*****

"Think of my lips, as the fruit roll-ups of lovvvvve. Okay, that was gross. I'm a little distracted. Willow was really upset, I shouldn't have let her go away mad."

"No, it's okay because now I'm picturing you using the tote-fruity Hum-Dinger condoms - You look very sexy!"

"We don't have any left."

"Oh!" Disappointment.

"Oh?"

"Well. See, now I've got it into my head that I *have* to see you using that brand of synthetic protection. I think it's a female thing because I'm suddenly feeling very disappointed and losing the desire to interlock parts. I'm also feeling the need to pout and eat ice-cream until you go get some."

Xander pulled back from the position of just about to kiss Anya and stared.

"Okay, now? You want me to go get some, now?"

"Yes, now would be good. I've listened with patience while you talked about your friend, Willow and made all the appropriate supportive girlfriend noises. And now I'm feeling the need to be appreciated to validate my womanly show of emotion, which I think is very fair."

Xander tried to process this strange turn of Anya events. Battling between the desire to tell her how stupid she was being, and the knowledge that telling her would make the whole conversation moot - because calling Anya stupid was a sure fire way of putting sex on the bottom of the menu. Way below ice-cream, chocolate and other gooey substances.

"We've got a couple of the black, extra strong licorice. Couldn't you try imagining me in tangy licorice?"

"No."

"Alrighty, mint?... We have mint?"

"No.... Do you have any cookie-dough ice-cream. Or chocolate-chip with sprinkles?"

Watching resolution settle across his girlfriend's face, Xander could see that his chances of sex were decreasing rapidly. He didn't need to be a genius to recognise a feminine quick change in direction. And the way she was scanning the room - the hungry look in her eyes at the mention of 'sprinkles', sort of decided it for him, because *Nothing can defeat the Penis! *!

"Right, I... I mean, right. I'll get my coat!"

Pushing on sneakers while pulling on a jacket, Xander headed out the door giving a quick cheer for males everywhere. Who said you had to be female to multi-task? Who needed oestrogen when you had a whole, big dose of testosterone fuelling your actions, backed up by a hefty whack of un-sated lust, it's a well know fact that teenage boys have sex on the brain.... Watching TV, on the bus, sitting in English class watching Miss. Runeinsky's tight little pink sweater strain every time she took a breath. Watching the washing machine in the basement roll the clothes over. If a teenage boy could get a dime for every time sex crossed his mind, or a dollar for every inappropriate erection - he wouldn't need a college education. He could say *screw* education and live off the fat of his libido.

Slamming the door behind him, Xander started to head down the driveway into the Sunnydale night, just as....

"Owwwff!" He felt himself being slammed into the side of his parent's house by a sold object.

"Spike?" Recovering his equilibrium, Xander gaped when he realised the solid object was Spike.

"Spike? What are you doing?" Full Vampire face, fangs just inches from his flesh and a growl that said PREDATOR in big neon letters, and a full body press that pushed his back right into the wall and squished his sensitive manly bits. "Get off of me, you, Bleached Freak!"

"Been watching you, Pet. Through the basement window. I've been watching you this last... fifteen minutes and fighting the urge to just rip my clothes off an' throw myself at the glass like a bug on a windscreen. I'm drawn to you, luv. You're the magnet an' I'm the iron filings."

"You're the whata and I'm the whoa?" It was hard to talk coherently, with a vampire plastered against you like a band aid over a cut.

"Magnet, filings.... Me, you. Me covering you like a... a cellophane wrapper over a pack of mentholated smokes!"

And, twice as hard to remove. "Okay, quit it, Spike. Nice as this is an' all. I really don't feel like playing sardines with a crazy vampire. I hear the blood banks' doing an 'all you can slurp through a straw' day, why don't you get your undead ass over an' beat the rush?"

"Shut up, Harris.... I... I don't know why, but I'm suddenly feeling the need to get closer to you than I've ever been to anybody before!"

"Yeah, well, vampire psych 1-0-1 aside, I *totally* don't want you close to me. In fact, the other side of Sunnydale wouldn't be too far away... and stop with the sniffing, I'm starting to feel like a free sample on a perfume counter (and I *so* need male friends!)"

"One minute, I'm at the, Watcher's. The next I'm roaming around the bloody Sunnydale campus, suddenly feeling the urge to leave town. Then I'm pulled here like a fish on a hook to ogle you. Smooching with your demon honey - and I have this powerful need to.... Bloody hell! What have you done to me, you... strong, hard, hunk of human... With your warm body an' your strong thighs, which I can feel though the fabric of your pants.... And is that a stake in your pocket, Luv or are you just pleased to see me?"

Xander managed an "EW" as Spike pressed in closer. He was too startled to manage a louder ew as the object of Spike's little innuendo was given a nudge by a vampiric thigh.

He did manage a strangled squeak, as the change in position gave his left thigh a good idea of the state of Spike's stake.

Spike's spike was happy. Thank god, constrained in black pants, but definitely more get out an' have fun, than stay home and watch re-runs with a pizza and some nectary goodness.

Finally managing to extricate his arms from his vampire blanket, Xander tried to push Spike away. Even for Sunnydale, this went way beyond the usual weirdness. And he had condoms to buy and a girlfriend to... get back to... and it was getting hard to breath. "Spike? You're crushing me."

Up went the eyebrows. Even at close range, Xander could tell it was a two-eyebrow rise, which was quite worrying. One eyebrow equalled Spike sarcasm and caustic wit. Two eyebrows, he'd never seen Spike raise two eyebrows before!

"Don't want to crush you, Pet - make you all dead and such.... Which is strange because I usually want to kill you and bathe in your blood!"

Xander gaped. Spike not wanting to kill him was as likely as Willow going the whole wicca, or Giles saying the 'F' word. Or his parents going tee-total and taking up religion. It was as likely as the Bleached Bad, going totally bananas and trying to get into the Buffsters pants - and her letting him!

"Okay. Have you gone totally out of your mind? You hate me. You've always hated me. I try to stake you, you try to kill me. You make with the big evil - Buffy kicks your ass. It's the way we do things, you... strangely limpet-like freak of nature."

"Oh - I still hate you, Harris. Just feel compelled to.... Bugger!"

"Huh?"

"Fyarl demon, luv.... Oooof!"

Suddenly having a nose to nose with Spike developed a new appeal, as before you could say 'switcheroo', the Man with the Fang was replaced by something that looked suspiciously like Xander's Uncle Rory, the morning after the night before.

The resemblance was uncanny. Right down to the snot dripping off of its nose and the red rimmed eyes. And the way it was looking at him sort of made him want Spike back. Whatever Spike was up to, it didn't include the pulling out of the Xanman's intestines and the liberal application of pain.

"Mommy?" Xander whimpered as a mucus dripping, heavy-on-the-teeth mouth descended.

Just as the not so pearly whites of the Fyarl demon, who so obviously didn't practice dental hygiene, were about to take their first bite of tender Scooby flesh, a white hand appeared, snaking around the rubbery neck and yanking. Flinging the slippery slime fest to one side and grabbing the opened mouthed human.

"I can't protect you, luv. This chip in my head. You an' me are gonna have to take this conversation someplace more private."

"It was gonna kill me to death!"

"That it was, Pet."

"You saved me?"

"Shagging-bollocks-bloody hell, I did, didn't I?" And, I feel good about it! I usually only feel this good after a nice spot of bloody mayhem or a good..."

"Whatever - it's getting up and we have to find something to squish it. Anya's inside and I don't want it snotting her to death."

"And, why do I care if it makes with the munchies on your demon bint? When are you lot gonna get it into your heads... I'm evil! Just 'cause Spike can't play with the other puppies anymore, doesn't make me a white-hat. Anyway, they probably know each other, Fyarl demons have very large penises."

"And *totally* ignoring the slight on my girlfriend and taking the large 'EWW' as given. Are you gonna help me kill it? 'Cause it's on its feet and heading back over."

"In a nutshell. No!" And with that, Spike lunged forward in a flapping of black leather and cloud of cigarette smoke and scooped Xander up, hoisting him over one shoulder and proving that not only firemen could do a fireman's lift.

As the Fyarl demon closed in, Spike headed out, using vampire speed to out distance the larger, clumsier demon. Even with a Xander weighing him down, Spike still managed to sprint through the suburbs of Sunnydale to the only secluded spot he could think of.

The only place nobody ever went anymore. It didn't hold particularly good memories for him, but even without a mucus-throwing demon chasing them, a vampire wasn't safe on the streets anymore with the commando blokes roaming about. He was lucky he got out with all his bits attached and just his bite not working.

After a bumpy ride across town and a face full of Spike's ass, Xander felt himself being deposited on a pile of what smelled like last years socks. Blinking rapidly as the blood rushed back where it belonged, Xander finally shut up. Babble seemed to be an autonomic response when under stress and right now, he couldn't stress how stressed he was. Spike, the crazy chip-head, had left Anya a demon away from certain death and he had to go save her.

Pushing himself up from his bed of rags and trying to ignore the throbbing in his nose from the repeated bouncing it had taken against Spike's ass. He faced off with Willie-wanna be, the fruitcake in leather.

"Okay, *now* you've completely lost it. What, has all the bleach finally gotten to your brain? Buffy is so gonna stake your British bum when she hears about this. Haven't you learnt already, whatever schemy-scheme you're scheming it's not gonna work? If anything happens to Anya before I get back there won't be enough of you to fill an ashtray!"

Remembering to breath, Xander glowered at Spike as he tried to brush off some of the dust clinging to the goo clinging to his clothes and headed for the door an' out of this alternate reality.

"My, aren't we the sexy little, puffed up manly-man? Being all broad shouldered and heroic like? But don't worry about the girl, Luv. Like as not, the bad's already packed up its bag of tricks an' headed out. Might be all big an' burly on the outside, but Fyarl demons don't go for sugar and spice an all things nice, Pet. They like the slugs an snails an' puppy dogs tails that come all rapped up in a nice, tight...."

Xander stopped dead in his tracks, foot poised over the threshold of Angel's old mansion and turned his head back, slowly.

"What?"

Spike hadn't moved. He was still standing exactly as he had after dropping Xander to the floor. Amid the chaos and debris of the abandoned room, he stood out like a pair of new shoes in a junk shop. Clean and new and sort of sexy, in a destructive, dangerous kind of way. And as he turned his head, mirroring Xander's actions to stare back, he looked every inch the predator he was underneath the chip. Ready to slide up with his seductive smile and take what he wanted.

"What'd you say?"

"It didn't want her, Pet. It was after taking a taste of your juicy flesh."

Like Adam at the Garden of Eden, when Eve offered him the apple and Adam's curiosity got the better of him, Xander turned around and headed back. Sometimes danger was too seductive to turn away from and Xander was only human. Like a lemming looking over a cliff and thinking, 'boy, that's a long way down... wonder what's at the bottom?' he walked over to stare into the blue eyes of doom.

"What'd I do to it?"

Spike's smile had grown into a grin. A full on, Spike grin. Complete with head tilt and flashing blue eyes and the wet lip curl Billy Idol pinched in the eighties. Only on Spike it looked more sort of sexy, less punk, more prowl.

"It wasn't what you did to it. It was what it wanted to do to you."

Xander frowned. "And, huh?"

Following the head tilt full circle, Spike sighed.

"Pretty obvious, Mate. If you speak Fyarl - which I do. It was courting you. Well, either that or offering to impregnate you with its spawn out of wedlock. Either way, it wanted to shag you silly, sillier. I saved you, Luv.... You gonna thank me all proper like?"

"What, you want money? 'Cause I only got enough for a packet of condoms an' a Twinkie."

"Don't need condoms, Luv."

"They're for, Anya."

"Pet - She got something hidden down there you want to tell me about?"

"Ew... and ew!... and, why are you suddenly so close? Personal space issues, pal. Back off."

"Cause you walked up to me... and you smell...."

"*Again* with the sniffing, What is it with you? Those lab guys mix some Blood hound into..."

"Bad! You smell bad, think it's the mucus. Better take your kit off before it hardens. Don't want your tight little body getting all... hard...."

Nose to forehead with Spike, Xander chewed his lower lip, covering it in saliva and making it shiny.

"Ah-ha and, this would be the part where I say, 'Spike. Get your hand off of my thigh, you evil, undead thing.'"

"And, then I'd reply. Can't luv. Even if I wanted to, which I don't. Mucus is hardening. Only way to get rid of me is to take your hot little hands... and use 'em to get out of your pants."

"....Holy-Moly?"

"Sort of win-win situation, because for some reason having ahold of your meaty thigh is sending tingles to places I never though you'd send tingles to, what with you being the Slayer's donut boy and the like. An' the thought of getting you pant-less behind the Slayers back? Well, that's just icing."

"You know? Wils told me I need to practice male bonding.... But I kind of don't think this was what she had in mind. Okay I mean, I sort of figured watching TV and... erm... talking sports while imbibing liquid refreshment and... you know, eating stuff with no nutritional value while ogling girls...."

"We're getting all stiff, luv."

"Huh?...

"Paralysis - it's the mucus."

"Para.... Oh, right- my bad. You know, for a moment there I thought.... but, you're funny, with the... and the - but not in an amusing way, more 'back away an' avoid eye contact'. Which I'm totally gonna do, as soon as I get my pants off.... Which may be a problem because my hands are totally not moving."

"Yeah - I get what you thought, luv. We'll save that little ditty for later shall we? Right now, Spike's gonna show you what over a hundred years of existence has taught him to do one handed...."

"And, can I say - EEP!"

***

After being around for over one hundred and twenty years, slaughtering his way halfway across Europe and meeting all manner of strange and unusual creatures, Spike had learnt a lot. Some of it useful, some not. How many people cared that Mona Lisa wasn't smiling just picking some food out of her teeth with her tongue and how many people were really interested in knowing that a painting was the only way she'd get to see what she looked like, because looking in a mirror had stopped being an option over a hundred years before.

But one of the things Spike had picked up on as one fourth of the Scourge of Europe - was how to get out of pants single-handed.

A good imitation of adult Twister later and Spike had Xander out of his pants and stretched across a pile of faded velvet curtains, probably left over from the Poof's brief incarnation as Angelus. They certainly weren't something the self-flagellating souled version would indulge in. Thinking back to the wheelchair and his dark princess usually pulled at the place where Spike's heart used to be, but not today.

Today Spike felt freer than he had since that night in a dark alley, when he'd met a beautiful woman who wasn't really a woman at all and who'd turned his existence upside down and taken his life in one beauteous, effulgent moment.

As he looked down at the still partially paralysed Xander, neatly arranged by a demented vampire like an all you-can-eat-buffet after a long day of self-deprivation, the past seemed a world away.

All Spike could concentrate on was the strange, all-consuming compulsion he'd developed... exactly an hour and a half ago, when he'd been pulled like a puppet on a string to watch the Slayer's donut boy through the dirty window of the lads basement. Stuffing his face with empty calories and slurping his fingers clean. The image of the boy slowly inserting one finger at a time and sucking.

Spike had wanted to be those dirty digits.

"If I'd known that'd have me nearly coming I'd have baked a cake!"

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just thinking."

"How about thinking me up some clean pants and a cure? My ass is cold and I'm sort of feeling exposed here."

Spike gave Xander a quick once over, surveying the nummy treat from tip to toe and coming back the centre of things.

"Shouldn't be feeling just a little exposed, luv. Those knickers are a crime against nature.... Heinous, evil!... And, is Donald really happy having his innocent little cartoon mouth wrapped around your...."

"*Hey* - leave the duck alone, pal!" Xander tried to squirm; he loved his Donald Ducky shorts, Willow had given them to him. He wasn't firm about many things, but when Anya had told him to take them off, well, ok he had. But he'd refused to trash them after the sex! He could feel himself blushing as Spike bent down further for a closer look.

Like watching a car wreck in slow motion, Xander couldn't help but stare. It was sort of fascinating in a disgusted-with-himself-but-kind-of-naughty way and when Spike's nose bumped Donald's beak, Xander had to push aside the flash back to 'Star Trek - First Contact' as he realised the paralysis must be wearing off because he felt the light impact through the thin material.

"Donald's doin' it for himself?"

"It's a logo." Oh yeah, defiantly wearing off because Spike's cool breath pushed right through and sent shivers.... Xander would have closed his eyes and done a silent freak out, but the sight of Spike talking to his penis? It was kind of, ok, it was a lot of erotic, but also funny. In other circumstances Xander would have been filling the much-maligned shorts at having something with so many teeth just millimetres away from, well.... But this was Spike, the chip head, the evil undead, scourge of Europe, who was fascinated by his little General... and if Spike kept up with the breathing, the little General may just have to have a promotion!

"Spike, what are you doing? This... this is totally weirding me out..."

And, suddenly the silence seemed to thicken as Xander craned his neck to get a better view of Spike, as Spike nuzzled? Whatever Xander's thoughts of sex were as he'd pulled on his coat and scrambled out the basement on a quest for birth control with extra fruity zest, he'd never imagined the bleached bad in the picture.

Even in his work-the-wood-behind-the-bathroom-door moments, it had always been the girlies sliding their hands along and.... Even that time he'd held his arm above his head until all the feeling had gone so he could pretend it was somebody else, it sure wasn't Spike's cool whites he'd imagined when he'd....

"Is this your latest evil plan? Get the sidekick all worked up an'.... 'Cause you know, mess with the Xanman's head day was yesterday, today's be nice to the slayer's friend or you'll be living off of small rodents an' things that crawl, buddy!"

Xander's neck was beginning to get stiff from the unnatural angle and his neck wasn't the only thing stiffening. Definite nuzzling going on, Spike had pressed his nose in and started to slowly rub like a big old pussy cat.... Which was bad, very bad for the Scooby, because - Friction!

Spike found the urge unstoppable, undeniable, irresistible. Whatever had taken possession of his brain and thrown him head first into - whatever it was with Xander Harris, couldn't be denied. If Spike could crawl into his skin, he would. But as that wasn't an option, what with the chip an' all, he'd just have to find some other way to scratch the itch throbbing at the back of his skull.

Spike's fingers twitched at his sides, he had itchy fingers like the tealeaf he purported to be but never was. Because Spike had never picked a pocket or slipped a hand into a gent's pouch and pinched his purse. This was the age of electronic thievery and computer chips that stole the bite off of creatures that lived to cut a bloody swathe through the populace.

"Not messing with you.... Not that I couldn't if I wanted to... an' don't mention 'fluffy', definite buzz-kill, luv."

And there is was, Spike's fingers hooking under the band of Xander's rapidly widening shorts, sneaking forward and slipping a nail under.

"Yeah - like you'd ever.... And are you touching?? Naughty touching, Spike. Stop with the, the fingers! My manly parts are for Anya only and.... Okay, deep breathe.... I'm thinking nuns, short hairy nuns... and Mrs. Ballinsky from Geography with the... the hairy legs an' the cleavage that *totally* made me understand Newton's gravity thing because if those puppies got any lower she'd be knocking 'em with her knees and damn! Knockers? That's British for boob, right? Shit! Giles - Giles with the cleaning of glasses and large reference books, okay, *so* not helping.... My mom, my mom with the housecoat from hell and a glass in her hand telling me what a disappointment I am... and Wow! Oedipus complex, Freudian slip? Slips - frilly stuff under clothes. Girl clothes and... Oh geeze, now I've got Giles dancing in my head in a cotton nightie with a large text - which is totally disgusting - Oh thank *God*, father figure. If I can just...."

"*Shut up*! Bloody, shut up! Jesus, mate. It's like somebody turned a tap on. Can't you just go with the moment?"

"And... and, would this be the moment you take your hand out of my shorts and off of my?..."

"Look, for some reason I'm not winding you up, well - ok, I am. But not like you think. For some reason I still can't fathom, I want you more than bloody blood! Can you imagine how desperate a vamp would have to be to admit that? Right now, you could show me the pinkest, prettiest little virgin in the whole of Sunnydale and I wouldn't even want a taste, not a drop for Spike. *That's* how bad I've got, whatever this is. So can you just shut your yap for two minutes and let me get on with what I'm doing?"

"Ah.... But, Spike? You're doing *me*?"

"Yes. I have noticed that, zero-brain boy! Now, shut up, get comfy and enjoy the ride!"

It is a well known fact to all those interested, that the effects of Fyarl demon mucus, while debilitating, aren't permanent. Unfortunately one of the last symptoms to dissipate is the paralysis. This means, if the victim lives long enough for the effects to fade, they usually regain sensation just in time to feel the full onslaught of an incredibly stupid demon, ripping them limb from limb and pummelling them to a bloody pulp with what ever appendage is most easily removed. As they say in the Demon world, if you're stupid enough to mess with a Fyarl - you're probably armless.

But if Xander was anything he was a survivor, and seeing Spike push down his shorts like his penis was a thing of reverence? Okay, that was kind of hot and watching the big bad lick his lips and.... Adaptable, Xander was also very adaptable and Spike was kind of sexy, in a compact but wiry way.

"Ahhrrr!" Speech became a thing for sane people, who didn't have a vampire slowly working his way down their penis and sucking like somebody had turned on the turbo. And Spike was good, maybe it was a vampire thing because Anya never managed to deep throat the way Spike was and, tongue. Tongue with just a light scraping of teeth and Xander was seeing stars. Bright, shiny stars floating in front of his eyes and dancing. And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

Spike pulled back with a wet slurp and a quick clearing of the throat.

"Not enough, mate!"

"Huh?"

Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, Spike looked at the dark pink bobbing member, watching it glisten with spit as it caught the light.

"Not enough, I need...." A frown creased Spike's forehead as he searched his pockets, digging into the depths until bringing a hand up triumphantly. "This!"

"Hair gel?" Xander gaped in-between panting like there was no tomorrow, because damn - Spike was *good!

"Hair gel, pet. Because you're. I need...." Spike paused, for once in his unlife lost for words. "More. I need more, luv. You're magnetic. I'm drawn to you, you're a demon magnet, luv and I want - can't think why, but I want you so deep inside me when I breathe out I'll be taking you with me."

As Xander watched Spike unbelievably peeling his pants off and shedding his duster a nagging suspicion started to eat at him. Where had he heard those words before?? Work brain, work! Everything was so familiar.... Two white globes appearing pushed everything into place. Moon, full moon, Spike full moon? - witches, Willow. Something about Willow and her griefy-me mood swings?

And as Spike proved that his hair gel was indeed the slickest brand around, Xander gasped as Spike also proved he wasn't all mouth, and groaned as Spike ground down, and Xander couldn't help but grin as Spike threw his bleached blond head back and enjoyed the ride.

Sensation had returned, as Spike rode Xander like a rodeo king, using milky white thighs to slide up, swivelling his hips as he went like a Latin Lothario and moving his body like a lounge lizard. And, wow! Maybe Xander should rethink the whole Anya thing as Spike reached down and touched something that a couple of hours ago would have had Xander scurrying off to the land of denial like a rat leaving a sinking ship. Pelvic thrusts proved movement had returned as he pushed up, meeting the blond half way and feeling the burn. This was way better than going to the gym.

Gasps, grunts and wet noises salted the air as Xander fucked Spike into this side of next week and he kind of knew he shouldn't be doing it, but if felt so good - and kind of naughty. And he'd totally get with the Willow thing, just as soon as he'd fucked Spike some more.

~fin~