity.

It was impossible. They lacked the rigid discipline of an army or the viciousness of a mob. What they were was something far more subtle-kin. In the oldest sense of the word; stronger than any blood bond, much like the primal hunt/coven bonds of vampires but lacking in the darkest traits. They were a collective of determined, independent individuals. Each one would at times willingly circumvent their own wants and needs to protect the others.

Spike saw that his mistake in the past had been in first treating them like prey, and then when that failed approaching them like a rival master's conclave. His failures had been mostly due to his wrong assumptions of who was this group's master, and what their weakness was. Time and time again, the traits he had assumed would work in his favor had been the very ones to blow his plans to hell and back.

Rupert's insistence that he only guide, not control his Slayer should have hampered both his ability to impart his knowledge and the speed of her response while she questioned his instructions. Instead it had created a more powerful Slayer, one who could make her own decisions under pressure, yet was unafraid to expose her limitations by seeking help.

The whelp's eagerness to please and willingness to let the others take all he had to give and more should have drained the boy. Xander had no enhanced strength, and while Spike had noticed that he was far more perceptive than most people thought, he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Somehow the boy used that. Seeming completely oblivious to slights and insults, the whelp remained ever ready to bleed himself dry in his feral devotion to his friends.

Red, with her self-effacing insecurities, should have been easy to manipulate. Wouldn't she make a pretty and powerful pawn in the right hands? Yet there was a steely resolve to the fragile-seeming witch, and Spike knew from personal experience that the girl did not back down. Buffy had called Willow her big gun before the tragic battle in which they had won the war, but lost what had made it worth fighting. They had won, largely due to Red. She had managed to brain-suck a hell-god minutes before she was tossing that mob of humans around like tenpins. Would have thought twice about kidnapping her and the whelp, if I knew she could do that.

When the seven of them tumbled into the magic shop it seemed days had passed, rather than hours. Wellesley [2] was right, funny you don't see a won or a lost battle as melancholy, when the remains resemble a food fight--when it's not your own that's lying broken and lifeless.

Spike thought this might be it; Buffy had been their linchpin and without her the little group might just slowly drift apart. Rupert had fought for the white-hats before Buffy had come into his life, but the others cared more for the girl than any cause.

Spike dropped onto the metal stairs leading up to the loft and watched as the others settled around the shop. Or attempted to. The Watcher led the Nibblet to one of the chairs at the table, and guided her to sit. She sat, unaware of her surroundings, shedding quiet tears for her sister, for her mother, for the safe world she remembered but would never know again. Red fluttered about, fussing over her girlfriend and the little one, covertly keeping a close eye on the Watcher.

Spike admitted to himself he was waiting, waiting for when one of them to look at him and ask, 'why are you here?' waiting for them to close ranks against him and possibly drive him out into the sunlight. He wondered if he would resist, at least make some token effort at self-preservation.

As his tears blurred his vision again, he could almost see Buffy in front of him. He could almost take himself back to that one brief moment, when they had gone back to her house and she had said, "Come inside, Spike." She had crossed the Watcher and the whelp to include him on that disastrous escape attempt. She had trusted him with her beloved sister's life. It more than made up for her repeated rejections. Those small words, that show of trust, more than justified his turning his back on his dark princess for her. She had trusted him, and for one brief moment he had belonged. Belonged to her and to hers, and Spike didn't think he could bear it if they turned him out. He promised his lady he would protect Dawn, and in retrospect all her minions would fall under his protection now that the Slayer was dead.

He was jarred out of his introspection by Anya's hysterics. At least her disjointed words had sounded like hysterical gibberish before she had limped out of the shop. He expected the whelp to follow after the demon bint. She has the boy well trained; he should follow, Spike thought, looking at the shattered looks of the humans. When he goes, that will start it. They will each stumble off on their separate ways. Spike reasoned it would be just like he had predicted to Adam, they would drift apart in their own private miseries. But the boy hesitated and surprised him by turning back to the gang. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Spike remembered those strong human arms dragging him out of the collapsing library only hours after the whelp had threatened to kick his shiny white bum. If nothing else, the boy was unpredictable.

The little blond witch said something about shock, and that they should make Dawn drink something hot. She said she would get something. The Watcher had gone back to the office. Spike could hear his stifled sobs. He didn't think the humans could hear that soft sound, but Red went back anyway. Given the uncanny powers she had so recently displayed Spike wouldn't have put it past her to have read his mind.

The boy knelt in front of Dawn, his hands enveloping her small white fingers as he first pressed her hand between both his palms and them gently kissed its back. Angelus was right, a true white knight. The girl remained unresponsive, and if not for Spike's enhanced hearing he would have missed Xander's soft words.

"You know Dawn; there's so much I don't know. But I can tell you this with absolute certainty. When you love someone, you give them a part of yourself. It binds you to them. Nothing, not even death can sever that connection. Part of you is with Joyce and Buffy and always will be. They're even now drawing strength and love from it. And part of them will always be within you. I know it hurts too much now, but eventually you'll be able to look inside and feel that part of them and wrap it around you, and nothing will ever be able to shake the love and strength you draw from them." Xander swallowed hard, and Spike felt a pang of sympathy for a boy raised in an era where men just didn't cry. Xander's voice was rough with suppressed emotion when he continued. "I love you, Dawn. You have a piece of my heart and you always will, in life and in death. I loved them too. That hasn't stopped. It never will. I just want you to know you're not alone. We're family. You know what that means-even if you wanted to, you can never get rid of us."

The nibblet hadn't shown much interest in drinking the hot tea, but she did clutch the warm mug in both hands. Spike quietly slipped into the seat next to her at the table. The boy's words hadn't seemed to reach her so he wrapped the long fingers of one hand around her hands and gently stroked her hair with the other. The witch seemed to sense the futility of trying to make her talk and just offered her quiet, comforting presence.

At length Spike spoke in a low, calming voice. "Hush now, nibblet. There, there, you'll make yourself ill." Dawn did not answer with words but gradually her tears slowed and stopped. Tara had to pry the mug loose to take the cold tea and went to make more. Once they were alone, Spike said, "The whelp's right, you're not alone. As long as they draw breath and blood flows in their veins they will stand by you, through hell and back. Not being hampered by those restrictions myself, I'll be there to dandle your great-grandchildren on my knee when you are old and gray. This I swear."

"That's a promise, isn't it?" She whispered softly, eyes still unfocused. Spike was so relieved that she had spoken he barely managed a firm nod and squeezed her hands. She turned, still clutching at his hand; the fires of grief in her eyes banked but not burned out. Her voice was raw from her silent crying when she said, "I remember. That man said you didn't have a soul, that he couldn't understand why you would risk yourself, and you said you had made a promise. You take your promises pretty seriously."

"Very seriously, Pet." There's hidden depths to this one. She reminded him so much of Joyce, he was hard-pressed not to start sobbing again.

"What can I promise you?" Twice in the space of an hour he was astonished. He knew that she grasped the concept of a demon, more than most, given her background, or the background she remembered. Yet the trust she placed him, which now shone in her eyes, made him fear for her and long to keep her safe in any way that he could.

"You swear you'll listen to the Watcher, and the witch, and the whelp. You keep yourself safe. You promise me you won't let this break you." He hadn't meant to sound so fierce. He feared for a moment he might drive her back into her silent shell, but she tried to smile.

"This is one of those 'do as I say not as I do' things, right?" Still resilient under such a burden, her feeble attempt at humor, accompanied by the Dawn version of Buffy's patented eye roll, was oddly reassuring. Sums and parts. Wonder if this was what the Slayer was like at this age.

Spike countered, "I'm willing to try." It seemed only fair to trade her endeavored sarcasm for his less than classic smirk.

"I guess we'll have to stick close to each other," She squeezed his fingers between both hands. "Just to keep each other honest." And didn't she just wink? Amazing. She's going to survive this.

* * * * *

Hadn't that been a shock? Spike had been in the shop and strolled back to see if, in all the commotion, anyone had thought to stop off at the butcher's. Instead of finding the tiny refrigerator in the corner of the training room, there was a huge 1950's monster blocking the passageway. The boy had shown up early and had been working on the framed part of the practice space. Xander had taken to working on the shop to stave off the frustrating hours of unsuccessful research they had been doing since Glory had arrived. In addition to installing a tiny galley kitchen the boy was also working on the basement storage room and various display areas out in the shop's public area. Spike had tuned out the noise of power tools and banging, assuming the whelp needed an outlet for his grief and frustration; this was at least productive.

The fridge hummed with power so Spike took a look inside, not expecting the Slayer's minions to remember the pet vampire, but hoping the cupboard wasn't bare. He stood there, mouth gaping in shock. There were over a dozen bags of human blood. The good stuff, marked and typed by the blood bank, and by the dates written on the bags; fresh. He looked around in amazement.

Spike had kept a wary eye on the nibblet since they had lost the Slayer, and the Watcher hadn't left her side. The store was closed but they were cloistered in the office, taking care of making the arrangements for Buffy. The witch and her mate hadn't arrived yet. Only the boy had been bustling about, going in and out of the store since the daybreak. Beside the blood the only items in the icebox were cases of the soft drinks he had seen the boy hauling in on his broad shoulder earlier. A touch told him that the ginger ale Dawn liked was chilled, and catching her eye through the window of the office door Spike held up a can and inclined his head in query. She nodded and smiled weakly at him. The Watcher was on the telephone and looked almost as weary as she did. The office reeked of dust and dry leather bindings when Spike slipped quietly in to bring Dawn her drink. Taking the drink in one hand she reached out with the other and squeezed his long fingers in her small grip. Her tears had dried and she looked up at Spike from where she perched on the edge of the single chair, besides the one behind Rupert's desk, with red-rimmed eyes that burnt into his heart. Spike was still staring into those lost eyes when the Watcher ended the call.

"How about you, Rupes?" He asked. "Fancy a cuppa?" Well, good now we're both bewildered. Least I don't show it so openly.

When Giles finally managed to wrap his mind around the fact that William the Bloody had just offered to make him tea he said, "Er, no. Thank you. Oh! I do apologize. There has been so much- I'll ask Xander to restock the blood."

"Don't bother, looks like he already did." Spike stroked Dawn's hair before heading out to the currently homeless microwave to fix himself a thankfully palatable meal.

Afterwards, he strolled back to where the whelp's racket had been coming from all morning. Xander was stripped to the waist, in loose, well-worn jeans and safety goggles. Sweat highlighted the movement of his muscles along his broad back as he used a power drill to screw on brackets to mount a shelf above the sink. He had framed the small room with speed and confidence over the past weeks.

Spike was surprised at the transformation a few hours of that day had made. Prepackaged cabinets had previously been hung but now their doors had been attached and the drywall was covered with laminated tile. The floor and walls being finished made a world of difference. The aisle space looked just wide enough to maneuver the refrigerator back into the niche Xander had left in the far corner.

"Hey, super powered vampire guy, I was just going to shamelessly draft you as grunt labor." Xander removed the goggles and ran his fingers through his hair where the elastic had mussed it. Spike raised an eyebrow and considered playing the 'what's in it for me' card, but knew that if he didn't help it would take Xander longer to do it. That would be time in which the refrigerator would be unplugged and he had a vested interest in keeping its contents safe.

"That mean you want my help moving the fridge?"

"Help? I thought you would do it, and the microwave too." Xander turned a fake innocent look on him and actually batted those ridiculously long lashes.

"Isn't that a union job?" Spike crossed his arms and wondered if he could get the whelp to work for it.

"Spike, vampires don't get hernias." Xander reasoned. It felt good. Almost like Herself would step in any minute to settle it between them.

"All right, Whelp, but you guide it from the other side, otherwise I'll be forced to hear you whine about the scrapes to your floor."

Together, they made short work of it. Appliances installed, Xander alternated fussing about with the finishing touches with drinking one of the sodas. Spike noted that the boy didn't even look at the bags of blood when he grabbed his drink. Spike heated a second unit of blood. No use letting the good stuff go to waste, it won't stay fresh forever. He sipped it, now that the need had been blunted. Sitting on the counter, he watched Xander move about with quiet confidence. Eventually the boy noticed his attention and looked up from where he knelt attaching handles to the drawers and smiled self-consciously.

"What?" Xander asked.

"What brought on the urge to redecorate?" Spike gestured with his mug at the transformed room.

"Just figured we'd be all here more, couldn't..." He paused awkwardly, brushed at his hair and added softly, looking down, "I just need to keep busy. You didn't notice all this crap before?"

"Wasn't exactly welcome lately. This monstrosity wasn't lurking about when we regrouped here after that road trip to the Crusade." Spike nodded at the old refrigerator.

"Had this set aside, got a friend who works down at the Goodwill store. I was waiting for things to settle down, thought I'd draft Buffy into doing the heavy labor." Spike watched Xander sneak an appraising glance up at him under those dark lashes, asking if Spike understood but seeming to doubt he would.

"Yeah." Spike answered both the words and the look and contemplated the contents of his cup. Boy tries to hard to be strong, to be everything his friends need. "Yeah." He added again.

"You look good." Xander blurted out, then followed up with a burst of babble. "Better. I mean better. You look better than before. I mean more like your old self, less like Glory's punching bag, I mean."

"I know what you mean, Whelp." Spike interrupted before Xander wound himself up so tight he exploded. "This helps." He nodded to the mug.

"Yeah, I read that somewhere." Xander offered up a paler version of his usual bright smile and continued. "Giles would be so proud, I managed to retain something from all the research sessions."

Xander washed his hands at the sink and said he was going to see what the others wanted to do about lunch. He hadn't mentioned the blood, but Spike was sure now that he was the one who had supplied it. It wasn't just that he wondered where the boy had laid his hands on one of Sunnydale's hottest black market items. What really had Spike's brain ticking away was the fact that in the slightly more than twenty-four hours since losing the Slayer he had thought to get it at all. It occurred to Spike that having someone like Xander in his life, who went to such lengths for his friends, would not be such a bad thing.

Later on the witches arrived, smelling of tears and grief. Willow and Giles held counsel on what would be best for Dawn in the office. Spike noticed that the demon chit still had not arrived. He had been watching for her since the boy showed. Now that the others were all here, he wondered which one would be the first to ask. She wasn't coming. He had known in that instant when Xander had looked up at him when he was attaching the handles to the drawers with the pain in those eyes... the boy was frantically trying to be strong enough for everyone else to lean on, but felt he had no one to turn to himself. He eavesdropped shamelessly when he saw Red go back to the new kitchen, where Xander was cleaning up after lunch. After suitable praise for the transformation she was the one to ask the question. "Where's Anya?"

"Ah," In the reflection of the office window, Spike saw Xander wipe his hands on his jeans and lean back against the counter. "She- This all..." He looked away from the concerned witch. Not the subtle avoidance he might be hoping for since he faced a bare wall in doing so. "She's gone," he said finally, turning wounded eyes back at her.

"Gone?" Willow said in confusion, and then looking up at her friend seemed to register his pain through the fog of her own grief. She wrapped her small frame against his and squeezed him into a hug. "She'll be back," she said with fierce conviction.

"I don't think so." Xander's voice was hardly more than a defeated whisper. Spike longed to pull the bitch's intestines out slowly while she watched. That desire didn't strike him as odd that he wished to inflict pain on her for the distress she caused a boy he himself had taken great pleasure in manipulating in the past. The whelp was Buffy's, so he was now his. Spike was going to take care of them all whether they wanted it or not.

"What's going on?" Dawn whispered in his ear, taking it for granted that he was listening in on the activity in the back.

He thought about asking what she meant, but she always saw through him anyway so he whispered back "Demon bint's skipped town."

"For good?"

How should I know? Instead of asking, he hugged Dawn against him and they both turned their attention to the back. After a while, Spike said. "Might be for the best if you just follow your boyfriend's lead on this. See how he wants to handle it."

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, not sounding at all annoyed by the implication. She hugged Spike back and after a moment murmured into his chest. "Why does everything have to change?"

* * * * *

They kept the service simple; Dawn insisted they have it after sunset. Spike had expected a sparse crowd, only friends of Joyce and Dawn. Buffy had spent all her time performing her Slayer duties, other than the overstuffed Boy Scout she had been shagging, he never saw her with anyone but her minions. Cars lined the quiet cemetery, mostly California plates but some from out of state. Young people, somber, well-dressed and carrying weapons, came out of the evening darkness. Dawn kept Spike close to her and he pitied the fledge that crossed path with one of these stake-wielding humans.

"Who are all these people?" Spike was glad that Dawn had asked. He was, after all, a Master vampire; it wouldn't do to seem impressed by the army of mourners.

"Children of the Hellmouth," Xander answered with a trace of his glib humor. "Sunnydale High Class of 1999. Buffy was voted class protector. Remember? They might not have a handle on the whole Slayer deal, but they know that there are things that try to kill us and that Buffy stood between them and those things. We had the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class."

One by one they stopped and offered Dawn their condolences. Xander greeted each by name and introduced Dawn to them by how they knew Buffy. "This is Jeff. He was on the swim team, and Buffy stopped him from eating the coach. This is Marcia. She was in Mr. Whitmore's Sex Ed; Buffy kept her egg baby from brain-sucking her. This is TJ. He worked out just where to position the explosives so that the school would bury the Mayor." It went on and on.

Spike noticed when he stopped by the grave in the nights that followed that the people remembered their protector and mourned in their own way. Candles and flowers, bits of poetry and CD's were left at what was becoming a shrine to the young woman. It would never make it into the Watcher Chronicles but no Slayer had been so embraced by and her community. Spike made sure that the candles stayed lit and took the poetry and CDs home to Dawn.

* * * * *

The blood kept being restocked and the boy checked on Spike daily the same as he did the witch and the Watcher. It became so he could set his watch by when the whelp showed up with the girl, usually with dinner for all and the news of the town. He was surprisingly well-connected and kept up a steady stream of gossip to Willow and Dawn on who was engaged and pregnant, who had flunked out of college and who was moving and to where. Gradually it was not only the boy's chatter at the dinner table, but the girls joined in with questions and comments. Xander ceased to have to work so hard to make them smile and participate. Spike thought they were going too easy on Rupes. The Watcher was drinking heavily and would lock himself in the office for hours at a time. The kids had practically taken over running the store and on occasion had left Spike running the till. Which was just wrong-he was evil, not a shopkeeper.

Spike had taken to spending most of the day in the shop. Usually one of the minions was about for company and Dawn spent most of her time after school there. But he was alone with Rupes when the call came in from the Watcher's Council. Although he went into the back to take the call, Spike was more than able to overhear the conversation. They were rather vocal with their opinion of ringing a fellow Watcher and reaching a vampire. When Spike had asked whom he should say was calling that tosser had snapped, "Who is this?" Spike had calmly drawled, "This is William the Bloody, you wanker. Who the hell wants to know?"

After the call Spike and Giles spent the next twenty minutes exchanging candid views of the Watchers and their impending visit. Spike was almost grateful for the chip; otherwise he would have ended the argument in a rather colorful manner. The Whelp arrived with Dawn. The boy acted as if they weren't still hurling insults, until he seemed to notice the girl shrink into herself watching the adults with a quivering lip. He surprised Spike by interrupting him mid-tirade. "Hey, chip dip. Come on, it's Friday, lets get hunting."

"It's daylight, moron," Spike snarled eager to get back to his argument.

"And we're burning it," Xander persisted. "Come on, so little time, so much ground to cover."

"What are you raving about?" Spike couldn't believe the boy had actually grabbed his arm and was pulling him toward the back.

"No work tomorrow. I want to sweep the tunnels, the Initiative caves, and the old high school before sunset, then we can hit the usual spots. Hurry up-if we hit all three spots before dark I'll spring for one of those onion things you like at the Bronze."

It was an obvious attempt to distract him. It was also an attempt to stop what had upset Dawn, so Spike went along with the whelp. Spike spent most of the time they were roaming the tunnels, caves and corridors waiting for the boy to comment on the argument, or at least to ask about it. Irritatingly, the boy ignored it and didn't seem any different than their normal nights of patrol.

They ended up back at the Bronze and the boy was still refusing to get drawn in; he even had the audacity to laugh when Spike missed a shot in their pool game. Finally, after barking at the boy and infuriatingly sounding like he was confiding in the whelp instead of ordering him to do something about the Watcher, Spike was able to get him to listen to his point. And with a few stuttered words didn't the cur have him feeling sympathy for the drunken sod. Damn it, I'm evil.

They left the club and Spike dropped his real concern into the conversation and waited to see what would happen. He looked the whelp in the eye and told him the Watchers were coming and that they had better not find out that Dawn was the Key.

* * * * *

Spike watched the two of them, heads together in conference, silhouetted against the glaring sunlight. Xander and Dawn usually both jumped out of the car and came straight into the shop. Spike knew Xander intended to brief Dawn about the Watcher's visit. He wished they were with him in the dim shop so that he could gauge her reactions by sight and scent. When they emerged from the vehicle Dawn sedately crossed the street without the bounce she had just begun to display when arriving 'home' from school. Upon entering the shop she came straight to him and asked, "You know?"

"Not to worry, nibblet, they've been here before. For all their bloody books and lore, they're as Hellmouth-blind as the rest of the blighted buggers that live here." Spike tried to sound nonchalant and hoped that his attitude soothed the girl. The truth was he feared for her, but the boy was right; in Spike's experiences with both Slayers and Watchers, they tended to see just what they wanted to see.

He sat at the table with Dawn as she unpacked her books and told him about her day, more subdued than usual. Xander brought her a cold drink and Spike a warm mug. Normally Xander waited only on Dawn, so perhaps that was what made Spike watch the boy so intently. The dark-eyed youth moved about at his normal pace but Spike noticed that in the process of straightening the store the boy secured the exits and stashed weapons about the place.

Spike had been prepared for an argument the night before. The boy had fought beside the Slayer for five years and held Rupert in the awe usually reserved for beloved parents or heroes. Yet the moment Spike had pointed out the threat, a feral light had gleamed in Xander's eyes and he had begun to consolidate their defenses and marshal their rescources. When the boy had said, "Let's go see the witches," Spike had been relieved and a bit shocked to be believed so readily.

He had never been so completely trusted. Angelus would have questioned him thoroughly to ensure he had not misinterpreted something or that he was not just plain wrong. Xander had accepted that if Spike thought that something had the potential to hurt Dawn, then it did. He didn't waste time with that other rot, he just acted.

The boy often belittled his own intelligence with his jokes and Spike, like many others, had begun to accept Xander's statements as fact. But over the past weeks since they had lost the Slayer, Spike had spent more time with him than any of the others except Dawn. Spike realized that what Xander attributed to 'lack of intelligence' was in actuality the result of poor education. Given the American educational system and Xander's penchant for head-butting walls and frequent sleepless nights while saving the world, Spike was surprised the boy knew as much as he did. Sure, the kid couldn't pick Portugal out on a map if you put a gun to his head, and he thought Henry VIII was a British pop singer from the Sixties but there was real intelligence in those big brown eyes.

Xander spotted Spike's scrutiny as he was hauling an ax and some crossbows up into the loft. He gave a self-conscious shrug and grinned at the vampire. The Watcher emerged from his office and nervously began checking over everything in preparation for their visitors. He found a sword stashed behind the checkout counter and looked pointedly at Spike. Spike smirked and nodded to the boy in the loft.

"Er, Xander." Giles held the sword flat in both palms and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have to throw it at anyone, G-Man, I just thought it might, you know," he shrugged and brushed his hair out of his eyes, "keep down the interruptions." Xander's grin was contagious. The witches arrived to see all four of them smiling.

"Why are we happy?" Willow asked, smiling a little hesitantly herself.

"Xander has been redecorating again," Giles said. "Are there any more of these I should be aware of?"

"Here and there." The boy looked completely unrepentant and Spike thought again about what a lovely vampire he would make.

By the time the Watchers arrived Spike had taken up a post on the stairs to one side of Dawn. The witches sat at the table, on her other side. Blond and red hair pressed together, side by side, as they shared the same tome, softly whispering disjointed comments and finishing each other's sentences. When the four Watchers entered through the front door, Spike wondered if they had tried the other entrance only to find it bolted. He had to stop himself from turning to look at the boy as the Watchers spread out in a defensive pattern. When one pulled a squirt gun full of holy water, Spike almost apologized out loud to the golden-haired Slayer for failing her so miserably.

From the look on Quentin Travers face, there was a weapon pointed him, probably one of the crossbows. Spike growled, flashing his game face and flexed, gnashing his teeth and clenching his fists. The truth was he was in shock and didn't want the Watchers to read his human visage.

He had seen the Slayer's minions react when one of their own was threatened; it was a thing of beauty, their fierceness. Spike had never expected to receive that protection, to be wrapped in the unquestioning loyalty they reserved for one of their own. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud, to crow his delight. In all those years as part of 'the Scourge of Europe' he had never felt this good, this powerful. Sweet Dru, bless her black heart, could never be relied on from one moment to the next. Angelus was besotted with his Sire and too concerned with losing face or being betrayed to ever rely on Spike or to show him loyalty. And Darla, the selfish bint, had only tolerated Spike because he could manage Dru and was so far down in the pecking order that he wasn't considered a threat. This...this was warmth, this was safety. Spike was one of them and he would risk his unlife to protect them, he would keep them close.

Dawn was tugging on his arm and he couldn't not laugh when he met her eyes. That increased the scent of fear coming from the Watchers. Spike wondered what he had missed while growling and threatening the Watchers. Dawn seemed less tense, Rupert had lowered his weapon, the witches still clasped hands and now that Spike had turned toward Dawn he could see that Xander was still braced for a shot with the crossbow. It was leveled at Quentin Travers.

The bell on the door jangled, the Watchers not having locked it behind them, and a redhead smelling of horses and iodine entered. She stopped to examine the unconscious Watcher and prodded him with her foot. In a moment she had all their attention; there was a dragon in Sunnydale, and she seemed to think that the Slayer's minion would do something about it. Spike took the opportunity presented by the distraction to drag Dawn into the back.

Later, after unsuccessfully trying to get the nibblet to stay at Rupert's place, Spike watched the redhead lead the boy through the under brush. They had parked the cars back on the dirt access road and circled around. The girl looked at Xander with obvious lust and Spike wondered if they were shagging. The scent was wrong but the demon bint was out of the picture and the boy was young and healthy and shaggable. Where the hell did that come from!

He stuck close to Dawn, hoping his presence would make the bleeding Watchers keep their distance and provide protection from the dragon. Spike had been unconscious from his plummet off the tower when the beast had made its appearance through the vortex, but if the nibblet said she saw it, she saw it. Not to mention he could smell some sort of huge carnivore as soon as they pulled up to the access road.

The young man who met them in the clearing by a pickup truck looked enough like Xander to be his brother. Same height, same coloring, but added were a beard, a broadsword, and the clinging red-haired bint. Before long, arguing broke out. No one knew what to do about the dragon but none of them wanted to concede that fact. They could have been there all night, or until the Watchers regained their composure and took over, but quietly, with his trademark humor, Xander got them all working together. The Watchers, minus their walking wounded back at the shop, still tried to explain away a dragon on the Hellmouth, while Giles and the witches made a list of what they would need to use the Olaf Maneuver on a dragon. Spike was relieved when they took Dawn with them to get supplies and set out after Xander to take in the lay of the land and keep an eye on the dragon.

Of course, the plan went to hell the minute the dragon woke up. They were laying out the braziers that the magic users had prepared when the beast snapped to attention and started to thrash about in a bottom-heavy attempt to snatch the circling humans. The futile flapping sent up blinding gales of sand and debris. Spike almost missed the sound of the gunshot in the racket of the dragon; the dragon didn't. It zeroed in on the loud noise and incidentally, the location of the rest of the humans. Spike followed the beast at a run, snagging a twelve-foot grounding rod as he careened through the paddock, leaping over the horse carcasses. Fortunately, due to the lay of the land and several large trees surrounding the clearing, the dragon had to snake around to strike. Adjusting his course to come at its exposed chest, Spike launched himself and his weapon at the screaming beast. He felt the metal rod impale the dragon and sink a good four feet into its massive body before he let go to drop to the ground and roll away from its slashing claws. Wet hot fluid splashed his lower body and a stench far stronger than previously practically knocked the vampire unconscious.

When Spike staggered back to the humans, he wasn't sure Dawn was all right. He had heard a female scream and had known it wasn't one of his, but needed to be reassured. The sight of Xander leaning against the truck flooded him with relief. The boy was exhausted but not hurt, and Spike knew the girl would be near. He heard her rapid heartbeat from under the truck; she would probably have been safe there even if he hadn't managed to drive the dragon off. He told her to come out after he was sure it had been banished and she went to look after the witches. The Watcher bint looked like she had been dipped in dragon's blood and had been the source of all the screams. Dawn came back and dragged him to the barn to hose off his jeans. She suggested with a blush that he take them off, but he told her they would be clearing out before the authorities worked up the nerve to have a look at all the racket.

"Spike? Where'd they get a gun? I saw a movie where the police in England don't even carry guns." She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and smelled more strongly of fear than she had all night.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Nibblet? You're an American. You people get guns before you get driver's license; the mindless violence is my favorite thing about this country. Well, that and the Ramones." Spike tried to draw her attention away from the Watchers. She didn't answer but her eyes were wide as she considered the Watchers who were clustered about their reeking comrade.

It was Xander's quiet voice that broke her rapt contemplation as he wandered over to them. "Dawnie, not all Watchers are English, and they could have picked up anything once they came through customs. We," the boy indicated both Spike and the witches, who were standing over with the sword-welding couple, "have taken every precaution. I guarantee, after the wet work crap they pulled when Buffy was stuck in Faith's body and the threats they leveled last time they were here, we're ready for a fight. I honestly don't think it's gonna come to that." He tucked the girl under his arm and offered her a smile that she, after a moment, returned.

The redhead who was so enamored of Xander offered Spike a ride back to town in the open bed of the truck and the boy surprised the vampire by suggesting they drop him at Xander's place. Spike would never have been able to get rid of the smell at the crypt. Xander had remarked earlier that judging from the outside he imagined the inside of the dragon would smell really bad. He had been right. Spike was never sure how much the Watcher taught them about vampires, other than how to kill them. Vampires, like most hunters, had a very sensitive sense of smell and Spike was miserable. He desperately wanted to get clean. He was grateful that Xander was letting him into his apartment smelling like he did. Even a human's limited sense of smell would be offended by this stench, as the sobbing Watcher cow proved.

Later, as the boy showed off his cleaning supplies, Spike was treated to a brief glimpse of the quirkiness of being a Scooby. Most twenty-year-old men were just learning the art of removing their own stains and general laundry upkeep. Xander frowned at the Spike's sticky jeans and said, "I think I can get rid of the smell, but it will probably take all the color out." He looked up with questioning expectancy, and at Spike's nod fetched a metal bucket, probably from the construction site, and filled it with cold water. He emptied an unmarked bottle of colorless liquid into the water and said, "This is really toxic. Make sure you don't get any on...Oh yeah. Duh." Xander brought him a change of clothes for when he was clean and then stumbled out in a fit of awkward shyness at being caught ogling Spike. The vampire had it on good authority that he was worth more that a passing look but tried not to snicker too obviously at his friend. Friend? Bloody hell, I'm a wet little sod.

Alone in Xander's bathroom, Spike pondered the boy's reaction. There had been no mistaking the increase in his heartbeat or the solid wall of pheromones that had slammed into Spike's senses. Xander had, on occasion, flirted with the vampire, whether he had been aware of it or not, but never had he given off such obvious signs of sexual attraction. But then again, he had never flashed the boy before-maybe he should have. It was fun to watch the easy confidence Xander had displayed when garnering his troops to do battle with the dragon evaporate like a morning mist. Hadn't the Watchers been surprised by that? You would think with all the time they spend tossing off about the supernatural, one extra-dimensional beastie wouldn't set them all agog.

Spike finished peeling off his clothes and lined up Xander's odd assortment of cleaning supplies along the edge of the bathtub. He tried small amounts of each to see which had the best chance of cutting through the smelly slime. Surprised I could scent the boy at all. The gasoline and paint thinner seemed to have the best effect. With a snort, Spike spared a thought for the silly bint who had been drenched in the dragon's blood and the other Watchers trapped in a hotel suite with her. Hope this makes them leave. Bad enough trying to keep them from finding out about the nibblet, but I don't like the way they were looking at Xander. Hold on. Why don't I like the attention they're paying to the whelp? Spike sat naked, perched on the edge of the empty tub, completely at a loss.

Sure, these were Buffy's minions and, as far as he was concerned, that made them his responsibility, but the boy was different. It wasn't just that Xander had trusted him; it was that he could trust Xander. Tonight for instance, at the same time Spike had realized that the dragon wasn't playing along with the plan and was in fact about to attack, he had seen Xander running for all he was worth toward the others. Spike had only been free to assault the dragon because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Xander would first get Dawn to safety before attempting to save the others. When he saw Xander gulping in great gasps of air he didn't even have to see Dawn to know she was all right.

It was a relief to have a stable hunt partner, one whose priorities and vigilance he could trust. Dru had never been like that. Pretty colors, shiny objects, talking dolls... there was no telling what would distract his dark princess. But Xander, for all that his mind seemed to flit from one thing to the next like a crack addict channel surfing, never lost sight of what was important. Xander protected the same people Spike was now guarding and had been doing it longer. Yet he accepted Spike and relied on him. The Slayer had given Spike the first sense of belonging, but she lacked Xander's feral loyalty. That was what made Spike feel secure.

So what had Spike feeling all possessive, beside the usual vampire shit? The boy certainly wasn't hard to look at, with thick dark hair, long lashes, and big eyes. Xander was more along the lines of sweet Drusilla than the golden beauty of the Slayer. The boy's long, hard body was an added bonus. But a shag was a shag, and as much as Spike might like to consider dipping into that hot, hard package it wouldn't be worth risking his place, as tenuous as it was. Not without a stronger basis than a wave of lust from a randy lad hardly out of his teens.

Tonight had been fun. The Slayer would have been pleased. He'd met the challenge, fought the good fight, and kept the nibblet and the rest of the minions safe. And they had protected him. No, no shag was worth that feeling he had gotten in the magic shop when they had all stood with him against the Watchers. To be protected and to be turned to for protection, what more could a demon have wanted? Well, being a demon he could want quite a bit more actually, but time and the chip had taught him to hold tight to what he had.

Now, if he could just get rid of the bloody Watchers.

Much to everyone's relief, the Watchers left after another two days. They now seemed more wary of the Slayer's minions, since they had seen them in action. Rupert still had a job, monitoring the activity surrounding the Hellmouth. That seemed to please him. Spike would have preferred to sever all ties with the Wankers. The only upside of the visit was that they had mentioned visiting LA to assess Faith's progress, which meant that they would be harassing the Magnificent Poof and his minions.

The rest of the week was routine. The witches were working on some top-secret spell and the nibblet was planning a day trip with them to the Renaissance Festival up north. Dawn had been coming out of her shell more and more, and with summer approaching, there seemed to be a social whirlwind among the girls her age. Though she had always received the invitations, now she was more inclined to accept a sleepover or afternoon trip or a swim party. It was Friday. The Nibblet stayed at the dorms with the blonde witch, planning on an early start in the morning. Red had come with he and the boy on patrol. Spike was antsy; he didn't feel safe letting Dawn out of his sphere of influence.

He had pretty well established Sunnydale as his hunting ground. Since he and the Slayer were credited with offing a Hellgod, and he and the minions had been dusting any and all rivals, he was unofficially considered the Master of the Hellmouth. He didn't mention that to Red when she sighed in disappointment at not getting to test whatever new spell she had ready. Spike had hopes that it wasn't as dangerous to her vampire ally as the ball of sunlight.

Sunnydale should stay quiet until some new big bad got wind of who was holding this prime territory. Spike didn't delude himself; very few of the old ones would think twice if they thought he was all that stood between them and the power of the Hellmouth. Yet the minions remained oblivious. They patrolled, and expected things to stay much the same as they had when the Slayer had, for all intents and purposes, owned the Hellmouth. For a crew who had spent the past five years hunting vampires, they were surprisingly ignorant of the social nuances of the species.

A shared look was all it took before he and Xander reached an unspoken agreement and shadowed Red on her way back to the dorms. She might be a powerhouse, but she looked like a meal and could always have attracted the unwanted attention of another human.

That was happening more and more; Xander seemed to read his mind on occasion. Admittedly it could be that they had the same goals, the same priorities. Spike was pretty sure it would be quiet the rest of the night. Between Red's ball of sunlight and his private hunts after his humans had turned in for the night, he didn't expect to see many fledges until someone new moved to town. It would happen; Sunnydale was a prime hunting ground and someone his age couldn't be expected to hold it long, but he had no intention of running. This was the Slayer's territory and her minions were what anything taking over would have to go though, so Spike would go down fighting-he had to.

Thinking a beer would cap off the evening nicely, he suggested they swing by the Bronze. After being hammered by another wave of pheromones and enduring a bout of babble, they headed back to the boy's place. Xander had beer and blood in his fridge and much better reception on his telly than the crypt. Xander's heart rate dropped back to normal and he and Spike spent some quiet time watching the telly and knocking back a couple of pints. The small talk faltered and he caught a whiff of Xander's returning lust. Thinking of something to divert the boy's admittedly limited attention he brought up Dawn. When the boy pointed out that soon she would be out of school for the summer and that every day would be filled with hours of burning sunlight in which Spike couldn't follow, the bulk of which she would insist on being away from him, Spike was seized by blind panic. Spike was then treated to the disconcerting feeling of being reassured by the boy. Xander's voice was calm and soothed his agitation, more with the sound than the meaning of the words. Truth told, Spike had all he could do to keep from howling his frustration at the need to protect the girl and to keep her happy.

Gradually the meaning of Xander's word crawled through the primal reaction of his higher brain functions. Xander was telling him he was part of the pack, that he belonged, that he would always belong. This affirmation that the alliance that the minions had formed with him wasn't as fragile as he thought soothed him. Spike almost purred at the pleasure he felt. He didn't want to admit how unsure of his position with the Slayer's minions he had been. He protected them to honor her memory, but what did they get out of it? How could they trust him? He had betrayed them before. They knew he was evil. Despite all that, and Spike knew that the boy knew exactly what he was, Xander firmly and with all the authority of the alpha male of the group didn't just offer him sanctuary, but acknowledged him as an equal. He promised Spike that he would never have to be alone again.

Unlike the half-truths and grudging deals he had been offered by his own kind, Spike knew in every fiber of his being that Xander would die before he would betray a friend. Xander's scent was open and straight-forward; there was no duplicity or suspicion emitted when he said the words, just the same sunlit smell he gave off when talking to the witch or the Watcher. It was enough to know that. Knowing that on a primal level Xander considered him to be a member of his pack, to use the boy's term. Wonder if he knows how often he lets that slip when the girls aren't around.

But that wasn't all Xander offered him in the blue light of the telly. The boy lowered his defenses and exposed his vulnerable underbelly to the consummate predator. Xander leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss wasn't flavored with the lust that had sparked earlier; it held an aching need, a longing, an aloneness that Spike would never have guessed could come from someone as well-loved as Xander. Spike couldn't help but kiss back. And in another display of fearlessness the boy asked him to stay the night.

There had been fear in Xander's eyes, a brief moment of panic when Spike had lain him down on the bed. Not, 'Oh God, vampire' but a sadder, more desperate, 'please don't laugh at me' expression that flittered across his face. But so like him, Xander had made a weak joke, taking a shot at himself to break the tension, and had manfully asked for guidance. Again he put Spike to shame, this mortal boy who was willing to risk so much to express his feelings, to show his needs. The boy, young man rather, was a gentle and affectionate lover. Spike sent a brief thought of thanks to that horny demon bint that the boy wasn't virgin tight; otherwise they could have never managed this without the damned chip going off. Talk about a bloody mood killer.

Regardless of Anya and her bag of tricks Spike was willing bet he was the first vampire as well as the first male anything that the boy had had in his bed. The utter intensity of Xander's undivided attention had almost been too much. Spike didn't want to frighten the boy and was certain that slipping into game face right now would horrify him.

Bedding a human that he had no intention of eating, in a nonsexual way, was a new experience for him. The smell alone of the blood rushing through the boy's body and rising to his skin in a sensual flush was intoxicating. Adding to the fact that Spike was still riding high from the simple sure words of acceptance Xander had gifted him with earlier on the couch and it was all that Spike could do not to howl with pleasure. Spike was aware he was emitting a low thrum of contentment and hoped Xander wouldn't find it too animalistic. On one hand he didn't want to disgust the boy for fear he would change his mind and on the other, if either of them were going to stop this, it had better be soon.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, more a purr than a question.

"I think...I think I need this." Xander breathed out against Spike's bare skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing along in its wake. His brown eyes were hot and seemed to take up his entire face. Tentatively he reached up and stroked his warm fingers softly along Spike's face. Spike lost his battle for control and his demon visage rippled forth. He looked away from Xander's frank stare but the boy gently turned Spike's head back toward him and pulled himself up onto his elbow then placed light kisses along the ridges and continued down the bridge of Spike's nose. The smile Xander shared with him when he lay back looking up at Spike was not one of pity, nor was it a brave front. Xander had not had to overcome fear or disgust; his face shyly conveyed wonder and trust.

Spike gave in and stopped fighting the full body purr he had been trying to suppress. He positioned himself between Xander's legs and playfully poured the cool oil onto the boy's stomach. Xander's laugh wasn't all nervousness as Spike spread the quickly heating liquid thoroughly over his genitals and further back to his anus. When his slick fingers breached Xander's body relief flooded Spike when he felt Xander relax into the movement. He had expected a jolt from the chip, but before long Xander was whimpering and begging Spike to hurry.

It was so much more than he had dared to hope for. For a moment before he mounted the hot, horny, bucking, body Spike spared a moment to worry if the boy's reaction in the morning would destroy all that they had built between them since the Slayer had died. But it's almost impossible for a demon to brood under the best of circumstances and soon Spike was distracted by the delicious feeling of blood-warm flesh surrounding his erection. Oh thou, my lovely boy,.....Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy hour.[3 & 4]

Warmth indeed surrounded him. He fell into those beautiful dark eyes. As he did with everything Xander threw his whole being into their coupling. Spike marveled at his responsiveness and strength of will. Xander's unflinching eyes seemed to drink in every aspect, gauge every flash of emotion that crossed his lover's face with perception and passion. Too long. It's been too long!

Had he ever felt this connected with a lover? Dru lived in her own world and Harmony was her own world. There had been mutual pleasure but it had been parasitic on both sides, if that was possible. This, this was symbiotic. How strange it is only such gentleness begets the fury of joy and all its tenderness.[5]

Here now with Xander, all the emptiness, all the terrible loneliness fell away. He belonged. He was seen and accepted. Nothing felt so much like home; had he a soul he would have traded it on the spot for this feeling, this connection. Somewhere deep inside he felt the warmth which surrounded him melt some cold core and give rise to feelings he had only held in dim memories. Life--this was life. He almost believed his dead heart beat in response to the pulse of the blood, which embraced him.

Too soon he felt his lover's muscles ripple and contract around his rhythmic thrusts. Watching, rapt with awe, as the orgasm brought a flushed, almost pained grimace to Xander's face, Spike sighed needlessly and spilled his seed deep inside. Xander pulled him tight against his sticky body. Spike stayed embedded a moment in the warm slick flesh, petting the boy's flushed skin, brushing back sweat-soaked hair off his handsome face.

Slowly he disengaged their bodies while kissing away Xander's quiet whimper of protest. He wiped them both down, thankful he had thought to bring a wet cloth along with the towels, as he was reluctant to part with the boy even briefly. Greedy to capture every moment he had with the boy Spike wrapped himself around his lover's warmth, sure that with the daybreak regrets would come.

He knew he wouldn't be able to blame the boy. Xander had offered him everything he had ever wanted and Spike, as always, had insisted on taking more. The first vulnerability that the boy had revealed and Spike had used it to stave off his own empty, aching need. In the bars of Sunnydale there were a thousand faceless bodies he could have buried himself in, any one of whom he could have had for a wink and a smile. This boy, this man was the only one who offered him succor, offered him his family and his trust. This man will stand your friend with the whole world round agin you.[6]

Spike listened to the steady beat of the boy's heart. He anticipated panic and regrets when Xanderwoke. He resisted the urge to stroke the firm torso and contented himself to watch the boy sleep. There'll be babbling, and he won't be able to look me in the eye for days, if ever. Spike had intended to drink in every minute until his lover woke, but the rise and fall of Xander's chest and the delicate movement of his eyes beneath their lids was unexpectedly calming. Spike was lulled into a light doze, feeling both sated and apprehensive.

Later, Spike woke alone and noticed light spilling across the bottom of the bed. He heard muffled noise from the next room and considered rising to deal with the inevitable regrets, but decided to follow the advice he had given Dawn and wait to see how Xander wanted to handle this. Briefly the boy's tall frame blocked the light and Spike shut his eyes, feigning sleep. Curiosity overcame him when instead of coming back to bed Xander made rustling noises at the far end of the room. He opened his eyes and saw that the boy had secured a thick tarp across the room's only window. Spike watched as Xander carefully examined the border to make sure that the morning's sunlight would not pass. If he had regrets, he could have simply waited for morning.

Gambling that Xander's reaction would be more favorable than he had anticipated, Spike slipped from the bed and crossed to the window. He took a moment to admire that lovely backside before sliding his arms around the boy's waist and marveling once again at the warmth of his body. Spike was delighted at finding his arms full of a confident, teasing young man. This was no blushing virgin, no stammering boy; this was an equal, a man. Xander was well aware of who he was and whom he had in his bed. As the thickening of his scent told him, Xander also knew what he wanted. Spike was overjoyed that for now, apparently, Xander wanted him. It was Xander who maneuvered them back to bed and Xander who started the slow tandem thrusting as their cocks brushed together. After a second climax and clean up, Spike was wrapped in the strong arms of his young lover and lulled back to sleep by Xander's steady breathing.

Sunlight brightened the outer room but only dimly reflected into the bedroom when Spike next woke. Xander slept on his back, with one arm across his eyes and the other loosely around Spike. Spike's head rested on Xander's chest and he faced toward the boy's exposed throat. Watching the subtle pulse under Xander's chin, which matched the beat under his ear, Spike was unaware that he spoke the words in his head out loud until Xander murmured, "That's pretty. Is it Spanish?"

"Sort of." Spike replied as he watched the boy stretch. Xander looked at him and a slow smile spread across his face.

"You're a closet brain, aren't you?"

Spike snorted and lifted himself off the boy. Hovering close, he moved up to claim a kiss. "Didn't think you were awake."

Xander tentatively caressed the angular line of Spike's face, speaking softly as if Spike might pull away if his voice were more than a whisper. "What'd it mean?"

He couldn't resist and said, "When, with you asleep, I plunge into your soul, and listen with my ear on your naked breast to your tranquil heart, it seems to me that, in its deep throbbing, I surprise the secret center of the world."[7]

Xander silently watched him a moment, blinking and then ventured, "You're so busted. You went to college, didn't you?"

"Wasn't quite the same back then, but you might say I had literary ambitions." Spike said, not meeting Xander's eyes.

"You wrote stuff? Stories?" Interest peaked, Xander rose up on to his elbows.

"Poetry," Spike said, unsuccessfully suppressing a shudder.

Xander sat the whole way up and radiated excitement, "Lay some on me, Wordman."

"No. It wasn't just bad, it was horrendous. I know enough about what is good to know that everything I produced was beneath mediocre."

Xander pulled Spike into his arms, almost into his lap, and murmured in his ear, "Fortunately for you, I'm an idiot and won't realize that."

"Don't do that." Spike snapped and Xander with a noise of inquiry released him immediately. Spike grabbed both arms before Xander could completely pull away and wrapped them firmly back where they had been. "Don't put yourself down, idiot: not don't touch me." Spike briefly considered what he had just said and added softly, "Xander, you're not an idiot."

Xander didn't respond verbally but Spike felt him smile against the back of his neck and his arms tightened their hold. They sat quietly for a while, Xander's fingers dancing across Spike's cool skin. Eventually it was Xander who asked, "Not having regrets?"

"No, pet, thought you might." Spike kept very still, straining for some sense of the boy's true feelings.

"I'm good." Xander sighed deeply and closed his eyes, his lashes sweeping softly against the skin of Spike's shoulder.

"You are." Spike said, but his leer was half-hearted. He felt as if this whole thing could come tumbling down if he made the wrong move-said the wrong word. Xander lifted his head to look at Spike, searching his face as if asking how Spike wanted to handle this. Spike stroked the side of Xander's face. He was pleased to note the boy needed to shave; it at least gave the illusion he was old enough to know what he was getting into. "Sweet boy," he murmured. "Bedding a vampire, do you have any idea?" Spike shook his head. He knew the answer. If he didn't know what would come of this Xander couldn't possibly.

Xander placed his hand over the one Spike rested on the side of his face and said, "You need me. I need you. This was good, huh?"

Speechless, Spike nodded.

"Can't we just try it? See what happens? Xander's fingers tightened on his and the boy swallowed hard.

"I'm evil." Spike said softly, more to himself than to Xander.

"Is the chip the only thing keeping you from killing me?" Xander's look wouldn't let Spike break eye contact. The look he leveled said that there was no way Spike could prevaricate.

Spike shook his head. "I like you. You taste like sunlight. I smell the blood in your body, but you don't feel like food. We've hunted together. There's a bond. You almost feel like another vampire, 'cept I trust you."

"I trust you, too. I like you. Might just fall in love with you, if that'd be okay?" Xander watched him so intently that Spike was forcefully reminded of the night before.

"So... How do we handle this?" Spike thought it would have to be Xander's call; he was willing to take what he could get, if the boy was willing to continue this, no matter how temporary, it was more than he had expected.

"I don't have a clue." Xander's smiled and gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Can't we make it up as we go?"

"The others won't like it; think I'm having my wicked way with you, they will." Spike ventured his most prevalent doubt now that Xander seemed willing to try this, whatever this was.

"You are. And I'm having my wicked way with you, that's the fun part." Xander's laugh bubbled up and bathed Spike in joyous relief. This conversation had apparently been as stressful on the boy as it had been on him. More than anything, he wanted to bury himself in Xander's warmth again but he had to clear up one more thing.

"Dawn..."

He got no further before Xander clamped a hot hand across his mouth and firmly stated, "Rule one: we will never, ever, mention Dawn when we're naked."

* * * * *

A week later, Spike leaned back against the smooth-tiled wall and felt a purr of pleasure start at the base of his spine and move up and through his body to emerge from his panting mouth. Warmth surrounded and embraced him, made him feel alive with its welcome sensation. The water cascading from the showerhead pulsed forward, hitting him square in the chest with a vigorous rhythmic massage. The air of the small bathroom was thick with steam, wafting about as it rose from water heated well above human body temperature and condensed on his cooler skin. Xander knelt in front of him, wrapping Spike's cock in the moist heat of his mouth. Occasionally he paused to breathe out along the rigid shaft.

Looking down at the dark tendrils of hair plastered forward across Xander's face by the force of the water, Spike was hit by a deep need to freeze this moment. He desperately wanted to hold onto this feeling, this man. But perfection never lasted. That was the one hard lesson of his unlife. No one stayed on top for long; something, something would fuck this up. Spike fought the desire to thrust his hips and pump into the warm, wet throat of his lover. He tried to hold off his orgasm, always fearing that this one would be the last. Fearing that the boy would walk away from whatever spell had made him seek a demon lover. Not even the first there.

S

pike had been relieved that first night they were together that Xander hadn't been a virgin. Xander had confessed very little, blushing beautifully when Spike asked about the wealth of experience that the young man was endowed with by months of experimentation with Anya. Although apparently the bint got custody of the toys. Spike knew that there had been toys by the delicious flush which stole down the boy's body when he mentioned a few items which nice young men would not know to equate with sex.

Bad idea, that. Thinking of the boy's flushed body and sex toys when you're trying not to come. You know that, right? Spike felt his third orgasm of the night rush through his body, bringing forth fangs and ridges as his beautiful boy milked his softening cock. Xander stood slowly, his body brushing up against Spike's from knee to shoulder. Spike felt the boy's erection brush his hip. His lips barely touched against Spike's before he started to pull back. Spike grabbed Xander's hair, stopping him, and plundered his mouth, tasting his own flavor and stealing his breath. Xander laughed and playfully nipped at Spike's lips.

"Think the Watchers are gone for good?" Spike asked more to play with the boy than out of real concern.

"You so had better not be thinking about the Watchers when I'm going down on you." Xander seemed to have trouble suppressing his grin as he attempted to scowl.

"Xander?" Spike purred. "You know it's only you, she meant nothing..." he broke off with a wicked chuckle at the real emotion that gleamed in his lover's eyes.

"You better not be talking about that tweed-clad head of the William the Bloody fan club, you... you undead Lothario."

Spike pulled that warm body closer and whispered in his ear. "Getting a bit possessive, love?"

Xander placed both hands on Spike's chest and pushed back enough to look him in the eyes. The boy nervously chewed on his lower lip and said. "Who said I can't be the possessive one once in a while? Unless you... we never..." He looked down as if to avoid Spike's gaze.

Spike regretted the teasing. He didn't want Xander to think about what was between them--whatever it was--too hard. If the boy examined it he would realize what a bad idea it was, and Spike would be left knowing just how much he was missing.

Those deep brown eyes lifted. Drops of water clung to the long lashes and looked almost like tears. Spike brushed a thick, wet lock of hair off Xander's face and tried to sooth the boy, who suddenly looked so lost. "Are y..you..." he started again and Spike almost cursed out loud at the stutter, which rarely showed in Xander's voice. Xander reached up and caressed Spike's jaw line. "This is good, huh?" He whispered.

"Oh pet, this is wondrous." Spike was afraid to speak too loudly for fear of shattering the fragile confidence that seemed to surround the boy. They had been lovers for such a short time and Spike still anticipated a torrent of emotions and then the boy would bolt.

"I need this. I need you. I want to hold on, tight...for as long as possible...okay?" Xander's voice remained steady and calm. Once again Spike was amazed by the boy's strength and courage. From the beginning he had taken all the risks, starting that first night when he had first kissed Spike and then asked him not to go. What had that cost him? The boy had to have feared rejection, but had dared Spike's scorn and sarcasm. Time and again Xander had taken the first step, then and now. What was he offering? Not permanence, but? Wasn't it time Spike risked something? Gave the boy some chance to reject rather than be rejected?

Spike spun around, reversing their positions. Using both hands he pressed Xander's shoulders back against the wall and slowly dragged his teeth against his neck and down his collarbone. "Do you have any idea how much I want? How much I want you? What I want?" Spike morphed into his game face and spragged his fangs along the boy's trapezius muscle.

"Tell me." Xander gasped, clutching at Spike's hips.

Spike answered with a deep purr and managed to rasp out, "Pet, oh sweet boy, I want..." He stopped and buried his face against the boy's wet neck, his scent faint beneath the vanilla shower gel. "If not for this damned chip." His purr transformed into a growl, but he held the boy gently, rubbing against his hard, naked form. I've been loveless all my life, but now that love is mine it drives me mad.[8]

"W..would you feed? Off of me, I mean?" Xander's voice sounded concerned but he wrapped strong arms around the rumbling vampire.

Spike shifted back to his human face and looked into Xander's startled eyes. "No." He laughed at Xander's look of surprise and nuzzled over his jugular. "Here is where you feed; fast, hot blood pumps out like new wine." He nibbled his way down the thick muscles above the boy's collarbone. "Here's where you mark, deep in the flesh, a scar to warn all the pug nasties that this here," and he raised his head until their lips were but a whisper apart, "is mine!" He growled out the last part, and plundered the boy's mouth. Spike morphed into the kiss. Cutting both their tongues on his fangs, he endured a blast from the chip as he blended their blood.

When the kiss gentled, due to the boy's need to breath, Xander's eyes were laughing when he asked, "I'm yours?"

"Does that bother you?" Spike hadn't intended to say as much as he had. He didn't want to scare the boy or ruin what they had. Once he had said it, he thought he would brush it off with his usual bravado, but suddenly what Xander thought about this was very important. Important that Xander realize that this thing, whatever it was, wasn't the same as if they were two humans.

"I think what bothers me is that I think I should be bothered or afraid, and I'm not." Xander blushed and looked sheepish. He whispered, "Spike, no one ever... It's just nice that you want me."

"Xan." It was Spike's voice that broke at the sound of past pain in his lover's tone.

"No. You're here, that's what matters. I'm yours." He blushed again and looked down, then glanced shyly up through his lashes and ventured, "You're mine too, you know?"

Spike answer was a deep, full-bodied purr as he began to rub against his still aroused lover. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent A mind at peace with all below a heart whose love is innocent. [9]

* * * * *

Morning light glowed behind the thick tarp that covered the bedroom window. Xander had installed decorative shutters in the public rooms, but had yet to choose a more permanent cover for the bedroom. Spike scowled at the light, and was tempted to grumble at the early hour. He was getting used to waking up early with Xander. Usually Xander rose before Spike had slipped into the deep, death-like slumber he spent at least four hours in every day. If it got him a kiss or a blowjob, he wasn't opposed to greeting his freshly-showered lover with a hot cup of coffee.

But this was Saturday and they had hunted into the wee hours before coming back to clean up, so he was less than pleased to be wide awake. Xander's deep breaths brushed warmly across Spike's face. He took a moment to examine his lover's appearance. Even lacking his happy smile, looking at Xander made Spike think of sunlight, and all the warm forbidden things he had lost when he was turned. It wasn't just his smooth, tanned skin; his smell, the very taste of his sweat and come was bright and vibrated with life. Spike longed to taste his blood, but couldn't bear the thought of polluting such an intimate act with a blade. A mate should be claimed, and the scar should be his, not that of a tool. Granted, it would have to wait until he found a way to bugger the chip, but some day that sweet flesh would be his.

They had come across two fledges when hunting earlier; so new you could smell the shit of their first death. Xander had dusted the first almost reflexively. Spike had ripped the head off the second with his bare hands when it went for Xander. It had happened so quickly that Xander had stood blinking in the settling dust before either of them realized that the battle was over. Since they had crossed paths with the fledges outside the Bronze, Spike kept a wary eye out during the rest of the night, to see if Harmony was back in town. Not that he had anything to fear from the dozy cow, but she had tried to hurt Xander before and Spike knew from experience that, though inept, she could hold a grudge. Oddly enough, the minions seemed to have a soft spot for her, maybe cause the boy and the witch had been tykes with her. Even the Slayer hadn't dusted her, and she could have a couple of times. Spike snorted softly, so as not to wake the boy; funny he was considering not dusting a vamp 'cause the humans might not like it.

Xander sighed and rolled forward, throwing an arm over Spike and pulling him close into his body heat. Ah, that's better. Spike didn't snuggle because vampires don't snuggle, but he did melt into his lover's body and begin to purr. A heart as soft, a heart as kind, a heart as sound and free, as in the whole world thous canst find, that heart I'll give to thee. [10] Spike could almost feel Xander's pulse move through his body as they lay pressed together. It felt like Xander understood, or at least understood as much as Spike did, flying blind like they were.

Being with the boy was a bit of an emotional roller coaster. Just when Spike would convince himself that Xander was deluded and seeing what he wanted to see, not what Spike really was, he would do something or say something proved that he knew. Knew that Spike wasn't human, was evil and that this, whatever this was, was dangerous, possibly to both of them. Yet he was still willing to love Spike.

Love?

From the first, the emotions between them had been deeper than he had anticipated. Maybe that was his fault. Xander always seemed to give as much as Spike would take, and of course being Spike, he took everything and still the boy found ways to offer more. Spike sighed as Xander's warmth permeated his body. As they lay together this all seemed irrelevant; it was too late for him, he had already fallen hard. Xander's quiet strength and steadfast loyalty, his tender seductions, seemed to answer long unspoken prayers.

But was it too late for Xander? Could he find a way to free the boy before this bonding, this potential spiral into damnation became irreversible? Would this boy with his teasing laugh and 'rule number two, never use the word necrophilia when we're in bed' want this to stop before it was too late? Maybe it was too late already. Spike didn't think if Xander cast him out this minute that he could fight the bond, which was so much more than lust or possessiveness. He didn't think he could let the boy go, even if it was what Xander wanted. He knew little about such pairings. Humans had always just been food.

He stroked the boy's thick hair as he contemplated how dangerous the bond could be. "I'll never hurt you." He whispered. "I'll never let anything hurt you." But he wasn't reassured and lay unquiet and fretting as he considered that he might be the biggest danger in Xander's life.

* * * * *

After catching them in the cellar of the store, the witches gave up all pretenses and set about asking the most inappropriate questions. At least Red did; Blondie just blushed and smiled, seeming to enjoy the slightest display of Spike's allegedly Victorian attitude. Xander was apparently quite used to having sweet young girls ask with wide-eyed innocence if he were a top or a bottom. That remark, launched pointedly by Red when they had finally emerged from the storage room, had been greeted by his smirking lover with the reply of, "It doesn't matter, either way you don't get the toaster." I understand one hundred and sixty two languages which includes most demon tongues and I still can't crack the Sunnydale code.

If shopping at the mall and Xander's snuggling at Red's birthday dinner hadn't outed them to the rest of the group, their frequent uncontrollable need to touch or taste each other would have broken the news sooner or later. Xander told him to expect some sort of explicit threat from Willow on what she would do to him if he broke the boy's heart-the boy had called it S.O.P. for the witch. Spike was sure Rupert's Watcher instincts would have him lecturing the boy on what a bad idea their being together was, and how he couldn't trust Spike, but neither happened.

Xander had asked Spike if he would move in to his apartment with him. He had said he knew Spike had a lot of stuff at the crypt, but pointed out that his new place was larger than it looked. He added that he hardly used the basement storage area assigned to the unit and watched for Spike's reaction. Spike had been too stunned by the offer to react in a visible or audible way; he had just sat there dumbstruck in the flickering blue light of the television. Xander seemed to take that as a sign of reluctance so had sweetened the deal by offering to get satellite. "Six channels of ESPN, Spike. Proper English football." Spike had caved at the first bat of those gorgeous eyes and jumped at the chance to wrap himself in Xander's warmth on a daily basis. So they were lovers, and roommates, and sometimes it all seemed just too perfect, too human.

As a result, they were hosting their first dinner party. Not counting Red's bash, because no one knew they were shacking up at the time. Xander had invited the witches over for English food and flicks. The Watcher had been clever enough to invent other plans and Dawn actually had other plans. Spike had mostly just sat back and enjoyed the boy's nervous excitement at being what he had referred to as being 'such an adult.' The witches were going to pick the movies and said they were bringing a lemon tart, although why they thought that was particularly English dessert, Spike didn't know. Spike shuddered to think what their reaction to Xander's meal would be and hoped they weren't too hard on his boy. For his part Spike was just glad he was drinking his supper.

Spike had wandered into the kitchen after cleaning the bathroom and straightening up the living room. Apparently he had agreed to do both sometime during the blowjob when they had showered earlier, but had no recollection. When he had pointed his lack of memory out to Xander, his lover had said, "Too bad, must be the chip," and smacked Spike's bare ass on the way out of the shower stall. Xander was currently bouncing, literally, around the kitchen. The boy thought he was Martha Stewart-he was using two pots, had preheated the oven and had purchased a gravy boat for the occasion. Spike leaned against the frame of the kitchen entrance and watched Xander cook.

Cook being a relative word in this instance. Xander dumped two packages of frozen vegetables into the pot, which already contained cooked ground beef. He put a lid on it and turned off the heat. Springing over to the counter he unwrapped two prepackaged, already baked pie crusts and put them and their foil pans on a metal baking sheet. He paused on his way over to the stove to kiss Spike so quickly that he was stirring the pan of instant mashed potatoes before Spike could fold him in his arms. Spike watched in fascinated horror as Xander spooned the mixture of cooked beef and thawing vegetables into each of the pie shells and shuddered when the boy topped this with the mashed potatoes, smoothing it over the top of the pie like a meringue. He was distracted briefly from his question as Xander bent over to place the pies under the broiler and in doing so presented Spike with his ass, firmly packed in the black jeans Spike had insisted he get during the Scoobys' adventure in shopping for Xander.

"Er...Em.. Pet?" Spike's mind was freed for higher thought processes when Xander straightened and turned to face him.

Xander gave him another quick kiss and said, "They'll be here any minute. Did you set the table?"

"Pet? What the hell is that?" Spike asked nodding toward the oven.

"Shepherd's pie. It's English, " Xander said over his shoulder as he bounced over to the cupboard to take out the plates.

Right. I've been living with him less than a month and he's already got me doing the blinking thing. "That's not shepherd's pie."

"Uh huh," was Xander's comment as he brushed by his lover on his way to set the table. He was back in a flash to peer into the oven before filling water glasses.

"Luv, shepherd's pie is a stew." Spike called after Xander's bustling figure as he took the glasses to the dinning area.

Xander paused on his way back into the kitchen and blinked twice at Spike before reasoning, "Then why would they call it pie?"

Not having an answer, Spike set out the flatware. The doorbell chimed and Xander bounced off togreet their guests. Red surprised Spike with a hug before handing him the movies while Tara handed Xander the dessert box. Angelus thinks he spent time in hell; we have three, count them three, Hugh Grant movies.

Spike was treated to another view of Xander's backside when the boy stooped to sprinkle cheese on his creations. Even the Cheddar was packaged pre-grated. While he was thankful he had a blood option for dining he worried that the girls would hurt his sweet pet's feelings when they saw just what he was serving.

Xander put the glass jar of gravy in to heat with Spike's blood and then dashed out to see the girls to their seats. After the bag of salad, Xander served the pies with the flare of a showman. He pointedly offered each of the girls gravy, having made a special trip to the resale shop that day when he decided he shouldn't just dump it in a bowl. Red, of course, made a great fuss over the hot, home cooked meal. Not only did she dig in but she asked for seconds.

Blondie then shocked Spike by addressing him, "Did you help?"

"I beg your pardon?" Spike asked.

"With the authentic English cuisine. This is good." She sounded sincere. Spike blinked at her. He looked at Red. She looked back, expecting an answer. He looked at Xander.

Xander beamed at him and said, "He gave moral support."

"Xander." Spike didn't want to squash his pet's enthusiasm but was having nothing to do with this meal. "Shepherd's pie is a stew."

"Then why is it called pie?" Red asked. Blondie helped herself to another slice. It looked like Xander was going to need both pies. This was unbelievable. And six hours of Hugh Grant... Spike was in hell.

After they had cleared the table, Xander whipped the peach shnapps he had had Spike procure the night before into a milkshake for the girls. Spike refilled the whiskey he had been downing since he saw what the movies titles were. Xander opted for a beer and in a nod to the formal occasion used a glass. As Willow and Xander loaded the dishwasher, Spike eavesdropped until he discerned the conversation was about Dawn and what to do about the Summers' house. He turned his attention back to the witch sitting across the table from him. She frowned while consulting a book. Then Tara handed Spike a deck of cards, what there was of it. The cards where huge, about five by nine inches and there were only a few, maybe twenty or so.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Just shuffle, and think about you and Xander," she said, then blushed.

"Not sure I want to know the future." Spike surprised himself by the confession to the quiet blond. "Got a lot to lose."

"This is just a way to get insight, don't think of it as prophesy. Think of it as a tool for contemplation."

"You do know I'm a demon, right?" He was already uncomfortable by how much she did see.

"Yeah, I know. Remember, I'm the one who spent most of my life thinking I was too. Sometimes you have to look past all the labels we put on ourselves and just decide who we are and what we want. That's what the cards do." She looked down at his hands, then met his eyes, "I...you don't have to do this. I can practice on someone else." Spike thought that little speech might have been the most he had heard Willow's girlfriend say at one time to anyone except Willow.

"No, pet, just tell me what to do."

"I'll point where you put them, you deal out four cards. This is you, this is Xander, this is your relationship, this is the future." She indicated three spots side by side on the table, and one centered above them.

Xander and Willow came in from the kitchen. Willow sat next to Tara. The movies apparently forgotten, she eyed the cards with interest. Xander circled around to Spike's side of the table but hung back and asked, "Is this private? We can..."

Spike snagged the boy around the waist and pulled him into his lap in a lightning-quick move and said, "She's reading us."

Willow giggled, "Which one is Spike?"

"One of these is Spike?" Xander perked up and turned his attention to the cards. "Tell me it's not the pregnant lady. You ah, you can't... I know there's a lot of freaky vampire shit I don't understand,but you-"

"Stop sputtering whelp. That's me." Spike pointed to the card Tara had told him was him.

"Spike's an angel?" Willow squeaked.

"An angel with black wings, yeah, I can see that." Xander kissed him and tightened his grip on the arms that held him.

"This is Temperance, she's a symbol of dynamic change. She blends both animal and human attributes." Tara said after checking her book.

Xander twisted in his arms and poked Spike with his index finger. "She nailed you." Spike mock growled and morphed to his demon face to nuzzle the boy's neck with his fangs.

Tara cleared her throat and continued with a shy smile. "What she says about you is that you are aware that you don't have all the answers and you are willing to seek them through others. You are drawn to groups and desire interaction and the establishment of ties."

"Which one's Xander?" Willow nudged her girlfriend, and nodded at the cards.

"The Sun." Tara pointed to the card in question.

"Told you you taste like sunlight, pet," Spike purred into Xander's ear.

"Tell me about me," Xander prompted the shy witch.

"You symbolize all that is glittering, great, and joyful." She smiled. "And indicate optimism and prosperity." Spike continued to purr as Xander laughed.

"It's a good card for you, Xan." Willow said.

"It says that your love has brought light to Spike's life or um...death, unlife." She blushed and added, "Since he's the one who cast the card, I mean."

"Go on, little bit, now I'm curious." Spike said and shifted back to his human visage.

"It says that Xander's quiet optimism and happy nature make him a joy to live with. It says he has a constructive approach to life and he is on course with his destiny and will follow his true path. His love is simple and infinitely strong." She shared a smile with Willow before turning back to them.

Xander was blushing and quickly diverted the attention from himself by asking "And the pregnant chick?"

"Xander," Willow teased, "there's this spell I've been wanting to try."

"Pay attention." Tara firmly admonished. Xander and Willow shared conspiratorial smiles. Spike had noticed them both making an effort recently to get the blond to assert herself. They often took her rare outbursts as personal victories.

"I'm sorry. It says she's the Empress. What does that mean?" Willow said.

"She is abundance and fertility incarnate." The blond witch winked at Xander. "In the position of the relationship card, she symbolizes long term commitment, lasting love and enduring pleasure." Spike purred loudly and squeezed his lover. "Harmony," Tara continued. Xander snickered, and Willow tried to kick him under the table but connected with Spike instead. Tara shot Xander a stern look and raised an eyebrow. "Of mind, body and spirit prevail. You complement each other and your physical relationship is absorbing."

"And the future?" Spike eyed the last remaining card with reluctance-it looked foreboding.

"That's an odd one." Xander picked up the card and traced the picture with his finger. "Who is she?"

"Hecate. This book says she's the goddess of death, but she's much more," Tara said.

"Isn't she the one who turned Amy into the rat?" Xander asked Willow.

"The Moon isn't a bad card." Willow looked to Tara for confirmation. "I've done a lot of reading on Hecate, to help Amy. She is unusual, but not evil."

"No." Tara added quietly. "The Moon symbolizes uncertain forces, visions and the flux of life and death. In this position it emphasizes enhanced imagination and intuition-new approaches and ideas. It seems to say that uncertainty will come, but don't panic, ultimately you will benefit."

* * * * *

Spike noticed that like soldiers, the Scoobies tended to rest when they could. They spent so much time scrambling to save the world that inevitably on their rare quiet evenings they fell asleep. This time it wasn't just Xander who couldn't keep his eyes open. Red was spooned against Tara and both were sound asleep on the couch. When they had moved from the table to the living room area, Xander had sat in front of the couch and patted the spot of floor between his spread legs. Which was how Spike ended up propped comfortably back against the chest of the sleeping boy, wrapped in his warm arms and the only one awake to suffer through 'Notting Hill'.

Upon hearing first one then three rhythmic sounds of breathing, Spike began to plot a way to avoid watching the movie. He stealthily extricated himself from the boy's embrace and scooped up his tall lover, moving slowly to prevent his waking. Once in the bedroom, Xander groggily drifted awake and blinked in confusion. Realization of Spike's vampire strength swept across his expressive face and he cuddled back into his broken sleep. Spike lay him on the bed and went back to the living room to shut off the telly and cover the witches with a decorative throw. He returned to Xander and with little effort removed his clothing and picked the sheet up off the floor to cover the boy. While shaking the sheet free of wrinkles and carpet lint, Spike drank in the sight of his sleeping lover.

Xander's dark hair was tousled and his lashes swept across his tanned face. The boy lay lax and looked like a work of art. His cock nestled against one well-muscled thigh, emerging from a thick patch of dark curls. His stomach was flat and Spike could discern the faint six pack of his abdominal muscles-not the cut look of a gym addict but sinew earned by hard labor and frequent physical activity. Tonight, if I may guess, thy beauty wears a smile of such delight as brilliant and as bright as when with ravished aching vassal eyes lost in a soft amaze I gaze, I gaze! [11]

It wasn't yet ten thirty. Time was he would have been just starting to look for trouble at this time of night. He was spending too much time with humans. He considered going out, hunting a bit, but Xander tossed in his sleep and for the third time in as many hours presented Spike with his ass, this time unhampered by the black denim. Decision made, Spike skinned out of his clothes and tossed them with abandon. He slid into bed, pulling Xander close, and was rewarded by the boy wrapping him in his warmth. Spike lay inches from his lover's face, each breath bathing him in warmth and scent.

This wasn't the first time he had forgone a hunt to hold vigil over his sleeping boy. Each time, he was torn between knowing that eventually, a rival would come to town and if he were not alert the newcomer would have him at a disadvantage, and the knowledge that because of that inevitability that time with Xander was fleeting and he should grab any opportunity while he could. He wondered if what he had said in the shower, about wanting to claim Xander, mark him so all would know he belonged to Spike, was enough. It was important that the boy not think that he was second choice. Not to diminish his feelings for the late Slayer, but what he felt for Buffy could not be compared to this. He had loved her, but it was unrequited. Unrequited love was like a seed never planted. This struggling sapling that he and the boy nurtured between them was far more precious.

Again, Xander had taken the lead. When he had first stammered out his concerns for and admitted the pain caused by his ex, Spike had been too absorbed in what the boy had been feeling to process his own reaction. Xander admitted that he had hoped to marry the silly demon bint and was still worried about her. He knew what Xander had shared with Anya had been real and grounded in the human world. Xander still tended the love that had grown between him and the ex-demon, but as always, when only one person cared for it, the love mutated. Instead of becoming bitterness or obsession that Spike had seen most often in the past, it had become the nurturing concern Xander offered all his friends tempered by both pain and insight.

* * * * *

Due to his weekday hours, Xander, much to his own mortification, had started to wake early even on weekends. Spike sensed the change in his breathing immediately, just as the intricate dance of the boy's fingers along the cool flesh of Spike's stomach became knowing and started to drift down. Spike stretched, luxuriating in his mate's warmth, then turned, pulling Xander close against his morning erection. A radiant smile spread across the boy's face as his hips bucked forward into the contact.

"Spike." Xander packed a wealth of emotion and meaning into the single word. Spike kissed him long and slow, thrusting into the touch of their cocks.

"Sunlight. You taste like sunlight and laughter pet. Glittering, great, and glorious."

Xander blinked and asked with bubbling laughter, "I light up your life?"

Spike nodded, showing a trace of suspicion.

"Spike?" The boy batted his lashes and tried to stop giggling. "Am I the wind beneath your wings?"

Spike pounced with a growl and pinned Xander underneath him. He couldn't maintain a straight face even in his demon visage, so he buried his face against the boy's stomach. Spike reveled in the feel of the boy's body shaking with silent laughter. Xander wrapped him in a warm embrace and pulled him up to feather kisses across his ridged brow. He then dropped down to slip his tongue in and deliberately cut it on Spike's fangs. It no longer even set the chip off it had become such a regular occurrence. It was almost part of their morning routine to blend blood in each other's mouths. Spike bit his own tongue and Xander swept his mouth with long deep licks even as Spike morphed back to his human face. Spike renewed his efforts to grind against his lover. Xander broke the kiss and rolled on top of him. Looking down with mirth-filled eyes, he was youth incarnate. Tara really had been right-the boy was joy personified, his love was simple and infinity strong.

Xander appeared to have had enough of Spike's rapt attention and swooped down for another kiss. Spike reached for the lube, groping blindly through the drawer of the bedside stand, not willing to break the kiss. Once found he lifted them both to a kneeling position, taking shameless advantage of Xander's gasp of surprise to plunder the boy's mouth once again. Before Xander could question the sudden change in position Spike slapped the tube into his hand and turned to grip the headboard. Immediately in tune with his lover's demand, Xander set about thoroughly preparing Spike. Ignoring the vampire's growls of impatience the boy lovingly coated and slowly stretched his mate's entrance. Spike had been a virgin when he died, and thanks to vampiric healing would remain that way until he was dust. Though he had told Xander that he needn't be so careful, Spike was touched by his lover's tenderness. In life and in death no one had shown such attention to his feelings. While he took his time preparing Spike, Xander teased him with caresses and gentle pinches and bites. Just before he moved into position, Xander leaned forward, spreading warmth across Spike's back, and stole a kiss.

In a stunning example of his inability to communicate and think about sex Xander asked, "Good? Now? Yes?" Not the most eloquent of lovers, the boy was most often reduced to incoherent grunts, moans and whimpers in the middle of sex. Xander had been making a concentrated effort to overcome this disability, but privately Spike hoped he didn't succeed. He was rather fond of his boy's delicious babble; no matter how little sense he made Xander's comments always came from his heart.

"Ready, love." Spike thrust back on the moving fingers and steadied himself as Xander replaced his slick fingers with his equally slippery cock. With infinite slowness Xander entered his body. Spike reveled in the feel of his lover's heat impaling him and spreading out through his body. Once fully seated inside Xander stopped, stroked Spike's sides, carded his hair and murmured nonsense in his ear. Xander's pulse throbbed from the center of Spike's being, making him feel almost alive himself. For one brief moment it felt as if they were one person, then the boy moved. Slowly back, slowly forward, it was hardly more than a rocking of his hips. Xander eased Spike into the sensation of movement. Gradually, he increased the length of his thrusts and the speed of the rhythm. Xander held onto Spike's hip with one hand and snaked the other around to tease at Spike's heavy cock. He began to pump Spike's erection in time with his thrusts, and Spike lifted his head back and his purr became loud and feral. Eventually, Spike felt Xander's rhythm slip and knew he was about to come.

"Xander!" he hissed, needing more. Xander, in another display of his ability to read Spike's mind, leaned into his orgasm and bit hard into the muscle along Spike's collarbone. Spike came with a howl. Xander pulled him back into his lap as he slowly softened and slipped out. Xander licked at the bite and watched fascination as the blood slowed and began to stop before his very eyes. Spike had turned his head to watch Xander and grasped both hands around the warm arms, which embraced him. Watching makes my heart beat fast because, seeing little, I imagine much.[12]

Xander seemed to sense his attention and looked over with a grin. "No work today." He whispered suggestively. "We can stay in bed all day."

Spike snorted and couldn't resist saying, "You do remember Red and her snuggle bunny are on the couch, don't you?"

Staggered, Xander sputtered. "Willow! I had sex with Willow in the next room? Loud sex! I am so gonna burn." He buried his face in Spike's neck and mumbled. "You're evil."

There was a tentative knock on the door and as Spike called out, "Come in." Spike shifted to his human face and Xander frantically scrambled to cover the best parts of both of them with the rumpled sheet. Willow stuck her head in the room.

Blushing, she tried to look anywhere but at the bed. "Xan, we didn't want to leave without saying goodbye and thank you for the home cooking. Sorry we crashed like that, it's been a long week." She had been unsuccessful at avoiding the sight of the sweaty, sticky, naked men, and froze with her mouth open. A look of anger crossed her face and she walked into the room and over to the bed. "Spike? My God! Are you? Xander, you bit him!" Whack. She slapped Xander's bare shoulder, sounding loud but obviously not really hard. Spike growled but maintained his human visage. "Oh?" Willow said and looked baffled.

"Ah...Just kinky sex, Will." Xander volunteered and Spike felt the heat of a blush spread across the boy's body. And, although Spike hadn't believed it was possible, she turned redder.

"Oh? Oh! Well thanks for dinner, it was great. And thanks for tucking us in. I'll call you." Willow backed out in full babble mode.

"It didn't cross your mind to even mention that they were here, did it?" Xander hissed.

"Oh, it crossed my mind." Spike purred and leered at his mate.

"You're evil."

But of course.

* * * * *

The call from LA came when they were all at the magic shop. It sent them into serious research mode. Spike thought about pointing out that if large green demons with moldy faces existed, he would know about it. But all his time with Dru had taught him that visions were tricky things, so he kept quiet. He wondered if the prom queen would accompany the Poof in this unasked-for visit. It might be interesting to see how Xander and his other ex reacted to each other, or at least amusing. Xander, at the moment, was idly flipping through a book written in a language which had died over a millennium before his birth. He had started to get that desperate 'there must be something I can paint, or move, or refinish' look. When their eyes met, Spike inclined his head toward the back of the store, then casually headed to the kitchen. Moments later, after he not-so-subtly asked if he could get anyone a soft drink, Xander followed.

Spike tracked the boy's progress by sound. Facing the counter, Spike was aware the instant the boy entered the small kitchen and soon felt Xander's hands slide around his waist. Spike turned toward him, not even having made the pretense of heating blood-that wasn't what he was hungry for. Xander kissed him and pushed him back against the kitchen counter. The kiss heated up when their groins made contact through two layers of denim and one pair of boxers. The underwear hadn't been his fault. Although it had been amusing, both the sight of the boy in his petal pink bloomers and the 'only in Sunnydale' idea of a laundry demon. With both hands full of Xander's tight, young ass and his senses swimming in the boy's arousal, Spike was surprised along with him when Dawn popped her head around the corner.

"I thought it might be quicker if I got the drinks." She giggled at catching them unaware. "You," she continued, indicating both of them, "might want to make coffee. Willow says its going to be a long night and no one will drink mine."

Spike had released Xander immediately upon her appearance. Xander, on the other hand, had tightened his hold and had pointedly not stepped away, though he had blushed and had to try twice before he stammered out, "No problem. Think this calls for a food run?"

"Pizza?" Dawn asked, as she pulled cans of soda out of the fridge.

"Tacos?" Xander countered with an item that didn't deliver.

If he thinks he is escaping into the sun, and leaving me here to research with the girls... "Chinese," Spike interjected, knowing that they were in the delivery area of three Chinese restaurants.

"You don't eat, " Xander and Dawn said in unison.

Dawn laughed, "That's twice in one night Xan, you must be on everyone's wavelengths."

"I eat. Don't have to, but it's variety. Order me some sesame beef, Pet, and make sure the tossers don't put in any garlic." Spike purred in Xander's ear. He refused to be outdone by a twenty-year-old. If Xander wasn't going to let Dawn's presence make him self-conscious about their physical relationship, he would just get over his 'Victorian' inhibitions. After all, he was evil.

"Ooooh, I want dumplings!" Dawn bounced, cocked her head and asked, "Do you want me to get everyone else's order?"

"Sure, I'll call it in," Xander grinned indulgently. Dawn darted back to the others, on a mission.

"Sesame beef?" The boy's grin became slightly evil as he bumped his forehead lightly against Spike's. "You're gonna dip that in blood, aren't you?"

Well, of course. I'm evil. Not like I need to eat, it's mostly for entertainment purposes. Instead of answering, Spike decided to take advantage of Dawn's absence and began to nibble on Xander's bottom lip.

Angel and his minions arrived in a little over two hours. The Poof was as large as ever and twice as gelled. Spike thought it was a good thing that the nancy boy didn't have a reflection anymore, otherwise they would never get him out from in front of a mirror. He entered the shop flanked by his minions, with a dark coat billowing around him. It's ninety-five fucking degrees with the humidity so thick you can slice it and spread it and he thinks that what? Makes him look human? Blends in? Asshole. Xander was halfway through greeting his ex when his scent plummeted into a panic, and his heart rate raced. Spike almost let out a growl at the girl, before he realize that the only thing wrong was that Xander's babble had backed him into a social faux pas. Angel hadn't missed Xander's reaction, by the way his nostrils flared.

Spike was not at all comfortable with the way the Poof was eyeing what was his. He wondered if soul-boy was having a similar fight or flight moment or if the reason Angel was sizing him up was purely based on past experience. Their minions socialized and seemed unaware that the predators in the room had yet to decide if they were going to kill each other, let alone if they could work together.

The Watchers went off to the office and the witches, after asking a few polite questions, went off to the storage room. Xander gave both Angel and Spike an appraising look and seemed to leave Dawn to baby-sit, before leading the remaining minions on a tour of the facilities. Since they had been tied up with a case, none of the LA crew had returned for the service. Spike knew that Angel had been a frequent visitor at Buffy's grave, since little happened in Sunnydale at night of which he was not aware. But this was the first time either group had met face to face since they had lost the Slayer.

Angel awkwardly approached Dawn, and offered condolences over both the loss of Buffy and Joyce. As he loomed over her with his hands shoved in the pockets of the needless trench coat he made what Spike found to be an uncomfortable picture. Souled or not, Spike knew just how dangerous what was standing over his Nibblet was. He felt himself morph to gameface and tightened his grip on the metal banister of the staircase to prevent him from launching himself at the wanker. When the growl escaped him Dawn ignored it, being quite used to how overprotective he could be, but Angel seemed to think he was out of line. Again? What a surprise.

"Problem, Spike?" Angel now regarded him, but hadn't retreated from his spot next to the girl.

In retrospect, Spike might concede that the Poof couldn't help looking like Angelus, and that the smirk he normally wore whenever addressing Spike was reflexive, but then Spike growled, "Back off you tosser, you're practically on top of her!"

Which turned out to be the most congenial of the exchanges which rapidly increased in volume and degenerated in vocabulary. Before the others could interrupt they took their disagreement outside. After killing a dumpster and taking a few chunks out of a building, Spike found himself pressed face first into the wall across from the shop's back entrance. Now this is more like the family reunions I remember.

"This stops now." Xander never had sounded that angry, not with him. Angel, lacking the ability to read Xander's tone, had no idea just how deep the shit was that they were in; otherwise he wouldn't have told Xander to go back inside. Spike took the brief second provided by Angel's distraction to give the Poof the opportunity to kiss the wall, but Xander's scent prevented him from taking advantage of the situation.

Xander had a tight grip on a rage that Spike feared would spill out at any moment. His voice was oddly calm when he laid a hot hand on Spike's arm and asked him to go inside. Spike was so relieved that, judging by the touch, Xander wasn't angry with him that he froze. Xander added, quietly and with equal calm, "Dawn is really upset." So he went. One minute he had been ready to rend something he saw as a threat to his mate and his minions and the next he had had an unbelievable pang of sympathy for Angel. Xander was pissed, apparently at Angel. Glad it's not at me.

When he entered through the back door into the practice room, Dawn threw herself into his arms. Angel's minions stood open-mouthed as she cooed at and petted him. He was worried until he discovered that all that was the matter was she had been worried about him. Odd, that. He knew he hadn't been in any danger. His unlife was more in jeopardy from one of Willow's experimental spells than from anything Angel might do to him, especially when the soul was attached. He hauled her out to the research table and pulled her into his lap and with teasing words set about quieting her fears.

When Xander and Angel didn't immediately follow them, he began to worry about just what was going on out in the alley. It was strange to see Xander angry. Spike wasn't sure, as he quickly reviewed his memories of the boy, if he could recall ever seeing that white-hot rage even before they were lovers. Spike had spent quite a bit of time purposely irritating the boy and even after the whole betrayal with Adam, Xander had never sounded more than annoyed or exasperated. Anger, real anger, just didn't seem to be in tune with his sunny disposition. At times Spike had scented unbelievable grief, deep fear, and a wealth of happy loving emotions, but the scent his lover had emitted in the ally was new. It seemed only the magnificent poof was capable of inspiring such intensity of feeling in his Xander.

While he stroked Dawn's hair, Spike watched for the two of them. Angel came in from the back room only a moment after Xander. Spike wondered if he was jealous of the past that Xander shared with his Sire. Granted, it had all been bad, but it was time Angel had with Xander the he would never be able to erase.

He was less than pleased by the way Angel was watching his Xander; he was paying far too much attention to him for Spike's comfort. Hate and love were often the flip sides of the same coin. Intense love could often turn to equally intense hate. Spike had seen quite a bit of that-it was one of Angelus' favorite games. So what does this tosser think he knows, hm? He can't have my boy. He tries any of his tricks, he's dust.

Dawn seemed to notice Spike watching Angel and Angel watching Xander, and she shivered in her spot on his lap. After a moment she whispered to him, "You know the sooner we slay, the sooner they leave." Spike nodded, but kept a wary eye on Angel and his minions.

* * * * *

Spike was relieved when Xander stepped down from his battle of wills with Rupert and took Dawn out of potential danger. When they had decided to give Red's plan for gathering more information a go he had a flashback on just how successful her 'will be done' spell had been. Not that ending up with a lapful of amorous Slayer was such a bad memory--no matter how many times Xander teased him about the 'Wind Beneath My Wings' incident--but all his instincts said to keep Dawn far away from any untried spells.

The first part of the evening wasn't too exciting. It involved Rupert producing a detailed map of Sunnydale and the surrounding area. Tara spread it on the research table, chanting over the fist-sized crystals that she used to ring its edges. Willow's voice was a soft descant to Tara's chant, and she dowsed with a sky-blue piece of agate hung on a silver chain. Once both witches were in agreement that the spot to perform their as-yet-untested spell was Lainer's Bluff, they packed up the huge scrying bowl and various magical ingredients, along with the book in which Willow had discovered the spell. Angel and his minions piled into his car while Spike and the witches rode in Giles' convertible.

Once at the bluff they parked the cars and headed up to the moonlit cliff. While the witches walked the area to chose the best spot to attempt the summoning, Wesley and Giles compiled a list of questions. If it worked, the trick would not be getting information, but getting the right information.

Willow had proposed summoning air elementals called sprites. Any elemental was dangerous. The fact that this particular elemental was a well-known gossip and privy to all sorts of useless and useful information did not mean they were incapable of doing harm. Spike had crossed paths with any number of supernatural creatures over the course of his unlife; that was what accounted for his impressive knowledge of languages and cultural nuances. He had never come across sprites, though. It might have something to do with them not liking vampires. Now, should I mention that to the Poof? No. It wasn't just the usual bad karma associated with vampires and their blood lust; apparently the little critters took the whole not breathing thing as an insult.

The witches picked a flat open space about thirty feet from the lone gnarled tree that fought for purchase on the windswept bluff. They filled the bowl with bottled water and the girls took turns adding the ingredients. Spike cautiously stepped back to keep his minions in view and lit a cigarette, sucking in deep and exhaling a cloud of smoke. Slowly, their soft feminine voices were joined by first one and then many whispers and giggles. The voices were of indeterminate gender and had no fixed direction from which they originated. Small, glowing blue lights emerged from the moonlight and swirled around the witches and then spread out to dip and bob around the rest of the group. The ones who swooped near Angel darkened and their giggles became scolding chatters. Spike exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke as the critters approached him and those sprites wheeled away to join in chastising Angel. The sprites hovering near Cordelia brightened and made a trilling sound. The noise seemed to summon the others and soon the whole glittering cloud was swarming around the seer.

Since the leggy brunette had their attention, Giles handed the girl the list of questions he and Wesley had compiled. The questions were specific and the whole mass of tiny elementals answered yes or no in unison. Things were going swimmingly until, in exasperation, Cordelia asked a question not on the list. The sprites formed a whirlwind of light and sound. They took off in a million different directions and returned at random, each trying to convey a separate message. As the sprites all homed in on the girl she crouched down and covered her head, squealing in frustration at her inability to understand them. Angel came to her rescue, lifting her up into his arms. This, while not acting as sprite repellent, did slow their swooping and lower the excited volume of their chatter.

"Spike, this isn't going as I planned." Willow tugged on his arm and pulled him back away from the swirling mob. Tara looked frightened and stood near Giles and Wesley.

"Does it ever?" Spike snorted and was instantly contrite when he saw tears form and her lip quiver. He pulled the little witch under his arm and added, "It's not going that badly. You got some of your questions answered."

"But they told us about that thing, the one that would help stop the Hellmouth from opening or could be what is going to be used to open it. That doesn't do any good if we don't know which it is or what it is or where it's at." While she babbled, Tara carefully skirted the storm of sprites that surrounded Angel and Cordelia. They had now been joined by Gunn, as he shielded Cordelia's other side from her chattering friends.

Tara took Willow's hand and said, "This isn't getting us anywhere. Do you understand what they're saying?" She directed the question to Spike and looked at him with hopeful eyes.

"You understand what they're saying, we all do." Spike sighed needlessly. "Trouble is, you can't get just one of them to talk. This sounds like a New York metro terminal during rush hour."

"If we could have only got one more question asked. If we knew the location of this thing, maybe we could find out the rest in research." Willow said, still looking about to cry. The fact the she hadn't shaken off his arm clued Spike in more than the way she tightly clutched at Tara's hand.

"Well, the conversation is over, but we can still see them. Go on, Red, ask them to show you where this thing is." Spike gently propelled the witches toward the cloud of sprites. Oddly enough, it worked. Not the first time, when Willow asked, but once Cordelia caught on and voiced the question, the creatures responded.

As before, they began to leave and return but this time it was not at random. The mass of sprites swooped first in one direction then the other. They swirled back and forth until even Spike was regretting the recent solid food he had consumed. When Cordelia took a tentative step in the direction which they were undulating in, they broke into ecstatic chitters and swirled faster. The sprites led them to the single tree and after pulsing up and down above the ground and showing signs of their returning frustration, Gunn suggested that they dig. Not having come equipped for this contingency, it was up to the vampires to move the soil by hand. As they peeled back the covering sod the sprites burst in to a glittering display of light and sound. Gunn had interpreted the movement correctly. Once the object--a grapefruit sized sphere of indeterminate origins--was revealed, a sigh passed through both the sprites and the living members of the supplicants.

Giles recommend not asking any more questions, as, if they did not luck into a solution a second time, they may not have to worry about the Hellmouth, having been destroyed by angry elemental. Tara emptied the bowl of water and herbs into the hole and Spike helped her refill the hole with dirt. The spell had been hacked together by Willow from three others and the h