*****

Spike peered around the basement, smoking a cigarette as he searched. He ignored Xander, who had limped down the steps a few minutes earlier.

Xander collapsed into a chair, wincing as he inadvertently put pressure on an especially painful bruise. He watched the vampire's actions, closing his eyes briefly in relief. The last two weeks had proved to be a challenge. //No *way* do I want *him* finding out about--// He cut that thought off sharply, then glared at Spike. "You own nothing. This shouldn't be taking so long."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Hang on. Let a fella get organized." //Annoying little git. Like I *wanted* to be here or something.// He snorted. //Only good point the boy's got is he's a right demon magnet, he is. Can't manage to go an entire night without getting himself knocked about by one. Course, that'd be a bit more fun for *me* if it'd happen when I'm around.// He smirked, contemplating going demon-fishing with Xander as live bait.

He cringed at the slight tingle in his brain. //Soddin' chip! *I* wasn't planning on hurting him. Well, not really.// Spotting a radio, he bent to pick it up.

Xander sat up straight. "Hey, that's my radio!"

Spike stared at him with a 'duh' look on his face. "And you're what? Shocked and disappointed? I'm evil!"

Xander gritted his teeth. "Not that I care, but where are you planning on moving?"

"I don't know. Maybe a crypt. Some place, you know, dark and dank. But not as dark and dank as this."

"It's not that bad!" //Well, at least not when -- Nope, not gonna think about it!//

"I've known corpses with a fresher smell. In fact, I've been one." He flicked his cigarette on the floor.

"That's it! Let's go!" Xander stood carefully, then marched over to Spike, trying not to jar his injuries too much.

Spike noticed his stiff movements. //Again!? Why can't he ever tangle with a demon when I'm actually *with* him? Inconsiderate nonce.// He backed away. "Hold up!" He darted across the basement and unplugs a lamp, picking it up with his empty hand..

Xander narrowed his eyes. Very calmly, he ground out, "That's my lamp." He snatched it away, replacing it in its former position.

Spike smirked. "Oi, I thought a housewarming gift was traditional!"

"That's among friends. With bitter enemies, I don't give them my lamp."

The vampire shrugged. "It's not gonna have electricity anyway. It's a crypt, they tend not to."

"Aw, no fridge to keep your blood fresh?" Xander asked in mock sympathy.

Spike paused at that. "No." He considered. "Maybe I should just get a hotel room or something. I need fresh blood. If I had a few bob for a room with an honor bar--"

//Oh, now that's just too much!// "Out! Before I get the Slayer over here to kick your ass out!"

Spike sighed and picked up his duster. "Don't know why she didn't come. Say good-bye, shed a few tears." //Trip down the stairs, break her fool neck...//

Xander couldn't resist. "Well, she has an appointment with somebody who's actually still *scary*!"

"That hurt, mate. It truly did. I am deeply wounded." //Wanker. Just wait 'til I get this chip out...I'll show you and you damned Scooby friends scary!//

"Out!" He ushered the man out quickly, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it, heaving a thankful sigh. Then his eyes popped open. "Hey! My radio!"

*****
Part 2:

Buffy dropped onto a sofa, moaning. "Geez, you'd think the bad guys would take a night off here and there! But noooo. It's all 'Gotta kill the Slayer'...'Gotta wreak havoc on the population'...'Gotta take over the world!' Gimme a break already!"

"Well, yes, granted. Things have been a little...hectic this past week. But I'm-I'm sure it will calm down. Eventually." Giles cleared his throat and removed his glasses, polishing them absently.

Xander snorted as he took a chair for himself. "Hey, I know! Why don't we just ask the nasty demons *real* nicely if they'd cut us all some slack so the Slayer can get a well-deserved rest. I'm sure they'd be all understanding about it. *Not!*"

Willow cast a disapproving glance his way. "Ok, so we're all a little worn out." She ignored Buffy's muttered exclamation of "A little!" "We shouldn't take it out on each other. I mean, what if something big is going on? We need to figure it out before it gets *really* bad."

Tara, seated next to her on the other couch, brushed her hair behind her ear. Ducking her head shyly, she slipped her hand into Willow's, squeezing lightly. "May-maybe we should do some re-research tomorrow. After we get some-some rest."

"I would tend to agree with that course of action. We can get a reasonably good night's sleep, and start fresh in the morning." The Watcher nodded decisively, rubbing his hands together. "Right, then." He stood, staring pointedly at his charges.

Buffy rolled her eyes, but pulled herself up. "Ok, I can take a hint." She glanced around the room. "Anyone need an escort home?"

Willow and Tara shook their heads. Willow stood, pulling her girlfriend up with her. "Nah. We got it covered."

"Xander?"

Xander looked up at the clock on the wall, cringing when he noticed how late it was. At the strange look he received, he swallowed, then forced out a laugh. "Hey, this is me here! I can fend for myself." He gave Buffy one of his patented 'goofy grins' that seemed to work so well. Buffy shrugged and turned to leave. //And we have a winner! Another dupe brought low by the powers of the Xanman! Stay tuned tomorrow for another exciting episode of 'Throwing off Suspicion in SunnyHell.'//

Saying his good-byes, Xander hurried to the door, pausing briefly by Giles to comment, "Although I gotta say, subtleness was lacking there, G-man. You losing your touch?" Buffy and Willow snickered, and even Tara grinned briefly. //Oooh! Extra bonus points for redirecting attention. Yay me!//

Giles sighed. "I've asked you not to call me that, Xander. And I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Hey, whatever. Later guys." With another grin to ally any lingering suspicions //Yeah, as if!//, he left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander stood outside his house, hands thrust in his pockets as he chewed his lip. //No lights. Maybe they're asleep.// Still, the darkness itself evoked a sense of dread. Bed things tended to hide in the dark. //Duh...can we say vampires and other assorted demons?//

{Uh-huh. So why are you still out here with them instead of going inside?}

//Oh, shut up. You know why.//

{My point exactly.}

//You had a point? Funny, I must have missed it.//

{You are aware that you're standing here talking to yourself, don't you?}

//You have a problem with that?//

{Not at all. Always lovely chatting with you. But...stalling ain't gonna help.}

//I know. Just...enjoying this while it lasts.//

He stared for a moment more, then took a deep breath. Creeping softly up to the door, he pushed it open gently. He stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a muted 'click'.

Nothing. Ok, so far so good. Moving as quickly and quietly as he could, Xander reached the basement door. Once inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. Flicking the light switch on, he walked down the stairs, pulling his shirt off over his head. Reaching the bottom, he tossed the shirt towards a pile of laundry, then headed for the bathroom.

He stopped.

He stared at the large man sitting on his bed.

He backed up, eyes wide, breath shortening to harsh panting. "Um, Dad. Hey."

His father stood and stalked over to him. Before Xander could react, a hand lashed out and belted him across the face. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet, and he landed on floor at his father's feet.

"What the *Hell* are you thinking, coming in this late? Waking your mother and me up with your infernal racket. Fucking worthless bastard!" He drew back a foot and kicked Xander, who curled up in a fetal ball. He sneered at the cringing figure, taking another swig from the bottle clutched in his other hand. He kicked again, drawing forth a grunt of pain, which made him grin in satisfaction.

It was *not* a nice grin.

Xander whimpered softly. //Oh, god. This isn't happening...not again.//

The man walked a circle around his son, kicking intermittently as he alternated drinking from the rapidly emptying bottle and 'lecturing'. "Stupid piece of shit." Pause for a drink. Kick. "Should have gotten rid of ya when you were a brat." Kick. Lengthy swallow. Kick again. "Must've been outta my mind keep ya around." Another drink, kicking at the same time for variation. "Not worth this hassle." He tilted the empty bottle toward his mouth, snarling when nothing came out. Furious, he flung the bottle on the floor, shattering it.

He bent and picked Xander up by the throat, laughing cruelly as the boy struggled for breath. "Aw, poor baby. What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" He squeezed tighter, enjoying Xander's struggles as the boy's hands clawed at his own in an attempt to free himself.

With a final punch to the stomach that drove the air from lungs already deprived of oxygen, he tossed his son to the floor, earning himself a harsh cry as bare skin met broken glass. Drunkenly, he weaved his way to the stairs, starting up them. Nonchalantly, he tossed a final remark over his shoulder. "Don't forget, boy. Rent's due at the end of the week." The door slammed shut.

Xander squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall. He waited a few minutes to make sure his father wasn't planning on returning, then gingerly picked himself up. He took a deep breath, then began coughing harshly, jolting his bruised ribs painfully. He felt a warmth along his side, and looked down.

//Oh...um, not good. Blood there. Definitely a bad thing.// He haltingly made his way to his bathroom, hand cupped over the wound, blood running out through his fingers. He got the first-aid kit out of its handy little storage place in the cabinet over the sink. Turning the faucet on warm, he wet a washcloth and dabbed at his side.

His breath hissed out as the fabric caught on the glass still embedded there. He gritted his teeth, then prodded with his fingers, finding the jagged sliver and carefully pulling it out. More blood immediately flowed, and he quickly pressed the washcloth over the cut. A few minutes of pressure, and he cautiously lifted the now-red cloth away. Still a trickle of blood oozing out of the two-inch gash, but no gushing. //Good. Great. Gushing is bad, trickle is...not so bad.//

With an ease and quickness that spoke of great familiarity with the practice, Xander removed a square of gauze and some cloth tape along with some antibiotic cream, bandaging the wound after giving it a cursory washing. He then took stock of his remaining injuries.

//Bruises. Lots and lots of pretty new bruises. Yippee. Well, not much I can do about them.// He looked in the mirror, flinching a bit at the sight. //Note to self: swollen cheek and black eye are *not* you.//

{Well, thank you for that terribly insightful little fact of life. Now, can we do something useful, like fix the lip?}

//Pushy, pushy.// He pressed another wet washcloth against his mouth, where his teeth had split the skin of his bottom lip. Once he cleaned that bit of blood up, he put the cloth down, sighing.

He fingered the welts around his neck. //Turtleneck?//

{This is Sunnydale...as in California. How could you possibly get away with a turtleneck, for crying out loud!?}

//You know, I hate it when you get logical. Scarf maybe?//

The snarky voice rolled its mental (and figurative) eyes. {Oh yeah, that look is any more 'you' than the bruises.}

//You know, a little help would be nice here! Cut the criticism already!//

{Ok. Positive thinking. Um...at least this time he didn't--}

//Shut up. Shut up! I am not thinking about that!//

A bit sheepishly, {Right. Sorry.}

Xander limped out of the bathroom, sitting on his bed in order to slowly peel off his pants. Mission accomplished, he moved to turn off the light and lay down. Very...carefully.

//Ouch//

{Major understatement. Why don't you just stay home tomorrow?}

//Hello? Scooby gang research fest? They need my help.//

There was a conspicuous silence in his head. He tossed in his bed, trying to find a semi-comfortable position. Finally giving it up, he closed his eyes and groaned. //Fine. I'll play hooky tomorrow. Happy?//

{Dumb question.}

A painful gasp, then another moan. //Yeah.//

*****
Part 3:

Spike hurried into his crypt just as the first rays of dawn broke over the cemetery. He slammed the door shut behind him, then walked over to the tomb. He stood there, patting down his pockets and pulling out a few wallets and some watches. Tossing them onto the tomb, he sat and began to pick through his spoils.

//Junk. Junk. Not too bad. Junk. Oooh, Rolex! Niiice.// He flung the rejected watches over his shoulder where they hit the wall with a clatter. Pushing up the sleeve of his duster, he strapped the Rolex on, tilting his head to admire it from an angle. //Suits me.//

He set the other watch back down and picked up the wallet belonging to the former owner of his new watch. He removed the cash, curling a lip at the meager offering, then began leafing through assorted photos and papers. He plucked out a driver's license. //Ouch. bloody awful picture, that.// He came upon another ID, and glanced between the two, comparing the birthdates. //Uh-huh. Someone's been a naughty little boy, haven't they?// He peered closer. //Not even a good fake, at that. Tosser. Had a nice watch, could at least spring for a decent fake ID.// He shrugged. Didn't matter now!

Spike examined the quality of the leather wallet, then set it down next to the watch. He then searched the rest of the wallets, his 'cash' and 'hock for a few quid' piles remaining pitifully small while the garbage pile behind him grew. Finished, he glared in frustration.

//This is pathetic. Abso-bloody-lutely pathetic! Don't these wankers carry actual money around with 'em? Now How'm I s'posed to afford to eat?// He snarled at the thought of having to pay - pay! - for blood. //Can't get a decent meal like any self-respectin' vampire. God, that's just so...pathetic!//

{Wouldn't be so bad if you still had the Watcher's money.}

//That poof! Taking advantage of me when I was all injured like that.//

{And you'd *never* do that.}

//Hey, I earned the cash fair!// He stuck his bottom lip out slightly, pouting.

Mental snort. {Right. Keep telling yourself that.}

//Oh, sod off!//

{And I would go where, exactly?}

Spike shoved his goodies into a pocket and lay down, refusing to acknowledge the snarky voice in his head. //Getting about as bad as Dru here, what with the voices and such. Next thing, I'll be hearing the stars sing to me.//

{I can sing.} came the retort.

Spike growled. He pulled a ratty blanket over him and turned onto his side.

{I bet the Watcher still has some blood stashed at his place.}

He perked up a bit. //He's got Weetabix, too.//

{You could...drop by. Maybe Nummy will be there.}

Spike lurched up, spluttering. //Num--! You mean the whelp? Why the fuck would I care if *he's* there!?//

{Yeah, Nummy. Who'd you think I was talking about?}

//*You*...are outta your bleedin' mind.//

{Actually, I'm *in* yours. What does that say to you?}

//It says, you should shut the hell up and lemme sleep!// He pounded his head against the stone under him, snarling.

{Two words...demon magnet. You know, demons? The things you can still *hurt*? Ring any bells here?}

Spike stilled. His eyes glowed yellow and he smiled, baring his fangs. //Oh, yeah. Violence. Yessss.//

{See? I have good plans.}

//You have your moments. Shut up now. Sleep.//

Spike closed his eyes, still grinning.

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander woke with a groan. He sat up slowly, stiff muscles screaming in protest. Without thinking, he reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes. As a hand came into contact with the swollen flesh of his bruised eye, he yelped in pain. "Shit!"

He covered his mouth as the echoes died down, staring in horror at the door at the top of the steps. After a few panicky moments, when no one appeared there, he sighed with relief. "Ok. You're...Ok. Just...relax."

He got up stiffly, took a deep breath, then began the painful trek to the bathroom. After using the toilet, he moved toward the tub, getting ready for a nice long soak. Happening to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he turned toward it.

//Oh. Wow. That does *not* look good.// Bruises had darkened overnight, shading most of his chest in an interesting clash of blue, green, and purple. One eye was swollen almost shut, and his lip was puffed up where the cut was. The shape of fingerprints was clearly discernable in the welts around his neck. //Yep. Definitely staying home today.//

He sighed, then filled the tub with hot water, removing the bandage on his side before stepping carefully in, immersing himself in the soothing heat. He closed his eyes, relaxing as gentle waves lapped at his skin.

Xander lay there until the water cooled too much to be comfortable any longer. Regretfully, he shifted forward and pulled out the plug, then got out of the tub, grabbing a towel to dry himself with. He tossed the damp towel on the counter, then reached for the first-aid kit that was still out. Swiftly, he re-bandaged the reddened gash and rubbed some ointment into the worst of the bruises.

Leaving the bathroom, he headed for the microwave, where he heated some tea, adding honey to it. Carrying the drink back to his bed, he sat and sipped at the sweet liquid. A weak smile flickered across the boy's face as the ache in his throat eased a bit. He soon finished the drink, and set the cup on the bedside table, next to the phone.

The phone.

He had to call the gang.

//Fuck.//

{Ok, just...suck it in. You can do this.}

//Why do *I* have to? Can't *you*?//

Pause. {That was a *really* dumb question, you know?}

//Yeah, well...it's the morning after getting the crap beat out of me by dear ol' dad. I'm not exactly coherent, you know?//

{Just...call already.}

//Right. I'm calling.// He stared at the phone.

He drummed his fingers on his thigh.

He stared at the phone some more.

He -- {Oh, just do it!}

Reluctantly, Xander picked up the phone and dialed Giles' number.

"Hey, um, Buffy? It's Xander." "Uh-huh." "Um, so like, is everyone there already?" "Yeah, I did notice I wasn't there. That's why I called actually." "Yeah, see, there's this--" "Uh-huh." "Actually, I'm not feeling all that well, so--" "No, I wasn't out drinking, I--" "I see." "Well, do you think you--" "Right?" "So, anyway, I'm not going to be able to make it today, and--" "Oh, really? That's...very interesting. Look, could you just tell Giles and the rest that--" "I--" "You--" At the soft click, he pulled the receiver away from his ear. "Yeah, bye," he said in a whisper, hanging up the phone sadly.

He lay down, pulling a blanket up over his bare skin and rolling onto his (relatively) uninjured side. He hugged his pillow close, curling around it. As he fell back into a fitful slumber, he was unaware of the few tears which had escaped from behind tightly shut eyelids to gather in a moist patch on the pillowcase.

*****
Part 4:

Spike stood outside Giles' door. Before he could reconsider, he knocked firmly. It opened to reveal an extremely annoyed Watcher.

"What are *you* doing here?"

Spike smirked, shouldering his way past the man and leaning insolently against a wall. "What, can't a bloke pay a visit to his chums?"

Giles snorted. "Alright, what do you want?"

"I am offended. Truly. To think that you hold such a low opinion of me." He made his lip quiver, and even managed to get a tear to pool up in his eye.

Giles took one look at his expression of wounded innocence and rolled his eyes. "Please. Do you really think I'm going to buy that?"

Spike shrugged. "Was worth a shot, wasn't it?" He shoved away from the wall and wandered into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Sticking his head inside, he rummaged around, ignoring the Watcher's indignant protests. With a crow of triumph, he emerged, victoriously holding up a packet of blood.

"Make yourself at home, why don't you?"

"Thanks, I will." He found a mug and poured the blood into it, then stuck it into the microwave. While he waited for it to heat up, he pulled open a cabinet and took out the box of Weetabix.

Giles walked over and snatched it away. "That's *my* Weetabix, thank you."

Spike snatched the box back. "Your point? 'Sides, bet you and your bunch could use a little inside track on what's going down tonight."

"You know what's happening?" Giles perked up, allowing the vampire to get his meal together.

Mouth full of blood-soaked cereal, Spike mumbled, "Yeah, sure, doesn't everyone?"

Giles gritted his teeth together, then spun around, striding back into the den.

Spike snickered, finishing his meal leisurely. He set the mug down on the counter, and sauntered out. Five heads turned as one to stare at him. He frowned, counting. //Giles, Slutty, her boy-toy, and the witches.//

{Hey, where's Nummy!?}

//Would you shut the fuck up!?// He sat on the arm of a chair. "So, where's the whelp?" At the blank looks he received, he clarified, "Xander?"

Buffy shrugged unconcernedly. "Why do you care?"

Spike snorted. "Hey, he makes good demon bait. I'm all for that...gives me somethin' to do."

Willow frowned at him. "Actually, he called earlier today. Said he wasn't feeling well, or something."

{Well, shit.}

//I said, shut up!// He sighed. "Pity. Less fun for me. Ah well."

Riley stalked over to where Spike had made himself comfortable. Glaring down at him, he snarled, "Well? Giles says you have information about the increase in hostile activity the last few nights."

"Yeah? So?"

"You've eaten, now tell us!" Giles snapped.

Spike shrugged casually. "Well, you know...I lied."

Within seconds, Buffy moved in front of him, grabbed his shirt, and thrust an extremely pointy stake against his chest. "What do you mean, 'lied'? Are you saying you *don't* know what's going on?"

Spike looked down. "You stretching my shirt." He looked back up at her, eyebrow raised.

With a snarl of frustration, she pushed him away. "You know, I am *so* ready to stake you. You have *no* idea." She paced around the room.

Riley grabbed Spike, pulling him upright. "I suggest you tell us what you know. You don't want me to get rough with you."

Spike went into game face, yellow eyes glittering with rage.

Riley scoffed. "What? You're going to hurt me? I don't think so. Talk!"

Spike briefly entertained the thought of roasting the commando alive. //A nice spit through his arse to skewer him, maybe a slash across the stomach to spill his intestines, lovely smell of flesh sizzling, skin all -- ow!// He winced at the throbbing pain in his skull. //Joking! I was just kidding!//

"Um, maybe if you pu-put him down...h-he could t-t-talk better." Willow beamed at Tara encouragingly.

Riley dropped Spike into the chair, but continued to stand over him, arms crossed.

"Oh, for--! Alright, fine. There's nothing going on. Happy?"

Giles assumed a stern, disapproving look. "What do you mean, 'nothing'?"

Spike groaned. "What d'you think I mean? Nothing! As in, not a thing. No demonic gatherings, no evil rituals, no over-ambitious vampire trying to take over the Hellmouth. N o t h i n g. Want it a bit slower?"

Willow shook her head, confused. "Wait a sec. If nothing big is happening, what's with all the activity we've been seeing lately? It *can't* be coincidence."

Buffy nodded. "I agree. I think you're hiding something. Not that that surprises me." She sneered at the vampire. "You'd do anything to get a free meal...especially since you can't your meals anywhere else!"

"Hey! I came here to help, I'll have you know!" Spike turned a deaf ear to the derisive snorts that met that comment. "Look, you've got a surplus of demons, I'm looking for a spot of violence. Work with me here!"

Riley backed up a step. "So, you're saying you came here so you could have a chance to pound on a few baddies?"

"Well, that and a free feed. And who said anythin' about poundin'? I wanna rip 'em to shreds! Get some nice blood and gore, maybe a few innards."

Willow went to Buffy's side and murmured in her ear, "Might as well take him along. We could use an extra pair of hands, and it's not like it matters if *he* gets hurt."

Buffy scowled, but gave in. "Fine. You can come with us." She motioned to her boyfriend, who left the vampire to help the Slayer get her equipment packed.

Spike just watched as the small group prepared for patrol. //Not exactly the evening I'd planned, but not too bad.//

{I thought we were gonna see Nummy. Why do you want to hang with these losers?}

//I can still do a patrol with this bunch. Get some demon hunting in. Who needs the whelp?//

{But I wanna see Nummy!}

//Fag off! We're going to go pulverize some demons!//

{Can we go see Nummy after?}

Spike growled softly.

{You can take him back his radio. It needs new batteries, anyway.}

A pause. //Oh, fine! But just to get more batteries, hear?//

{Yeah, sure.}

"Hello? Spike? You in there?" Buffy waved a hand in front of his face.

His eyes focused on her. "What!?"

"Hey, can it! I do *not* need your attitude. This week has sucked enough already. Let's *go*!"

Spike snarled, but followed the Slayer and her friends out.

~~~~~~~~~~

//I can't believe I'm doing this.// Spike watched the house, clutching a radio under one arm, and using his other hand to flick a cigarette onto the lawn. He shook his head, then headed around to the back yard and knocked on the rear basement door.

After a couple of minutes, he heard footsteps, and the door cracked open about an inch. A dark eye peered out. "What?" came a scratchy whisper.

Spike grinned. "Gonna let me in? Got somethin' for you."

A heavy sigh. "Go away, Spike. It's three in the morning, and I'm really not in the mood."

He held up the radio. "Brought this back. Thought you might want it."

The door opened a bit farther, and a hand reached out. "So? Give it."

"Aw, let a vamp in, wouldja? Offer me a snack maybe; it's only polite."

"Fuck polite!" came the snarl. "Just give me back my radio and fuck off!"

Spike clicked his tongue. "Tut tut. Such language!" He held the radio out temptingly.

Another sigh, then the door opened. Xander stepped into the moonlight. "Well? Give it here."

Spike stared at him in shock. //What, again!? What tha hell did he tangle with this time?// In the faint light, he could make out a dark patch around the boy's neck, and his face looked swollen and bruised. "What happened to you, mate?"

Xander shrugged. "Tough time patrolling with Buffy earlier. It happens. I'll live." With that terse reply, he again held his hand out, waiting expectantly. "You're not coming in. Might as well forget about it."

Spike couldn't believe. //He's lying to me! Why's he bloody lying?// While he was vaguely willing to accept that Xander had been injured patrolling, he knew for a fact that it hadn't been with Buffy. //And he's supposed to be sick. What's he doing out patrolling anyway?// It didn't make sense. He knew only one thing.

{Something hurt my Nummy. Kill it!}

//Don't start that again!// Ok, so the whelp was lying to him. Not his problem.

As he continued to just stand there, Xander reached out and grabbed the radio. He then went back inside, and Spike tried to follow.

The door slammed shut in his face. Spike stared at it. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. //Something's not right here. Why'd he lie?// He refused to acknowledge the feeling in his stomach at the thought of someone //someone else// hurting the boy. He hurried away, headed back to his crypt to indulge in some deep thinking.

*****
Part 5:

Spike paced across his crypt. The sun would be setting soon, and he was still undecided as to what his plans for the evening would include. //Damn it! I'm hungry!// He growled, kicking an unfortunate rat that had made the mistake of skittering across the floor too close to him. //I want blood. *Human* blood! Want to sink my fangs deep into warm flesh. Taste hot, thick, salty blood as it floods my mouth when I drain my struggling pre--*OW!*//

He grabbed his head, cursing. //Chip. Chip, chip, chip. Fuck! I wasn't gonna *hurt* anyone! Just...drain 'em dry a little bit.// He winced at the warning jolt in his brain, standing still until the throbbing died down.

Ok, so feeding directly from humans was out. //Like that's news. An' the bleedin' Watcher only stocks pig's blood.// He shuddered. //Besides, haven't been around Slutty and her little do-gooder lackeys in a couple of weeks now, and I'd like to continue with that trend, thanks!//

{Except for Nummy. Let's go see Nummy. I *like* him!}

Spike frowned. Something was up with Xander. He was...hiding something. And Spike had the feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't good. That made him scowl harder. //And since when is that a *bad* thing? I'm evil--I'm William the Bloody, for crying out loud! I *like* it when bad stuff happens to people!//

He pushed that thought far from his mind, not wanting to deal with it at the moment. Still...//What to do tonight?//

{Don't worry, I've got everything figured out. Just three easy steps.}

//Oh goody. I can't wait. Enlighten me.//

{Terrorize some people, steal their money.}

Spike nodded. //All right, good. I know just the place...easy pickings.//

{Then, go get some dinner.}

//Liking this. Hopefully I can scrape together enough quid to spring for some human blood.//

{Last, go visit Nummy.}

//Right. Drop in on Num--what!?//

{Oh, come on! You know you want to.}

//Bloody annoying little voice. Obviously at least *part* of me has gone 'round the bend.//

{So, you're saying you don't like my plan?}

//No, I don't like your soddin' plan!// He paced around some more. //Besides, Num--the whelp probably won't even be at home.//

A little mental snigger. {You could always drop in on Slutty. See if the group is doing the patrol thing tonight.}

Spike considered. He stalked for a bit more, then sighed heavily. //Oh, fine. But only to get some blood from the Watcher!//

{Uh-huh. Whatever you say.}

//Shut up.//

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike glanced warily across the room at Xander. The boy sat alone on a couch, isolated from the rest of the group, who cheerfully ignored him, caught up in their own concerns. Spike frowned.

Xander didn't look near as bad as he had two weeks ago. Still, his movements were careful, measured. And going by the dark circles under his eyes, Spike figured it had been a while since he'd gotten any real sleep.

//Bloody Hell! Now I'm *worryin'* about the whelp? I *am* goin' as loony as Dru!//

{He looks sick. I don't want Nummy to be sick. Fix him!}

//Don't you start!// Spike shuffled a bit, then sighed and strolled as casually as possible over to Xander. Sprawling on the couch next to him, he stared intently until the human lifted listless eyes to meet his gaze.

Xander looked at the vampire, then groaned wearily. "Spike. I'm not really up for one of our little verbal sparring sessions tonight, so just say what you want and go away."

Spike just continued to stare, making the boy shift uncomfortably.

"What!?" A spark of life had come back into his eyes, and Spike grinned. The vampire moved a bit closer, and Xander flinched almost imperceptibly.

"You don't look so good, pet."

"Gee, thanks. And here I went to all that trouble primping, just for you." The sarcasm was thick enough to be spread with a knife.

Spike snorted. "No, something's not right with you. I wanna know what it is."

"Nothing, Spike. Nothing's wrong. Now go bug someone else before I stake you."

Spike ignored the half-hearted threat. "I don't think so." He brushed a finger lightly across Xander's arm. "You're hiding something. I'll figure it out eventually."

Xander snatched his arm away. "Look--" He glanced across the room, then lowered his voice. "Look, it's none of your business, ok? It doesn't concern you."

"So there is something," Spike stated flatly.

Xander frowned. "I didn't say that."

"Yes you did. You sad 'it' doesn't concern me. So there *is* an 'it' to be concerned about."

"I--" Xander looked confused.

Spike moved in a little closer. "Tell me about it," he whispered. He watched as a lost expression came over the human's face.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, Xander asked in a hushed, childlike voice, "Why do you care?" He looked at the vampire, wide-eyed.

Spike groaned softly as he felt himself falling into those dark, vulnerable pools. //Oh, fuck!// Finally giving in to the obviously demented half of his brain, he reached out and laid a hand on Xander's thigh. "Because I...I like you, sod it all!"

"Like me?" Xander gaped at him in disbelief. "You stole my radio!"

Spike let go of the boy, leaning back on the couch. "Gave it back, didn't I?" he muttered petulantly.

"Yeah, because the batteries were dead," Xander crossed his arms over his chest.

"S'not the point. Point is, I gave it back. Anyone else's, and I'd've hocked it."

Xander rolled his eyes, then opened his mouth to retort.

"Hey! Hello? Anyone over here listening to me?"

Both heads whipped around to face the intruder. There stood Buffy, hands on hips, tapping her foot impatiently.

Spike growled. "Slayer. What the bloody hell do you want?"

"Excuse me? Who invited you here, Mr. 'I'm-so-pathetic-I-can't-even-bite-a-human'? Wanna get up close and personal with my pointy friend?" She held up a stake meaningfully.

"No thanks. Commando-boy's not really my type. Besides, isn't he your toy? And really, anyone with bad enough taste to shag you...gotta wonder about 'em." He looked at the Slayer with feigned innocence.

Buffy glared, lip curling in anger. She took a threatening step forward, stopped only by a meek voice behind her.

"Um, Buffy? We're, uh, getting ready to leave." Willow shuffled nervously, eyes darting between the two blondes.

The tension was unbearable thick for a long moment, until Buffy wheeled around and stalked out the door. Willow gave Xander a half-grin and followed.

Xander rose from his seat, walking slowly after the rest of the gang. He didn't notice when Spike closed in on him.

As everyone else left the room, Spike moved quickly. He snuck up behind Xander and brushed up against him, leaning to whisper in his ear, "We haven't finished our little chat yet. Don't think you're getting out of it."

Not lookin at him, Xander swallowed hard, then hurried out of the room.

Spike followed, leaving enough distance between them so he could have an unobstructed view of the boy's ass, shifting enticingly beneath his baggy pants..

*****
Part 6:

"Ouch!"

"Oh, shut up and stop being such a baby!"

Spike snarled at Buffy, eyes flaring golden. "You try having a few hunks of wood embedded in your back, see how you like it!"

The Slayer rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. I thought you were supposed to be this big bad vampire. What's wrong, can't handle a little bit of pain?" She watched as Giles dug into pale flesh, withdrawing sliver after sliver of brittle wood.

"Hold still. This one's in quite deep." Giles bent over the blood splattered back, using a scalpel to slice deftly, exposing jagged pieces of wood.

Buffy snickered as Spike flinched, his growls increasing.

Giles glanced up at her. "Really, Buffy. There's no call for that kind behavior."

Buffy pouted. "But it's funny!" She sat on the arm of a chair next to her boyfriend, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger. "You think it's funny, don't you Riley?"

Riley's eyes glazed over as a wet tongue darted into his ear. "...um, yeah...sure."

Spike made retching sounds. "Oi, give a vamp a break, wouldja? It's bad enough I got one of you blokes hacking into m' tender self without havin' to be subjected to *that* too!"

Buffy glared. "Well, *you* were the one dumb enough to get in the way of a charging Vithrell demon."

"Right, and that had nothing whatsoever to do with some bint being stupid enough to toss me there in the first place!"

"Hey, it's not *my* fault you ran into me. I just...get a little caught up in my work." She grinned, adding under her breath, "Although, I kinda enjoyed watching it smash you into that stack of wooden crates."

Spike snorted. "I didn't bloody well run into you! I was trying, for some reason that escapes me entirely at the moment, t' keep one of your witches from bein' stuck through by a tentacle. A barbed, *poisonous* tentacle, I might add. You just got in m' way." An un-needed breath hissed out through bared teeth. "Careful, Watcher!" he snarled, gritting his teeth.

"I think--" Giles extracted a blood covered shard, holding it up triumphantly. "Got it! That was the last."

Willow came to stand beside Giles as Spike sat up. She wrinkled her nose, peering into the bucket by the table. "Eeew. That's...kinda gross." As they were removed, the bits of wood had been dropped into the container, and now it looked like some morbid fleet of little boats were floating on a tiny sea of blood.

Her stomach churned. "I...think I'm gonna go sit down." She made her way over to the couch next to Tara, who patted her hand sympathetically.

Spike rolled his shoulders experimentally, giving the redhead a quizzical look. "What? Wouldn't think a little blood would phase you. I mean, what with you messin' about with frog innards an' lizard guts an' such." He picked up his now well-ventilated shirt, giving it a critical once over. He shrugged, putting it on.

Willow shuddered. "You're not gonna wear that, are you? It's all...bloodstained -- not that that probably bugs you much...I mean, you are too. But it's kinda...hole-y and...icky."

Spike snapped his head around and fixed her with a baleful glare. "Bite your tongue, missy!"

"What? What did I say?"

Tara leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I think he meant about th-the 'hole-y' thing. Hole-y...holy? 'Cause he's...he's a v-vampire."

"Oh. Whatever." Her eyes sparked. "And I do not mess around with frog innards!"

The vampire let out a snicker. "Didn't deny the bit about the lizard guts, though, didja?" He finished dressing, voice muffled through the cloth. "Not much I can do 'bout meself, either." He patted his duster off, then slid into it. "I'd take a shower here, but..." he shivered dramatically. "Bad memories, an' all that, you know?"

"I'll give you a few bad memories," Buffy muttered, watching the vampire with narrowed eyes.

Spike tossed her sneer. "Got enough of those to last an unlife, thanks." //Yeah, like kissing her...disgusting Buffy taste in my mouth...gah! Note to self -- wash tongue off as soon as possible.//

Buffy tossed her hair, snuggling closer to the dazed Riley. "Oh, go away! I'd add 'find somewhere you're actually wanted', but this *is* you we're talking about."

"I'm hurt. Really." Spike rolled his eyes. "Hey Watcher!" Giles looked up from cleaning the table. "Think I put enough sincerity in that?"

Giles frowned. "I do wish you wouldn't persist in baiting each other like this."

"Hmm. I'll take that as a 'yes', thanks." Something struck the vampire, and he glanced around the room to make sure. "Hey, where'd the Harris boy get to?"

Willow gave him a strange look. "Why do you care?"

//Question is, why *don't* you?// "He was hurt, wasn't he? Weren't you going to nurse him back to health?"

All he received were confused looks.

"Um, Spike?" Tara shuffled timidly. "Xan-Xander wasn't hurt. He said he was fine, and w-went home earlier."

"Yeah, when Giles started slicing and dicing. Lucky guy." Buffy pouted.

Willow nodded in agreement. "That's right. I mean, he looked a little tired, but noting was wrong with him."

Spike was dumbfounded. "Excuse me, but was I the only one who noticed him limping on the way back here?" //No way even *this* group was dense enough to miss that...I don't think.//

Willow smiled gently, like she was humoring a small child. "Of course we noticed. But he told me earlier that he'd pulled a muscle in his leg, so it was kinda stiff."

Spike shook his head, reviewing the evening in his mind. //All right, I'm not completely bonkers, and I *know* I say the boy get knocked up against a wall.//

{I could smell blood on him. Not a lot, but it was there.}

//An' he had some bruises. Saw 'em when his shirt slid up. So why are these gits insistin' he's ok?//

{I don't like them. We should kill 'em all. Rip 'em to shreds. Bloody messes...}

//Ow! Stop that! Chip, remember?// He backed slowly out of the room, giving the group a scathing look of contempt. "The whole lot of you are blind. You can't see there's somethin' goin' on right in front of your noses. Some friends. Don't know why the boy still hangs around you." He spun on his heel and strode out, disgusted with the so-called 'good guys'. //An' they wonder why I'd rather be bad!//

Giles winced as his door slammed shut. "If that broke anything..." He moved to examine the frame, muttering softly.

Tara nudged Willow. "Don't you think he was acting a little...strange?"

Buffy stood, stretching. "He's Spike. He's always strange. I find life is much easier if you just ignore those little...annoyances." She coaxed Riley up, rubbing against him. "Well, we're gone. Need to go home and get some, um, sleep." She giggled, dragging the all-too-willing Riley behind her on her way out.

Willow yawned. "Mmmm. Yeah, guess we should get going too." She led Tara away, being careful to make a wide path around the still-present bucket. "Night, Giles!"

"Yes, quite. Good-night." Giles gave the door a last look, then headed up to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Xander sighed wearily as he followed the group back to Giles' place. //God, I ache! Just...gotta rest a minute. Then I'll go home.// When they arrived, he dropped into a chair, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back.

"Watch it!"

He peeled en eyelid up to watch as an irritated blonde vampire walked carefully in, snarling at Buffy who had just brushed up against his back. Spike removed his shirt and lay down on the table.

"Well? Get on with it."

"You know, Spike. You might not want to be so pushy when you're vulnerable like this." Buffy sneered at the wounded vampire, tossing her stake up and down.

Xander tuned them out, zoning a bit as his body stilled and he sunk farther and farther into a warm, soft, cozy--

"Hey!"

Xander groaned softly, opening his eyes to see a beaming Willow standing in front of him. He forced out a smile. "Hey, Wills."

"Pretty interesting tonight, huh? Those things had a *lot* of tentacles."

"Yeah. Interesting." He lurched up out of the chair. "Look, I'm gonna get going. Home calls, you know?"

"You do look a little tired. Go home and rest, ok? I think you need the sleep."

"I'll do that. Later, Wills."

Willow, already moving away toward Tara, didn't hear.

Xander snorted. "Right. Nice talking to you, too." No one paid any attention. Giles was busy over the complaining Spike, while Buffy and Riley were busy with...each other. Tara gave him a small wave, then focused entirely on Willow. He shook his head and left, moving stiffly.

As he stepped back outside, the cool night air struck his face. He inhaled deeply, then started the walk home. Passing by dark alleys, he held tight to his stake with one hand, the other clutching a vial of holy water that was in his pocket. He walked quickly, not wanting to be caught out alone this late at night.

//Right. As if actually getting home is any better.//

{Look on the bright side -- you may get killed at home, but at least you aren't *un*dead.}

He blinked. //That was the bright side? God, now I'm *really* depressed.//

{Well, at least I tried.}

//Do me a favor. Stop trying.//

{Geez, try to help a guy...all I get are complaints!}

//Well, if you were ever actually helpful...//

{Um...lemme try again. How about -- oooh, got one. Maybe the old man will be so drunk he passed out and we can skip the late night 'entertainment'. How was that?}

Xander just shivered, hunching forward. Gritting his teeth, he quickened his pace.

*****