"Hey, pet, no sleepin'. C'mon, wakey, wakey. Li wants t'see you, an' we can't be in here that long. C'mon, puppy, wake up. . ."

Xander blinked to find Spike hovering over him, anxiously petting him. "Don't pet the puppy if you want him to stay awake," he mumbled, still more than two thirds asleep. "Hey. Um. We're still in the bathtub."

"Yeah. She said that if I added more, it'd stay warmer longer. It's good for you, yeah, but too long an' we turn into prunes." Spike waggled five very pruney fingers, showing off a subdued version of his usual smirk. "Come on, then. Time to get you out, yeah?"

Xander agreed. He was feeling very nice, without the heavy lassitude in his limbs that meant too much sleep. Still a bit silly and. . . fragile, though. Part of him was rational enough to want it to go away, but not strong enough to do it.

"Oh, pretty," he said when Spike dried him off and dressed him in a silky green kimono. There were pictures picked out in white, but he couldn't focus on them long enough to make out what they were. "Spike? My head hurts."

"I know, puppy. Gonna go see Li, now, let her make it better. Up we go."

He likes carrying me, Xander thought with a mental giggle as he was once again swung up into Spike's arms like a girl. He wondered vaguely if he should be offended by that, but it was nice to rest his head on the muscled shoulder and listen to a heart not beat.

"Xander. William." They were in a kitchen, now, Song Li working with green plants by the sink. She gave them a brief smile as Spike settled them both onto the mats beside a low table. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Kinda really good." He giggled, and this time he heard how drugged he sounded. There was a flicker in her dark eyes, but she said nothing. Another bowl and glass appeared and this time his stomach cheered at the sight. He was hungry.

"Can you manage this on your own? Or do you want William to help you." He could do it. All he needed was to get the bowl in his hands and then he could tip it down his throat, no problem. He was starving and the broth from before had been really good. He stretched out his hands for the bowl, uncaring of the snort of amusement from Spike. He held it to his mouth-and then realized he was being glared at. Fine. He sipped delicately, obscurely happy when Spike relaxed.

He finished the bowl quickly, watching with interest as Song Li began crushing various herbs with a mortar and pestle. "Hey! I know you! You run the magic shop that Willow really likes, but she can never seem to get in it, but I never have that problem so she asks me a lot to go and get the things she needs, which is odd but kinda cool because it's helping and I like to help, and you always smile at me when I come which is nice because you're kinda scary sometimes and I don't think you're human and neither does Spike and did I say this already, I can't remember?"

He inhaled a short breath to keep going, whoofing when Spike wrapped an arm around his waist and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Mum? Did you give him speed?" he asked very, very calmly.

The dry chuckle killed any desire to continue babbling. He sucked his lips together, biting them, to let Spike know that it was okay to let him go. The hand was removed but the arm remained. Nice arm. Good arm. Ohh, nice hands stroking his belly. It made him feel shivery-and why was Spike looking at him like that?

"Did you give him a lot of speed? Maybe a bit of amphetamines on the side?"

"He will calm. One of the side-effects of several of the medicines in him augments the regression." Regression? What does that mean? "He will sleep deeply when he-" she paused, obviously searching for a word.

"When he crashes like a hundred ton rock? Yeah, I get it. You wanna look him over again? Sun's nearly down, an' I wanna get him over to the new place."

"New place?" Xander turned to ask Spike, wobbling when his lower half didn't turn as well. "Ow."

"Oi, don't do that," Spike scolded. Gathering up his twisted body, Spike plunked him down in the vampire's lap. Hm. It was nice, there. "Now, let her look at you, okay?"

Touch? Touch. . . bad. "Don't wanna." The sullen tone was back, and he shrank against Spike. He'd been good and let her look at him before and he didn't want her touching him now. Only pack-leader could touch him, because pack-leader didn't care that he was bad and broken and dirty and ugly and-

". . .due to the nature of his healing. It will pass. However, the emotions are already there, William. He is simply switching between them faster."

"Yeah, I get that, but-listen, here he goes."

Why were they looking at him like that? He curled his arms tighter around himself, rocking a little and-he was talking? Was that what they were listening to? Cause Spike had his head cocked just a little like he did when he was concentrating on something. He listened and heard someone with his voice saying, "Bad, dirty, broken, bad, ugly, stupid, bad, broken, bad. . ." over and over again. Why was someone doing that?

"Dunno what sets him off, but he's done it at least once a day," Spike said, even as he began petting Xander. "Sh, puppy, no more now. Quiet, please, luv? Be quiet now?"

The words died off, but the rocking stayed. Spike tightened his arms, holding Xander forcefully to his chest. Trapped, Xander started to struggle. His mind flashed, and the pleasant little room dissolved into cold and grey and Again, Tony-

"Let go. Let go-don't touch!"

"No, luv, no, it's okay it-"

Little asshole. Why the hell your mom wanted t'keep you. . He was vaguely aware that the litany had started up again, but all he heard was such a bad boy, Alexander.

"Fuck, I didn't want to do this and damn you, mum, for bein' right, but-Xander! That's enough!"

The harsh, authoritative voice shut Xander up. He trembled, wanting to crawl away from the bad sound, but knowing instinctively that pack-leader would not be happy if he did. So he sat there, trembling, waiting.

"Look at me, Xander." He didn't think he'd ever seen Spike look so forbidding. "I'm your pack-leader, right?" Nod. "So that means when I tell you to do somethin', you do it, right?" Another nod. "Now, it also means that if I trust someone, you do too, yeah?" Pause, half-glance towards the patient, silent woman, before he looked back and nodded. "Right, then. I trust Song Li. She isn't gonna hurt you. So if she asks you to do somethin', s'like me askin' you to do it. Okay?"

Xander nodded again, too afraid to speak.

"Good, that's good, luv. Now, you're gonna sit here an' let Song Li look you over again, okay? I'll stay with you the whole time. Just relax now."

Xander slumped back against pack-leader, trying not to move as Song Li again approached him and began to look him over. She made clucking sounds when she examined his leg, and rubbed a cream over his entire body, even his face. Spike crooned and whispered to him the whole time, petting him. Xander let himself relax into pack-leader's touch, but he refused to meet his eyes, the few times Spike tried. Not because he was ashamed, although he was-he was being bad, and pack-leader had every right to scold him. He avoided Spike's gaze, though, because it hurt.

Dark blue eyes were silently screaming out in torment Xander couldn't identify, couldn't understand. All he knew was that every order made the pain worse. So much worse.

I'm bad, he thought, quietly in his own head so that pack-leader wouldn't hear. Bad pack, to hurt pack-leader. He saved me. . . and all I'm doing is hurting him.

"There," Song Li said eventually. "Remember my instructions, William," she admonished. "Follow them, and be gentle with him. He will look healed long before he is healed, and the pain will linger longer still."

"How long we talkin', here?" Spike helped him to his feet, redressing him in the long kimono. The silk felt nice. "Pain-wise, I mean. Don't like him hurtin'."

"A few weeks at most before he feels perfectly normal again. Follow my instructions and all will be well. He will sleep often, especially two hours after an application of the salve in the blue jar. That forces the body to heal faster and must work much harder. It will exhaust him. Use it sparingly, and only upon signs of trouble."

"Yes, mum."

"Bring him back in five days, and if there are any problems-"

"I know, mum." Xander didn't think he'd ever seen that amused, respectful exasperation on Spike's face before. He wasn't even sure Spike could do that kind of look, previously only seen on Willow or Giles. "Ask you, immediately. Don't worry, I will." He snorted, and the amusement got stronger. "Good thing you like us both, eh?"

Song Li bowed, tactfully not answering.

While Spike was obviously debating on helping him walk or just carrying him outright, Xander studied Song Li. The stuff she'd rubbed in him was making him feel. . . clearer. The silly fuzziness was starting to fade.

He remembered when he'd come to her store for the first time, clutching a list of what Willow wanted. She'd complained over and over that she never had time to shop herself, so Xander, ever the knight-errant, had volunteered. His trip was uneventful and unimpeded, something Willow said was impossible for this store. She always seemed to remember something she had to do, right then, and the magic items were never bought. She'd cursed herself for a forgetful mind and Xander had wondered, even then, why she didn't see there was something wrong.

He'd been nervous, right up until he made it through the doorway. Then he relaxed completely. Even when meeting the proprietor-who had terrified him and even now pretty much scared the crap out of him-he'd remained. . . calm.

Just like he was now. And really, even though he knew he was being crazy and childish and not mentally healthy. . . it was never as bad as it could have been. He could see that very clearly.

"It's in the air, isn't it?" he asked abruptly. He felt Spike turn to look at him, but kept his eyes on Song Li. The tiny, fragile little woman who had healed him. Who had accepted Spike as a friend. "No," she answered quietly. "It's in the heart."

"Say your goodbyes," Spike directed, watching with a father's patience while Xander awkwardly tried to bow from his seated position. Song Li waved him off, as well as his stuttering inquiries about compensation.

"Be well, Xander," she said in parting. Spike swung him up a third time. He let his head rest on the vampire's shoulder, part of him marveling at how easily the slightly smaller man handled his greater weight and bulk. "And William, do not forget what I told you."

"I won't," Spike answered evenly. Then he nodded and headed down the stairs.

Outside, the sun had just barely set, lingering rays brightening the early-evening gloom. A snapping, playful breeze tugged at the kimono he wore, flipping the edges about. It felt weird, but good. "Do you have my car?" Uncle Rory's latest DUI had resulted in the classic Bel Air residing with Xander.

"Yeah." Spike stopped abruptly, looking at Xander directly for the first time since Xander ate. "You know I'm not takin' you back to the basement. Right?"

"No?" He thought he maybe should be upset with that, but it was pack-leader. If pack-leader said they weren't going home, pack didn't really have a chance to argue. Right? "Why not? I have to go home. It's where the bed is," he ended logically.

"S'not a bed, it's medieval torture device," Spike snapped back, leaning against a brick wall. Still easily holding Xander like he was a swooning woman. Thank god no one was around. "We aren't goin' back there, Xander."

"But it's home."

"No." Xander blinked, hearing patience where he expected frustration. He was counting on that frustration, dammit, it was useful in convincing Spike that you were right and he was wrong. He had to go home, the human in him was adamant about that.

"Xander, it's not home. It's hell an' it's torture an' I am not lettin' you go back there. Not ever again." Eyes glittered in the growing darkness, oddly bright. "That ain't home. But where I'm taking you might be."

Xander wanted to argue. He had nineteen years of training convincing him that he should go back, now that he was better. He always did. That's what he was supposed to do, because. . . because it'd be different. Wouldn't it? For a while, it used to be. But then Daddy would find something wrong, and Mommy would look at me. . .

He shook his head, ridding himself of memories he couldn't face. Not now. "I have to," he whispered, little again and confused. Because that was home. . . except pack-leader said it wasn't. He said it was a bad place. And he hurt there.

"Hey." Spike bumped him with his chin gently. "You're my pack, yeah? Means I take care o' you. I pick the lair. Right?"

"Yes." Pack leader protects pack by finding a defensible lair. The basement wasn't defensible, even the little boy who was still repeating over and over again knew that.

"Right, then. We're goin' to our home now, Xander. Okay? Tell me it's okay, puppy."

"Yes. It-it's okay. Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?" Spike walked up to the car, somehow supporting Xander one-handed long enough to unlock the door. Xander didn't think about cars and other homes, not right then. It smelled so good where he was, face pressed up against Spike's neck. Except-oh. Being put down. In the seat. Belted, the door slammed shut.

He had an instant of pure, absolute terror-before Spike opened the other door and slid inside. "What is it, puppy?"

"I'm sorry," said one last time. Because he was sorry. Something was making Spike upset, and pack-leader shouldn't be upset, ever. It was the pack's job to make it better, not worse. "I'm so-"

"Sh. Don't be sorry. Nothin' you need to apologize for, white-hat." Spike put the car in motion, his right hand dropping down to take hold of Xander's. "Now, you need to be calm when we get there. You'll wanna sleep soon, I'm guessin', so I don't want you riled up. Will you do that?"

He made some kind of sleepy noise of agreement, enjoying the vibrations from the car like he did when he was a little kid and he'd been stuck on top of the dryer so he'd sleep through the night. It was nice here, with pack-leader. Going home.

Not going home. Going to a new home.

Rational thought was returning slowly. He had no belief that it would last, but at the moment he was calm and in control of himself again. He knew who he was, what he was-and that there was no way in hell they could be getting a new place.

"Spike?" he said eventually.

"Back again, are we? Probably wonderin' what's going on, too."

"I really hate it when you patronize me," Xander muttered, listening to the various voices in his head howl at his insolence. Except. . . "I am back, so why don't you explain what's going on?"

"Not takin' you back there. Not fuckin' lettin' you near those arsewipes ever again." The tightly controlled fury convinced Xander that now would not be a good time to argue.

"Okay. Except they're usually very well behaved-afterwards." And way to go Xander's mouth! That's gonna help with our next step, of convincing Spike that this was a one-time-deal. The snarl of rage certainly wasn't a good sign.

"Yeah, they might be." Spike was obviously trying not to break Xander's hand or rip the steering wheel off. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "But I doubt they've ever gone that far, before. An' you've never been a 'fag' before. So, no, Xander, we are not goin' back there."

"I-" The sound came out, but there was really nothing to say. They hadn't ever been that bad before, not really. All of the individual acts had been done, true, but never all at once and never with ferocious look of pleasure and. . . pretty little boy. . .

"Luv, look at me." Spike pulled the car over to the side and threw the break. "Xander, we can't go back there. What if they were t'do somethin' else? I-I can't." Forced, deep breath. "I can't protect you, Xander. I was lucky, damned lucky that your da took off an' your mum was too shocked to try an' stop me. If they try somethin' again. . ."

Xander swallowed, imagination painting a vivid picture. Spike was utterly defenseless against this kind of thing. The only weapon he had left was his ability to fast-talk, and chances were his parents wouldn't respond to that kind of thing. Not if they were drunk enough. And they would be. If they found them living together in the basement, proving that Spike was his boyfriend. . . He trembled violently, but he refused to let go of his mind again. He had to stay focused.

"I know," he whispered, "I get it. I do. But Spike, I can't just-pick up everything and leave! I've got things there, I've got-oh, my god, Willow!"

"Hey, hey, calm down. Xander!" The belt was unbuckled and Spike was twisting so that he had a lap for Xander to sit in. "Easy now, easy. C'mon, breathe, pet. No, hyperventilating is bad, luv. Breathe. That's right, in an' out, there you go. Calm down, precious."

"Four days, Spike." Spike was running his hand up and down Xander back to the cadence of the breathing pattern he obviously desired. Xander found himself matching it unconsciously. "It's been four days! Willow must be going crazy!"

"No, she's not. Told you, pet, Song Li's good at what she does. She magicked it so that she sounded like you. Told the Scoobies you were sick as a dog. They've got some problems with the Initiative goin', so they've been busy enough to let it pass. For now."

Xander could only imagine with Buffy or Willow must have said to engender that tone of voice.

"The Watcher, puppy. Threatenin' me with imminent stakin' if I was hurtin' you, he was. Said they were all comin' over this weekend, no matter what. I dunno what the hell he was doin' warnin' me, but. . . what is it?"

"Giles? Giles did that?" It wasn't that he didn't believe they were his friends. It was just . . . hard to remember, sometimes. They all had this thing going, and Xander was just comic-relief donut-boy. No special powers to keep him part of the Super Friends team, not even military background. Just normal, Zeppo boy.

It was nice to be reminded that they did care for him.

Spike snorted, but the look in his eyes said that he understood. And didn't mind. Which was weird.

"Yeah, he did. This was after, mind, both girls took turns badgerin' me to make sure I wasn't lyin'-which I was-and demandin' to hear you. If it hadn't been for Li mimickin' your voice, they wouldn't have bought it."

"So, they're coming to see me?"

"In two days time, at which point we should have our new place all tip-top for a decent house warmin'. An' you won't look half dead."

"I look that bad?" Xander blinked, caught off guard by the blinding happiness that had shone from Spike whenever their new place was mentioned. Like he was so pleased that he could do this-for Xander. He wants me to be happy, he realized slowly. He wants me to like this place.

"You look like crap," Spike was saying. "Now, back you go. We'll be home soon enough."

Xander slid across the slick leather seat, leaning against the door for the rest of the trip. It wasn't long-Sunnydale was too small for it to be that long-and it was in the decidedly wealthier neighborhood that Spike turned into. In fact, this wasn't all that far from where Giles lived, and his condo complex was a definite step up from most in the city.

All that Watcher money, Xander thought. It was getting harder to think again, although he wasn't as loopy as before. Just tired. Wonder what he's doing now that he doesn't have anything. No money from the council. No money from the school-although I doubt that was enough by itself. Hope he doesn't get-yawn-evicted.

"Here we are."

It was a warehouse.

Xander dissolved into snorting giggles, made worse by the look of effrontery on Spike's face. "Sorry," he gasped, "but what is it with vamps and warehouses?"

"You stoned again?" But he could tell Spike was teasing. "Just you wait, boy. You'll be chokin' on that laughter." Which only produced more laughter-and Spike was expecting it, watching with fond amusement.

That sobered Xander, just a little. Spike was being. . . Spike was being different. Even for Spike, it was different. Nicer? Maybe, except Spike had always been nice to him when they were in private. It was something else. . .

He continued chuckling as Spike swept him up-again!-and carried him to the front door. It wasn't a big warehouse, only three stories and probably no larger than a decent-sized house. "There's a garage round the back, but I wanted to give you the grand tour. I'll move the car 'round later."

"Hey, Spike?" The front door opened to reveal-a lobby. A large closet on one side, two metal doors directly in front and a second wooden door that revealed a short stair case. "How can we afford this? Warehouses aren't cheap. Even abandoned ones."

"Not abandoned. Bought this outright. An' don't worry about money for a bit, yeah? You'll still need to work, but I got more'n enough stashed away to keep us comfortable if you hit a tight spot."

Xander had no idea what to make of that but decided to just let it go. He was too tired to fight about it, and Spike was literally vibrating with excitement.

"Go through those metal doors," Spike was saying as they went through the wooden one, "an' you've got the laundry room. Figured it'd best be close, given how often we come home covered in muck. Beyond that is-somethin' I'll show you once you're feelin' up to it."

Whatever that meant.

They went up the stairs, around a corner and there-

"Oh, my god."

The old barcalounger was in the corner, but that was probably the only thing there that came from the basement. Dominating the main room was, of course, an entertainment center. Xander had expected that-Spike lived by overloading his senses, whichever one he happened to be abusing at the moment. So the decent sized tv, vcr, dvd, cd-player, receiver and the speakers scattered throughout the room were not a shock.

Everything else was.

The carpet was grey. The walls and the high ceiling were a nice matte blue. The sofa was black leather, but it worked, sprawling its way in a loose arc. There was art on the walls; he had no idea who the artist was, but the prints contained rich, deep colors in unrecognizable shapes. They were pretty, whatever they were. A glass table in front of the sofa, two smaller matching tables on either side. The barcalounger had a wooden one.

Spike carried him around, showing off what was obviously going to be where they spent the bulk of their time. Xander noticed a play station and started drooling. Behind the sofa the carpet abruptly cut out, leaving hard wood floors to support a small table. The dark wood and the matching silver-and-grey patterned cushions on the chairs meshed well with the rest of the room. Soft light from various fixtures gave the room a nice, cozy feel, while the high ceilings kept it from being claustrophobic. There were no windows.

Past the table, they entered a decently large kitchen. Refrigerator, stove, an island counter, pots and pans hanging above it. . . Xander honestly had no way of knowing if it was good or not. Spike cooked on occasion, but he mostly burned popcorn. So he was just going to trust in Spike that it was as nice as the rest of the place seemed.

Which is such an odd statement-even after the past month-that I'm going to ignore it. Hey, I'm getting good at that.

Back into the main room and towards the far wall. There were two doors and another small stairwell. Up that, and they were presented with three more doors.

"This, is my place," Spike said proudly, going through the first. It was two rooms, although Xander couldn't see what was in the second. The outer room, however, was lined with floor-to ceiling bookcases-already filled-another tv and a small stereo system. "That room," Spike gestured with his chin, "is gonna be the smoke room. Cause I am bloody well not givin' up smokin'. I'll just do it away from you." He smirked proudly, to which Xander gave him an appreciative smile. He knew how much quitting irked the vampire, but he hated the smell of cigarette smoke. When he wasn't smelling Spike, anyway.

"The walls up here are soundproof," Spike continued. Xander was very happy about that. While there were a great many things about them that were similar, there were times when he just couldn't take punk at ear-shattering decibels. Spike, he knew, felt the same about his occasional need for country.

The second door contained a bathroom, and the third. . .

"This is yours. I got most of your stuff up here already," there were boxes scattered about, "an' you can sort it how you want it. You wanna knock the wall down to create one big room, that's fine. But I figured you'd like this." The inside room seemed unnaturally bright when Spike opened its door, but it took Xander a moment to realize why.

Windows. Floor to ceiling, clear glass windows. Facing south, and over looking the back-end of one of the few parks in Sunnydale.

"Can't see in. S'mirrored on the other side, so you can do anythin'."

Tears burned in his eyes and he had to blink rapidly to get rid of them. He remembered. It had been an off-hand comment, made on an idle Saturday a few weeks before. About how Xander missed being able to just lay out in the sun, like he used to. How he was either too busy, or unwilling to leave the vampire just so he could go soak up the warmth.

"Keep the wall," Xander whispered around the lump in his throat. "So you can sit outside it." He put his head back on Spike's shoulder, pressing his tears into the cotton t-shirt.

Spike made an odd sound, like he was choking and clearing his throat at the same time. "If you like," he said eventually. "But this is your room, precious. Your decision."

They stood there for a bit, just looking out over the trimmed grass. In the summer, soccer and baseball games were held there, with the occasional sun-bather. There were no paths, so the dog-walkers and the joggers avoided it. Most Hellmouthy mischief tended to take place in cemeteries so there was no danger of it being used against them. Just a nice view with maximum sun exposure.

"Pretty," he whispered eventually. He was so tired, hanging there in Spike's grasp. It was comfortable, yes, but he was starting to hurt more and he really just wanted to go to sleep. "Spike?"

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Where am I gonna sleep?" When Spike gave him a baffled look, he pointed to the full boxes-and otherwise empty floor. "There's no bed." He was not going to say how much he hated the idea of separate rooms. Because he didn't. He just wanted to go to sleep and he could deal with everything else in the morning. He wasn't upset, not at all.

"There's no-oh, bloody hell. You're a moron, you know that?" Still grumbling, Spike took them back downstairs. "You honestly expected to sleep up there?" he asked, still totally outraged by Xander's question, kicking open one of the two doors they hadn't been through. "Why, when you can sleep down here?"

Big bed. Big, big bed.

It was a four-poster-although Xander had never seen a king-sized four-poster-with thick black velvet curtains surrounding it. Spike pushed the curtains back, gently placing Xander on the wine-dark comforter. Black carpet accented the red-toned wood of the night-stands and the dresser. Yet another television was attached to the wall above the walk-in closet, facing the bed. A lone window was carved out near the closet, and Xander understood the purpose of the curtains, now.

"This," Spike said gently, "is the bedroom. Now, you oughta be just this side of completely knackered, so lets get you in bed, yeah?" He helped Xander slip off the kimono and get under the covers. The sheets were soft cotton, cool and smooth against his skin. "Be right back."

Spike, don't leave. Xander clutched the covers looking around wide-eyed at what was now his room. Not his room. Their room-right? It was their room. . . because Spike wasn't going to sleep upstairs and leave him alone in this great big bed all by himself and-

"Xander, you don't have to flip out every time I go." Spike sounded thoroughly exasperated and Xander tried to hide a wince in response. Kicking off his shoes, Spike sat on the bed and handed over a cup. "Just gettin' your bloody medicine, all right? Drink that down. All of it."

He obeyed, one eye on Spike as the shirt, jeans, and socks came off as well. That was good, because it meant Spike was going to be sleeping with him that night. Except the naked thing was. . . not comfortable.

"Um, Spike, I-"

"Hang on." Silk boxers were removed from the top drawer of the dresser, Spike sliding them on before rejoining Xander on the bed. "What now?"

Xander shook his head, burrowing under the covers until he could only see a little over the top. Spike snorted. "Look like a child like that, luv. Now come on, let me in. S'cold out here."

"Here?" Xander tried to move over a little, but his body reacted rather negatively. He whimpered, but then cool arms were gathering him up, pulling him closer so that he could latch onto the rest of the body. Burying his face in Spike's neck, he inhaled deeply. Home, he thought sleepily.

"Sh, love. Go to sleep, now."

"Spike, this is expensive," he mumbled into cool, soft skin that tasted like rain and thunderstorms.

"Nah, not when you got as many people who owe you favors as I do. Close your eyes, puppy. Time to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Okay." Spike began petting him again and Xander hummed his appreciation. "Upstairs. . ." He couldn't say more, sleep and nervousness robbing him of the words he needed.

"Just a place for space," Spike whispered, always knowing what Xander meant even if Xander couldn't say it. "Just a place where us hot-heads can take a break an' not bother the other one. That's all. This is our bedroom, Xander. Ours." Gentle pressure on his head. He hummed again, wishing he could purr like Spike did. This bed was nice. This whole place was nice.

If he weren't so sleepy, he'd be nervous.

"Go to sleep, luv. Just go to sleep. . ." There was something in the words, that made Xander wake up, just a little, even though Spike was dropping off. "I. . ."

The feeling that he was missing something very important grew.

*****