"Are you sure that's big enough for everybody to see? Maybe I should give it another go," Spike suggested, studying the rather large hickey he'd created just above Xander's collar. They were standing in the hallway outside their suite, actually attempting to leave their room for some sight-seeing.

"Not that I mind in the least," Xander replied, "but if you start sucking on my neck again, we may never get out of the hotel -- and I thought you wanted to show me where Jack the Ripper hung out?"

Spike frowned. It *did* look perfectly visible to him -- not that he'd mind doing some more sucking either -- but was it obvious enough to qualify as a 'mineminemine' mark, like the travel package guide said he should do?

Xander must have read his mind, because he grinned, and added, "Come on, like the sound of you growling at anybody who comes near me isn't gonna be enough, all by itself?"

Well... possibly he had a point. But Spike wanted to make *damn* sure none of the locals decided Xander was a freefloating meal, lack of pink "Eat at Joe's" collar notwithstanding. Humans, according to the glossy holiday package literature, didn't get killed around here unless they were incredibly stupid, or actually picked a fight with a vamp, but that might be just the line they fed to the tourists. Spike wasn't about to literally risk Xander's neck to find out if these brochures were more truthful than the ones that claimed L.A. was a cultural Mecca with clean streets and smiling film stars on every corner.

"You do know we can just buy me one of those dark blue velvet collars?" Xander asked, and Spike had to work very hard at getting his brain cells to start working again as the last word left Xander's mouth. Dark blue. The ones that 'pet' humans wore, as opposed to the pink-collared petty criminals and dole recipients who voluntarily walked the streets waiting to get sucked on, and were apparently trained to struggle realistically, if you wanted them to.

He opened his mouth to say something, possibly in response, and the image of Xander in a dark blue collar hit him. Hard. Right in the groin. He heard someone growling, and looked around -- only to discover it was Xander. "What? What're you growling at?" That was as far as he got, because suddenly his mental image had the sound-effect added. Why hadn't they stayed *home* and shagged for two weeks, again? Since they obviously weren't leaving their hotel room at all? Ever?

"Thought it'd get your attention. Are you listening?"

"No?" Xander could wear a loose, white, fisherman's shirt, open to the waist, and tight blue breeches made of the same blue velvet. Knee-high black leather boots, collar, growl a bit, and what was the question again?

"Are we *going*? You said you wanted to show me around the city." Xander sounded amused. The wanker was doing this on purpose.

"Yes. We're going. And we're buying you a collar and you're *wearing* it. The whole two weeks, even if that means we don't get any sight-seeing done."

"If we don't leave the hotel, I won't need a collar," Xander pointed out.

"Will," Spike replied. Xander grinned, and, yes indeed, he was doing this on purpose. Spike growled at him. "You should be nice to me. S'my honeymoon."

"What was the bath, earlier, then?"

"Er--" Spike had woken up from their last nap, first, and got the hot bath started. When Xander had woken, he'd proceeded to slowly sponge-bathe Spike. The hot water, scented soap, and husband's hands had all ensured that Spike had been unable to get out of the bath until half an hour after the bloody thing had run cold. Xander, by that time, had been fully dressed, including hickey, and ready to go.

"Come on, let's go before you decide you have to ravish me again." Xander tugged on his hand and led him toward the door.

Spike followed obediently --instinctively, which made Spike wonder just who was supposed to be wearing the collar here. Not that he'd mind such, either. But his would have to be black leather. With little Spikes. Little *metal* spikes, not little 'Little Spikes'. Though that would be amusing, too.

Spike was well aware that he was babbling internally as his husband led him down the hall and to the lifts. Part of it was the sight of Xander in the outfit he *had* chosen, which involved black, black, and more black, and a splash of black for decoration. There was also a red carnation in his lapel, and he was wearing a Homburg. It was very possibly the hat that did it. Especially with the way it made Xander's hair crinkle down over his ears and into his face.

The other part was the fact that once they were out walking the streets of a vamp-infested London, he wouldn't have the *luxury* of acting like a complete lovesick buffoon, even if he was one. When they reached the lift doors and Xander had hit the down button, he turned and looked at Spike. Spike managed to not trip, by dint of freezing in place. Had he brought a camera?

"Spike?" There wasn't any teasing in Xander's voice, this time.

"You look--" Spike began. But he couldn't find any words. He'd not been a terrible poet for nothing, proven now by barely being able to think of more than 'grr' and 'mine' to describe how stunning his husband appeared.

Xander grinned, shyly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Rr. Anyone touches you and I break their arm off." Xander didn't laugh. He wriggled his fingers for Spike to come closer, which Spike did eagerly. When he was close enough, Xander took hold of his hand. It was warm, and just a tiny bit sweaty. Spike leaned forward and kissed him. "Rrr. Mine."

"Rrr, right back atcha." Xander's smile made Spike think that maybe, instead of a camera, they should stop somewhere and have a portrait done. Oils and canvas would come closest to doing this man justice.... "The lift's here," Xander said after a moment. "We gonna make it downstairs?"

"If we're gonna make it, we should prob'ly go back to the room," Spike replied, only partially in jest. Partially, because he didn't really care if they made it right where they were, standing in the carpeted hallway in front of the lifts.

Xander laughed, and hauled him into the lift. "Come on. If we stay here, then I can't show you off to the English vampire people."

Spike blinked. "Show *me* off?"

"Yes, show *you* off. Show everybody out there that I've got the hottest vampire in the line of Aurelius, making goo-goo eyes at *me*. So there, snooty coat guy."

Goo goo eyes? Spike was *not* making goo goo eyes. He hadn't made goo goo eyes at Xander -- or anybody -- since last Christmas, when he'd fallen into the bowl of eggnog while fishing about for Goober, who was really too young to be swimming in that stuff, no matter what Dru thought. He wasn't drunk enough to make goo goo eyes, now.

"Spike?" Xander asked, a moment later.

"Huh?"

"Could you ask snooty coat guy for my coat? We've been stopped in the lobby for five minutes now."

"Right. Just wanted to make sure it was safe to leave the lift." Spike didn't think he'd fooled Xander, but it was the attempt that mattered.

"Mm-hmm." Xander followed him out of the lift and into the lobby, then towards the front desk. Snooty coat guy was nearby, and Spike went up to him.

"Where's his coat?" he growled.

Snooty coat guy didn't even bat an eyelash. He turned and headed to a door, which opened to reveal a small room. Spike wondered if being married had made his growl go all soft. Then again, this *was* the land of the vampires. They must all just be used to it. Oddly, that didn't make him feel much better.

"Here you are, sir," the man was saying a moment later, holding out Xander's coat to Spike. Spike started to growl again, and the manservant jumped a bit, and handed it out to Xander.

His -- glurble -- husband took a look at the coat, then shook it, as if he were making sure there weren't any fleas or cooties or other nasty little buggers on it. Then he examined it again, and finally slipped it on.

Spike didn't bother to resist snickering. "Who's a clever pet, then," he whispered, knowing full well that half the vamps in the room could hear him.

"Shall we?" Xander said, offering his arm.

Spike ignored it, in favor of grabbing Xander's hand. He wasn't precisely keeping in period, judging from both his actual memories, and the vamp couples strolling in and out of the hotel lobby -- but it allowed him skin-to-skin contact. Xander seemed to appreciate that fact as well, or maybe he just knew, despite Spike's mature, dignified behavior, how nervous Spike was about going out on the town with his glurble. He grinned, and nodded, and this time it was Spike who was tugging Xander out the wide front doors, into the clear, warm night.

"So where are we supposed to be going, first?" Xander asked, as they walked down the fairly busy street. Spike was looking left and right, seeing everything he hadn't had the chance or the patience to focus on during their muddy trek to the hotel earlier. The buildings he'd grown up with, or at least those he'd known as a young man. No glass-walled business towers. No council block tenement housing. Just big old wood-and-brick structures fronting streets still paved for horse travel, instead of automobile. Cars existed, but they weren't allowed inside the city limits of London -- to preserve the atmosphere or some such.

They'd done a good job. It even smelled like a century ago -- except a bit less polluted. The scent of rain and horse and, as Xander had pointed out hours ago, what horses left behind, was strong. If he didn't breathe in too deeply as people strolled past them in long skirts and frock coats, Spike could even imagine that they were human.

He blinked as he heard Xander say his name again, but he continued gazing about the street. He realized that he probably looked like a bloody tourist -- which he was, and did he care if he acted like it? Finally he turned his attention back to his...right, if he didn't think the word, maybe he wouldn't make the squeaky sound. There was a curious expression on Xander's face which made Spike wish he could blush.

"What do you wanna do first?" Xander asked, and that 'isn't he adorable' expression bled into his voice as well. Damn right Spike was adorable.

"Er," Spike began, then realized he couldn't recall what he'd suggested. They'd read over the brochures, finding out more about the collar thing, as well as studying the guide to tourist traps - both literal and non. The study session had ended up like the previous one had, when they'd been trying to settle on a honeymoon spot on the first place. Was it Spike's fault that lying on the floor with Xander made him think of things not related to reading? "We were gonna visit Whitechapel," he finally remembered, though the first thing that popped into his head was "go back upstairs and shag".

"A church? We getting married again?" Xander looked dubious at the prospect, although this time there was no Princess to stop them from shagging in front of the minister, so Spike wouldn't have especially minded.

Still, he rolled his eyes. "Whitechapel's the neighborhood where Jack the Ripper did all his work. We can go find out if this place had a vampiric equivalent."

"Er, not to be obvious or anything, but how could anyone tell? Vampire killing a bunch of women? This stands out how, exactly?"

"Points for creative effort? Mad Jack was all about taunting the coppers, in our world. Sticking out his tongue at all the folks who thought they knew who he was." Now why was Xander looking at him suspiciously? "It was *not* me!" Spike protested. "I didn't do it!"

He wasn't exactly sure why he was protesting -- shouldn't he be looking mysterious and smug about the whole thing? Not like he *wouldn't* have done it, if he hadn't been busy ripping people's necks open and sucking them dry, at the time. Somewhere in Darbyshire, if he remembered rightly. The Poof -- who would've ripped *Spike's* neck open for calling him that in those days -- had been in a tizzy over following Jack the Lad in the newspapers. Thought he might look the fellow up and turn him.

It was utter coincidence that the minute he started going on about that, Spike and Dru had got themselves in a little drained-the-entire-local-hunt-club sort of trouble, and the four of them had had to high-tail it out of the country for a couple of years. Nothing at all to do with jealousy. Angelus had bought that story, anyhow; Darla hadn't, but hadn't minded leaving England. Spike doubted Xander would believe him either, so he just kept his mouth shut about the whole thing, and instead suggested -- "Fancy a hansom cab ride?"

Xander frowned at him slightly, and Spike just waited. "They have ugly cabs, too?"

"Yes, they have ugly cabs. Come on, m'not gonna stand here all night jabbering, when we could be out having fun. Since we're not in having fun."

Xander let Spike grab his arm, and start hauling him towards the edge of the street where a few cabs were waiting for fares. "We have to leave the hotel at least seven times," Xander said.

Spike stopped, and gave his husband-glurble a confused look. "What for?"

"I did some calculations before we left -- actually, about two weeks before the wedding, when I could still think clearly. That's how often we have to stop having sex in a two week period so my privates don't fall off."

Spike had been about to grab hold of the door to the hansom; he missed his grab, but managed to not throw himself forward into the mud. Xander laughed, then opened the door and climbed inside. Spike growled. "Whitechapel!" he yelled up at the driver, and followed Xander inside. Somebody was going to find out just how much room there was to maneuver inside a cab.

The cabbie leaned round and peered in the window, and Xander waved up at him from where he lay sprawled over Spike's lap, with his hat in one hand. Spike growled. "You got a problem, mate? We're having a private discussion, here."

"No, just need to know *where* in Whitechapel. Street address?"

Huh. Spike shrugged, not lifting his hand from the back of Xander's shirt collar. "Anywhere, really. Thought I'd give him the Ripper tour, so I guess we could start with Buck's Row."

"The who tour?" The cabbie sounded truly clueless, and Spike wondered if maybe he shouldn't drag Xander out the other door and find somebody who actually knew the difference between Islington and Perivale (better pubs) to drive them.

"Hey, cool -- they have Giles-music here," Xander said cheerfully. "He's always bitching about them breaking up."

"Who?"

"Yeah, them."

Spike decided to ignore the blatant request for him to start spanking, since Xander would just pretend he hadn't asked for it and yell at Spike for doing it in front of the driver. He concentrated on the idiot cabbie for a moment, instead. "Ripper, comma, Jack the? Mad Jack? Scotland Yard's bonnie boy?"

The driver frowned at him. "Sorry, mate. Not got a clue what you're on about."

"Guy who killed a bunch of women in eighteen... when was it?" Xander twisted pleasantly on Spike's lap in order to look back at him. The current pop hit "What Was The Question Again?" began to play in Spike's head.

Xander grinned and thumped him on the knee, and at last he muttered "Eighteen eighty six."

"Eighteen eighty-six?" the bloke scoffed, and he sounded like John Cleese saying, 'You sold me a dead parrot?' "How would anybody 'ave noticed? Streets were awash in blood, those days."

"Nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah, boo-boo," Xander sang. Spike gave in and smacked him one, though it obviously didn't do any good through his coat and trousers. Xander just chuckled, which meant he was going to be all puritan and annoying and not let Spike take those trousers down in a public place. 'Public place' being something that only Xander was allowed to define, of course; he been perfectly willing to shag in the back seat of their *own* car on numerous occasions. The only explanation he'd ever given was, "If it makes me uncomfortable, it's public." How fair was that?

"Stop pouting," Xander ordered Spike.

"M'not."

"Spike, I find myself wanting to kiss you repeatedly until your lips get all puffy and your hair stands up like Angel's, without the aid of a single dollop of mousse."

"Rrrr. Yeah?"

"Which means you're pouting. Stop it."

It was easy to spot the flaw in Xander's logic. "Er, I'm supposed to stop doing something -- that I'm not doing, but if I were, you'd want me to stop -- that makes you want to kiss me stupid? Why exactly?"

But Xander just grinned. "Because I'm not gonna. I'd just want to, and get all frustrated until I'm grumpy." He sighed, rolled his eyes at Spike's continued pout, and told the driver, "Look, just take us someplace touristy, where he can enjoy lots of blood and killing and vampirey stuff. K?"

"Right, House of Lords do you?" the driver asked.

"Sounds fine to me," Xander told him, and the driver's face disappeared from the window. Spike lost his wasn't-pouting pout, and leered hopefully. "Nope," Xander said.

"Nope what?" Spike asked, sliding his hands over Xander's bum.

"You're not shagging me in a cab. So you can just take your hands offa me, buster, and put 'em where they belong."

"If I take my hand off of you, you're liable to fall onto the floor. I'm only thinking of your safety," Spike replied.

"You're thinking you're gonna make me forget the cabbie's listening to us, even if he's pretending he isn't."

Spike raised an eyebrow, and pounded on the front of the cab. "Oi, you up there? You listening to us?"

The cabbie's voice came echoing back immediately, "No, sir. Wouldn't do a thing like that."

"See?" He looked hopefully at Xander again, not that he really expected it would work.

Nor did it. Xander rolled his eyes and scrambled into a sitting position next to him, only giving Spike time for one good grope before he was upright and peering out the window at the homes they were passing. Spike considered settling into a real pout, but figured it wasn't worth the extra facial exercise, especially since Xander truly did seem to be interested in the scenery. That was why they'd picked this place, right? So Spike could show him off...er...around. Still, Spike couldn't resist a little sniffle.

"Could at least come and sit on my lap, like a good little velvet-collared kept-man," he murmured, wistfully.

"I don't have a collar yet, and there's nothing on your side of the cab but traffic." Xander looked out the window for a second longer, then grinned, and pulled Spike onto *his* lap. "Happy?" he asked, as he pulled the window-curtain aside again and gazed out.

"Er," Spike tried to think if saying yes was gonna get him into any trouble he didn't mean to be in. He didn't think so, but he'd been rather distracted with the Xander-butt he'd been staring at for all too short a time. "Yeah," he finally said. He leaned over to see out, as well.

"This is better, anyway," Xander said a moment later, interrupting Spike's comment about the building they were just about to pass.

"What? I mean, yeah, of course, but how do you reckon?"

Xander snickered at him. "Excuse me? Who among us is the kept man?"

Spike raised his hand, and blinked at Xander like he didn't possibly understand how being kept could be cause for the keeper snickering. Between working for an unliving or hanging around the hotel, Xander's office, and the alleyways of LA -- he'd rather be kept. He got lots more sex, that way.

"Maybe I should get *you* the velvet collar, then." Xander was looking at his neck when he said that, and Spike saw his pupils contract slightly before they lost all focus.

Spike wriggled a bit, rubbing his butt against the not-too-tired-at-all cock in Xander's trousers, and preened, stretching his head to one side to show more neck. "You think it'd go?"

"Go where?" Xander asked distractedly, shifting beneath Spike in a manner that let his husband know exactly what he was thinking should go where.

"Erm..." Spike leaned back against Xander's shoulder. "Anywhere you'd like to put it, I s'pose." They'd been talking about something specific, hadn't they? A collar, round somebody's neck. Velvet. Right.

Xander took a deep breath, then asked in a tone that was almost conversational, "Why do I get the feeling we should've asked Cordy for some of that de-lusting powder to bring along with us?"

"Relax. We're both fully clothed, and--" The cab hit a genuine vintage London mudhole, and Spike bounced up a good two inches off Xander's lap, then down again. "Sorry, what was I saying?"

"You were saying why you weren't kissing me?"

Spike blinked. "I was? Stupid me, then." He leaned down the few necessary inches and kissed Xander. Kissed him as long as he could until he forgot why they were still dressed, and could only remember that something bad would happen if he removed Xander's clothes. He leaned back and looked at Xander, and could tell that his husband didn't remember why, either. So he reached forward and started pulling Xander's shirt open. Xander slapped his hand.

"What was that for?"

"No shagging."

"I wasn't! Er, now, I'm not. You can shag me." Spike got his hands as far as his belt, when he got slapped again. "Er...I'm guessing that's another 'no Spike, no shagging'?"

"We're in a cab, remember?"

"Er. Yeah? Oh!" He reached over and closed the curtains. Then he tried to undo his belt, again.

There were fingers on his, but they weren't smacking him this time. Probably a good idea, that -- what had possessed Xander to think that engaging in blatant foreplay would encourage him *not* to want to shag? Xander's hands were just holding his, firmly. Not that Spike didn't have twice the strength required to break out of such a grasp, if he wanted to, but why would he? Especially when he was being kissed again.

A small part of his mind was telling him that this would only lead in a vicious, if pleasurable cycle, but he ignored it, the way he usually did. It was always telling him things like "Do the dishes, Spike," and "Don't touch the button marked don't touch, Spike," and where was the fun in that? He was just getting back round to the bit where he opened Xander's shirt a little further, when the cab lurched to a halt, and Spike was bounced forward and back again.

"House of Lords, sir," the driver called back.

After a moment of enjoying the impact, Spike lifted the curtain, looked about, and frowned. "This isn't the House of Lords-- we're in the middle of bleedin' Green Park!"

Spike heard a very softly muttered, "Offworld tourists..." before the cabbie said patiently, "Yessir. House of Lords meets outside. Have since the early fifties. Ever since they burned the place down for the third time in the same year over whether they should try to tax the folks as raise homebred humans the same as those that buys 'em at the marketplace."

Spike took a look at Xander's raised eyebrow and asked carefully, "Who won?" Not as if he really cared, since if he had to pay a tax on Xander, it'd be Xander who ended up actually paying it.

"You find out, let me know, mate," the cabbie chuckled. "They're still arguing over it."

Xander's eyebrows were still hiding under his bangs -- which, since he'd taken to cutting them short again, like that horribly geeky year of high school, was saying a lot. Spike shrugged. "You're a privately owned human. Worst that can happen is someone will offer to buy you." He was pretty sure he sounded confident, even if he was considering having the cabbie take them back to the hotel.

"Oh, not to worry. Offworld humans pay tax outside the gates. Er, when you paid for your hotel, taxes were all included. *That* one they all agreed on right away off." The cabbie smiled.

"Thanks," Xander told him, scowling at Spike.

"What?" Spike couldn't think of anything he'd done to deserve being scowled at. Xander just scooted towards the door, and stepped out. Spike followed him quickly -- not because he was nervous or anything, but because if anyone got a gander at his husband, he wanted to it be a gander of Spike's husband as attached to Spike. The cabbie was waiting, patiently. Spike started to reach into a pocket, then stopped and looked at Xander. "Any idea what the going rate is?"

Xander blinked at him. "You're asking *me*?" He sighed. "Just pay him. We're gonna get overcharged anyway, might as well give him what he asks for."

"Five bob," the cabbie said promptly.

"Five bob? For a cab ride from Holborn to Green Park? I thought highway robbery went out with Dick Turpin." Spike was just arguing for the hell of it, really, and to give himself a longer period of groping in Xander's pocket for his wallet. "Or haven't you heard of him, either?" He asked this as he handed over the requested note, which the cabbie peered at just long enough to not quite be insulting about it, then pocketed.

"Of course I've heard of him," the driver replied. "He went about robbing humans at gunpoint. Nasty criminal element. Nothing like that goes on round here now. They're a protected species."

"Great," Xander muttered. "I'm a humpback whale."

"Does that mean I can--" Spike stopped as he found a hand over his mouth. He settled for raising one eyebrow in an eloquent gesture that meant 'can I lick it?' and waited for Xander to scold him again.

"Let's go see if they're in session, or whatever the English Vampiric equivalent is," Xander said, grabbing Spike's arm and hauling him away from the cab.

When he dropped his hand, Spike said, "Is that it?"

Xander stopped walking. "Is what it?"

"That all the scolding I get? Doesn't seem right."

*****
Part 4:

Spike straightened the lapels of his coat, and began striding towards a small knot of vampires, standing about. They were dressed like Lordly assistants, rather than Lords themselves, and he figured he stood a better chance of getting some real information from them than the snobbery kind. He tried to make himself look as important as possible.

Xander followed, saying nothing. Spike imagined there was a bit of eye rolling and sighing going on behind him, perhaps some smirking at his expense. Nothing new.

As they drew near, one of the younger men glanced over, then broke away from the group and hurried over. Spike stopped, wondering if they had 'tourist' written on their foreheads, or if visitors just weren't allowed to watch.

"Master Spike! We weren't expecting you. How may I assist you?"

Spike halted. Behind him, after a moment, Xander began laughing. "What're you laughing at? Obviously they've heard tales of my great adventures in..." Spike tried to think about where -- besides Xander's bed -- he'd had some adventures great enough to have gotten gossiped about in another dimension.

"Fish-breeding?" Xander offered. Spike scowled at him. It wasn't as if the Father of the Year had known that Piranha don't give live birth, either, until the Host had told them both.

The fellow in front of them was still looking worried and solicitous, so Spike graciously pretended he hadn't heard Xander's comment, and said, "Er, yeah. They in session?" He pointed towards the group of better-dressed men, who were sitting about on wooden park benches, surrounded by riots of yellow daffodils, and talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Oh, very funny, sir. That's a good one." The younger vamp leaned towards Xander and said, "He's a great wit, is Master Spike. As if they could be in formal session without at least three bloodfights going on at a time." The vampire grinned. Then he sniffed once, and glanced at Xander's throat in confusion. "Er, Master Spike. Is this...evidence? You did know the blood-tasting's been canceled for today? Not, mind, that anyone would object to sampling him if you offered, *unofficially*."

"He's *mine*," Spike growled, without even thinking about it.

"Of course! Of course, never meant to imply otherwise, Milord. Would...would there be anything else I could assist you with?" The young vampire seemed eager to get his neck off the chopping block, or at least send Master Spike and his human on their way.

"Nah. S'nothing else. Go away." Spike looked over towards the gaggle of Lords, dismissing the servant as befit someone of his apparent, but mystifying, stature. The vampire bowed and hurried away. Xander poked Spike in the back of the head.

"What?"

"Master Spike?"

"I like hearing you say that," Spike grinned. "Yeah. Get you all collared up, a little bit of the yes, master going on...."

Xander just rolled his eyes. "You realize what this means?"

"Yeah, it means they've heard of me. Means we have to find you a blue collar so you don't get nabbed by somebody. Er, what?"

"Did either of us think to ask if we already lived in this dimension?"

"Love, I realize your brain's all full up with images of me leading you round on a chain, and of you wearing nothing but that collar and a smile and the extra set of handcuff keys, but I'm pretty sure I know which dimension we live in." Spike patted Xander's head tenderly. "It's the one where Angel's a big dork, and they took Passions off the air three years ago, the bastards."

Xander just looked at him, as if he were waiting for Spike to catch on. Truth was, Spike had caught on the minute Xander said it, but it wouldn't do let Xander stop thinking he was the only smart one. Then Xander might have time to catch on to the fact that they shared the title of 'The Cute One' too, no matter what Buffy said.

"Oh," Spike finally said, as if he'd just twigged. "You mean there might be another us. The homebrewed versions."

"Yeah." Xander's eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe they're evil and have goatees, and we'll have to overthrow them to save the local population."

Spike jerked a thumb in the direction of the peacefully chatting vampires. "Hate to point this out, but the local population *is* evil. That was sort of the point of the trip, remember?"

"Then maybe they're good, and we'll have to overthrow them...?"

"Why would we want to overthrow them, if they're good?" Spike smacked himself on the head as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "I used to be evil, you know. It was natural, didn't have to think twice about killing innocent people. Now I find myself wanting to say 'but it's *wrong*'. Xan, help?"

Xander stepped close, and smiled. Spike was willing to agree that helped a great deal. Then Xander opened his mouth, ran his tongue along his lower lip, then said, "You remember how I look when I've crawled out of Angel's hot tub, and I'm lying on the bench, too relaxed from the hot water to move?"

This was a trick question? Spike nodded.

"You feel like killing anyone now?"

"Yeah - Angel, if he walks in on us, or Wes, if he turns us into newts."

"Besides them," Xander waved a hand, as if they didn't count.

"Erm...no. I don't." Spike pouted, this time for real. "But I *used* to be a badass vampire."

"Now you're mine," Xander said softly.

That made Spike grin. He turned it into a leer, since they were in public, and all. "Yeah. Grr. Wanna go say hi to the Lordly Vampires? See if I'm really hot stuff in this world?"

Xander rolled his eyes, and pushed Spike in that general direction, by way of a shove on the arse. He also whispered, "You know damn well you're hot stuff on any world."

"Be cold on Pluto," Spike whispered back, to show that he watched the Discovery Channel for more than just the wildebeest mating.

"Eww," Xander shot back as they neared the gaggle of vampiric politicians. "You couldn't be cold on Goofy? He's at least vaguely anthropomorphic."

"You're perverted," Spike declared. He grinned as a well-dressed fellow who was obviously the Honorable Something of Something looked sharply at them, then began walking over.

"Spike, old boy. So...pleased...that you decided to join us."

Spike didn't think he sounded especially pleased, but there was nothing specific that he could point out in the man's demeanor, to prove it. He cocked his head and studied the specimen before him for a second or two. Well-turned out, carefully-coifed brown hair that could give Angel a run for his money in the fussiness department. Neatly trimmed mustache, and a look of cultivated boredom that brought back such a stab of familiarity that Spike wondered, for a moment, if he'd actually known this man -- or rather his counterpart -- when he was alive. After another second, he concluded that he hadn't -- it was just a type. Young, rich, following in Lord Daddy's footsteps, and dreadfully full of himself.

"He even dressed up for the occasion -- we *are* honoured," said another vampire, coming up behind the first. The newcomer was cut from the same cloth, though he had blond hair and a nasty overbite in his human teeth.

Spike glanced down at his own clothes, which were on the plain side of respectable, since tonight was all about showing Xander off to the world, from a safe distance. Not as fancy as these toffs were dressed, for certain, but as far as he could tell, nothing was torn, stained, or purple.

"I told'ja you didn't need the cock ring," Xander said, and Spike grinned as the two pompous arses looked surprised.

The two Lords looked at Xander, then each other, with obvious uncertainty. Spike felt no need to explain who Xander was, nor even offer lies. He enjoyed needling these types of blokes. When he'd known them before, he hadn't been able to without getting tossed in the mud. Once he'd become a vampire, they'd become his food, and his toys. Now... Xander slipped his arm in Spike's, and leaned against him a little.

The two Lords looked even more surprised. "I didn't know you'd taken to..." the second one started, then apparently changed his mind about whatever he was going to say. After a pause, he said with a sneer, "Keeping human pets." He still looked somewhat confused.

"Pet. Singular," Spike replied, holding back the growl. He felt Xander's hand tighten on his, briefly. The two Lords gave Xander the once-over, long, measuring looks. The first gave a half-shrug and said nothing.

"That's me," Xander confirmed. "I'm cheap to feed, and litter trained, and I don't even hump the neighbors' legs, unless I'm asked politely."

Spike didn't bother to hold back his chuckle, at that. Though he did point out, "You're not cheap to feed. You eat more than any human I know except Cordelia -- and she doesn't count, 'cos I swear she has some sort of dimensional gateway in her stomach, to eat like that and never gain a bloody pound."

"I think she just sold her soul to the Tae-Bo guy, actually," Xander told him.

"An American pet?" The second Lord finally said, still sounding a bit bewildered. "Don't they have a six-month quarantine?"

Spike was about to say something witty about Xander having been immunized against catching most of the nasty English bugs going round, like pomposity and general berkishness, when the first man answered.

"I expect such considerations are waived, for members of certain families." Oddly, his voice held a note of warning in it, as if he was hinting to his comrade that he should tone down the snobbery. Just who was Spike supposed to be in this world, then? Somebody they looked down on and feared, at the same time?

"Of course," the second vampire was muttering, and he edged away, as if he'd like to leave if they would just take their attention off him for a moment. Spike was tempted to do exactly the opposite. And Spike was so bad at resisting temptation....

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, his question in response to the first Lord, but he looked at the second as he spoke. "What's the point of having power, if you can't be comfortable?" Although he did wonder what sort of power he had. Or perhaps, what power his family had. Who held the power? Angelus? Angel? Had they even made that bloody awful trip to Romania in this universe, or decided to holiday in Italy, like Drusilla had wanted?

Spike was momentarily mind-blipped at the thought, so it startled him a bit when he heard the second Lord answer, "There's nothing wrong with comfort. But what's the point of power, if you can't do something with it?"

"Darcy, really," the other vampire said, the 'hush up' apparent in his tone.

"No, I think it's a fair question. We're trying to run a country here. Maybe we're fools, to think that vampires could ever be loyal to anything but their own appetites, but we've done something, in the last century. Kept alive some sort of loyalty to queen and kingdom, and created a society that works, out of a bloodsoaked mess..." Here, the blond, buck-toothed vamp stopped, as if he'd suddenly realized he might've gone too far, and looked at the ground.

Spike, for one, was less offended than curious, and as always, eager to poke at any apparent hornets' nest to see what came buzzing out. "I like a good bloodsoaked mess," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "But do go on." Next to him, he could feel Xander gearing up to give him the head-whapping of a lifetime, if he got them into more trouble than they could handle.

The mustached vampire Lord looked torn between apologizing for his friend's apparent rudeness, and sneering at Spike himself. "I think perhaps we shouldn't. They're about to open session again, after all."

"No, really, it's fascinating -- " Spike was about to needle the pair again, when he felt a sharp pain in his left foot -- caused by Xander stepping hard on his toe. He glanced at his husband, to find the 'we are not amused' look plastered all over Xander's face.

"Maybe we should just find a seat and watch, Spike?"

Darcy snickered. When Spike gave him the raised eyebrow, he stammered, "Surely you wouldn't...allow a human to observe? The safest spot for him would be on the top of the Careo building with a spyglass." It sounded as though he thought there was such a thing as taking power and privilege too far, and Spike thought about just how bloody politics could be. Perhaps it would be a better idea to observe the session from half a mile away.

He also thought about finding out just how much power he had around here.... Could he declare that he and Xander were going to watch, right here, and there was damn all they could do about it to stop them? Let the Lords decide if it was worth antagonizing...whoever they were afraid of, by not keeping the fight out of Spike and Xander's way? It might be fun to find out.

There went that sharp pain in his toe again. "It isn't like anyone would hurt *you*," Spike reassured his husband. "Give you a sharp stake and a spot on the grass over there, you'll be fine." He grinned, though he knew he wouldn't *really* do it. Maybe. It would be fun, though.

Xander was still being not amused. The first Lord suddenly gasped. "I don't believe it," he muttered.

Spike turned back to him. "Don't believe what?"

"Are you seriously asking your pet for *permission* to attend the session? My god, you are. What sort of sick--"

Spike was growling game-faced at him before he got the chance to finish the question. Xander's hand on his arm was the only thing that stopped Spike from being up in the other vampire's face, and possibly ripping it off. "Spike, calm down. We're las touristas, remember? You really want Angel to have to come bail us out in another *dimension* ? He was pissed off enough when he had to drive to Fresno."

"In another dimension?" Darcy repeated slowly.

"With voyeuristic intention," Xander replied, grinning. He yanked back on Spike's coat collar at the same time, pulling him yet further away from what would've been a really satisfying throwdown, for what-- an impromptu midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Show? A brief image of Giles in fishnets flashed before Spike's eyes, and he couldn't hold his gameface and stifle the giggles at the same time. Dammit! He *used* to be a badass vamp...

The dark-haired vampire was gamefaced as well, but was looking confused. Darcy, though, was tapping him on the shoulder. "Fairfax... I think I understand."

"Wonderful. The world shall continue to spin on its axis because Jeremy Darcy understands. What, precisely, do you understand?" Fairfax asked huffily.

"That he's not your Spike," Xander explained, his hand never loosening its grip on Spike's collar. "He's my Spike."

Fairfax still looked confused, and now a bit disgusted, which had Spike ready to try another break for his throat. Darcy turned to his friend. "They're tourists. *Offworld* tourists."

Fairfax' expression changed instantly to one of comprehension. Spike found he was a bit disappointed -- apparently he wasn't all *that* not evil. A good fight would be just the thing...since he wasn't getting shagged properly. Fairfax was saying, "You're...remarkable. Truly...you resemble our Master Spike...quite...." He looked Spike up and down, again. "Physically, at least," he added, in a somewhat doubtful tone.

Darcy, however, just laughed and held out a hand. "I'm Jeremy; this old grouch is Percival Fairfax. Pleasure to make your acquaintances."

There was only the barest hesitation before he added the plural 's', so Spike didn't growl too loudly as he accepted the bloke's hand. Xander shook hands, grinning but not apparently ready to slap them on the back and ask for the nearest pub.

"So...astounding," Fairfax was still talking to himself. "Vampires and humans co-exist in harmony in your dimension, as well? If you would...how does your government rule? Can we--" He stopped, as Xander failed to hold back his snickering.

"Sort of a rare thing, this is," Spike indicated himself and Xander. "Mostly the humans don't really know we're about."

"And those that do, tend to use sharp, wooden 'vamp-be-gone'," Xander added. "Not many of us... Well, ok, all of *my* friends are sleeping with vampires." He got a thoughtful look on his face. "You think it's me?"

"Eh?" Spike said. "Is it time for you to take your medication again?" Said medication being a right proper shagging, of course.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Do you think I cause all my friends to want to sleep with vampires?"

"No, don't be silly. If anything, *I* would cause all your friends to want to sleep with vampires. 'Sides, Willow doesn't sleep with vamps."

"Werewolf, though. And married a witch. Still evidence of me being a weirdness-magnet."

"What about Rupert, then?"

"Slept with Ethan?"

"Right, I withdraw the example, since I'm still not sure *what* the fuck Ethan is, besides scary." Spike thought hard. "Aha! Cordelia!" Xander just gave him an arch look. "No. Who the hell..."

"I promised I'd never tell."

Fairfax and Darcy were looking more and more mind-blown, which amused Spike no end. Amused the part of Spike that wasn't busy trying to figure out which vampire Cordelia had slept with. Surely not the Poof? The only other option was Harmony. Which, all right, wasn't...that.... Spike shook his head.

"You're just saying that to make me need to wash my brain out. With lye." Spike shuddered. Lord Fairfax looked as though he wished to interrupt the conversation. "Yes?" Spike asked, not entirely sure it would be more amusing than verbal-free-for-all with Xander.

"Humans are more...plentiful, in your home dimension?"

Spike and Xander nodded. "Dominant species, that's us!" Xander said proudly, then whapped Spike on the butt when Spike scowled at him for telling falsehoods.

"Then...he is *your* pet?" Fairfax pointed to Spike, then to Xander.

Spike tried scowling again, but didn't get his mouth open before Xander said, "He's really good at keeping the video cabinet dusted. Not so good with the dishes."

"I am *not*--" Spike stopped as Xander turned to him and mouthed 'velvet.' "Right. I am. Know where we can buy those blue collars?"

There was a moment of even greater confusion on the two Lords' faces, then Jeremy not-so-discreetly sniffed the air. He grinned, somewhat leeringly. "Imagine. Angelus' boy is--" He stopped, because even though he didn't need air to breathe, he did need it to speak, and Spike's hand was cutting off all air circulation.

"I'd think very carefully before you finish that sentence," Spike said. Dangerously polite, and as cultured as he never let himself sound unless he was either extremely drunk or feeling particularly ancient. Or impersonating Wesley on the phone while ordering rental-porn DVD's with the Angel Investigations credit card number.

Spike noted that Xander wasn't holding him back anymore. In fact, Xander was standing with his arms crossed, smiling almost as politely as Spike had been speaking. Bloody hell, *that* was a scary look.

"He doesn't like it when people insult Angel." Xander paused. "Except for himself. And me. And Wesley. And Gunn. And Buffy. And Cordelia, and..."

"There's a limited list," Spike agreed, not loosening his grip on sniffy-boy's collar. "You're not on it."

"It's a short, but exclusive list," Xander said. "You can petition to get on it, but I don't think you'd pass the exam."

Darcy was waving his hands, now -- he'd have been passed out by now if he'd been human -- and Spike finally loosened his grip. A bit. "I'm sorry. I was just--" He gulped. "I'm sorry, Master Spike. It won't happen again."

"Thought it wouldn't." Spike grinned, and let his hand drop.

"Ambercrombie's," Fairfax said, eyeing his companion with a resigned air, as if Darcy was forever getting himself nearly dusted. "Ask for Mr. Martin. As for watching the session," he continued, glancing over at the Lords who had nearly all gathered. The volume level was slowly rising, and Spike could hear snatches of legal by-play. "I really do suggest the rooftop of the Careo Building."

Spike shot a glance across the street to said rooftop, which looked like it was probably covered in pigeon droppings, and made a face in Xander's general direction. Xander grinned, and said, "Or maybe we'll just try Ambercrombie's. They do custom fitted collars, I assume?"

"Of course," Fairfax assured them. "Though you might want to make it clear up front that you...er..."

"Want matching collars?" Xander supplied. Spike was too busy thinking about himself and Xander in matching velvet collars -- and nothing else -- to wonder if he should be growling at Lord Foot-In-Mouth again. It occurred to him that, while he mightn't be happy about Angel -- even this world's Angel -- being insulted in front of him, or happy about his own manhood being called into question, did he give a toss about his counterpart's reputation?

Spike hid a grin, and arranged his face into Pout Number 1.25. "I want a matching cock ring. Can I have a matching cock ring, Xan? Pleeeeese? Pleeeeeese?"

Xander gave him a quick glance to see if he was really serious, then hid his own grin, just as fast. Spike saw it dancing in his eyes, though. "What did I tell you about whining at me, Spike? Do you *want* me to spank you in public?"

"Um, yes?"

"We'll disrupt the Lords' session," Xander countered.

Spike glanced towards the vampires, now quietly debating some issue or another. It was difficult to tell which issue, between the insults and wordless growls. "I doubt it. Could probably drop my trou right here, and-- but of course I won't," he finished, before Xander could complete the motion he'd begun.

"Actually, I imagine you're correct," Darcy said. "We're debating water rights in the lowlands, and whether or not it's worth going to war with the damned Scots over. No one will notice a thing."

Spike grinned at Xander.

"No. No, no, and again -- no. Do you know why, Mr. Harris?"

*This* was a trick question. He knew it. Trouble was, he didn't know the proper answer. "Because there's no lube handy?" he ventured.

Whap. "Incorrect. Would you like to try again?"

Spike pondered. "Because people might think I'm the local version and he'd get a reputation as a masochistic little wanker, which frankly sounds as if it might be a step up from what they currently think of him?"

Whap. "No. Last chance, for the washer, dryer, and all-expenses-paid trip to Hershey, Pennsylvania, with Cheryl, our lovely spokesmodel?"

Spike resisted the urge to look around for Cheryl, since he knew it would only get him whapped again, which wasn't a bad thing, but not as good as getting spanked. "Er... because you can't spank me without fucking me, and you're still too goody-goody to fuck me in public?"

Whap. Spike narrowed his eyes. "Hey, what was that for? I know I was right."

"That was the consolation prize, since Cheryl took off with the washer and dryer while you were busy standing there with glazed eyes for five minutes, imagining me fucking you in public."

Spike looked around to see that indeed, time appeared to have passed while his brain was giving him a visual background to go with his third and final guess. Darcy and Fairfax, for instance, had wandered off towards the other Lords, though they were both shooting dubious glances back towards Spike and Xander.

"Er, so, you wanna head over behind those trees, then?" he asked, still feeling a bit dazed.

Xander grabbed him by the lapels, and hauled him forward -- easy enough to do when Spike wasn't resisting in the least. There was a moment when they were nose to nose, and Xander was giving him one of those Looks. Then Xander kissed him.

When he let go of Spike, he said, "Come on, let's go find Ambercrombie's."

*****