*****
Part 4:

Willow hopped down from the counter when Buffy slammed open the door. "Hey, Buff! How's Austin?" The Slayer had gone out on their first real date last night, and Willow was excited to hear the outcome. Ever since meeting the young man at the party two days ago, Austin was all Buffy talked about.

"Austin is fine. Very, very fine." Buffy replied, a dazed smile on her face. "He's so deep. We talked for hours about poetry and nature.

Giles rolled his eyes as he returned from the storage room. Poetry, indeed. "Did you patrol last night?"

Buffy looked a bit guilty. "Um, I'm patrolling a lot tonight, ok?" She hoped it mollified her testy Watcher.

Willow waved her hand at Giles, and then pulled Buffy to the table. "So spill. Tell me and Tara all the ugly details. Well, almost all the ugly details." The two friends shared a smile.

A few minutes later, Xander and Spike showed up at the store. Xander's face broke into a wide smile when he saw Buffy. They'd not spoken in a couple of days-the only time he'd called the house, Joyce had said she was busy.

"Girls!" Xander said, flopping down beside Willow. "Any slayage to report, oh great one?" He said to Buffy.

"Nope. Just normal, everyday stuff. No news." Buffy said.

"No news? Buffy!" Willow chided. The redhead turned to Xander. "Buffy has a boyfriend." She said in a consecratory voice.

Xander gulped. "Really?" Buffy had made him promise not to tell anyone. What had happened to change her mind? He wasn't sure he was ready for their relationship to be public.

"Yeah. Tall, dark and handsome too!" Tara giggled behind her hand.

Xander squirmed in his seat. "I see."

Willow continued on, completely oblivious. "Austin was at the Rec party. You should have gone-it was so much fun. Anyway, she met Austin there and they hit it off right away. It was like lightbulbs flickering on or something."

Xander froze. < Austin? > The room spun wildly. Who was Austin? "Austin?"

"He's a football player." Willow supplied helpfully. Spike snickered. The vampire was watching the whelp, who looked like he'd just been hit from behind with a baseball bat.

Buffy, too, was watching Xander. < Need damage control. > She stood up, gathering her Slaying gear. "Well, patrol calls. Xander?" She waited expectantly for Xander to join her. He did so automatically, his mind still elsewhere.

By the time they made it outside, Xander had found his voice again. "Austin?" He said calmly.

Buffy shuffled a little. "Yeah. He's a great guy, all serious and thoughtful."

"Not the doughnut boy." Xander said, unable to keep his anger inside.

The Slayer flinched. "Hey! We didn't sign a contract or anything. I'm just testing the waters." She wanted to smooth this over as quickly as possible.

"Playing the field?" Xander added, quickly piecing together where Buffy was going.

"What? You kissed Willow when you were dating Cordelia!" Buffy retorted.

< That was low. > "So, when are you telling them about us?" Xander said, nodding back toward the store.

"What!? No way, uh uh. Not gonna happen." Buffy said automatically, not catching the stillness that came over Xander's normally expressive features.

"Ashamed?" Xander asked.

Buffy sighed. Xander could be so childish sometimes. "Look, I'm just going out with Austin, I'm not sleeping with him or anything. What's the problem?"

Xander stared up at the sky. "The problem, Buffy, is that I don't see it that way."

"What, you want me to choose-you or him?" She snorted. Like Xander could make that sort of ultimatum. "You're good in the sack, Xander, but you're no catch. I have to patrol, so can we leave this for later?"

"Do you need help?" Xander asked wearily.

"From you? No." Buffy turned on her heel, heading for campus. The brunette turned as well, aiming for his empty apartment.

.......

Xander trudged up the stairs to his front door. Work, he found, was unusually tiring when you did not want to be there. For that matter, everything was tiring when the last thing you wanted to do was deal with living. Ever since he and Buffy had come to the understanding that he did not do 'open' relationships last night, his life had been a long, steep descent into hell.

Xander let himself into his apartment, walking straight back into his bedroom and closing the door behind him. On his list of things to avoid interacting with was his current houseguest. Xander definitely did not want to hear about how pathetic his life was from the chipped undead. Once in the safety of his room, Xander stripped off his work clothes and flopped onto his bed.

< What was I thinking? That she would choose me? Yeah, right. > Actually, that was exactly what Xander had thought at the time. It was just more proof of how much of a sucker he was. To think, even for an instant, that the Slayer would choose him over anybody. < I was entertainment, some sort of filler until she could find something else. Anything else. A football player? She took a jock over me? Figures. Hell, she'd probably take Spike before me. > Xander turned and buried his head in a pillow, choking off the sounds of his sobbing. Eventually he ran out of tears and leaned up against the wall, wiping off his face. "You've painted up your lips and rolled and curled your tinted hair. Buffy are you contemplating going out somewhere?"9 Xander sang brokenly. If only he'd gone out that night instead of giving in to his insecurities. If only he'd.No, it probably wouldn't have made a difference.

< I should have known better. I am the Zeppo, the doughnut boy. I am nothing, not even a good distraction for a horny Slayer. I couldn't hold on to her for a month, even. Just two weeks. > Xander looked over at the alarm clock. He had perhaps an hour before he was supposed to be at the Magic Box for the regular meeting and patrol. < Add that particularly gruesome torture to the list of things I'm not suffering through today. > The boy picked up the phone, dialing the store's number.

"Giles? Hey, it's Xander. Look, I'm pretty worn out from work today. Um, can I-" Xander was cut off by the Watcher.

"Xander, why don't you rest up this evening? Buffy has patrol well in hand. We do not really need you today." The Watcher said to Xander.

"Oh. Well, ok. I'll see you next time, though. I mean, everyone needs coffee, right?" Xander quipped.

"Yes, yes. Well, I have customers. Goodbye." Xander hung up the phone and buried his head back into the pillows. Giles' offhand comment about not being needed had crushed Xander. He knew the group did not need him; he was the weakest one. He had no super strength, no magical abilities. Yes, he was good with languages and literature of the demonic variety, but Giles had years of Watcher training and had yet to fail the Slayer. Xander was aware of his omega status in the group, in terms of pack dynamics, but he did not like being reminded of it.

Meanwhile, Spike sat on the couch in the living room, ostensibly watching some wretched made-for-television movie. In reality, he was listening to the sounds of Xander suffering alone in the room next to him. He should have been ecstatic about the boy's heartbreak; Spike was the evil undead, the Big Bad. He did not care about humans. Such logical arguments were irrelevant, though.

The truth was that Xander's hurt was bothering the vampire. He'd come to like the boy; hell, he wanted to shag him through the floor. From a friendship angle, the mortal's pain was something he should alleviate. His demon, and a good part of the rest of him, wanted to help the boy so that they could move on to said shagging. Another part of the blonde was overjoyed; with the Slayer out of the way, Spike could move in on the mortal. Spike knew that after the events of the last few weeks, Xander would not be falling into bed with anyone on the spur of the moment, however.

Some serious seduction would be taking place. First, though, something had to be done about the weeping and moaning taking place in Xander's bedroom. The conversation he'd just had with the Watcher had certainly not helped one bit. < Stupid git. Never tell the whelp he's not needed. > To Spike, the boy's insecurity and low self-confidence were all too obvious. Such a casual statement like Giles' would take a long time to fade from Xander's mind.

Resolved to do something with the human, although exactly what had yet to be planned, Spike got up and knocked softly on the bedroom door. "Hey, Xan? Y've got a meeting in twenty." He said through the door. There was no response from the interior of the bedroom. After a few minutes, Spike sighed quietly and retreated to the kitchen. He retrieved a bowl from the stack of clean dishes and poured himself a serving of corn flakes, topping off the cereal with blood. As long as Xander was holing up in the bedroom, Spike would take advantage of his absence. What he didn't see couldn't hurt him. Finishing his meal, Spike washed out the dish and replaced it on the drain.

Returning to the living room, the vampire wandered about, picking up magazines and the various detritus of the past few days. His cleaning efforts only took a few minutes and he was soon left with nothing to do. Bored, Spike collected up the hammers that were scattered throughout the apartment. Xander had ended up with the majority of the weapons after the group had defeated the N'ktharan demons and had decided that they made amusing decorations for his dwelling.

Spike had hidden them when he first moved in, but later pulled them from their hiding places, returning them to the boy. Looking at the pile of hammers in front of him, Spike began sorting and playing with them like building blocks. Half an hour later, he stood back to admire his handiwork. The hammers were now set up on the counter in a deceptively haphazard design. They looked like a strange, hardware-store inspired sculpture. Satisfied with his addition to the apartment's atmosphere, and hoping that the oddball display would at least catch Xander's eye, Spike picked up his duster and left the apartment. If the mortal was going to spend the night crying in bed, so be it. The vampire wanted to play.

Xander lay on the bed until he heard the front door slam. He knew that the restless vampire would not stay in tonight, not when Buffy was going to be patrolling. There was just too much temptation for the violent blonde on the streets of Sunnydale. Xander reluctantly got out of bed and went into the kitchen. No matter how bad he felt, physically or emotionally, nothing got in the way of his appetite.

Xander stopped in front of the bar, looking at the hammers. < That's what the noise was. > He had been curious as to what the vampire had been doing in the main room before he left, but was unwilling to risk interaction to find out. Xander smiled a little; he liked the hammers in such an odd formation. An idea struck and Xander went over to the utility closet on the far wall. Pushing aside Spike's clothes on the floor of the closet, Xander retrieved his tool chest and returned to the kitchen. After a moment of digging around, he found what he was looking for. < Epoxy resin. Should to the trick. >

.......

Spike wandered into the magic shop, only to find the witches and Buffy surrounding Angel. The blonde vampire growled menacingly; he'd not sensed his sire's presence, and that pissed him off. Then the man turned around, startled by the door chime.

It wasn't Angel after all. Spike sighed in relief. It was a human, one that looked frighteningly similar to the older vampire. From the looks of things, it was Austin, Buffy's newest boytoy.

"Allo Rupert. How's tricks?" Spike muttered, lighting a cigarette. The Watcher glared at Spike, who steadfastly ignored him.

"Who's that?" Austin asked Buffy.

"That's Spike. He's a.delinquent who hangs around here. Don't worry about him; his bark is worse than his bite." Buffy laughed at her own bad joke, while the witches rolled their eyes heavenward.

Buffy continued the introductions, showing off her newest accessory. Spike listened, first out of boredom, then with increasing awe. Austin was incredible. Incredibly stupid.

The young man recited lines of poetry at any available moment; unfortunately for him his choices were not only inappropriate, but usually attributed to the wrong damned poet. Spike barely contained himself from viciously attacking the football player. < Where did she find this one? >

From the looks on the witches' and Giles' faces, it was obvious that they were similarly befuddled. They listened politely as Austin described in extreme and loving detail a wide variety of football plays, all of which he'd starred in. Buffy hung onto his every word, eyes wide.

Spike shuddered. This guy was one of a kind, and not the good kind. < She dumped Xan for that piece of tripe? > The vampire's opinion of Buffy hit new lows.

"Well, mates, it's been fun, but things to do an' all." He waved at Giles and the witches, ignoring Buffy's scowl. He had to escape before he tested the limits of his chip on Buffy's squeeze.

.......

Spike let himself into the apartment, careful to make no noise. Looking around, he saw that nothing had changed. < Whelp never got up, even for food? > Sniffing, the vampire detected a faint chemical odor. It was vague, and not fresh, so Spike ignored it. < Probably cleaner of some sort. Boy's probably the type to scrub the loo in his misery. > The vampire hung up his duster in the closet and laid down for the day.

The next few days passed in a similar fashion for the two men. Xander went to work and returned without so much as a glance in the vampire's direction. Spike asked daily if Xander wanted to go to a meeting or a patrol, but received no answer.

After almost a week of Xander's behavior, the vampire had had enough. When the mortal returned from work and headed for the bedroom, Spike got up and quickly moved to block the door before it was closed and locked. The movement elicited a stare from the boy.

"Go away."

"That any way to talk to your guests?" Spike asked softly. < No need to rile the lad. >

"Guests? No. You're not a guest. You're an infection. Go away." Xander tried to wrest the door from the vampire, but was unable to.

"Right. Love you too. 'M going on patrol tonight. Join me?"

"No." Xander tried again to close the door.

"Come on. Let's go beat the hell out of something. You'll feel better."

"How would you know, huh? How in the hell do you know how I feel? And what makes you think it'll make me feel better?" Xander shouted at the vampire.

"Always worked for me when Dru waltzed off with some soddin' mucus demon." Spike said reasonably.

"Oh." Xander had conveniently forgotten that Spike had been through this kind of shit before. Several times, if Xander remembered correctly. From the stories he'd heard, Spike's dear Drusilla was a bit of a slut for anything with horns. "Well, ok. As long as we don't go to the meeting. I can't take seeing."

"Nope, no meetings. Just a jolly good bit of hell raising!" Spike backed off from the door, hoping Xander would not close it and hide out in the room again. He was pleasantly surprised to see the boy smile at him before turning to the bathroom.

A few minutes later Xander emerged, ready to go. Spike was leaned up against the bar. As Xander picked up a few stakes and retrieved his crosses, Spike reached for one of the hammers balanced on the bar. Instead of the hammer lifting up easily, the vampire was shocked to find resistance. He tried another hammer, but quickly found that the entire stack was somehow glued together. He turned a suspicious eye to Xander, who was watching him as innocently as possible.

"Glue?"

"Nope. Epoxy resin. It makes a nice.sculpture." Spike remembered the chemical smell from a few days before. Maybe there was hope for the boy yet.

The hunting pair roamed the streets of Sunnydale, looking for trouble, which they easily found. Xander knew Spike was using him as bait, but he did not mind. The vampire fought off the strongest of whatever they found, while Xander tried to bring down whatever was leftover. He managed to not humiliate himself by getting killed. After several hours, the human and the vampire looped back to the apartment.

"Xan, you're gonna have'ta go to the meeting tomorrow. The witches are making worried noises, and the Slayer thinks I've managed to off you." Spike opened the door and strode inside, pitching down his axe.

Xander nodded his consent. He knew that he would have to surface eventually, and he appreciated Spike's consideration. < Spike's consideration? Since when was Spike nice? Nah, they must really be threatening him. >

.......

Xander was in hell. There was no other way to describe it. He was stuck between Giles and Willow at the table, reading up on some sort of carrion-eating demon while Buffy practically draped herself over Austin. < Austin? What kind of name is Austin? It's a town in Texas, for chrissakes. > Xander slumped deeper into his chair.

< Why does shit always happen to me? Let's see, I get it on with Cordelia, whom I hate, only to ruin it with Willow, whom I love-but not in that way. Then I get attacked by Faith, who tries to kill me for foreplay. And there's Anya-two and a half years of being an ex-demon's fucktoy, then back to being steamrollered by a Slayer. And that's not even considering the mummy and the praying mantis. >

Spike looked over at the boy. It was obvious he was, once again, brooding. Unlike Angel, such angsty behavior did not sit well on the dark mortal. Resolved to end the suffering, either his or Xander's, Spike stood up. "Well, I'm off. Gonna try to find a few nasties before sunrise. Coming with, whelp?"

Xander looked up, knocked out of his nostalgic reverie. "Yeah, sure." He closed the book and grabbed his jacket. No one acknowledged the pair as they made it out the door.

"So that's Xander?" Austin said, nuzzling Buffy's neck.

"Yeah, doughnut boy. Great for lattes, too." Buffy replied.

"Buffy!" Willow and Giles admonished simultaneously.

"Buffy," Giles began, "Xander is far more important to our efforts than as an errand boy for your sweet tooth."

"You know he means well. Besides, how many times has he saved your life?" Willow added.

"Like, never! Xander couldn't save a Ho-Ho." Buffy shot back, more than a little put out that Willow and Giles would defend Xander, and that they would do so in front of Austin. She looked over at her newest conquest, but he did not seem to be registering the conversation.

"W-well, there was that t-time with the Fyarl d-demons." Tara stuttered softly.

"Yeah, Buffy! Tara's right. What about that time when the whole nest of Fyarl demons came after you? It was Xander that got you out of there." Willow stated.

"As if! If he hadn't stumbled in, I would have taken out the whole group of them. As it was, we had to go back later and I ended up with demon guts all over my new shoes!"

"That's enough, Buffy. Xander was essential to that situation." Giles pushed back from the table and stood up. "I believe that is enough for the evening. Buffy, do be sure to patrol around the hospital tonight. You might want to walk Austin home beforehand?" The last statement was more of an order than a question.

"What do you mean? Austin is patrolling with me. Big, strong guy." She patted Austin's beefy chest. He stared down at her adoringly.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Giles. I'll protect her!" Willow giggled at the statement, and Tara hid her smile behind a book.

"Bye, Tex." Tara said softly, peeking above the text she held.

"Tex?" Buffy said blankly.

Willow smiled. "Austin, Texas?"

The football player shook his head. "I'm from Maryland."

"Yeah, he's from Maryland. Not Texas, Tara." She drug Austin toward the door and the Slayer and her new lapdog exited holding hands.

"Goddess! Can they get any more nauseating?" Willow sighed irritatedly as Tara and Giles laughed at their cluelessness.

"This evening was fairly tame compared to yesterday, and the day before, and the-" Giles was interrupted by Willow waving her hand.

"You know what I mean! 'Buffy, I'll protect you!' 'Austin, you're sooo strong!' She could throw him across a football field. And he is so blonde; he should just go ahead and bleach it." Willow spat.

"Hey!" Tara swatted at Willow's head. The redheaded witch looked apologetic.

"As I recall, you encouraged Buffy to go out with the young man," Giles remarked to the witch.

"I know, and I will never forgive myself. I mean, he seemed nice at the party. Well, he is nice, it's not that. For one, I never expected she'd do anything with him, and for another, you don't exactly give I.Q. tests at social functions. Well, we don't. You might."

"Oh, yes. Watchers routinely quiz each other over a pint." Giles said sarcastically. "No matter." He waved his hand. "The young man will surely not last long. I believe Spike could best him, even with the chip."

"Why, Giles, are you implying that Austin is a bit.weak? Or worse yet, that he doesn't qualify as human?" Willow joked at the Watcher.

"If there is ample evidence in favor of a particular theory, logic dictates that." Giles removed his glasses, idly polishing them on his sweater.

"You bad man! Bad, bad, bad!" Willow gathered up her things and took Tara's hand, turning towards the door. "Well, see you later, Giles. Keep those bad, nasty thoughts out of your head!" The girls left.

Giles fastened the door behind him and returned to the register counter. Pulling a small flask out from under the display case, he said idly, "But the bad, nasty thoughts are the fun ones." Taking a long drink from the flask, he went about tidying up for the night.

.......

The week passed slowly for Xander. He had returned to regularly attending Scooby meetings and patrolling, although he now went out exclusively with Spike. Buffy had Austin and had been very clear that she needed no other assistance. Having been where Austin was now, Xander knew exactly what Buffy meant. No, she didn't need any assistance-she knew exactly where all the make out spots were on her patrol routes.

Spike had turned out to be surprisingly good company for the depressed mortal. He gave Xander space when he needed it most, and the rest of the time argued, shouted, and cajoled him into interacting with the rest of the world. Xander figured that messing with him gave the vampire something to do. < At least I'm useful to someone. >

The vampire was making note of the progress Xander had shown over the past couple of weeks. The boy was still depressed, no doubt about it. He was no longer fighting the blonde's attempts to get him out and about, however.

.......

Xander woke up to find sunlight streaming in on his face. It was Friday and he had no desire to get out bed, but his bladder and his job forced him to do so. He rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. After relieving himself and brushing his teeth, he went to the living room. Spike was, as expected, sleeping like the.undead. Xander absently righted the blanket covering the vampire, and then went to make a pot of coffee. < Ah, coffee! > He sat on a barstool, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the bean. < Ambrosia! >

Spike twitched his nose. Something was drawing him out of his deep daytime sleep, and he didn't like it one bit. Pushing further into consciousness, he analyzed the smells. < Xander.whelp's nearby; coffee. Must've gotten up. > With the boy awake and near him, Spike knew he would be unable to return to slumber, so he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Want a cup of coffee?" Xander asked. He felt bad; he should have known that his presence would wake the light-sleeping vampire.

"Yeah, a cuppa'd be nice. Better if you've got Irish?" Spike shot Xander a bleary but hopeful glance.

"Unless you drank the last of it." Xander poured Spike a cup of coffee, liberally laced with liquor. Walking to the living room, he handed the vampire the cup before taking a seat in one of the beaten armchairs.

"How was patrol last night?" Xander had not gone with the blonde; for once, work really had worn him out and he had fallen asleep well before sunset.

"Nothin' special. Minions snacking at the Bronze." Spike sat with the coffee cup nestled to his chest, cupped in both hands. The warmth from the beverage soothed the vampire more than the drink itself. It made him feel alive.

"Hmm.well, I need a shower. Don't drink all the coffee." Xander returned to his room.

Spike got up and stretched while listening to the sounds of Xander's bath. If the boy's presence had woken him, the very thought of him being naked and wet just a few feet away certainly kept the vampire from returning to sleep. He folded up the blanket and went to the kitchen for some blood.

Xander returned to the main room to find Spike singing at the kitchen sink.

"Everybody knows the dice are loaded. Every body rolls with their fingers crossed. Everybody knows the war is over-"10 Spike stopped singing and looked up.

"I didn't know you could sing. Who is that?" Xander was pleasantly surprised. Spike had a rich baritone voice that sounded like sex.

"Leonard Cohen. Great, broody genius."

"Funny that. Thought you were more Johnny Rotten. Angel's all broodboy." The idea of Spike actually liking something melancholy was unsettling for some reason.

Spike snorted. "Bloody poof likes Barry Manilow. Cohen's stuff is beautiful, bloody poetry. Got a chain smoker's voice, all gravely." The vampire finished with the dishes and hung up a towel.

"What was the song?" Xander poured another cup of coffee, butchering it liberally with creamer and sugar.

"Everybody Knows. You'd like it, I think." Spike also got a cup of coffee, gracing his with whiskey as he sneered at Xander's cup.

"How's it go?" Xander didn't really care about the song itself; he wanted to hear Spike sing again.

Spike drained his coffee and sat for a minute. He did not really like singing in front of people; Angelus had cured him of that long ago by beating him bloody for doing so. Still, this was his human who had asked him. Inhaling, he began.

"Everybody knows the dice are loaded.
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed.
Everybody knows the war is over.
Everybody knows the good guys lost.
Everybody knows the fight was fixed:
the poor stay poor, the rich get rich.
That's how it goes. Everybody knows.

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking.
Everybody knows the captain lied.
Everybody got this broken feeling
like their father or their dog just died.
Everybody talking to their pockets.
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
and a long-stem rose. Everybody knows.

Everybody knows that you love me, baby.
Everybody knows that you really do.
Everybody knows that you've been faithful,
give or take a night or two.
Everybody knows you've been discrete
but there were so many people you just had to meet
without your clothes. And everybody knows.

Everybody knows that it's now or never.
Everybody knows that it's me or you.
Everybody knows that you live forever
when you've done a line or two.
Everybody knows the deal is rotten;
Old Black Joe's still picking cotton
for your ribbons and bows. Everybody knows.

Everybody knows that the Plague is coming.
Everybody knows that it's moving fast.
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
are just a shining artifact of the past.
Everybody knows the scene is dead,
but there's going to be a meter on your bed
that will disclose what everybody knows.

Everybody knows that you're in trouble.
Everybody knows what you've been through,
from the bloody cross on top of Calvary
to the beach at Malibu.
Everybody knows it's coming apart:
take one last look at this Sacred Heart
before it blows. And everybody knows."11

Xander sat in silent shock as Spike finished the song. The vampire was right; he loved it. The blonde's voice was like melted chocolate and bourbon, rich and intoxicating by turns. "Wow." He did not know what to say.

Spike stared at the television, the couch, the door. He was nervous as hell. It had been a long time since he'd sung for anyone-well, since he'd sincerely sung for anyone instead of as a joke or a prank, or under duress from his sire. The boy couldn't know what that particular song meant to the vampire; none of the humans he consorted with knew of Spike's love for poetry and music beyond his appreciation for punk. If the idea of him having money would shock them, learning that he actively collected and read modern poetry would probably send them into heart failure.

Xander looked at Spike. He was obviously uncomfortable. "So, Leonard Cohen. Good stuff." The mortal decided to downplay the whole thing. Making an issue of it would just bring out the vampire's defensiveness, and he did not want to deal with a snarky Spike on a Friday.

The vampire got up and flopped down on the couch, grateful for the boy's consideration. He turned on the television, flipping through the channels until he found a football game.

Spike watched Xander slurp up the last of the milk leftover from his bowl of cereal. The boy deposited the dishes in the sink, and then went to brush his teeth. A few moments later, he was back with a jacket, ready to go to work.

"Now Lucy, be sure to have supper ready when I get home from work!"12 Xander said to the vampire as he left.

< Dinner, my arse. > The vampire thought snidely.

.......

As soon as the door shut, Spike flipped open his cell phone. Three brief phone calls later, his well-laid plans were in motion. He replaced the phone in his duster, lit a cigarette, and leaned up against the bar, smirking. < Whelp won't know what hit him. >

Just twenty minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. The vampire opened it to a small group of tall, thin demons with bright green eyes. "Right. Start in there." Spike ushered in the painters and pointed towards the bedroom.

"Same color on all the walls, right?" The lead asked.

"Yeah. Don't worry about the carpet. This pasty stuff is going." The painters smiled. Within minutes, drop cloths were everywhere and the smell of paint permeated the apartment.

Another rap on the door signaled the arrival of the carpet layers, another bunch of the slender, green-eyed demons. They started in the main room, pulling out furniture. Spike was soon relegated to the kitchen, where he had the television balanced on the bar. He sat perched on the far counter watching the progress with one eye and music videos with the other.

Several of the demons commented on the vampire's impressive collection of hammers. He growled back that they were the prize possession of his pet human; the demons smiled knowingly. Everyone knew that humans were the some of the quirkiest things out there; the master vampire was lucky his pet was not attached to something more unpleasant, like children.

After a couple of hours, the painters and carpet layers switched rooms. The work was delicate; normally the two jobs would never have been done at the same time, but then again their mutual employer was paying to have it all done at once. The workers just shrugged and kept paint off the carpet.

The two crews finished up around noon, replacing all the furniture. The apartment smelled overwhelmingly of new carpet and paint fumes. Spike pulled shut the curtains, and then carefully peeled back part of each window's paper coverings. The windows were cracked open already, so he did not have to risk becoming extra crispy.

Walking back to the kitchen, the vampire grabbed a box and propped open the front door. A draft fanned through the apartment, carrying out the noxious fumes. Spike pulled out the phone once again.

"Yeah. You're supposed to be here an hour ago. Bloody hell! I don't care if you're mum's popping twins in the driveway. Get it here or I'll shove it all up your arse!" Spike slammed the phone on the counter. He pulled a beer from the refrigerator and threw himself on the couch. < Damned Iska demons. >

The furniture delivery did not arrive for another hour and a half. By that time, Spike was fairly bouncing off the walls. He walked over to the partially open door in full gameface. He grabbed one short, stubby demon by the neck, slamming it into the wall opposite the door. The other demons chittered softly, attempting to placate the furious vampire.

After a minute, Spike let go of the demon, which slithered to the floor. He gestured at the other demons to follow him inside. "Alright then. This all goes," he pointed at the couches, chairs, stools, and end tables. "The telly stand too, but leave the box here. Keep the mattress; pitch the frame and the stands." Spike pointed in the bedroom. The demons fairly ran out the door, carrying various pieces of furniture.

After his initial outburst, Spike remained fairly calm as he directed the demons on where to put the furniture. Eventually, all of it was in the apartment and he got rid of the moving crew with the simple expedient of flashing his fangs and growling. He laughed as they ran out the door. Shutting it behind them, the vampire surveyed the apartment. There were still several hours of work to do, and the boy would be home too soon. Not wanting to waste any time, Spike retrieved Xander's toolbox and went to work.

Some time later, Spike replaced the toolbox and surveyed the end product. < Not bad.not bad at all. Earned me keep on this one, I did. > The vampire lit a cigarette and settled on the couch, turning on the television. < Ah! New digs, football on the telly, beer 'n blood in the fridge. Nothing finer. >

He leaned back, watching the game. < Hope this pulls the whelp out of it, I do. Can't stand it. She's not worth it, and I should know. Pined over her for months, ever since Red played matchmaker. If it hadn't a been for the Watcher, I'd still be mooning over the silly bint, an' Xander won't look twice at me 'til he stops with the weeping over needs-a-root-job-screwing-the-Sire-substitute. >

Spike sighed, closing his eyes. Some of his earlier good cheer and confidence faded. What if this didn't work and the boy booted him out on his arse? For the first time in over a hundred years, Spike had actually done something considerate for someone other than Dru, so he had no idea if he'd blown things. < 'Course, I always end up with the crazy ones. He's not my Dark Princess, but he is missing a few in the attic. >

.......

Xander leaned against the wall next to his apartment door. Work had been hard, but despite the demanding pace of the day, he had been unable to avoid thinking about his pathetic life. The past few weeks, with Spike's constant companionship, had dulled the pain, but Buffy still consumed his mind. He couldn't escape her and it was driving him crazy. Wearily, he let himself into the apartment. Xander shut the door and leaned up against it, sighing heavily.

After a few minutes, he reluctantly straightened, opening his eyes. He started to walk towards his bedroom, but stopped immediately.

This was not his apartment. < What shit is this? >

He turned around and opened the door, looking out at the numbers on the doorframe. < Ok, the numbers are the same. Still third on the right after the stairwell. > He returned to the apartment, half-hoping that he had been hallucinating. He hadn't.

Once again he stood in his apartment which was not his apartment. This place had dark burgundy walls, accented by the occasional framed print. Instead of the plain frosted light fixture in the living room, an ornate wrought iron chandelier hung suspended in the center of the room. Underneath it was an elegant coffee table in a wood so dark it looked almost black, with short, curving legs. The entire table was intricately carved with vines and flowers. The coffee table was matched by two end tables, which in turn banked a new couch. A black leather couch. A black leather couch containing a blonde vampire, who was watching Passions on a television set sitting in an entertainment center constructed of iron not unlike the chandelier. The vampire studiously ignored his housemate.

"Spike?"

"Quiet, mate. Timmy's talking." Spike turned up the volume a notch.

Xander just stared. His old chairs had been replaced by large, overstuffed ones covered to match the new couch. The cheap barstools he'd purchased at a home improvement warehouse were gone. In their places were several new ones built of chrome and steel, obviously much nicer than the originals.

"Spike, what the hell happened to my apartment?" Xander finally found his tongue again. He moved over to the couch, standing next to the vampire.

"Oh, thought I'd bring in a couple of my old things. Make the place more homey." Spike said casually, still apparently enthralled by the soap opera.

"I see." Xander went to the kitchen and got a drink of water.

< I see? Hells, I gutted this effin' place and all he can say is, 'I see.'? > Spike glanced over at the boy. He looked exhausted and not a little angry. < Shit. He's gonna break. Went too far, I did. >

Xander set his glass in the sink and went into his bedroom. Spike turned off the television and stood up, moving over to the door. Xander was not reacting like he'd expected. The vampire had predicted the boy would immediately start screaming and shouting, accusing Spike of stealing his junk furniture and trashing the apartment.

"Spike, you are so dead!" Xander screamed from the bedroom.

< Guess he found the bed then. > Spike thought, even as he pulled on his duster. Xander stalked out of the bedroom. He pushed Spike back from the door, leaning against it. The vampire was trapped. He couldn't move the boy without hurting him and setting off the chip, and since the sun was up the door was the only way out of the apartment.

"Start talking. What the hell is in my bedroom? My living room? MY APARTMENT?" Xander began at a low hiss and finished yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Easy, luv. The place was boring. I just.livened it up a bit." Spike decided to retreat to the far side of the living room. Maybe Xander would follow him. With the boy away from the door, he could get out before something, particularly his person, got broken.

"Livened it up? You're dead, Spike. You don't liven up anything. My walls are red, my couch is covered in leather, and I have an iron bed that looks like something the Marquis de Sade dreamed up!" Xander's voice quivered. He hated this, hated that he couldn't control himself, that he couldn't even keep his living space together.

"Look, Xan. You've got no room to complain. Your furniture was trash. You make me sleep on the couch, so I got one that I could stand. I'm here more than you are-the place was depressing. You don't like it?" The last question was actually that-a question. For the first time that Xander could remember, Spike sounded vulnerable. Well, if not vulnerable, then at least concerned. As if the vampire could actually care what Xander thought. It gave the boy pause.

With a sigh and a grimace, Xander looked through the apartment again. Spike had installed a tall, dark decorative screen across the picture window. It was carved like the tables in the living room and appeared to fold up. No light escaped from around it. In front of the screen was Xander's tie-dyed bean bag chair. Xander relaxed a bit. For some reason, the sight of his old chair reassured him. Spike hadn't thrown out all of Xander; that ratty old beanbag meant more to the boy than anyone would know.

Moving to his bedroom, Xander surveyed the bed again. The mattresses were the same; but the frame was something else. Like the chandelier in the living room, which had a twin in this room, the bed was made of dark wrought iron. Tall posts rose on each corner, nearly brushing the ceiling. They were made of deeply incised twists and curls. Xander was reminded of drawings of the flames of hell. Worked into the posts were loops and openings in the metal twists that could easily accommodate restraints. The bed itself was covered in unrelieved black, from the dust ruffle to the pillow shams, black satin draped and poured over the bed. It was decadent, beyond decadent. The bed looked like something from a bondage brothel. At the foot of the bed was a large wooden chest, accented with studded leather straps. His nightstands were gone; in their place were new ones matching the imposing iron bed. Centered between the bedposts at the head of the bed was a framed painting, all swirls of red, purple, and black. A screen like the one in the living room covered the window here, too.

Xander leaned against a bedpost and looked at Spike. He could have sworn that the vampire looked worried. "Spike, it's just that.those things were mine. MY things. Yes, they were crap, but they were my crap. This was my place. I was comfortable here."

Spike took a step forward, into the bedroom proper. "Yeah, mate, but what went with it? I mean, every time you looked at the bed you saw the demon bint or the Slayer. Same thing in the living room. All you saw was the Scooby gang laughing their arses off at you. Least now there's none of that." Spike finished, leaning back on the doorframe and lighting a cigarette. "Besides, you can always claim you did it in a rare moment of good taste. Or demonic possession."

Xander choked on a laugh. "It'd have to be that, since no one could believe I have this kind of good taste." He gestured toward the new furnishings. "Willow would faint if she knew I recognized van Gogh and Manet."

Actually, Spike was shocked that Xander recognized the artists. He did not agree that the boy had no taste, however. What he lacked, though, was self-confidence. The vampire was overjoyed that the boy finally seemed to accept the new look. Maybe his plan would end up working. If he didn't get Xander out of this depression, he was going to stake himself.

"Come on, bleach boy. I need food before the meeting tonight." Xander pushed past the vampire and headed for the kitchen.

"Right." Spike followed him into the main room.

*****