*****

Oz bundled up, sticking his face deeper into the upturned collar of his coat. He could smell the snow, a storm, ready to unleash cold, wet, slushy whiteness all over the landscape. He tightened his grip on the bundle of wood and headed up the trail to his cabin.

He loved this place, here on the edge of Stephen King country in Maine. Quiet people and quiet places. If you avoided the stretch of coast from Ogunquit to Kennebunkport. And that only in the summer. He appreciated the expanse of mountaintops and rocky coast lines. The woods, old and primal, seemed tailor-made for running, man or wolf.

He unlocked his cabin door, such an old habit from living in Sunnydale. Who would, after all, break into his place so far away from town? Okay, so maybe the occasional pot grower or angry squirrel. Still, you never knew.

He tossed his coat on the back of the couch and the wood next to the pot-bellied iron stove. Padding over to the small sink, he filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Time for mail and some cocoa. Dinner later, after the sun set and his stomach forced him to eat.

He studied the small, very small, packet of mail he'd picked up in town. He only went there twice a month anymore. Food, supplies and mail where the only things he got. Never yet picked up his van from where the one mechanic in town kept it for him. Never yet thought about leaving. Maybe someday.

Cocoa ready, he flopped down on the couch and flipped through the mail. Pizza flyer, funny how the one-pizza parlor town still had delivery. Even advertised snowmoblie service for winter. One of those `Have you seen me' things with ads for discount carpet cleaning on the back. A letter from his cousin, Jordy, full of pictures and drawings which went up, in time honored tradition, on the `fridge. A short letter from Devon, telling him how the rest of the Dingos were faring in their new home, San Francisco. And... the one he'd been hoping for. A letter from Xander.

`Oz,

Got your last. You really going to spend the winter in Maine? I mean, cold, snow
and all? Very non-California. About as non-California as you can get. It's been
kind of quiet around here in the past week or so. Which has everyone worried, of
course. With it being October, Giles is gearing up for something to happen.
Halloween after all. Spike told us that we can count the vampires out of the
equation. Something about not going out on Halloween. So I guess that just leaves
Chaos mages and messed up costumes. I`m thinking I'll stick with a homemade one
this year. This is, of course, the part where you smile. I miss that little smile
of yours. Always made me feel like I wasn't the only one who got the joke. That
I wasn't the only one who found the irony in whatever was being thrown at us. `

The letter went on to talk about how everyone was doing, what they were doing and
who with for the most part. Oz smiled a lot more, reading Xander's on-page rambles.
He no longer got a tug at the mention of Willow and Tara. The ending had everything
in the world to do with that.

`So anyway, maybe you will think about coming back to the Dale sometime soon. Yes,
I know, I mention it every time. Just think about it. Be nice to see you in the flesh.

Xander'

Oz folder the letter and put it in the box where he kept all the others from Xander. Maybe he would go back in the spring. Maybe sooner.

****

Spike sighed and read the last letter. Again. Oz was doing fine. Apparently a raccoon had taken up residence in his outdoor storage shed, thinking it was a great place for a den. Oz had found out it could care less about all the wolfy smells. His guitar strings had run out, but he had ordered more. He was getting prepared for winter since the ground was starting to harden and frost was forming on the windows.

`Smells like a big snow storm is coming in as well. I'm well stocked though and
shouldn't have too much trouble getting to town if I need to. Been thinking about
you asking me to think about coming back. I think I am about ready to handle that.
Maybe in the spring? Have to see. It would be nice to see you too.

Oz'

Spike stuck the letter back into the shoebox he kept all the others in. The spring. He hoped the young werewolf would come then. Even if it wasn't really to see Spike.

He'd picked up a postcard off the Magic Box's floor about 6 months ago. It was of The Cadillac Graveyard, addressed to Xander and from Oz. Just a couple of short lines and a smudged return address. On a lark, being extremely bored as usual, he'd written back to Oz and signed the letter `Xander'. After all, the postcard had been to him.

The reply he'd gotten, to his post office box, had surprised him. Oz had been occasionally sending the cards, out of his own boredom, and had been glad `Xander' had finally written back. Spike wasn't sure what possessed him to write again but he had. Mindgames, he told himself. A little something to pass the time. Fuck all else he could do now. Right.

Over the past few months, he'd gotten to know the boy well. They'd written about the places Oz had been, the silly things that happened all around them, the loneliness they both shared. When Oz finally settled in Maine a couple of months ago, Spike had been shocked. The self-imposed exile was not what Oz had really wanted, he could tell. He'd almost gone out there. After all he was growing quite fond of the chameleon-haired guitarist. It seemed Oz was growing fond as well. Fond of Xander at any rate.

It had been easier to open up using someone else's name. Much easier. No real fear of rejection or jeers. By the sixth or seventh letter, he just couldn't stop signing them with Harris' name. Which met he was a ...

"Pillock. A stupid pillock." He muttered to himself.

He really needed to stop. To write one that said `Look, it's Spike, not Xander. Sorry.' And it was hard to write ala Xander Harris as well. He'd had to keep talking to him, asking him about things he'd missed out on. Try to not stumble over a reply to a memory the boys shared. He'd learned a lot about Xander and Oz.

Xander missed Oz a lot too.

Fuck.

He stared off into his crypt, idly smoking. What was he going to do here? Maybe... maybe he should try to get them together. After all, they missed each other, even if Xander didn't know how much missing Oz was doing. And the Ex-Demoness had left him. Something about commitment. And Oz would be better off with Xander than say... himself.

Ow.

"Great. Werewolves and vampires do not mix, you know that."

Talking to himself again. He had it bad, didn't he? After a century plus, you'd think he'd learn not to try to play this little game. Oh soddin' well. Unlive and learn had never quite been his style.

****

Oz watched the icicles melt from the eves of the cabin. Soon the snow would melt enough for him to get back to town. Then, he hoped, he'd have another letter or two. Heaven knew he had a couple to send. Maybe then he'd just pack up the van and start the long drive back to Sunnydale.

He smiled. Yeah.

****

"Harris! Wait up!"

"What, Spike? I was just going home."

"I, er, got something to talk to you about."

*****
Part 2:

Xander still couldn't believe it. Spike had been writing to Oz. As him. And Oz not only had written back, but opened up. To Spike playing Xander. He'd tried to be angry with Spike for this, tried really hard. And he was, sort of.

"He's an idiot." Xander muttered to himself. "I'm an idiot for listening to him."

Hadn't most of his life been idiotic decisions? Like falling for a mummygirl or letting himself be seduced by a student-eating bugteacher. Don't forget falling for an ex-demoness who hated his nervousness and lack of commitment.

"Thinking she's still hating men." He grumbled.

But this, this whole Oz thing. No, Oz/Spike/Him thing, he corrected himself. What had the Bleached Wonder been thinking? Oh yeah, he'd started it out as a joke and then realized he was trifling with the affections of two people, albeit one who didn't even know what was going on. Well, at least it explained why Spike had been so damned chatty to him, asking all sorts of questions about things that had happened before the vamp had shown up to stay.

Which had, Xander reflected ruefully, made him think that Spike was mellowing. Becoming a buddy, if not an outright friend. It had been cool, thinking there was another male to talk to, someone around who felt so outside-ish as Xander had. Because, really, there hadn't been anybody since Oz.

Xander had felt like the world was moving in slow motion when Spike had explained what had been going on in his name. The blonde vampire had been embarrassed, but had haltingly poured out everything. The joke had turned serious when he'd realized how suited for each other Xander and Oz really were. And wasn't that just a kick in the head? Spike playing matchmaker.

Xander shook his head. It was so unreal! He'd read the letters Oz had sent. Flummoxed was the only way to describe how he'd felt seeing the loneliness and hidden need in them. And then the stammered summation of all the letters Spike had written Oz. If Spike hadn't hit the nail on the head with how he'd felt, Xander would still be mad.

"And he did, the undead bastard." Xander rolled over and punched a pillow. There was no way he was going to sleep anytime soon. "I am missing the Oz-man."

So now Oz was coming back in the Spring. Xander's stomach got a bit fluttery at that thought. Where was all this going? A brief image of Spike on a rooftop with a fiddle made Xander laugh outloud. Vampiric yenta, oh joy. But the idea of maybe, just maybe something happening between him and Oz made his stomach do the fluttery thing again, nervous and wiggy. Could he be anymore confused? It was almost like the whole bad warehouse basement scene...

Xander sat upright. That had to be it. Spike was trying to make up for the whole nasty break-up of Oz and Willow and him and Cordy. Willow had moved on, had Tara. Cordelia had her new life in LA. Xander and Oz had nothing. Spike must be feeling bad about it, now that he was marginally a White Hat, and was trying to fix it. Yeah...

"No. When has he ever felt bad about something? You really need to sleep, Xander my boy."

He flopped back down and stared to the ceiling, a wistful smile on his face. He'd always liked the quiet guitarist. Odd and cheerfully cynical about most things, he'd made Xander fell less alone in the strange humor department. The look of betrayal on Oz's sad face had hurt Xander almost as much as Cordelia's pain and nasty words. Her slap had felt almost childish next to the punch to the jaw he'd gotten from Oz. And when he'd quietly forgiven Xander, it was like a huge weight was gone. Their friendship had gotten back ontrack and that had, in the end, ment more to Xander that a girlfriend. Oz was truly the only male friend he'd had since Jessie.

Xander got up and threw on some clothes. Grabbing a couple of stakes and his cross, he headed out. Crossing Sunnydale quickly, he entered the graveyard that held Spike's crypt. He banged on the door and then shoved it open, determined to face Spike before he could chicken out.

"Oi! At least you knocked! Oh... Harris." Spike got up from the coffin he'd been laying on. "Come to yell at me some more?"

"No, so shut up and listen." Xander said, looming over the smaller man. "I don't know why you did it, but you did. And if you mess with Oz when he gets here, Buffy won't have a chance to stake you, I'll do it."

Spike stepped back, taken completely off guard. The boy was fired up and going to have his say. "Do go on." He prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think you have an altruistic bone in your body, but if you really want to..." Xander waved his hands, searching for the right words. "Help me with Oz, then let's do it. I know I'm insane for trusting you and I *will* stake you if you play me or him, but let's do this."

"Right then. Have a seat." Spike said, eyebrows raised. Looked like he'd been right. Xander did have feelings for Oz.

*****

Oz boxed up the last of his very few things. With a last look around the cabin, he carried it out to the van. The weather had broken and he decided to head out. It was mid-November and he knew, even taking it slow, he'd make it in plenty of time for Christmas. It had been a couple of years since he'd spent Christmas in the Dale.

He locked the cabin door and drove carefully down the hill to town. He dropped the key off to the old man who'd rented him the cabin and turned down the backroads to the highway. Now his biggest decision was whether to take it easy or push it.

Fumbling, he put a tape in the stereo and sang quietly along. This was the part he both loved and hated. Driving didn't bother him much, he was used to that by now. The discovery of new places was exciting to him. It was when he had a goal, a place to be at the end, that is was bad. The endless miles became numbing. The whine of the tires buzzing his brain.

No, he told himself, it wouldn't get to him this time. He'd take it easy and when he got to Sunnydale, he'd get one of those pay-by-the-week places, take a shower and find Xander. Or shower, nap and then find Xander. Whatever. Anyway would work. He just had to get there.

After a few hours and several tapes, he stopped and grabbed a quick bite. Sitting behind the wheel in the parking lot of a McDonald's, he got his first case of nerves. He took deep breaths from his flared nostrils and concentrated on a spot on the windscreen. As his heart slowed from the hammer-thud in his chest, he realized he'd had a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

"Chill, man." He muttered.

Shaking his hands, he thought about all the goods and bads of going back. He was sure he could face Willow and Tara without trying to kill the blonde witch. He wasn't sure they would be one bit happy to see him. Buffy would, most likely, be very wary, waiting for him to wolf out or lunge at one of them. Giles would be cool as always, he hoped. And Xander...

Xander. The reason for going back.

Xander, whose letters had reminded him of just how much he was missing home. How much he might be needed. How that, for the first time, he might actually have some sort of future that wasn't driving and being alone. Cool and wiggy all at once.

He smiled and pulled out of the parking lot.

*****

"Harris. Need to talk to you after this." Spike said quietly.

Xander looked up from where he'd been reading a small book on demonic possessions. He caught the quick, questioning look from Willow and the half-smile from Tara. The look he gave Spike was one of amused annoyance.

"Yeah. Better be about my CD player." He said and went back to his book.

Spike smiled in his mind. That was a nice bit of cover there. He slunk back to his place on the stairs and waited for the `out of my store now' sign from Giles. A hand slipped into his coat pocket, fingering the postcard there. God, he wanted this pointless meeting over.

Finally, Giles sighed and dismissed the crew. Spike slid out the back door and waited for Xander to say his good-byes. Soon, the boy appeared and they made their way down the back alley, arguing in case anyone was in earshot. As soon as they hit the street, Spike laughed.

"What?" Xander said, a small smile on his face.

"Quick with the cover, Pup." Spike grinned back.

Xander actually blushed a bit. "Yeah, well it worked. Kinda stupid though. I mean I can choose who I hang out with. Not in kindergarten here."

"And you couldn't tell it from your clothes." Spike said, lighting a cigarette. "Nice cartoon on the shirt there."

"Hey!" Xander protested. "I'll have you know this is an `Akira' shirt! Not a kiddie cartoon. Japanese anime, thank you very much, Mr. Uncultural Vamp. And what did you want?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Got a postcard from Oz." He dug it out and handed it over.

Xander read it and his eyes lit up. "It's from New Orleans! He's heading back!"

"Taking the warm and scenic route too." Spike barely contained the grumble in his voice.

"It's snowing in most of the plains states." Xander said, looking at the picture of St. Louis Cathedral again. "Easier going on his old van if he takes the southern route. But he's gonna be here before Christmas!"

"So he says." Spike drawled. "Guess we won't be able... you won't be able to write him then."

"Yeah." Xander said, starting to walk again. "I was looking forward to answering those last two letters, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, I mean, I know what he's been thinking, what he's written anyway, since *you* started this. And I know you told me what you wrote, but what if he... I mean... things could get weird, y'know?" Xander stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets along with the postcard.

Spike sighed. "Look, it's not like there was undying love or `let's fuck when you get home' in any of them" He noted the blush across Xander's cheeks and snorted. "It was just two blokes talking about shit that happened while one of them was gone. How much you missed each other. What's weird about that?" He knew he was almost defensive about it.

It was Xander's turn to sigh. "Nothing, I guess. Just, I dunno, nervous, I guess."

"Well don't be. Got me to help you out, right?" Spike said and turned down the shortcut to his graveyard.

"And that is so not reassuring." Xander quipped.

Spike just scowled at him and opened the door to his place. He lit the candelabras and stuck two stray candles in a couple of old wine bottles on the coffin that served as his table. He turned to motion Xander to sit and found the boy looking at him quizzically.

"What?" He snapped.

"I just still don't get why you're doing this." Xander shook his head and sat down on one of the lawnchairs.

"I told you that already." Spike slumped down into the other chair. "You guys seem... suited for each other."

"And this was a conclusion you reached by writing for me." Xander said, the question there.

"We've been over this." Spike complained.

"Yeah I know and we'll probably go over it again." Xander leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It's just not like you."

"Lot about me you don't know." Spike smarmed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Damn boy's dark eyes were boring into him.

"No, I think I know more than most." Xander's voice was quiet. "I may not have gotten to read the letters you sent, but I can tell what Oz was answering. You're as lonely as he is."

Xander had spent a lot of time reading and rereading the letters Spike had given him. There were echoing responses from the werewolf in them that had to be about things Spike had said. Things like `I know what you mean. It gets hard sometimes, being by myself, knowing I've cut myself off from everything I know.' Or `I kind of figured you might feel like that sometimes. The whole outside looking in thing. Been there too.' It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what Spike might have written.

"With all the wonderful company I've had lately? How could I *ever* be lonely?" Spike shot out, sarcastically.

Xander held his hands up. "Defensive much? And yeah, I know I'm not much company, thanks."

"Now who's being defensive? Did I say you?" And the words were out of Spike' mouth before he could stop them. Damnit.

Xander gave Spike a off-kilter grin. "Thanks."

"Yeahwhateveryerwelcome." Spike muttered. "Now, let's talk about what you're going to do when Oz gets here."

*****
Part 3:

Spike woke with the setting sun. Soon Oz would be here, if the steady flow of postcards was any indication. He was nearly as nervous as Xander was. Maybe more so now.

Because when Oz returned, Spike had no idea what he would do. Would he burst out with the fact it had been him that had been writing all along? Would he sneer and leave Xander to fend for himself? Or would he stick to the plan? Would he, indeed, be the guiding hand behind the possible relationship between the Bricklayer and the Wolfboy?

Or... would he take the possible fourth option? The option of coming between the two boys?

God, he wanted Xander too.

He was a colossal moron.

A moron in love with two people. Two people who probably loved each other. All the soul baring of Oz's letters, all the time spent talking to Xander about his life, and he was sure he was falling for both. Falling hard. With them having eyes only for each other.

"An' I'm not in love with either of them, dammit! Just a really deep like." He paced the crypt. "Shagging kinda deep like. Not thinking about snugglies or anything like that. Yeah."

He lit a cigarette and paced more. Who was he kidding here? Himself? Better to kid and not get hurt. Again.

"Outside lookin' in." He muttered.

And here he was talking to himself again. Dammit. He was going totally Dru in his dotage.

He lit a candle to drive off the deepening gloom and walked aimlessly around his crypt. What in the blue hell was he going to do?

*****

Xander brushed his teeth and stared into the bathroom mirror. Oz would be here soon. He and Spike had talked over so many things concerning the redhead. Enough things that Xander was starting to realize that Spike had, maybe just maybe, gotten deeper involved than he wanted. It had been growing obvious to Xander that Spike cared *way* more about Oz than the vampire wanted to admit.

"Oh yeah. Captain Oblivious, Master of the Obvious, thy name is Xander." He muttered to his reflection. "Why the hell else would he have done all this crap."

He spat and rinsed. "And we now talk to ourselves. In the third person. Argh."

Xander snapped off the bathroom light and stomped his way to his bedroom. Throwing himself down on the bed, he thought about the past few weeks. All the talking. All the planning. All the insanity that seemed to mark his life. What was he going to actually *do* when Oz got here? Rely on Spike to hold his hand through this? Give a bravado-filled `I can take it from here'? Run? Running was good. He did running well. One of his better life saving plans, in fact.

He flopped onto his back and stared at a crack in his ceiling. It refused to give him any answers as usual. He snorted. It would have been just so Hellmouth if the crack started spouting off relationship advice. Or Bob Villa-esque home improvement tips.

"Or call 911 and report a madman in love with a werewolf and a vampire."

He sat up and flicked on the bed side light. "I did *not* just say that! Tell me I did not just say that! And who am I expecting to tell me? Fuck!"

Throwing a pillow across the room, Xander growled. He *was* losing it. He wasn't in love with either of them. Deep, shaky, stomach fluttery like with Oz. Growing understanding and friendship with Spike. Not love. Not yet.

"And not Spike. Maybe Oz. God, I hope Oz, sorry Wills."

Oh shit. How were the rest of the Scoobys going to take this?

*****

Oz sank deeper into the tub and let out a contented sigh. He'd driven farther than he'd planned today. Fifteen hours and he still wasn't through Texas. But the stay in New Orleans had been a blast, if short. He wanted to go back and spend longer. It was his kind of place, laid back but full of things to do or see or just plain let slide by.

Yeah, he wanted to go back. Maybe take Xander. Show him someplace mystical and ethereal that didn't try to kill you. Yeah, Xander would like that. A day without fighting or trying to get killed. Just relaxing at Cafe du Monde, drinking chicory coffee and eating beignets. Listen to dirty blues played in smoky clubs like it was ment to be.

Oz had gotten over his nerves around Jacksonville, Florida. He was beyond grateful for it. One more day of nearly throwing up lunch and he was sure he'd wolf out just to kill something. Okay, so that was harsh and not entirely true. Just wolf and shred a bunny or something. A bad bunny. Or an evil squirrel.

"And still with the killing. Aroo."

Shit, that was all too Willow. All her worrying about him killing something but trying to be the uber-supportive girlfriend. `Hey, be careful. I mean, I know you won't mean to do anything. And you won't! But if you do, I'm still here and it's okay. Really.' Bittersweet memories he was going to face full on.

It was cool though, he could handle it now. He wanted to handle it. Needed to. For himself as well as the people he missed terribly. Now that he was going back for the right reasons. Going back to see what sort of life he would have now.

"Dead horse. Now beating it."

He laughed at himself as he got out of the tub. It wasn't like he had much else to think about on the trip. Home, past, present, future, The Scoobys and how they all related. Lather, rinse, repeat.

"Oh yeah, sleepytime."

He fell, still wrapped in a towel, on the bed and went straight to sleep.

*****

"Xander, are you okay?"

Xander jumped, dropping the ring he'd been fiddling with on the counter. "Hey Wills. Doing fine. Very good. Um, why you ask?"

Willow eyed Xander warily. Oh yes, Xander was having a major wiggins in his life. She knew it. It just sorta hurt that he wouldn't share what was wrong. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and make him tell her what was going on.

"Because you've been, y'know, stressy jumpy lately. Except when you aren't. I mean when you're all smiling and looking off elsewhere. A... and that's good. The smiling part. It's the stressy that I'm worried about." She said, barely pausing to breathe.

Xander stared at her and felt a huge lump of guilt form in his throat. He hadn't told Willow a thing, not that he could, about what had been going on. Maybe he should tell her. At least about the Oz coming part.

"Um. Well. Shit." He flushed a bit at Willow's raised eyebrows. "I've... uh. I've been writing to Oz."

"Oh!" Willow's face lit up. *That* had to explain it. Xander was still all worried over the Oz stuff. "That's cool! How's he been doing? Where is he? I mean, not that I care. No, I do. Just not in the boyfriendy way. More in the friendy way."

Xander held up his hands. "He's been kinda everywhere and kinda lonely. But you can, uh, catch up when he gets to town. I mean, if you want to. He's coming back. Soon."

Willow blinked. "He's coming back? Wow. That's great. I... I mean..."

"Wills, you and Tara don't have anything to worry about. He just wants to come home." Xander said quietly.

"Oh, I wasn't thinking about that. Well, I was, but not really. Gosh, this is good and weird. I mean, I know this is his home a... and I'll be glad to see him. We sorta wrote about the whole `sorry I tried to kill your girlfriend' thing already so I know he's, y'know, Oz-ish and cool about that."

Xander smiled. "Oh yeah. He's cool about that."

*****
Part 4:

Xander bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. Today Oz would arrive. Today. Here. Finally. Sunnydale, Oz, today. Anytime now, in fact. He'd gotten a phone call last night from the guitarist. A call telling him that Oz was going to stop in San Diego for the night, but...oh!... he'd like to see him tomorrow. He had been starting to feel like his whole life had been waiting for Oz to come home. Waiting and worrying. Worrying and fretting and pacing and... He laughed. No point in hashing that out again. Now, if he could just calm down.

A huge chunk of his last night had been spent on a constant stream of internal babble. And outward babble at Spike. The vampire had finally made him drink a beer to calm down. One beer, then another and just one more. He hadn't gotten drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. And calm. Much more calm.

That, however, was not the way to deal with his nerves now. Wouldn't be good to stupefy himself before Oz got here. Then again, the four Heath bars hadn't been the best idea. Chocolatey goodness, but not good.

He hadn't been this nervous and happy and scared since his first official date with Cordelia. Oh *that* was almost a bad thing to think. He shivered, trying to dispell the image of Oz as Cordy. Bleh. Wrong nail polish color for Oz.

Thank God it was a Saturday. If he'd had to work today he would have killed himself for sure. Would have taken a misstep off one of the upper stories, or walked under a falling metal beam. Or just taken a header into the cement mixer.

"Sorry I missed our date, Oz. Had to get cement out of my spleen." He giggled nervously. "Oh fuck! I said date. Yeep."

It wasn't a date. Nope, no dateage here. It was just a `welcome back'. It was a buddy coming to see another buddy. There was no mention of dateness. Nothing date-like. No.

Hee.

"Okay. Cracking up here. Deep breath. Center. Focus."

He settled down on the couch and closed his eyes. Tried to picture that nebulous safe, calming place people always talked about when doing soothing meditations. Nice, calm, peaceful. Breathe in, breathe out.

He jolted back to reality when the phone rang. Glancing at his watch, he saw he'd been out of it for over an hour. His mouth nearly hit the floor. It had worked.

He fumbled up the phone. "Harris House of Time Loss, Xander speaking."

"Hey, man."

Xander's stomach did a slow roll. "Hey, Oz. You here?"

"No. I'm at the mo'el on Chamber street." Xander could hear the faint humor at the Scooby name for the motel. The `t' had always been burnt out.

"Still the same grand place?" Oh fuck. That was Faith's old place. Xander got goosebumps thinking about it.

Oz snorted. "Oh yeah, four stars all the way. But cheapness is of the good."

"Hear ya. So, um, you wanna go get some dinner?" Xander licked his lips. His mouth was dry as a cracker.

"Yeah sounds good. Call it an hour? Gotta shower."

"Cool. Um... How about I drive? You gotta be sick of sitting behind the steering wheel."

"Very. Room 142. See you in 60."

"Yeah. Bye."

Xander hung up the phone and nearly did a dance. Then he bolted to the kitchen and bent over the sink, shaking. He felt like throwing up and whooping at the same time. He did neither however, just stared at the cold metal surface and grinned. Okay, Cordelia never made him this nervous and happy at the same time. Anya came close, but not quite so much on the happy. And he hadn't even *seen* Oz yet.

Spike was right. He had it *bad* for Oz. How in the Hellmouth had that happened so fast? No, he'd think about that later. Right now he had time to go tell Fangless that Oz had finally arrived. Tell Spike, then get Oz for dinner.

"Whoop!" He half shouted as he got his jacket and headed out the door.

*****

Oz sat, wearing only old jeans, in lotus position on the bed. His eyes were closed and his mind adrift. For about two seconds. Then the couple next door started shouting again. He sighed and wiggled a bit. It had been so easy to meditate before. Then again, before had been spent in places devoid of most people. Meditating while a monk whacked him periodically with a shani had been a cakewalk compared to this.

He smiled and rolled onto his back. He was just going to have to get used to being around people again. He was looking forward to it. Life wasn't a sweet stroll in a flowered meadow. It was loud and vibrant and sweaty and insane. And he missed it. Missed it a lot.

Sunnydale looked pretty much the same as when he'd left it. The Initiative bunker was still plugged. The Expresso Pump was still serving too expensive coffee. The Bronze was still the just-short-of-hole-in-the-wall as before. The ruins of the old high school were a bit smaller and the new one was a sprawling concrete thing. That was the only thing different he could see driving through town. Well, that and the fact the `Welcome to Sunnydale' sign was still upright. Spike obviously hadn't left in a while.

Xander had written the Blonde Menace was helping out now, spending time with Dawn and annoying the crap out of Buffy. Even spending time patrolling with Xander. Willow had even made him cookies. The Big Bad incorporated into the Scooby family... That *had* to be interesting. Oz didn't even want to think about the shit the Initiative had put Spike through, if what they did to him in a short time was any indication. He'd have to re-think what he knew about the vampire. One chip and the world changed. Damn, he'd missed a lot.

*****

"He's here?"

"Yup. Gonna take him out for dinner." Xander smiled at Spike's wide-eyed nod.

Spike wanted to be as excited as Xander, but didn't dare let it show. It wasn't his show anymore, was it? No, now it was Xander's. He hoped the boy didn't screw it up. Xander could have it all now, no more being alone, no more feeling left out, no more sad looks at the other couples. So could Oz, for that matter. If Xander didn't screw it up.

No, that wasn't quite fair. Xander wouldn't screw this up. He couldn't screw it up. There was a lack of things to screw up when it came to Oz. But if he, Spike, didn't start talking, *he* would.

"Don't take him someplace fancy. He'd hate that. But not fast food! Probably had enough of that. And not that horrible cafe downtown. Food there's total crap."

"Spike," Xander held up a hand. "I *know*. Geeze! I was thinking China Garden."

Could the vampire be anymore hen-like? Xander felt bit of a warm fuzzy growing at that. It was nice to have some help here, even if it was the vamp's fault any of this was happening. Okay, so fault, while true, wasn't quite the right word. If it hadn't been for Spike, he wouldn't be here. Here, ready to go get Oz for a non-date. Eep.

Spike nodded again, lips pursed. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good. They make their own noodles."

Xander shook his head in wonder. "Didn't know you knew so much about the restaurants around here."

Spike snorted. "Probably know more than you. You're not even meat and potatoes. More like flat grease patties and stale buns."

Xander's smile was pained. "Gee, thanks. I happen to like Chinese and anyway so does Oz."

"Good, good. Well, lemme have a look at you." Spike turned Xander around.

Xander smacked his hands away. "Would you stop? I'm already a wreak! And you acting like my mother on prom night isn't helping!"

"You looked good on prom night." Spike said, stepping back.

"How in the world do you know?" Xander stared. "Where you there?"

"No." Spike shook his head. "Saw your picture."

"When...?"

"Basement. Got bored tied to that chair. Had to do something." Spike shrugged. "Now go on, before you're late!"

"Argh! Okay, okay!" Xander let himself be hustled out the crypt door. "I must be nuts, taking dating advice from you."

Spike leaned against the door with a heavy sigh. Why in the Hellmouth had he let *that* slip? Could he been anymore of a ponce? He was worried Xander would let shit slip, and *he* was the one with the runaway mouth.

"Stake me?" He asked the ceiling.

*****

Xander practically ran to his car. As he fumbled out the keys, he couldn't stop a smile crossing his face again. Not for Oz, but Spike. Okay, so Blondie had gone through his stuff. But he thought Xander looked good on prom night.

"I looked good on Prom Night. He said so. Hee."

Woah. Xander shook his head. *Not* the time to be thinking about Spike. Oz, he was on his way to pick up Oz.

He threw himself into the car and peeled out.

*****

Oz finished tying his tennis shoes just as a quiet knock sounded on his door. He ran a quick hand through his hair and opened it.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." Xander said. Oz was smiling that little half smile of his. The butterflies in Xander's stomach started swing dancing again. "China Garden?"

Oz nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good."

*****