It was just before daybreak when Spike left for home. He didn't bother to tell Giles since it was normally assumed that if he wasn't at the shop he would be at the apartment. It took him longer than it usually did to get home as he spent extra time clouding his trail and doubling back to make sure he wasn't followed. Home. He had had so many lairs and boltholes, but a home? Had he ever really had a home? His father's home hadn't been his. The closest he could think of was a few brief years when Darla had run off to her Sire and left Angelus with he and Dru. That had almost been like family, if you had a scary, violent family. *I'm channeling Xander. How the hell do I know if this is 'freaky vampire shit' or if I've just been spending too much time listening to his stream of thought chatter while he channel surfs through a Sunday morning? That's it. If I can change his wardrobe, I can cut down how much time he spends watching the telly.*

He entered the foyer of their building and stashed the blanket he had used to guard against the first light during his bolt from the tunnel entrance. The last thing he needed was Xander spotting it when he left for work. His mate had no problem with Spike seeking a bit of fun with numerous large, dangerous demons, but refused to see the lighter side of him taking unnecessary risk with the sun.

Stealthily Spike let himself into their apartment. When he had accepted Xander's request for his company, the boy had presented him with a key ring with the key to the door, the deadbolt and the storage locker. Xander had tried to pass the key ring off as a joke, but Spike hadn't fallen for his rampant babble. The key ring Xander had chosen for him was a three inch long pewter railroad spike, a perfect miniature of the weapon which had spawned his name. It spoke to something deep inside the vampire that Xander didn't try to deny the scope and violence of his past. The boy may not approve of Spike's history, but he respected it.

Kicking off his boots, Spike then stalked into the bedroom and crawled across the bed until he loomed over his prey. Due to the rash of brownouts, Xander had left the AC off and opted to leave the window open, but the tarp and the shutters, which he religiously secured before going to sleep each night, prevented much movement of the air. The boy sprawled over most of the bed, as if trying to present as much flesh as possible to any stray breeze. Naked, he had kicked off the single sheet with which he covered himself at night.

Spike thought about waking him and having a serious talk - let him know what to expect. Xander wouldn't like Angel meddling. The boy rarely mentioned Spike's Sire so he hadn't really thought about their history - other than that there was one - until the Watcher had brought it up. He had overheard Buffy saying Xander had been jealous of Angel, but Red had hinted to Dawn that there was more there that Buffy wouldn't understand. The sodding ponce would swoop in soon enough whispering trepidations and warnings in his boy's ear. The last thing Spike needed was to waste perfectly good shagging time brooding about Xander's reaction to the poof and Angel's sudden interest in Xander's safety. That could wait. Given the way events unfolded around here they might all be dead tomorrow and if they were Spike wasn't spending his last morning with the boy talking about his Sire or any negative speculation.

Since the sun wouldn't be on that side of the building for hours, Spike crossed to the window and moved the tarp so it prevented the dim light from reaching the bed. Almost immediately the air began to circulate and the room seemed cooler. Spike took a moment to admire the view and decide where to start. He went back to the bed and knelt near Xander. He blew a cool breath over the smooth, almost hairless skin over the boy's sternum and moved up to place feather-light kisses over the base of his neck. Working his way down the lax muscles of Xander's torso he licked and kissed with miniscule pressure until he reached the navel, in which he plunged his tongue. Xander began to stir, his hands reaching blindly for Spike in an attempt to pull him up to face him. Spike had another goal in mind but skimmed up his lover's body, brushing his lips up along Xander warm skin, sensing the blood which pulsed beneath it and let himself be pulled into a full deep kiss. The boy was struggling to rid Spike of his tee shirt, so Spike pulled back to skin out of both it and his jeans.

Xander, still heavy lidded with sleep and now pushing a full bottom lip out as he sulked because Spike had pulled back to undress, couldn't possibly know the wantonly precious picture he presented to his mate. Spike laughed and kissed away the pout. He started to trace his path downward again, fully intending not to be dissuaded from his goal again. Spike lightly tongued the head of Xander's erection before moving down the shaft to its base. He realized that the boy was throwing off his morning stupor when Xander spread his thighs to allow him better access. As a reward for that unasked-for assistance, Spike first sucked one testicle and then the other into his mouth. Xander, true to form, wasn't making much sense, but the babbled words brought a smile to Spike's busy mouth. He was more amused by Xander's continuing effort not to be mute during sex than by any particular blurb of thought that tripped off the boy's lips.

Xander grabbed one of Spike's hands, apparently frustrated by his inability to convey meaning by words, and slapped a tube of lube into it. Spike would have taken a moment to ponder how the boy had reached this and wonder if he had hidden it under a pillow anticipating an early morning assault, if not for the boy's rather fervent insistence that Spike fuck him now. Xander might not be up to speaking, but never let it be said that Spike's boy wasn't a born communicator. As soon as Xander had relinquished the lube to Spike he had grabbed both of his knees and lifted them up almost to his ears. Spike would have to be thick indeed not to get that message. Spike laughed with his mouth full and began quickly preparing Xander with practiced ease.

By the time he was ready to enter Xander, the boy was rather vocal in his encouragement and his request for the shagging to start. At least that was what Spike thought he was trying to say. As he pushed into Xander, wrapping his painfully hard cock in tight blood-warm tissue, and began thrusting into his eager lover, Spike wondered if Xander's affliction was contagious. He knew words of endearment and possession were tumbling out of his mouth, but had no idea what he was saying. Spike hoped Xander was too far gone, too lost in lust and passion to take offense at his possessive terms. Spike did know he was saying 'my' and 'mine' quite a bit, and that contrary to the last twelve hours, Xander would call him on that. Xander had some inner sense which seemed to make him very protective of Spike's pride. That was what most likely had prevented him from protesting the vampire's actions when they'd had an audience. Xander came hard against Spike. The come dripped down and soon they were both drenched in the scent of sex. Spike had watched Xander ride his orgasm and for a moment wondered if the boy had lost consciousness as his gaze unfocused and his mouth slackened. But before he could consider what the human etiquette would be regarding coming in your unconscious lover, intelligence returned to those deep brown eyes and a sated smile brought Spike over the edge. Spike came and collapsed over Xander's body. Instantly he was wrapped in the warm arms and legs. He loved when Xander enfolded him like this. He had no breath to catch and could have rolled off the panting boy, but was reluctant to give up this quiet, perfect moment.

All too soon Xander would be off to work. Spike knew the boy enjoyed his job. Spike stopped by the site once to scope out the competition and let them know Xander was taken. Xander seemed completely unaware that it might be unusual that the crew of workmen and the staff in the office turned to him to make the decisions. They all looked to a boy barely out of his teens to handle the day to day dilemmas of managing a million-dollar site Five years of facing the end of the world on an almost weekly basis tended to trivialize a mucked up order or a couple of workers who couldn't seem to get along. Spike had used his enhanced senses to overhear one of Xander's office girls telling another how the owner of the company marveled at Xander's ability to work under pressure. She had said that it was hard to remember how young he was. And that the reason he had his position had less to do with the boss accommodating a favored worker, than his quick and life saving handling of a fatal crisis that had occurred shortly before Buffy had died. Spike wished he could question Xander about it, without giving away that he had been checking up on him. All he had gathered from his eavesdropping was that some city workers had been performing routine maintenance on a water main under the street that ran in front of the construction when a pipe had exploded. One man was killed instantly and another seriously burned, as it was a gas main that exploded.

The site had been in chaos as flaming chunks of human flesh had accompanied the metal and concrete shrapnel, which injured two of the construction workers who had been eating their lunches near the edge of the site. Xander had strode into the melee shouting orders. He had sent someone to call 911 and had called for the one man on the site he knew had some first aid training from the National Guard. He organized a triage and used site material to block off the street until the fire trucks had arrived. Spike wasn't surprised that Xander's quick action had saved lives. He didn't think it was odd that adults with more experience looked to his boy for guidance; Xander was a natural leader. Xander however, had never shared this particular story with anyone, as far as Spike knew. That was unusual. Xander was a born storyteller. He loved to make his friends laugh or have Dawn sitting on the edge of her seat asking 'then what?'. Thinking about it Spike admitted to himself; Xander's stories were always about someone else. About Buffy, about the Scoobies, but they were never just about Xander, what Xander did, how Xander felt.

Spike reveled in Xander's soft, stroking touches. He put his weight on his hands and lifted himself to look into those warm loving eyes. He was surprised that the smile was sharing space with traces of tears and lifted one hand to trace the tracks. "You're a part of me." Xander said, and Spike was transported to that first empty aching morning after Buffy had died and the boy trying to explain love to the silently grieving girl. "You're in my heart." Xander caressed the side of his face, and Spike figured he had been forgiven his few overly possessive words.

Best to see if he could get forgiven in advance for the that alarm which was about to ring. "Good, because you're going to be quite cross with me, Pet." He spoke softly, trying to control any waver Xander's words might have put in his voice.

"What did you do?" Too bad there wasn't time for a spanking. Xander sounded like he would do him proper, even if he looked like he might start laughing. *Well, since we don't have time for him to stay cross, let's see if I can make him laugh.*

"Me, Pet?" Xander had repeatedly told him that the sight of a vampire trying to look innocent was possibly the most unbelievable sight he had ever seen and began to snicker.

"Did you dust Angel?" The stern voice was belied by the fact that the bed now shook with Xander's silent laughter. The alarm clock picked that moment to go off loudly. Xander winced and reached for it with another adorable pout.

"That's why you'll be cross, luv. Bit of bad timing on my part." Spike smirked and kicked the beautiful body out of bed and rolled himself up in the Xander-scented softness. This was one of the non-shagging perks of not living in the crypt.

The rest of their apartment sported mostly Xander's dorm-room-style furniture with assorted odds and ends, including some that Spike had picked up in various mausoleums and junkyards, but the bed was a nearly new queen size. Xander had splurged to celebrate his escape from the basement of doom. Xander, in his storyteller mode, had told him that Anya had found it listed amount the items in an estate sale. He had then proceeded to impersonate the old man he had bought it from and his reaction to Xander showing up with Buffy to help him haul it back to his apartment.

"Have a good day at work, dear." Spike said, calling Xander's attention to how comfortable he was. He was evil, after all, and it didn't harm the boy to rub in that he would be able to sleep all day.

"Not fair!" Xander knelt back on the bed and kissed his forehead. Despite the groan he had offered in response to Spike's words, his eyes were still lingering on the blonde's naked body and Spike considered how much encouragement it would take to lure the boy back to bed. Before he could act on his half-formed plot, his beautiful boy whispered, "You never have bad timing. Even if we had had all night, I still wouldn't want to leave." No, the boy was never eloquent, his words were never flowery or stilted with practiced formality, but every one rang true. Xander never offered what he thought Spike wanted to hear just to placate him, or to get his own way. He teased and argued but when he spoke with quiet conviction, Spike always knew he meant every word. Xander turned back before entering the bathroom and asked, "It would be wrong to ditch the Angelenos and spend the whole weekend in bed, wouldn't it?"

All thoughts of tempting the boy to stay home from work left him; Spike knew that Xander would just blame himself if he did. So he said, "You're asking me what the right thing to do is? That's rich, Pet." Spike stayed very still, watching as his sweet boy leaned against the doorway frame and frowned down at the floor.

"No, I know what's right." Xander said with a sigh and sounded reluctant to go. "I just. I guess I'm selfish."

That was it. Spike was by the boy's side in a moment, pulling the warm body into a comforting, rather than lascivious, embrace. He cooed words of encouragement to his young lover. As soon as this latest threat to the Hellmouth was settled the boy was taking some down time, even if Spike had to hit him over the head to make him. Twenty was too young to be shouldering the kind of responsibility Xander handled, and admittedly handled well, on a daily basis. The boy needed a vacation, one not involving saving the world or fighting for his life and by all that was unholy Spike would see that he took one. After sharing a tender kiss, Xander was showered and shaved and out of the apartment in under half an hour.

After a brief shower, Spike readjusted the tarp to block any future light that might come while he slept and snagged the peacock blue sheet from the floor and shook it out draping it over the bed. Many equally eye-piercing pillows were tossed about the room and Spike threw them in pairs against the headboard. Then, he curled back up in the sadly empty bed. Ever since the shopping expedition the witches had been giving Xander brightly colored pillows at a rate of about one a week. Xander would suspiciously thank them and find a home for the newest addition; so far he hadn't connected it to Spike. It had all started back when Dawn had organized the 'keep America beautiful by doing something about Xander's wardrobe' campaign. Willow had given Xander the 'throw of many colors' for a house-warming present when he moved in and it was prominently displayed in the living room. Standing in line with Spike at the food court she had confided in him that it was all part of her strategy for satisfying Xander's love of bright clashing colors in a non-publicly humiliating way. Spike had enjoyed her open-mouthed amazement when he had reminisced about his mum's good parlor with its lilac print wall paper and apple green draperies. He had told her that modern Americans' insistence on neutral d�cor was a sign of their inability to commit. They were so sure they were going to sell the house that they never wanted to risk bold, bright colors. He had told her that in his day the clothes were more neutral because the laundry facilities were primitive but that the houses, inside and out, were beautiful, with all the colors of a garden. Since by then she was looking at him as if he were speaking in tongues, he had suggested that she may have better luck getting Xander to part with his riotous shirts if she talked him into painting his apartment something other than the standard off-white. Spike missed the fun he had had pulling Willow's chain before she caught on that there was something between Xander and him. Of course, now he could share with her the details on the creative uses he and his pet had found for all those extra pillows.

To be fair, even before Red had known they were together, she had never let him get away with putting Xander down, even when the boy was not around. She was very protective of Spike's boy. Spike, surprisingly, didn't mind. He should have; it wasn't in a demon's nature to tolerate anyone being close to his mate. Red was different. Spike knew she loved the boy but he didn't consider her a threat, and he wasn't discounting her as a potential rival for Xander's affection just because she was 'doing spells with Tara'. Red was better at some things, more sensitive. She was very attentive to Xander's feeling, even when the boy didn't want to talk. Although Spike would die, so to speak, for his boy, he was often the cause of Xander's emotional pain. Spike knew he ran roughshod over the boy's ego and insecurities. He cursed himself loud and long, but couldn't help blundering over the human's tender feelings. Red was always willing to not only tell Spike how he had fucked up, but to offer help at setting it right. She doted on both of them and he had overheard her refer to them as her boys, which was amusing, since Spike was older than her great-grandfather was. She would talk to Xander for hours on the phone until he finally gave up and told her everything. Though her only excuse for Spike's prickly nature to was 'That's Spike', she would come to the shop and drag Spike into the back to tell him exactly what he had done wrong. They were two stubborn men and would sulk, refusing to speak of their deepest hurts, but Willow always knew when to remind them how good what they had was, and how empty their lives had been without each other.

Thinking this over, Spike thought it might be best to have Willow present if Angel ever got around to bending Xander's ear about how insane it was to be with Spike. He sighed and buried his face in Xander's pillow, inhaling the boy's warm scent, still tasting him in his mouth. How close had he come last night to screwing this all up for good? What would have happened if he and Angel had thrown down right there in Joyce's living room? Red had saved him again. He snorted as he remembered the look on Angel's face when she had said, "Oh, there you are," and sat next to them as if they almost copulated in front of her everyday. Well, they did, but she never remained that calm. Normally she blushed and stammered and backed out of the room. That was fun, too.

Spike wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, or how long he had slept when he woke to both a loud pounding on the door and the continuous ringing of the doorbell. Scowling at the clock, he saw that it was only eleven thirty. He stomped naked to the door. He was tempted to yank open the door full-monty, but that would have violated rule number three, so he checked the peephole. *Oh! Look! A pissed off Sire.* Since most of the neighbors were at work, he opened the door anyway, in flagrant disregard of rule number three, and placed one hand on the inside of the frame and the other on his hip. *Well, that stopped the bloody bell.*

"What?" Spike snapped, before Angel had had a chance to recover.

Angel closed his eyes, shook his head, opened his eyes and said, "You're naked."

"I'm also a bleeding vampire. Did you come all this way just to stand around stating the obvious?" Of course Spike knew the answer to that, but it felt good to have the great and powerful Angelus at a loss.

"Why are you naked, Spike?"

*Oh, do use the 'Spike's a moron' tone, that'll work.* "Because there is a fucking heat wave," Spike snarled. "Only undead nancy-boys like you prance around in bloody great trench coats when the humans are dropping in their tracks from heat prostration."

"Spike, this is Xander's apartment." Angel was now leaning one forearm against the invisible barrier across the door and looking past Spike at what he could see from the door.

"Oy! I know that. I know I'm a vampire. I know I'm naked. And I know who lives here." Spike turned and headed back to the bedroom, he called over his shoulder. "Why are you here? Not in the metaphysical sense, not in the why are you in Sunnyhell - got that - vision - why are here as in why are you standing there," Spike voice was muffled as he pulled a tee shirt on and came out of the bedroom in an unbuttoned pair of jeans, "tossing off and telling me things I already know? And for that matter why are you here at this unholy hour?"

"Spike."

"Oh, come in."

Angel narrowly saved himself from diving face first onto the floor tiles of the small entrance area when Spike interrupted him.

Spike snickered at the sight and made a mental note to have Red do the de-invite spell soon.

"You really live here? I thought you were just." Angel's voice trailed off as he took in the eclectic decor, which mixed both Spike and Xander's tastes.

"You just stop by for a cuppa? Want to reminisce about the good ol' days?" Spike asked as he pulled his boots out from under an end table and started to pull them on. As an afterthought he added, "Or are you trying to steal my Xander?"

"I'm working on a case." Angel said through gritted teeth. "This is important. We," he paused significantly to indicate Spike had no choice in the matter, "are going to shake down as many of the local demon haunts as it takes to find out if anyone new is in town." Crossing his arms, Angel leaned against the living room wall. He looked down at Spike and added, "That is, if you're serious about helping."

Spike snorted. "If it'll get your fat ass out of my town any quicker, I'll sing a bleeding Manilow medley while tap dancing on the Hellmouth. *Red's a dandy little source of information now that she and the Prom Queen check in once a week since Harmony's visit.*

Spike followed Angel out the door. Angel lifted an eyebrow, which was a drastic change in facial expression for the brooding one, when Spike used his key to lock the deadbolt, but said nothing. It was a good thing that Angel had stopped by, Spike thought, but he didn't voice that opinion. Any source Angel might have had from two years ago was most likely relocated to another hellhole, if it was still around at all. Glory had shattered the whole infrastructure of demon society with her join-or-die attitude. With the way her little power play had ended there had been no way that either of those choices were healthy. She or her followers had eradicated most who had hidden or flat out refused to join, and now her minions and followers were all but obliterated. In the weeks since she and the Slayer had perished, Sunnydale had become much like the Wild West; everyone was looking over their shoulder for the new sheriff to come to town. When Angel had lived here, the power structure had been moderately fixed due to the Master's and the Mayor's long term residency. Now empires were built in one night and tumbled down the next. It wasn't even the loss of a Slayer which had caused the upheaval; Nature abhorred a vacuum, and this was all just part of natural selection.

What caught Angel's attention, judging by the looks he was shooting at Spike every time they entered a new squat or bar, was Spike's obvious high rank in whatever pecking order was being established. Spike thought about pointing out that briefly, before coming up with the brilliant idea to kick Alcathla in the ass, Angelus had been Master of the Hellmouth, but decided to save it for when the poof was riding out of his town.

As they walked in silence along the tunnel leading back toward the magic shop, Angel sighed and said, "You're insane." He spoke softly and sounded tired, which may have been why Spike didn't feel inclined to snap at him. Spike didn't answer; he just lit up a smoke and let Angel say his piece. "How long do you think you can hold it? I mean." He trailed off no longer even sounding exasperated, just worried and exhausted, and a little like the Sire who had taught him hunting tricks and explained in that soft brogue that he had to learn more and faster than other Childer because Dru would always depend on him.

Which was why Spike answered at all. Even with this souled up version of his Sire he knew better than to show any weakness to another demon, so it was a hard glare that answered Angel's searching look. Spike said in a cold voice, "Whatever it takes. I'll do whatever it takes. I protect what's mine."

*****
Part 11:

He glared until Angel looked away. That glare held Dru, and Buffy, countless betrayals and all the blood between them, bad and otherwise. It was a different story when they got back to the shop. When they got back to the shop, Xander wasn't there.

"He said he was going shopping!" The prom queen gave her chin a quick lift, up and back, as if she still had long hair to fling about. She drummed her perfect nails against the surface of the table and had the nerve to stare down Spike while he was in game face. "Now, shoo, I have work to do."

"Spike, leave Cordelia alone." Angel emphasized his request by grabbing Spike by the back of the collar of his tee shirt and forcibly escorting him into the back of the store.

Neither his Sire nor the girl seemed at all concerned that Xander was late. This was past the time he normally came in from work. Giles was mumbling something about sixty pizzas. Angel's Watcher had barely glanced up from the book he was reading when Angel had inquired about his newest minion. The Brit hadn't calmed Spike in the least when he had replied, "I believe he is still with Xander. They left some time ago." Spike's perfectly normal reaction, wanting to interrogate the others about where Xander had gone and when he would be back, was, for some unfathomable reason, pissing off Angel.

So now he and his poofed-up Sire were back to growling and pushing each other around - there's progress. They had moved the shoving match out of sight of the steady stream of humans who were out in the store's front room.

"Um...is...is t..this a bad time?" Tara stood hesitantly in the doorway of the training room, her voice was even more quiet than usual. She looked about to cry and both vampires took a tentative step in her direction. Angel, of course, was instantly contrite and shifted to his human face.

Spike leveled a glowing glare at the witch and barked out through fangs, "Where's Xander?"

"I j..just talked to him." The blond witch stepped forward and took Spike's hand. "He should be back soon, he has a phone - do you want me to call him?"

"No." Spike shifted back out of game face. "What the hell is going on?" Spike scowled toward the front room, indicating all the activity. Angel looked nonplussed that this young woman seemed unconcerned by his snarling, dangerous Childe.

Tara shrugged, "Xander set this up. Cordelia said she had no idea that he knew how to get in touch with all these people." Tara stroked his arm and added softly, but not softly enough to keep Angel from hearing, "We have got to get you a phone. I'm sure Xander wanted to call you, but you were out killing things. Ah...Were you? Killing things? Did you find out..?"

"Nah," Spike stopped gnashing his teeth and really looked at the shy witch. This was more than her normal nervousness around all these strangers. With his free arm he reached up and rubbed her back. "Where's Red? Thought you two were joined at the hip?" He offered her a leer and found it disturbing that when she returned a weak smile and seemed to be reassured by it.

"We split up...to cover more ground. She should be here soon. I...I...Spike" She swallowed hard. Spike smelled no fear, but there was uncertainty, sadness, and a helplessness he hadn't sensed from her since shortly after Buffy had died. Her nails bit into his arm and she looked almost as if she were ashamed. "Spike, I ran into Riley. He's back."

Spike snarled and pulled away from the witch. He ripped the heavy bag off of its chain and sent it crashing into the wall. Angel first moved to restrain him and then seemed to think more clearly and stood back, then tried to stop Tara from getting closer.

Spike saw red, lost in the memory of Buffy and how utterly distraught she had been at how she and the soldier boy had left it. The unresolved status of their relationship had caused her a great deal of pain. Finn hadn't contacted her for her birthday, or when Joyce had died. After he had claimed to love her, he had disappeared without looking back. Xander showed more concern for the ex-demon and she hadn't been worthy to have Buffy wipe her feet on her. As far as Spike was concerned, the Slayer had gone to her grave blaming herself for far too many things. Finn's departure shouldn't have been one of them. He was weak and that weakness had endangered her and her minions. If Spike had had a hook like that when cutting his deal with Adam he would have had the chip out long ago; on the downside, Frankendemon would be master of the Hellmouth. The thought of Xander's pet name for Maggie Walsh's favorite son stopped Spike short.

This was not good. He was likely the only one to whom Xander had shown his real feelings regarding the commando. Xander valued loyalty. The boy might forgive a betrayal to himself but was fiercely protective of his 'pack'. Xander hadn't known the whole story when Riley left. Gradually, over time, he had realized exactly what Buffy had meant in her sobbing and fragmented references to their break up. Spike cleared up the last details for him one night on patrol shortly before they had become lovers. Xander's response hadn't been the white-hot rage that he had leveled against Angel for sweeping into town and frightening Dawn and threatening Spike, it had been a loud, scathing tirade. Xander had paced between the tombstones, treating Spike to his quick-witted sarcasm and dead on impersonations. He had played out scenario after scenario of how Riley's 'vampire Russian roulette' could have killed all of them. It was only later, after Spike had finished his sardonic snickering, that he realized what he had witnessed. If you peeled away the comedy routine and looked past the Sunnydale-speak, the boy had boiled down the various elements of the situation and analyzed every way that Finn's 'addiction' could have been used by an opponent. His Xander had one of the best senses of strategy Spike had ever come across. No, this was not going to be good, but Spike gleefully anticipated the meeting of those two.

"Let go." Tara barely whispered at the large strange man who had grabbed her arm. *Wouldn't Red and Xander be pleased that she stood up for herself. Even such feeble resistance must have cost the shy one quite a bit.* Angel let go and Tara slipped past. She placed a palm against Spike's rumbling chest. She didn't flinch from his yellow-eyed glare as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm so bad at this. It was worse with Riley. It was like I sucker punched him. I didn't mean to tell him about Buffy - not like that. But he knew as soon as he looked....Oh God, then he asked about Joyce...." Tears filled the little blonde witch's eyes and her breath came in gasps. "Spike....I couldn't have hurt him more if I tried."

*Good!* Cheering would be in bad form, so Spike pulled the weeping girl into his arms. He rubbed her back and said, "There, there, little bit." The deep rumbling purr that vibrated through him had nothing to do with this warm body in his arms. This sweet child had hurt Finn far more than he could have. Spike gave outward comfort to Red's girl, while drinking in the satisfaction of Finn's pain.

"Find Red." Spike mouthed the words at the great gaping poof while Tara sobbed against his chest. After a brief look of confusion, Angel exited the practice room while Spike continued to make soothing noises. Spike wondered if his mate knew that Finn was in town, but figured that if Tara had just spoken to Xander that he probably did. Spike had never shared the little stake-through-the-heart story with Xander. In the beginning, before they were together, he had figured Xander wouldn't care and later he feared Xander would take some drastic action against Finn. Not that Spike cared if Finn lived or died, or thought Xander couldn't handle the walking biology experiment. But Spike worried that once Xander had hurt the commando, he would blame himself. The boy took on too much guilt and worry as it was; Spike wasn't having that blood-junkie burden his pet with his death.

Willow was suddenly there, smelling of melon shampoo, and gathered her girlfriend into her arms. As she steered Tara toward the stairs leading down into the storeroom, Willow called out over her shoulder. "I got beau coupe hot plates, but Laura said there isn't good ventilation in the kitchen. Angel, will you help Spike rig up some sort of table in here?"

They were gone before Angel finished stammering out his affirmative. In response to Angel's questioning look Spike said, "Well, I'm not following those two down there and that's the only place I can think of to get a table."

"There's an old door out in that dumpster we were hitting each other with. At least it was there last night." Angel said.

Due to rampant sunlight, they ended up having Wesley and Jonothan drag the door into the shop, leaving it for the vampires to clean it and assemble some sort of work surface. The witches had yet to come up the stairs and the prom queen was making dire threats as to what she would do to Xander when he finally got back. Jonothan kept bringing bags, boxes and crates into the back. They contained everything from first aid supplies and cases of soda to fire axes and wooden javelins.

Spike had heard from Dawn shortly after going to bed that morning. She had been at Megan's and called to say they were going over to Stephanie's. The nibblet was amazingly tolerant of the group's overprotectiveness, but tended to treat them all as one entity at times. She would tell one of them what her plans were and where she was, and assume that meant that the rest of them knew. It had led to some laughable incidents of miscommunication.

Laughable with hindsight; not so amusing when he and Xander had tracked her to the fitting room at Old Navy - by scent - in the crowded mall. It still had been hard to explain to the startled pack of teenage girls why he had cast no reflection. Only in Sunnydale could Xander's babbled explanation of 'it's a new security mirror, I've heard that sometimes happens' been met with nods of agreement and one girl actually saying she had seen a segment on the Discovery Channel about it. As Xander had pointed out it could have been worse. At least Old Navy had coed-fitting rooms - twenty minutes later and it would have been The Limited. Spike snorted to himself, earning him a sharp, wary look from Angel, and thought what they ought to assemble in the practice room was a detailed, wall-sized map with a big, movable red 'X' for 'Dawn is here'.

Xander was back. Spike wondered if he had smelled him or heard him. All he was sure of was that he sensed it just before hearing two doors shutting on a large vehicle out in the alley and the sound of feet hitting the ground from a height. Spike closed his eyes and tried to sort though the abundant and varied information that his enhanced senses offered him. Normally he let his brain process the myriad sensations without thought as to what signal had been interpreted to draw any given conclusion, but it was important to him to know if he had sensed his mate's arrival on a physical level, or if they were connected in a less mundane way by some sense he had never yet used. He was lost in this contemplation when warm hands slid around his waist and Xander pulled him flush against his long, lean frame. Spike was surrounded by the scent of sunlight and bathed in the heady aroma of Xander. For a moment the boy paused and seemed with his limited human senses to drink in Spike's scent, and take comfort from embracing his cool tight body.

Xander's breath ghosted along Spike's neck, sending ripples of desire after it as he whispered, "If I bat my eyelashes and string up a tarp, you think I could get some big strong vampire to carry in the groceries?"

*Adorable! He's flirting in right in front of Angel and his minion. Guess that'll let them know what they can't have.* "Try it. Maybe Peaches will volunteer." Spike teased, knowing that even in a low whisper Angel heard every word. *Take that, you big poof, told you he was mine....Hold on. He was where?* "Groceries?" *Pet, I love you, but I wish you came with instructions in English, or at least a translator.*

"Well," Xander smirked and nipped at Spike's ear. "Most of what we got are the ingredients to bake a cake, zombie style, along with a few party favors." *Maybe there are Cliff Notes?*

"Xander, I think you may want to talk to Cordelia," Angel said. Spike glared at him but refused to rise to the bait. Spike was perfectly secure in having the great looming fairy talk to his Xander. He would have been just as secure if Xander's arms weren't tightly holding his back flush with the boy's warm chest.

Xander didn't even look at the poof; he was still nuzzling Spike's neck when he murmured against it, "What? She doesn't like being worshipped by the masses?" Then he released Spike.

The look in Xander's eyes as his gaze traveled up Spike's body to finally meet his eyes spoke of longing and need. The boy looked tired as well as horny. Xander swallowed audibly. Spike could see his randy lad struggle against his libido and firmly throttle it into place. To break the thick air of desire which had settled between them in that heated look Xander rapped his knuckles against the door and asked, "What's this for?"

While Spike was updating Xander on the recent activity at the shop, they were interrupted by an angry cheerleader. Xander calmed her with a few words and sent the new boy out with Angel's minion to string up a tarp between the truck and the back entrance to the shop. Soon they were alone, accompanied only by the poof, who feigned interest in the piles of supplies, while Spike looked at Xander - really looked. The boy looked tired, not worked-all-day-slayed-all-night-let's-spend-the-week-end-in-bed tired, but running on reserves, nothing but caffeine and sugar tired. For too long Xander had been writing his body IOU's for sleep and living on take out food. Spike vowed to take better care of his mate - if they made it through until tomorrow.

"You all right, Pet?" Spike asked, reaching over to cup Xander's face and rub his thumb along his boy's stubbled jaw. A flash of loss and confusion and perhaps the desire to curl up in Spike's arms and shut away the world crossed the suddenly pain-filled brown eyes before Xander tried to answer.

It wasn't hard for Spike to follow Xander's disjointed and fragmented answer. The boy was overwhelmed, not by the actions he was taking but by their anticipated consequences. Spike pulled him into a tight embrace, and over Xander's shoulder watched realization steal over his Sire's face. This young man, who had done more about this most recent crisis in the past twenty-four hours than all the rest of them dithering about, had been two years younger when he put the same children he had raced around the playground with in the front lines and watched them die. And now he was doing it again. This time he lacked the naivete of believing that he could keep them all alive. He had to go into this battle knowing that if he lived through it he would most likely have more blood on his hands. Spike could give a rat's ass about the lunchables of Sunnyhell, but Xander would feel every injury, every death, with his whole being.

Spike waited until Xander finished lamenting. Spike wasn't sure if he had been talking about graduation or now when mentioned not having a chance in hell, but decided now was not the time to indulge Xander's tendency to assume responsibility for events he had no control over. He loosened his hold and looked deep into Xander's eyes. Spike spoke low and soothing but with firm conviction. "No one has a chance in Hell, love. Trust a demon's word on that, or if you don't, ask Peaches. That's why you fight, to prevent Hell from being here, to keep this place a little better than Hell. It must be working; otherwise all the Hellspawn wouldn't be trying to crash your party."

It was the right thing to say and earned him a kiss and a thank you. After another interruption, this time from Xander's blood dealer friend - who apparently insulted Angel by treating him like a vampire - Xander sent Angel to round up the others for a strategy session. Spike watched Xander blink and nod while the crazy red-haired bint explained how to make explosives out of common household chemicals. When Xander said, "Okay, great," Spike was convinced the boy hadn't understood a word. Spike shadowed his mate as he went from one person to the next, calming and instilling confidence with a wide smile and a few joking words. No wonder he had caught Angel watching his Xander so intently - this was not the same boy he had left here two years ago. Spike glared at Angel the next time he saw him looking at Xander, but received only a blank look in reply.

*****