Vampires were supposed to be cold.

That's what Buffy said, in one never-to-be-mentioned conversation. That's what Angel said, one of the rare times Xander gathered up enough courage to question the elder vampire, hoping against hope that Angel would never realize why he was asking. That's what the Watcher's books said, when he read them under the cover of his blankets with only a flashlight and his fear for company.

They were all wrong.

Spike was always warm to him. True, he didn't have the same self-generating heat of a human, but he was never cold. Not in his actions and not when Xander tried to burrow his larger frame into the vampire's body. It was always warm when he was with Spike. Always.

Of course, the mountain of blankets wrapped around them probably didn't hurt.

Xander lay completely surrounded in Spike. Arms snug around his torso, one hand on his hip, the other on his neck, legs entwined with his, holding him flush against hard muscles and soft skin. It wasn't restrictive being held like that, although he had thought so the first time he'd woken mummified by his lover. If Xander made a single move to escape, strong arms would relax and let him go. . . most of the time. Sometimes Spike just rolled into the new position with him and held on tighter.

Big Bad Cuddler.

One day he'd actually have the guts to say that to Spike's face. Only after he regained the ability to run all out, though, because otherwise Spike would kill him. At least a chase might wear him down to some severe mutila-

"Hey," a rough voice mumbled in his ear, the hand on his hip rubbing in absent comfort. "S'all right now, puppy. Safe here."

How does he do that? Xander wondered as Spike nuzzled in to kiss and lick his neck, strong fingers carding through his hair. I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. But he still knew that was thinking-about things I really need to repress. Now.

Pushing closer to the hands and mouth that traveled over him, Xander tried to ignore the memories that always surfaced with frightening clarity in favor of actually remembering yesterday. Bits and pieces were easy to access-the sex, most importantly, and what Spike had done the prior morning. Everything else felt wrapped in fuzzy bubble-wrap, hazy on the edges and definitely missing entire chunks out of certain sequences.

"Go back to sleep, luv. S'too early."

He remembered decorating the room upstairs and that there were things he wanted down in the main floor. He remembered the weight room downstairs and-

"Buffy!"

A gust of air against wet skin made him shiver. "Bloody hell, pet," he grumbled, snuggling down closer, "she's not comin' for hours. Can we wait to panic 'til then?"

Panic? Why would we panic? Just a simple little get together with me, my vampire lover, my stake-happy Slayer-friend, her stake-happy commando boyfriend, a stake-happy watcher, and Wills. Who could probably be very stake-happy if she thought Spike was hurting me. And Tara, who could be stake-happy, too, if Willow thought she should be-

"Xander." The long-suffering patience made Xander freeze guiltily, scrunching so that he could look into Spike's direct gaze. It shocked him how old Spike looked. How tired. Spike wasn't supposed to look like that-he was supposed to look like a bored, smirking teenager. Forever. "Your gonna worry yourself sick. Relax. They don't know what's goin' on an' we ain't tellin' them."

"But-" was all he got out before a highly annoyed vampire pushed him onto his stomach and settled on his thighs.

"The things I do for you, puppy," Spike groused, but his hands were gentle as he kneaded at tense muscles below him. "You know damned well that that lot'll see only what they want to. So, we're gonna show 'em a nice new place and feed 'em up right." The not-cold hands on his back soaked up the warmth from his skin until they felt almost normal as they rubbed and squeezed and pushed. "They'll babble on 'bout how lovely this all is an' how happy they are for you an' then they'll be on their merry way."

It was true. He knew it was, since he'd used that particular blind-spot often enough. But-But Spike isn't supposed to know how to do this. He isn't supposed to sound like he's choking on the words when he says it, either.

Instead of the eternally selfish demon being grateful that their secret could be kept just a little bit longer, Spike sounded angry. Angry and disgusted and bitter-for him.

Panic tried to skitter through his nerve, but oh-so-talented hands soothed the tremors before they could really take hold. Spike wasn't supposed to do this. Pack-leader wasn't supposed to be angry on behalf of the pack. Protect it, yes, but only as much as it required for its own needs to be met. Spike wasn't losing in this current situation; if anything, he was gaining.

So why does he sound like he wants to beat their heads in? Besides the normal reasons, anyway.

"You calm now?" Spike asked, the strident demand in his voice muted and changed by something Xander couldn't recognize. The firm pressure on his back lessened, fingers tracing over sensitized skin. "Yeah? You better now, puppy?"

"Yeah. Sor-"

A low growl cut him off. "Don't apologize. Got nothin' t'be sorry for, pet. Bein' scared is normal. Just don't get lost in the panic, that's all; makes you tense up fierce."

Spike's being nice to me. It still came as a shock, even after over a month of living with it every day. Spike wasn't supposed to be nice to him. Spike was supposed to use him, just like everyone else-

No. He wasn't thinking about that. Hopefully never, but at least until after he'd gotten through the next few days. Then he could have a nice nervous break down over what had happened and another one over why Spike was being so solicitous to him. But later.

Squirming out from under Spike's weight, he got to his feet and stumbled towards the bathroom. It bothered him in a sleepy, confused sort of way, that he knew exactly how many steps to take to reach the toilet, despite his eyes being mostly closed and his thoughts definitely not on the potential hazards in front of him. But he didn't trip on anything as he washed up and brushed his teeth-something he'd always done in the basement.

Memories from the day before grew sharper as he headed towards the living room, losing the bubble-wrap feel to them. He knew what that 'bubble-wrap' feel meant, after a few times he'd been forced to spend days carefully covering up or explaining the missing day's actions. Usually it meant a few pointed questions on successes on patrolling the night before, sometimes for the terse manner in which he'd spoken. . . in which they hyena had spoken.

Crap.

The hyena being in control-or even the soldier, occasionally-wasn't always a bad thing. There were more times than he really wanted to contemplate when it was only the presence of the hyena or the soldier that got him out of certain situations alive.

But he shouldn't have needed that, yesterday. He should've been okay yesterday, cosseted in a warm, safe place with someone who-

Someone who what? Cares for me? Kinda lame for the Big Bad. Who wants me? Yeah, for sex, but I haven't really been able to give that to him lately. He didn't ask or even hint this morning, the way he usually does, even when I'm tired.

Except that wasn't quite true. There had been times when he'd been thoroughly exhausted and Spike had ignored the usual morning's erotic wake-up. In fact, there had been times before yesterday when Spike had stopped Xander and either sent him back to bed or off to whatever he needed to do.

Which only made it worse.

So he cares for me. Okay. I'm his, he's supposed to want to take care of me but-

Arms that should have been cold but weren't slid around his naked waist, turning him around and holding him close as lips that were warm from the hot tap pressed against his own.

He's not supposed to kiss me.

Lips rubbing his own, tongue sneaking out to tangle with his. The taste of toothpaste and a hint of cigarettes and booze that would probably never go away. Blunt teeth grabbing at his lower lip, pulling it out so that it could be sucked on, tongue rubbing up and down. Then he was free and he was biting, harder than Spike had, tickling his tongue over a rough palette before Spike used his own tongue to push him back out again.

"Mm," came the eventual groan, "suppose I should be thankin' the cheerleader, hm? Cause I'm bettin' Anya didn't kiss like that."

"Uh?" Well that was true, but-"Shouldn't insult Anya," he managed to get out before they were kissing again.

"Heh." Fingers in his hair but pulling him away instead of to and he wanted to go back, dammit! "Demons don't kiss, precious. 'Least not much, anyway. S'too personal."

Xander's stomach dropped.

Another kiss, this one much quicker with Spike barely aware of Xander's half-hearted response, and Xander was suddenly watching a very nice backside wander towards the kitchen. "So, brekkie? Want eggs again? Can add some cheese, mebbe, today. Li said we could try some, if you felt up to it."

"You're naked."

Spike paused, half turning to give him a highly amused glance. The same kind of look that Giles would often give them when they'd done something they didn't consider to be funny but he obviously did. "So're you, precious. Got a problem with it?"

"Er?" He was supposed to talk with naked Spike in front of him? Despite the vampire's complete lack of anything resembling modesty or the standard American inferiority complex, it actually wasn't that often that Spike just walked around naked. Xander had pulled the 'people upstairs' card and, when that had gotten old, added that his friends would often come over unannounced.

Nobody upstairs, no friends know where I am. At least, not yet. Do they know where I am? How do they know how to get here? I'm babbling, aren't I. Yes, yes I am. Is it bad when you talk to yourself? No, only when you answer back. Right. Glad I got that cleared away.

Spike was getting that look in his eyes, the one he sometimes saw in Buffy's mom but mostly from Giles. Again with comparing Spike and Giles! Spike and Giles?! Oh, no. Not going there. That is deeply, deeply wrong. And okay, now he's just starting to look plain old concerned. I should probably talk. And possibly breathe.

"Not near a stove," he managed to choke out when Spike swung all the way around. The crawly feeling in the pit of his stomach noticed that Spike was barely half-hard and completely disinterested in the bits that had previously been the center of the vampire's world. "The whole flame, grease thing. Probably not good."

"Yeah, cause cotton's so very flame retardant?" The amused look was back despite the snark, so Xander breathed a little easier. Also, Spike had turned back to the stove, hiding the things that made him think things he really didn't want to think about and all he was left with was-

Clothes. For me. Now. Before I start hemorrhaging.

Spike had a pretty ass.

I am so gay. A not so very stunning revelation as he'd been giving it up ever since Spike moved in, but still. Gay. Him. With the lusting after boys and not having many guy friends because all his friends seemed to be girls-and this is going to come as a surprise to no one, I'm sure. Hell sometimes I wondered if Angel thought that I was asking 'cause-

"Oh, gross!" he said out loud.

The morning was wasted away leisurely. Breakfast and then more kissing. They spent almost an hour applying Xander's medicines, but since that meant an hour of Spike pampering him, he wasn't complaining. Even if one of those lotions stung like hell.

They cleaned up the minor damage they'd done in rearranging things yesterday, rearranged a little bit more to make room for some of the things Xander wanted downstairs. A moment of pure terror when three bell-tones sounded, turning out to be the doorbell and the express-ordered futon that went upstairs. Xander set it up with Spike in the other room, tossing over tools and suggestions randomly and usually detrimentally. A trip down to the gym where Spike put him through his paces, trying to gauge just how much strength he'd lost-a lot-and what they needed to do to fix it.

The whole time, Spike was cheerful, open, relaxed and nice.

Xander was starting to feel sick.

He didn't feel me up, okay, there was that one time. But only that one time. He's been kissing me a lot and smiling at me. Spike's been smiling at me! Every time I stumble, he's there. If I'm the slightest bit out of breath, he calls for a break. It's like. . . it's almost like he. . .

Loves me?

Wasn't possible. Xander knew that, had known it since he'd accepted what the hyena-pack was all about. It wasn't love, not human-boyfriend love, despite Spike's imitation of one. Pack-leaders used their pack for sex, food, and comfort, protecting them and keeping them relatively content and fed, so that they didn't mind providing said sex, food, and comfort. A nicely selfish little cycle-and Xander was okay with that.

Can't love me. Bad. Ugly. Stupid. Wrong. Broken. Bad bad bad.

"Hey, puppy, easy!" The words were caustic, shouted across a room as Spike hurtled himself over mats and dumped equipment to grab the weighted bar Xander had been trying to bench. "Damn. I leave you alone for five bloody minutes, an' you're stranglin' yourself with," he briefly checked the limit, "soddin' hell, two fifty! Luv, you could barely do two hundred an' fifty pounds before. You still need to rest up more. An' start with somethin' a bit smaller!"

"But I feel okay," he whined as he squirmed into a sitting position. Stupid, he was so stupid. Stupid and bad and ugly and-

Snorting, Spike hauled him to his feet, flashing a brief almost-smile when Xander slumped against his shoulder. "Yeah, cause you got some heavy-duty mojo in you," Spike explained softly. "Go slow, pet. Got all the time we need."

"'K. Sorry." Wrong and bad and stupid and why was Spike being so nice to him?

"Don't apologize." Spike waited, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his still naked chest as Xander went through his cool-down stretches, before striding towards the opposite end of the room. "Come on, then. Time to relax a bit before the fun really starts."

Through the doors, down a short flight of stairs and Xander didn't even attempt to look up from the floor. He'd been bad, made Spike yell at him because he was so stupid and bad boys didn't deserve to be treated like they were loved. Bad boys deserved to be-

"Xander! Take off your clothes." The patient voice made his insides flip, because he knew that tone. Not with Spike, never with Spike the Impatient who got angry or just did whatever he'd been asking, but from her. . . that was a bad voice.

Stripping off his workout clothes, Xander tried not to huddle in on himself as he finished. Ugly, so ugly. Just like she said I was.

Except. . . she hadn't always said that.

There was something in his throat, something that wanted to get out more than anything, but he was suddenly assaulted with the smell of chlorine. Bubbling, gurgling sounds pulled his attention away from himself, his skin twitching as expectant eyes watched his reaction closely. "That's a-that's a-"

"Mm, yeah, isn't it? C'mon."

It wasn't a big room. The high ceiling helped, but it still wasn't a very big room. Wood floors, yellow walls. A small wooden structure on the far wall, barely big enough for one or two people, if that. Towels stacked up near his feet, a small refrigerator humming quietly in the background with a microwave squat and black on top of it.

"Spike?" All thoughts of wrongness or punishment fled under pure shock. "What is this?"

"Here, now. You aren't feelin' wonky again, are you?" But Spike didn't move from the ledge he was relaxing on, everything but his neck and head covered in foamy froth. "Stop buggin' your eyes out an' get in. Gotta be feelin' a bit chilly up there, by now."

He was, but-"Come on, Spike, just once. Pleeease?"

"Don't make those bloody big eyes at me. Hear that? No bloody eyes!"

"Didn't think my eyes were that blo-hey! No throwing of pillows I'm resting on, Fangless. Now come on, please? Anywhere but here."

"I'm playin' sodding children's games. Bad ones. All right, all right. Sucker for them eyes, I am. Anywhere but here, yeah? Hot tub."

"With who?"

"Oh, sensin' some interest? An' don't matter with who. Just in a hot tub."

"Ew?"

"Oh, you innocent little puppy. Never had sex in a tub before, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be lookin' at me like I was-"

"Don't finish that, please, I never like those comparisons. Okay, a hot tub. They're warm, I guess. And wet. Wet's good, right? I mean it's good in the shower. . ."

"Mm, love it when you blush, puppy. All that lovely color down your belly. You'n'me're gonna have to take a trip to one of them posh hotels next t' the coast, one day. Gonna show you just why a hot tub's so good."

Xander blinked out of the memory, grateful that Spike was still looking at him but not yet concerned enough to move. "Sorry," he muttered, climbing down the first step to settle himself carefully in the water.

It stung. Worse than the bright red salve that Spike hated using on him, worse than the things he was trying desperately not to remember, it-

Felt really, really good.

Powerful jets and intense heat slammed into tense and aching muscles, forcing them to relax with a suddenness that left him gasping. Sinking down deeper, he let the water bubble up past his shoulders, wondering if it'd be okay to just submerge totally into the blessed warmth and let go. To forget about everything and just feel the soothing burn. . .

Only Spike was allowed to hurt him.

The realization pushed him out of whatever daze he was in enough to make him grin guiltily as he crossed through the water to sit beside Spike on a handy ledge. Leaning against Spike without being prompted earned him a rumble of contentment, arms holding him while Spike, well, snuggled.

"Told you, precious," a warm voice in his ear whispered. "Hot tubs are divine."

Spluttering into laughter at the incongruous word, Xander gave into the demanding heat and an equally demanding lover and just relaxed. It didn't matter why Spike was being nice to him, not really. If Spike had wanted to hurt him, there had been plenty of opportunities in the past. Hundreds of them, probably. But Spike was here, offering all the things he'd ever needed or wanted.

Why am I arguing with what's probably the best thing that ever happened to me? Xander wondered as hands as hot as the water that surrounded them curled around the soft place between his legs. Spike was nuzzling him gently, kissing, licking, occasionally even biting at his neck while he stroked him slowly, letting-

"Oh, god," he moaned, arching slightly as he realized why Spike liked hot tubs so much. He'd angled one of the jets to pump hot, bubbling water directly where it would have the most-effect.

"You taste so good," Spike whispered. "So good, puppy. My puppy. My good boy."

Kisses, growing harder, up his neck and along his jaw line while fingers intertwined with the heated pressure to wrap around his cock. It felt like nothing he'd ever experienced and he was instantly hard as a rock.

"You gonna come for me, precious? Gonna be my good boy?"

"Yours. Always-ahh! Ssss-"

Spike chuckled from his new position seated on Xander's thighs, their cocks pressed and rubbing together as Spike slowly writhed above him. "See? Hot tub. Nice little pressie for me."

"You-you bought it, Spike. Not a present, then." Hot, so hot all around him and Spike pressed up close and rubbing him with hand and cock and chlorine-softened skin and hot words whispered against him.

"Mm, still a pressie. Got me the tub I've always wanted," he said, fiddling with something under the water which turned out to be another jet stream, so that their cocks were buffered with high-powered water. "Got me a place that suits me," Spike continued. Xander bucked up a little, causing Spike to frown. "You, puppy, are not supposed to move, hear? Let me do all the work."

When Xander obediently froze, Spike gave him a truly wicked grin-and started moving again.

Xander was going insane. Spike had been on top of him plenty of times before, but Xander had always been the one to open up. The one who twisted and turned and bent until everything fell where it was supposed to, because he was pack. That's what he was supposed to do. But now Spike was on top of him, truly on top, and open. Open, around, rubbing with abandon that made him want to sweat in the boiling heat of the water, insistent feet inching him away from the wall so slim legs could wrap around him.

"That's my boy," Spike was saying as he took them both together in his hand, "my precious luv. Gonna come for me, pet? Gonna be good for me? Know you are. Know you're good, such a good boy. My boy."

Tilting his head back, Xander stared at the ceiling and tried to remember how to breathe. Breathing was always important.

"Yeah, that's it, precious. So hard for me. So good for me. Mine. . ."

Lips pressed against his and they were kissing, writhing, moaning as Spike consumed him. Above him, around him, and in him there was Spike. Not pain or fear or bad or wrong, just Spike. Because he was Spike's. Because Spike had saved him and he was Spike's.

He knew when Spike came, saw it in the tensing muscles of a thrown-back neck and the jaw that worked frantically. Leaning forward instantly, Xander pressed his face into the valley between Spike's pecs and hummed. Pack-leader was pleased with pack and that was all Xander wanted, now, to be here and safe and wanted.

But Spike didn't stop moving.

"What-you-"

"Shh, pet, no talking." And Spike was kissing him again, still jacking him against a cock gone soft and that only made it hotter. Because Spike was done but still here, still with him, around him, still wanting him. Still needing him, because he was pack. He was-

"Come for me, Xander."

His body arched up, silent and frozen as orgasm tore through him. Arms, freed from their previously appointed tasks, gathered him in close, stroking hypersensitive skin as he slowly came back to reality.

"That's it, love. That's my good boy."

*****
tbc