Late Night Double Feature by Kimberly A

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is trademark 20th Century Fox. The world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the characters within are derivative of works copyright © 20th Century Fox, 1997-2004. No copyright infringement is intended.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Nothing Like the Sun: S/X – http://www.nothinglikethesun.com/SX/
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: After season 5. AU after that. No Buffy.
Author's Notes: The sequel to "It's Just A Jump To The Left."
Pairing: Xander/Spike

Summary: Xander faces the consequences of the time loop and realizes that making changes in his relationship with Spike isn't quite as easy as he'd like.

Spike was kissing him. They were on Xander's bed and Spike was on top of him, face-to-face, Xander's legs spread high and wide, calves resting on Spike's shoulders as he fucked him, slow and hard, kissing him all the while with that rough, insistent hunger, their tongues sliding against each other just as Spike's cock slid inside of him.

"Oh god, yeah," Xander moaned against Spike's mouth, panting. "Like that. Right there. Oh god."

He was getting close, and Spike seemed to know, seemed to just know what he wanted without him having to say anything. Xander's cock was throbbing between them, rubbing against Spike's stomach with every slowly speeding thrust as Spike began to change his pace, making Xander writhe in desperation.

"Oh god," he groaned. "Oh god, yeah, faster, oh god, oh god, yeah…" Xander's head pressed back into the bed, his back arching, he was so close…so close…

Spike began pounding into him, kissing him just as hard, kissing him and fucking him as if he couldn't get enough, as if Xander was his whole world and he wanted to climb inside and never come out. Then Xander felt Spike's body stiffen against him and he knew Spike was coming inside him, and he heard himself cry out, "Yes!" as he came so hard that a few drops hit his chin.

When he'd recovered, Xander rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the condom off of the dildo and tossing it into the trash can by the bed, where it joined many of its brethren. He put the dildo and the lube into the bedside table and closed the drawer. He wiped himself off with a paper towel from the roll on the floor.

He sat there for a while, not really thinking about anything, just feeling vaguely depressed.

After a while, he stood up and went into the bathroom to wash up, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror. He didn't want to look at that guy, that sad guy who spent pretty much every night fucking himself with a piece of plastic and imagining it was his best friend's cock.

Sometimes he felt like a liar, not telling Spike about everything that happened in the time loops. Sort of like he'd molested Spike in his sleep or something. But how was he supposed to tell him now, months later? Remember all those time loops I told you about a while ago? Well, I left out this one tiny detail where you kind of fucked me in the ass repeatedly and I liked it and would like to have it happen again, now, for real. So how 'bout it? And, anyway, they really were friends now, and Xander didn't want to fuck that up. Literally. Or metaphorically. Or whatever.

He dried his hands and walked naked to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator door and took out a carton of orange juice. He sat down at the kitchen table and tilted his head back, drinking straight out of the carton, and then looked down at the postcard sitting on the table. He'd left the refrigerator door open, and it lit the room in a strange, elongated rectangle. Xander took another drink of juice and looked again at the postcard.

Well, it wasn't really a postcard, not exactly. The front showed a black-and-white photograph of a man wearing only a leather collar, kneeling at the feet of another man who was shown only from the very muscular – and very naked – thigh down. On the other side was printed info about a party at a club. A sort of sex club type place. From what Xander gathered from the blurb, the place seemed to specialize in domination games.

Okay, so, yeah, he'd had a few – okay, a lot – of those kinds of fantasies about Spike since the whole time loop thing. Sometimes he imagined them being romantic…and sometimes he imagined them being just really raunchy and intense…and sometimes he imagined Spike telling him what to do, sort of like in the time loop, all commanding and…well…dominant.

He wasn't actually planning to go to the club. Because what if somebody recognized him? And, anyway, he wasn't interested in that sort of stuff – or any kind of stuff – with anybody except Spike.

But he was awfully curious. He wished he could go and just watch, just see what other people did. Then he could imagine what it would be like if Spike…

Xander swiped his hand across the table and sent the postcard flying. It fluttered crazily, reflecting the light from the refrigerator in a strange mini-strobe effect, before landing somewhere in the shadows on the linoleum. Xander shoved the juice carton away, too, and let his head fall into his hands.

He suddenly felt a little guilty for all those years with Willow, back when they were in school. 'Cause this "pining for your best friend" thing sucked, big time.

In the flickering shadows of the living room, Willow and Dawn turned around simultaneously and shushed them. Tara just continued placidly watching the screen.

Spike was only quiet for a few seconds before he was griping again. "And, anyway, this is not a classic. The Iliad is a classic. Anarchy in the U.K. is a classic. This? This is rubbish."

"This is a very moving parable: the tree nobody wanted, finally finding a loving home. It's touching."

"Hey! Don't be all prejudiced based on ornament supportage! It's a good tree! I've always identified with that tree!"

"Yeah, well, you would, Harris. This shite is written for every pathetic tosser who ever wished somebody would finally see their 'inner beauty' and suddenly want 'em around. World doesn't work like that, whelp. Nobody loves a loser. Not even another loser."

Xander crossed his arms and didn't reply, determinedly watching his beloved cartoon, the rare happy piece of his childhood, the best thing about Christmas…which Spike had just pissed all over.

The show was almost finished when Spike leaned over and whispered in Xander's ear in a vaguely apologetic tone, "Just can't stand this maudlin holiday shite. Makes me want to stake myself."

Xander didn't turn his head, but whispered, "Well, you don't have to ruin it for everybody else."

Spike didn't apologize, but he did slump in a sort of defeated way that Xander knew meant he'd won the argument. So he nudged Spike and smirked at him in the flickering light. Spike elbowed him in return, and suddenly everything was okay again.

When the show was over and the lights were on, Willow said with a mischievous grin, "Now Xander's supposed to do the Snoopy Dance."

Xander gaped in horror and looked around at all the expectant faces now staring at him. Spike and Dawn looked particularly excited at this opportunity for mockery. Xander glared at Willow, who merely shrugged impishly and said, "It's tradition!"

"Oh, pleeeeeeeease, Xander?" Dawn had that whining thing down pat, yessirreebob.

"Okay," Willow interrupted, now looking a bit apologetic at having put Xander on the spot. "That was kind of mean and I'm sorry, and anyway it's really late. Sleepy time."

Dawn groaned and began to complain, but Spike said firmly, "Bed. Or no presents," which had her leaping to her feet and bidding everyone a hasty goodnight before racing up the stairs.

Willow looked at Xander and Spike, still sprawled on the couch. "You guys are both staying tonight, right? Presents in the morning?"

Spike sighed heavily and hefted himself off the couch. "I'll do all this Christmas tripe for the Bit, but I don't want to hear any complaints about running patrols tomorrow. Those Bregni demons are still out there and they won't be stopping for eggnog and carolling."

Willow and Tara both nodded, and Willow said, "Got it. Presents in the morning, demons in the evening. It's a wonderful Scooby Christmas."

Xander got to his feet shrugging, "You don't celebrate Christmas anyway. Jewish, remember? Not everyone worships Santa? I seem to remember a certain young lady saying these things pretty much every year?"

Willow smiled slightly, and she and Tara held hands. "It's for Dawn," Tara said gently. "It's her first Christmas without Buffy. We want her to be happy." Yeah, they were saying her name now without wincing, though it still wasn't very often. Sometimes they even talked about the good times, remembering the Buffster for more than just a leap off a tower and an unexpected goodbye.

Xander felt a bit embarrassed and chastened at the reminder, but he nodded understandingly. "Right. Duh."

Xander turned around to see Spike grinning evilly. "Just us blokes now, Harris. Let's see that Snoopy Dance."

The next day was the usual Christmas morning scene. Torn wrapping paper all over the floor. Sleepy vampire on the couch. Lesbian witches rubbing noses and kissing. A blob of mystical energy in the shape of a girl squealing over every new present. And Xander Harris: Construction Worker to the Hellmouth. Yep. Just your average Christmas in Sunnydale.

Everyone got great presents, of course. They'd all been spending so much time together that they couldn't help but know what to get each other. Well, Xander was a bit shopping-impaired, but Dawn had helped him out some and he'd sort of blundered through the rest as best he could.

When Spike started opening up his gift, he first commented that the package looked as if it had been wrapped by chaos demons. Xander rolled his eyes and tried not to squirm on the couch. He was actually a little – okay, a lot – nervous about this one. Spike tore off the paper and tossed it aside, then just stopped and stared at the object in his hands as if he'd never seen one before.

After enough time had passed to make him worried, Xander explained hesitantly, "It's a journal. See? Black leather cover. Unlined pages." He watched Spike's face, which looked confused and maybe even a little affronted.

Xander flinched, just a little. He couldn't help it. He'd thought for so long about what to get Spike, and he'd thought he'd finally come up with something he'd like but that was more personal than weapons or something like that. "Sorry. I thought…you just…you tell good stories, you know? And I thought you might want to write them down. Like, write your memoirs" – or poetry – "or whatever."

What an idiot, buying him a journal, just because he was a poet when he was human. It's not like he wants other people to know about all that. He sure didn't seem proud of it. So why would he want a journal? Why would he want to write anything now? God, I'm such an idiot. He probably thinks I'm making fun of him, getting in some little jab about the secret he told me. Oh god, of course that's what he thinks. I'm such an idiot!

Spike put the journal aside and returned to admiring the engraved dagger Dawn had given him. Xander's stomach tightened into a miserable little knot and he decided that was a good time to wander away in search of some eggnog and a cookie. Because right now, I need a cookie.

Xander wasn't feeling very chipper as they gathered for the Christmas Night patrol. Spike was right: there were Bregni demons out there causing trouble and they needed to find them. But Xander just wanted to go home and have a nice long sulk where nobody could see him. Spike hadn't liked his gift…Spike had given him a set of knives (nothing says "impersonal" like a gift of weaponry)…and Spike was (as always) utterly oblivious to Xander's attempts at subtle flirtation.

Yeah. In the time loop it must have just been some macho challenge thing, just trying to prove something. Not like he would ever want to have sex with me normally. Obviously.

Sometimes too much time around Spike, doing the buddy thing, just got to him. Because he didn't want to be Spike's buddy. He wanted to make Spike's eyes do that glazed, hot, needy thing they'd done during the time loop. He wanted Spike to look at him like that. And a whole Christmas Eve and Christmas Day of Spike buddy time was a little hard to take. Xander felt like his Goofy Xander Friend Guy act was wearing pretty thin.

"If we run into the Bregni, you girls find a place to hide. Make with the mojo from a nice safe spot out of the fighting range. Xander and I'll take 'em on closer up."

Xander thought sullenly, Who died and made you boss? and then winced. Right. Somebody did. He watched Spike pace around the kitchen barking orders, looking so much like the old Spike, all full of arrogant swagger, no trace of that invisible thing he used to do. Xander wondered if this was how Spike used to treat his minions, back when he had them. Anyway, his little voyage into megalomania is my fault. I'm the one who kept insisting on pulling him into the gang. And he does have the most knowledge and experience.

"Can I come?" Dawn was all wide eyes and hopeful grin, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet.

"And you'll keep learning. Don't want you getting hurt, so you're staying home this time."

Dawn made whiny complaining noises, but Spike wasn't impressed. "At least you don't make me have a babysitter," she groused.

Dawn stormed off in a huff, leaving the rest of them to roll their eyes and gather their patrol gear.

The patrol itself was pretty uneventful. The five of them just meandered through one cemetery after another, looking for signs of the Bregni demon gang. Spike had decided to bring the Bot for extra muscle, as he did sometimes now, but he mostly kept her at a distance, telling her to walk with Willow and Tara.

Xander shrugged. Stupid knives. What did I expect? Flowers? Jewelry? Poems? Lingerie? Stupid knives. Stupid Spike. Stupid Xander.

"Special throwing knives," Spike continued. "Specifically weighted and balanced for throwing."

Xander nodded. "Neat." He knew he could sound more pouty if he tried. Maybe he could get some lessons from Dawn.

Xander nodded again, looking anywhere but at Spike. "Yeah. I'm sure they'll be real useful. Thanks." Next year, could you get me a vacuum cleaner? Mine's getting kind of old. Or maybe a washing machine. Because that would be almost as romantic, but not quite.

Spike stopped walking, making Xander stop and turn to look at him questioningly.

Oooh. Back to the last name. Somebody's getting a bit testy. Xander sighed. "I don't have a problem, Spike. What's your problem?"

Xander clenched his teeth. Great. A fight. That would be just the best way to end a stellar Christmas. "So sorry I haven't been behaving according to your specifications."

"Fine," Xander spat. "I'll just go home." And he stormed off, striding through the cemetery as fast as he could walk. He knew he was being childish, but he just couldn't deal anymore. He knew Spike wouldn't leave the girls unprotected – not now that he seemed to think they were all his little family to protect – so Xander didn't have to worry about being followed. He could just go home and have a beer and watch some TV and do something that didn't involve Spike. Because he just couldn't do this anymore right now. He couldn't pretend everything was okay. Because it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Xander was sitting on his couch in the dark, watching a Stargate: SG-1 re-run, when he heard a knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anybody, so he just pretended not to hear.

Xander was tempted to turn the television up, but he figured that would only make it more obvious that someone was home, and might make the person outside more persistent. So he just kept his eyes on the TV, the remote cradled comfortingly in his hand.

Knock knock knock knock. "Harris, I know you're in there. Open the fucking door."

"No." Spike sounded pissed at him. Even better. "Open the fucking door or I will break your lock."

Spike would do it, too, just to be annoying. Just to prove he could. Just to win a stupid argument.

Xander hauled himself off the couch and opened the front door a crack. "What do you want?" he asked, and he knew he sounded tired, drained, but he just didn't have the strength to pretend right now. He just wanted to be left alone.

Spike pushed the door open and stepped around Xander to come inside, glancing around at the lack of lights. "Sittin' in the dark?"

Xander rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Why is it any of your business, Spike?"

Spike frowned at him and walked over to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and taking out a beer. He took off the cap and drank a swig, leaning back against the counter, watching Xander in the dark. "You've been acting off," he said bluntly. "Pissy like. What's your problem?"

Xander sort of lied, "I don't have a problem, Spike. Except a vampire barging into my house, stealing my beer, and interrupting my television-watching."

Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took another drink of his beer. He set the bottle down on the counter and moved as if he were going to walk toward Xander, except something distracted him. He tilted his head down, looking at the floor, and murmured, "What's this now?" and then bent to pick something up.

Oh fuck! Is that what I think it is? Please tell me Spike did not find what I think he found. Because I have done nothing to deserve this and this day has sucked enough already and I don't know what I'll do if he found what I think he found.

But Spike was holding up a postcard. Xander couldn't see it very well in the dark, but he knew one side of it was a photo of a man kneeling, wearing nothing but a leather collar.

Spike's voice seemed suddenly very loud in the dark apartment when he said slowly, "Where'd you find this?"

Xander blushed and didn't reply. Why couldn't Spike have just left when he didn't answer the door? Why did Spike have to barge in and make this night suck even worse?

Spike turned the card over to read the back, then raised an eyebrow. "A free pass. Somebody gave this to you. Didn't just find it on the street."

Xander crossed his arms and bit his lip, knowing that his blush was only getting worse. What was he supposed to say? Oh, well, you see, the cashier put that in the bag when I bought my new butt plug, which I like to use while I fantasize about you fucking me. "Spike, I'm tired. Can we please not talk about this?" he asked in what he hoped was not a pathetic voice.

Spike shook his head, frowning. "I don't think so. Do you even know what this place is? Way out of your depth, Harris."

That sent Xander's eyes up from where they'd been staring at his feet. Now he glared at Spike defensively. "Oh, I'm just some dumb kid?"

Spike cocked his head to the side. "Not a kid, no." And then Spike held up the card with the naked-guys photo facing Xander. He could barely see it in the light flickering from the TV. It's not porny. All their bits are…hidden. It's like art photography. Spike's voice was a challenge: "But you do realize what sort of club this is?"

Xander squirmed and didn't reply. God. Spike was the last person he wanted to be having this conversation with, making him think of all his fantasies, all the things he remembered from the looping. Hell, it was Spike's fault he was even thinking about any of this stuff! Not that Spike knew anything about that, of course. It was all so complicated and embarrassing and he just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

But Spike was talking again, sort of patient and concerned, like he was Xander's dad or something. If Xander's dad had ever been patient and concerned. "This is a domination club, Harris. A predominantly gay one."

Xander's chin went up slightly. Spike's know-it-all parental thing was grating on his nerves. "How do you know so much about it?"

"Hey!" Xander frowned, offended, not even thinking before he spoke. "It's not necessarily…Just because it's…that…doesn't mean it's 'seedy'."

Spike's eyebrows went up. "Well, this place is. What…you looking to get offed by some leather queen, get found starkers in some alley with a ball gag in your mouth?"

Xander glared at him, frustrated and embarrassed and sort of angry all at the same time. "It's none of your business, Spike. Just drop it."

"Spike, what gave you the impression that you have the right to tell me what to do? Because you don't. So get the fuck out of my house."

Spike's chin lifted. "Fine. Then I'm going with you. Make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Spike walked toward him, only stopping when he was right in Xander's face. "These kinds of games can be dangerous if you get involved with strangers."

"Oh, what, you offering?" Xander spat bitterly, feeling hurt and resentful and like he might burst into tears and embarrass himself even worse than he already had. Why hadn't he thrown away that stupid postcard?

Spike, you prick, you complete and utter asshole, can't you just leave me alone to nurse my rejection in private? Do you have to come over and rub the whole thing in my face?

Xander said quietly, defeated, "Spike, look, please, just go. I'm really tired. I can't do this right now."

Spike was still standing close to him, close enough that his face was clear in the flickering light. He was watching Xander with a strange expression.

And suddenly Xander was sure he couldn't have heard right, couldn't possibly have heard right, because it sounded remarkably as if Spike had just said, "Yeah, I'm offering."

Xander frowned, confused, because there was no possible way that Spike meant what that had sounded like. "You're 'offering'? Offering what?"

"If you're so curious about this sort of thing, I'll show you a bit. Leastways you know I won't kill you."

Xander stared at Spike in shock, his mouth open but no words coming out. Did Spike just say what I thought he said? Because that doesn't seem remotely possible. Did Spike just…offer to have sex with me? Just to keep me from supposedly getting killed by some random guy at a sex club?

Xander gulped and stammered, "I'm not your pity case, Spike." He can't be saying what I think he is. But what if he is? Does he really want this? Does he want me? Or…even if he doesn't now…maybe he'll start, if we…

Spike smirked at him. "Not pity, brat. Think I won't get anything out of it? Ain't gonna be me on my knees in this picture."

And those words sent such a rush of heat through Xander's body that he thought he might fall down. The image Spike had just put in his head…it was so similar to the time loop…so similar to so many of his fantasies. It all seemed surreal. Spike goes from yelling at him to offering to…offering to…to what, exactly? He still wasn't entirely sure.

"What do you mean? I've been to lots of clubs. Well, I mean, I've been to The Bronze, and there was this one time in Oxnard, when I…well, I've been other places, but nothing like…"

Xander's jaw dropped. When enough of his brains had crawled their way back into his head and he was able to form words again, he squeaked, "What?"

Spike walked to the couch and sat down, sprawling comfortably while watching Xander all the while. "I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions. No excuses. No arguments. You do it. You talk when I tell you to talk. You strip when I tell you to strip." Spike settled himself and raised one eyebrow expectantly. "Now, I seem to remember I told you to do something."

Xander hesitated, wanting to ask what exactly was going on, wanting to be sure he wasn't misinterpreting, but Spike had pretty clearly told him not to ask questions, to just do what he was told. This was probably all a dream, anyway, because stuff like this just didn't happen to him, so he might as well go with it.

Keeping his eyes on Spike's, watching for any clue, Xander lowered his hand nervously to the button at his waist. When he unbuttoned the waistband of his jeans, Spike's face seemed to relax slightly, not smiling but looking somehow pleased, though whether he was pleased with himself or with Xander was impossible to tell.

He was just starting to lower his zipper when he realized he was still wearing his shirts. Oh, yeah. That would be sexy. Drop my pants and stand here in my shirt and socks. Xander started unbuttoning his long-sleeved shirt, suddenly becoming self-conscious about the fact that it was red with big green circles on it. It was Christmas, after all. But standing in his living room with Spike watching him take off his clothes, the shirt suddenly seemed ridiculous, like a clown suit without the nose and floppy shoes. He tried to get the gaudy shirt off as quickly as possible, but he'd forgotten to unbutton the cuffs and it got caught on his hands. He struggled briefly and tossed it on the ground, blushing.

"Slow down, yeah?" Spike drawled lazily. "'S not a race. Give me a bit of a show." He smirked and Xander felt a moment of panic that this whole thing was just a complicated Spike joke to make him look stupid. But Spike wasn't usually that cruel anymore. And the smirk seemed more…sexy…than mocking. So Xander gulped and nodded. Slow. Show. He couldn't help finishing off a rhyme: Blah blah blah blah blow. Ack! No, not blow! Or…um…yes, blow? What exactly does Spike have in mind here?

Xander hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other, and then started slowly pulling his t-shirt out of the waist-band of his jeans, still watching Spike's face uncertainly.

"Tease me," Spike said from his sprawl on the couch. "Stroke your stomach. Lift up the shirt a bit, give me a glimpse, let it fall again. Make me want to see more."

Xander gulped and slowly ran his hand over his stomach, over his black t-shirt, but just feeling his muscles calmed him down a bit, made him feel a little more confident. Yeah, he'd been working out since Buffy's death. It passed the time, and it seemed to work off some of the emotions he didn't know how to deal with. Since the time loop, he'd been spending even more time with the weights. Frustration was a strong motivator.

Xander licked his lips and caught his breath when he saw Spike's eyes follow the movement. Maybe this really was his chance to make Spike notice him as something more than a buddy.

Still stroking his stomach lazily, Xander let one hand slide underneath, lifting the shirt slightly as Spike had instructed, giving Spike a glimpse of the smooth skin of his belly. He stroked his fingers slowly across his stomach muscles and kept his eyes on Spike, who was now watching that sliver of revealed skin. Xander let the shirt fall again, hoping he'd done what Spike said, hoping he'd made Spike want more. Please please let him want more.

Xander smoothed both hands up his body to his chest, then plucked at both nipples through the fabric, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the sensation. When he opened his eyes, he saw Spike watching him with that hunger in his eyes, that look he'd had during the time loop, and Xander was suddenly hard. All the way hard. Embarrassingly hard. If Spike was just waiting to mock him, he was going to have plenty of ammunition.

Licking his lips again, Xander found himself almost drunk on Spike's intense gaze on his mouth. Come kiss me, he thought. You keep watching my mouth. Come kiss me. I've been thinking about it for months. Every time we're alone, I think about it. Every time you look at me for more than a few seconds, I think about it. So kiss me. Please. I've been wanting you to look at me like this, and now you finally are. Like you think I'm hot. Oh god. I think I'm going to die if you don't kiss me.

He didn't realize how long he'd been standing there, looking from Spike's eyes to Spike's lips and back again, until Spike said, "Not stopping, are you? Thought you wanted this game."

Xander's head jerked in some semblance of a nod. Right. Game. Do what Spike says. It's like Simon Says…only incredibly hot and sort of confusing. Xander began slowly lifting his t-shirt, revealing his stomach and chest inch by inch. Once he got the shirt to his armpits, there just didn't seem to be any sexy way to get the shirt the rest of the way off, so he just whipped it over his head. He had a momentary giddy image of himself swinging the shirt around over his head and then throwing it at Spike, but that was just too cheesy, so he let the shirt fall to the floor instead.

Spike was running his eyes over Xander's bared skin, making Xander's stomach do funny twisty things. Spike was actually looking at him. Not just like a pal. Merry Christmas to me.

Emboldened by Spike's obvious interest, Xander stroked his stomach again, licking his lips, his eyes half-closed as he watched for even the tiniest reactions. Spike shifted slightly, making Xander wonder if he wasn't the only one getting hard. That thought, of course, only made him harder.

He stroked his hands up to his chest and tweaked both nipples again, which made him moan slightly. Touching himself like this, with Spike there, watching and apparently interested, was the closest he'd come to sex in a long time. It made everything more intense.

Xander shuddered, an image of himself on his knees, sucking Spike's cock, nearly overwhelming him. He put his index finger in his mouth and began sucking, slow, the way Spike had liked. He kept his eyes on Spike, fascinated and amazed at how the other man's eyes had gone dark and hot. He wants me. I think he actually wants me.

"Now use that finger on your nipple," Spike said, watching him closely, leaning slightly forward as if to see better.

Oh yeah. I think we have an answer on whether or not I like this game. Because Spike giving me orders? Definitely twanging my thang.

Xander slid the finger out of his mouth and used it to circle his nipple, teasing himself, and then pinched lightly, sending that tiny shock of pleasure downward again.

Another moment of panic. How was he supposed to take off his pants without bending over and tripping like a dork? Well, one thing was certain. The socks had to come off first, because there was no way in hell he was going to stand in front of Spike wearing boxers and socks. Any small amount of hotness Spike might see in him would be instantly destroyed.

Oh hell. I'm wearing my Marvin the Martian boxers. Why didn't I wear…uh…okay, I have no boxers appropriate for this situation. Okay, honest? I can't imagine boxers appropriate for this situation. Um…maybe I can go shopping after work tomorrow. Because I don't think Spike'll be turned on by the lipstick-kiss ones, either. Or the happy faces. My underwear is undignified. Why didn't I ever notice this before? Why didn't I realize the hugeness of the problem? Uh…hugeness. Yeah, there's that problem, too. If I take off my pants, Spike'll see that I'm enjoying this more than a little bit. Yes, definitely more than a little. But isn't that the point? Wait. Is that the point? What is the point?

"Trousers," Spike repeated, sounding impatient. Right. He told me to do something. I'm supposed to do it. That's the game.

Xander bent over and pulled off one sock, then switched feet and pulled off the other sock. He stood straight again and looked over at Spike, who was watching him patiently, slouching back on the couch. Xander raised his hands to the front of his jeans and swallowed nervously. Spike just watched him. Xander lowered his zipper very slowly, not because he was trying to tease, but because he was anxious about letting Spike see exactly how much he was enjoying this little game.

"Off," Spike insisted when Xander hesitated. Xander considered whether to pull off the boxers at the same time as the jeans, in order to avoid the Marvin the Martian problem, but Spike seemed to be pretty insistent that Xander follow his instructions, so he didn't want to piss Spike off. That might end the game. And Xander did not want to end the game. No. No ending of the game. Even if it means underweary humiliation.

Xander began pushing the jeans down over his hips, worrying about what he was going to do when he would normally bend down and pull them off with the help of some very un-sexy hopping. He didn't think the hopping would turn Spike on. It seemed somehow unlikely.

So he just kept pushing the jeans down, bending over slightly, still keeping his eyes on Spike, who looked interested. When he got the jeans pushed down far enough past his knees, they crumpled down around his feet and he was able to just step out of them. One of the benefits of baggy jeans, I guess. So why have I been doing the hopping thing all these years? I'm sure Spike doesn't do the hopping thing when he takes off his pants. The image of Spike taking off his pants sent another wave of lust through him. The image of Spike without his pants was even better.

He was standing now, looking at Spike, feeling his face burn with a boner-awareness blush. But Spike didn't look like he was going to make fun of either Xander's boner or Marvin the Martian. If anything, he looked hungry. He had that hot look in his eyes again, that look like he wanted to throw Xander down on the floor and do nasty things to him. Oh yes! Please? Where do I sign up for the nasty things?

Xander nodded nervously. Okay. We're getting past R-rated territory now and heading straight for the full monty. Though I'm not sure if 'straight' is the right word to use. But if I do this, we can't go back to the just buddies thing. Because then we'll be naked buddies. Or, half-way naked buddies, since I'm the only one naked. Well, not naked yet. But will be naked. And then I'll have been naked. And then we'll be patrolling, and it'll be all 'yeah, but I've seen you naked', because that just never goes away. We'll be playing pool at The Bronze and the naked thing will be there. I mean, not like my thing will be naked, because naked thing at The Bronze? Not my thing.

Spike was watching him expectantly. Xander slid his fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers and did a bit of finagling to get the elastic past his erection. Only a moment later, the boxers were at his feet and he stepped out of them, leaving him standing in front of Spike, completely naked…and as nervous as he'd probably ever been in his entire life.

Xander felt his cock throb in response. He reached with one hand and took hold of himself, squeezing gently, making himself moan again, watching Spike through lowered lashes.

Xander knew he was blushing again. Spike wanted to watch him come? He gulped. Okay, just knowing that was going to make the event humiliatingly speedy. He stroked himself once, squeezing again, but he didn't have any lube. He spit into his hand – oh very sexy – and stroked himself again, gasping. He kept his eyes on Spike's face, trying to read the expression in Spike's eyes.

It only took a few strokes. He'd been too worked up for too long. He was still watching Spike's eyes when he felt the orgasm crash through his body, making his eyes close, making his whole body stiffen and buck, making him sob out some inarticulate sound. He nearly fell down, which would have been the final indignity, but he somehow kept his feet and eventually opened his eyes, his breath still quick, his heart still beating fast, his body weak and throbbing, his dick softening in his hand.

Spike was watching him with eyes narrowed, his own chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Good boy," he rasped, as if he too had been running the orgasm marathon. "Can go get cleaned up now."

Xander nodded, though his head felt like it was just sort of rolling around all out of control like one of those bobbing-head dolls old people put on the dashboards of their cars. His neck seemed to be made of rubber. The rest of his body seemed to have melted. He wondered how he was going to manage to walk to the bathroom when his legs had been dismantled while he wasn't looking.

He somehow managed to walk, though, and closed the bathroom door for some private freak-out time while he washed himself off.

Holy guacamole! I just jacked off in front of Spike! Because he told me to! What now? What does he want? Because he looked pretty wanty.

But when he came out of the bathroom, Spike was gone. Xander walked, still naked, to the kitchen, where he saw the postcard sitting face down on the table, the text side facing up, with all its information about domination parties and sex clubs. Across the back, covering most of the text, there were four letters scrawled in thick pen: DON'T.

Xander woke up in the morning to the sound of pouring rain. Instead of heading to the shower as he normally would, he staggered half-awake to the phone and called the site. Work was shut down for the day…one of the benefits of rain in the construction industry. Well, except that he wouldn't get paid. But right now, when he was half-asleep, that didn't seem nearly as important as getting another couple hours of sleep.

He groggily shuffled back to the bed and crawled beneath the blankets. By the time he was once again lying flat on his back, however, he had woken up just barely enough to remember the previous night.

It was like the world froze, leaving him lying in the center, staring at the white stucco ceiling, his breath caught in his throat, his heart constricting in his chest, his skin prickling as if he'd just touched a light socket.

Sure, yeah, the relevant body part sat up and took notice, but Xander was lost in the amazed, wondering, almost disbelieving realization that something had actually happened last night. Something had happened between him and Spike.

His whole life looked different now. Before, he'd been Xander the construction guy and night-time demon fighter. Now, he was Xander the construction guy and night-time demon fighter who had something going on with Spike.

He tried to replay every single second of it in his mind, every expression on Spike's face, the moments when he shifted position slightly on the couch as if he was getting hard enough to be uncomfortable, the way he leaned forward when Xander was playing with his nipples, the way his eyes lingered on Xander's mouth when he licked his lips…

Okay, so it hadn't quite been the romantic revelation Xander had been dreaming about. Spike hadn't even kissed him. Hell, Spike hadn't even touched him. But there was no denying that it was a considerable change from playing pool at The Bronze and chatting about weaponry.

And there had been honest-to-goodness – or would that be honest- to-evilness? – heat in Spike's eyes. Xander was sure of that much.

A lot of other stuff about what had happened might be confusing, but he was sure of the look in Spike's eyes.

But, yeah, actually, a lot of the rest made no sense at all. Why had Spike done it? Was it just because he didn't want Xander going to the sex club and supposedly getting killed? Or was that just an excuse? Did he want Xander as much as Xander wanted him? Okay, the answer to that one was no. Not when Xander had been dropping potentially flirtatious hints for months without getting any response.

So Spike didn't want Xander as much as Xander wanted him. But – and here was the thought that made his stomach tighten – maybe he did want Xander at least a little bit.

And if there was a little bit of wanting there, even just a little bit, then maybe it might turn into more.

I'm pretty sure Spike at least likes me. I mean, we're friends now – at least, I'm pretty sure we're friends – I've been horribly wrong about that in the past, but this time I think I'm right – and people tend to like their friends, right? Isn't that in the definition? Isn't that part of the whole friend "thing"? So…he likes me…and he wanted me to get naked. I don't think I'm totally insane to think this sounds promising. 'Cause when friends get naked with friends, it usually means more than friends.

He almost wished work hadn't been called on account of the rain. The day was passing slowly, inching painfully toward dark, when he was supposed to meet everyone – including Spike – for patrol.

He even thought, briefly, about going to Spike's crypt, but that seemed just a little pathetically eager.

So instead he watched some TV – though he couldn't remember afterward what any of it was – and occasionally wandered into the kitchen to look at the postcard.

"DON'T." That's what Spike had written. It was the first thing Spike had ever written to him. And how pathetic was it that it made him happy? Spike had written something to him. Yay!

He was pretty sure it referred to the sex club, just Spike getting in the last word about whether Xander should go there or not. But maybe it was something else. He wracked his brain for possibilities.

Don't come to patrol tonight. No, he would have been more clear if it was that. Anyway, why would he want that?

Don't come bug me at my crypt. He wouldn't know I would think about that. Would he?

Don't think this meant anything. Too complicated. That wouldn't be what he meant. Right? Right?

He came to the conclusion that Spike had to have been referring to the sex club. He'd written it on the postcard, after all. But this conclusion led him to consider the nagging worry that had been hovering on the edge of his mind all morning.

Did Spike do this just because of the sex club? Was he just trying to keep me from going? Or did he want it?

And if it was just because of the sex club, is it possible – just possible – that he might see me differently now? Might think of "Xander" and "sex" as not entirely mutually exclusive concepts? Is it possible – just remotely possible – that this might lead to something, even if it isn't already there?

He figured that everything depended on how Spike acted on patrol tonight. He'd wait and see if Spike was friendly or distant or flirty or what. And that would give him a better idea of what was going on.

In the meantime, all the mooning had gotten him to feeling a bit of an estrogen overload, so he decided he needed to engage in some more manly pursuits to pass the time until dark. Get him feeling big and muscular and tough. Forget about all that staring at the postcard. He was big and muscular and tough! He was Xander! Hear him roar! Well, not actually roar, of course, because the neighbors already thought he was weird enough, what with all the late hours, but more of a metaphorical roar. A metaphor roar. A metaroar.

So he lifted weights for a while in the spare room, which used to be a closet, but it was big enough for a weight room, so he called it a room. It was plenty of room for him to work out on the weight bench, anyway, and so he put some effort into making himself sweat profusely, which passed an hour or so.

Then he got nervous that his manly musk might overwhelm everyone on patrol…in a bad way, not in a sex way. It might even attract unsavory demons…rather than the relatively savory demon whom he wanted to attract. So he took another shower.

Once he was reasonably certain that his odoriforousness would not offend, he spent some time practicing with the new knives Spike had given him for Christmas. He had a target set up in the spare "room," which often came in handy since the time loop, since he'd started the whole knife-throwing thing on patrol. The target came in especially handy times like now, when he felt like he was going crazy and needed something to focus on. It made him sort of understand why Spike used to toss his knife all the time. The rhythm was sort of relaxing.

Not that Spike tossed his knife much anymore. Maybe it had been a nervous thing, and he wasn't so nervous now. Or maybe it had been a way to keep himself entertained when he thought Xander was ignoring him. Whatever the cause, he'd stopped. Now knives were mostly Xander's thing.

It only took him a few throws to notice that the new knives handled really well. Spike had been right about the balance being perfect for throwing. Xander felt like kind of a shit for having been so ungrateful about the gift.

Well, tonight on patrol I can thank Spike properly. Uh…except not the way that sounded. I mean, unless he wants…what that sounded like. And maybe he does. Except not with Willow and Tara watching, because, hello, sort of kinky I guess, but definitely not that kinky.

It was only about an hour before dark when the phone rang. Remembering suddenly that Willow had given Spike a stylish black cell phone for Christmas, Xander ran for the phone.

Willow sounded so chipper and friendly, Xander tried not to sound disappointed. "Actually, yeah. We still on for patrol? Umbrella brigade?"

"Nope. Spike called and said no patrol tonight. Apparently Bregni demons aren't big on the whole getting wet thing. So they'll be hiding out, and we get the night off. Want to come over for movies and pizza?"

But Xander was still stuck on the first thing she'd said. "Spike called you?" Why'd he call Willow, and not me? Especially after last night. He could have called me to leave a message about patrol. But he called Willow instead.

"Yup. Just to give us the heads up about tonight. See? The phone is useful already. I am Resourceful Christmas Gift-Giving Girl."

"Wills, do you think" – god, how pathetic do I sound? – "do you think Spike likes me?" Where is my manly dignity? Because I think I lost it somewhere along the way here. Maybe around the time I read that stupid postcard for the twentieth time.

Only silence came along the phone line. Okay, so the question had seemed less of an abrupt change of topic inside his own head. Because the topic in his head hadn't changed all day. Eventually, Willow offered tentatively, "Of course he likes you, Xander. He just called me because I was the one who gave him the phone…"

Willow was silent for another long moment. "Ummm…do you mean likes you likes you?"

And here we are doing the seventh grade thing again. Why does Spike turn me into an emotional 12 year old? But he actually really wanted Willow's opinion. She was better with stuff like this than he was. Hell, Dawn was probably better with stuff like this than he was. Hell, even Giles was probably better with stuff like this than he was, and wasn't that a scary thought? "No, just…do you think he likes me? As…as a friend…as…anything."

"Sure. I think he likes all of us now. We're kind of like his family, you know? Or I guess he might say 'minions' instead of 'family', but I think that sounds kind of rude, since I'm not all that comfy with the minion thing, but he is still a vampire, so…"

"It's just…I thought he liked me before," Xander interrupted. "Before the time looping stuff, I mean. And I was completely wrong. Wrong to the nth degree. Wrong like garlic ice-cream is wrong. And I guess I was hoping that I'm not wrong this time."

"Xander," she paused before continuing with obvious concern in her voice, "are you having the warm fuzzy Spike feelings again?"

Xander laughed in that way you laugh at things that are in no way funny. "Never stopped, Will. But there's only so many times you can say, 'He's still not interested,' before people's eyes start glazing over."

"No, Will, it's okay. I didn't mean you. I just meant in general. After a while, there isn't much to talk about when the situation never changes."

Darn that Willow and her gigantic brain! She caught me. Xander considered lying, but even the thought made him feel guilty. So he hedged, "I'm not sure."

He could almost see Willow bouncing in hopeful excitement when she eagerly asked, "What? What happened? I want details!"

Details? No! No, definitely not giving the details. So, okay, and now with the even worse hedging. "I…I'd rather not talk about it. It's…I'm still not sure exactly what's going on."

"Oh." Great. He'd made her make the sad, hurt Willow sound, the one that always made him feel like he'd just come home from a long day clubbing baby seals or something. Like he was a bad bad person.

"I do want to, Will. Just…not right now. I'm sorry." If he apologized any more, he was going to lose the few manliness credentials he had remaining, if he even had any left at this point. It just sucked. He hated keeping secrets from Willow.

He was becoming Xander the Secret-Keeping Guy, and he didn't like it much. He was used to being pretty honest with the people he cared about. Okay, not Anya-level honesty, because some things just don't need to be said, especially in public, but still. Honest. Pretty much. Secrets, he was discovering, were very much not his thing. Too stressful.

I mean, really. What am I going to tell her? "Oh, last night, Spike told me to take off my clothes and make with the slippery solo handshake while he watched, and I did it, but I'm not sure if that makes us boyfriends or fuck buddies or just friends who happen to have engaged in one unexpected evening of kinky living room masturbation indulgence."

Not going to happen. Because (A) embarrassing. And (B) embarrassing. And (C) did I mention embarrassing? Not going to be telling Willow about the whole "masturbation while being watched" thing. Or the "taking orders from Spike" thing. If there was kissage to discuss, I'd be dishing with Wills all night long. But weirdo sex games? Hm. No, not so much with the sharing.

The conversation ended awkwardly. Xander declined to join them for movies and pizza, feeling vaguely guilty about the secret-keeping and not wanting to spend all evening fighting Willow's "you can tell me anything" face.

Willow said all the right things, being the good friend as always, but Xander could tell that she felt hurt.

When he hung up the phone, he turned around and went into the kitchen, got himself a beer, and sat down at the table. He looked at the post card.

An hour later, Xander was sitting in front of the TV, pretending to himself that he was interested in…wait, what was it now? Oh, right. Iron Chef. He couldn't even remember what ingredient they were using. And what was he doing watching the cooking channel, anyway?

He told himself he should have the number anyway. The whole reason Spike had a phone was so that he could get in touch with the Scoobies and they could get in touch with him. It would make arranging patrols a lot easier, and Spike wanted everyone to be able to get him in an emergency.

This is not an emergency, Xander reminded himself. Repeatedly. What am I going to do? Make something up? Be honest and say, "Hey, Spike, there's an emergency in my pants"? I don't think so. And, anyway, if he wanted to talk to me, he would have called me. I am not doing that "wait by the phone" thing.

He waited in the same room as the phone – but not by the phone, it's a very fine distinction – until 9:12 p.m.

When Spike answered the phone, there was a lot of noise in the background. He barked simply, "Yeah?"

Xander was taken aback by the noise and the attitude. Where was Spike? What was he doing? And who was he doing it with? And why? And…other question words. Many question words. Some of which might not even exist in English.

"Spike?" Oh, right. Because his identity is so much in question. Why did I say that?

There was a bit of a pause, then Spike's voice, surprised, "Harris?" It sounded like he was in a bar. Lots of people talking in the background.

"Oh, um, right. So, um…" He hadn't really planned out what to say, and that was now finding its way to the top of his personal list of stupid decisions. And then words just popped out of his mouth with absolutely no permission from his brain. "Don't what?"

Well, once you've said something stupid, may as well go with it. It's already said, anyway. Can't take it back. And…okay…so he really wanted the answer.

There wasn't much noise at all now. Maybe Spike had gone outside or something. "What do you think, genius?" There was something in Spike's voice, something kind of funny. He sounded really surprised and maybe confused, too, which made Xander wonder why he wouldn't have expected this. They'd messed around. Of course Xander would want to…want to call up and…okay, so maybe he hadn't expected Xander to call up and want to chat about the whole kinky sex thing. It wasn't really within their usual realm of conversational topics. But today was not usual. Nothing about it was usual. Except maybe as compared to last night. Because that was even more not usual.

Xander realized he'd been quiet too long. And why did Spike keep calling him by his last name? They'd kind of gotten onto a first name basis lately, so why the throwback? And what had Spike asked him? Oh, right, about what he thought the message on the card was about.

"Got it in one. You go there and I'll find out. And I'll kick your ass myself if you don't end up dead first."

Xander's stomach was in knots, but he said it anyway. "I thought you said it would be okay if you went, too."

Another silence. And then: "Figured you for a one-timer, Harris. Didn't think you'd have the balls for more'n that."

Xander replied without thinking, "Make no assumptions about my balls, mister!" and then realized that it sounded incredibly stupid. Too late. He cringed and waited for Spike to laugh.

But Spike didn't. Instead, he said cautiously, "Up for more fun and games, are we?"

Xander's stomach did a rather impressive stop, drop, and roll. And his throat was suddenly really swollen. Like he couldn't swallow and might suffocate. He gulped air and tried to find the ability to form words. He squeaked, "Yes?"

After a minute – or ten or twenty or Xander didn't really know because his sense of time was all screwed up – he eventually said tentatively, "You could come over and we could…I don't know…uh…talk…about…you know…the stuff."

And Spike replied smoothly, "Know what you mean, pet. And it ain't talking you're after."

Xander blushed and tried to think of what to say, because suddenly it seemed like something was going on and it was all happening really fast and it sounded like Spike was going to come over and…do stuff with him again. Maybe more stuff. Different stuff. Stuff that involved actual touching. Of each other. At least, he hoped.

He hadn't come up with anything to say by the time Spike added, "Be there in two shakes. We'll get that pesky itch all nice and scratched." And then he hung up.

Xander put the phone back in its cradle, feeling a bit dazed. So…maybe it is just because of the sex club? But he didn't sound like he was being forced into anything. I mean, he sounded perfectly happy to come over here and…whatever. But even if he isn't into me now, maybe he will be. He'll get to know me better, not just like a pal. And he might start to feel more. It's worth a shot. And, hey, naughtiness with Spike! Not exactly a hardship! Er…no pun intended.

Xander looked around the apartment nervously. He hadn't left the apartment all day, so his feet were still bare. He considered putting on socks. But if things went well, he'd just need to take the socks off again. So he'd stick with the bare feet.

He sat down on the couch, barefoot, and held the TV Guide without reading it. And waited.

When Xander opened the door, Spike walked in close, moving past him with their bodies almost touching. With Xander in his bare feet and Spike in boots, they were almost the same height, Spike just a bit taller for once, and Spike's face was very close as he passed. He had a look in his eye that Xander hadn't seen in a long time. He'd seen Spike confident. He'd seen Spike smug. He'd seen him amused and intense and occasionally domineering to the point of obnoxiousness. He'd even, last night, seen him turned-on, or at least he thought he had.

It was a vampire look, a predator look. Accompanied with the walking too close, it set a certain expectation for what would happen next. And it almost certainly wasn't going to be parcheesi.

Standing so that they were almost touching, Spike reached past Xander and closed the front door, smiling slightly. He kept his hand on the door, his body leaning toward Xander, almost trapping him.

"What you said, on the phone," Xander babbled nervously, "about scratching and itching…"

Apparently parcheesi wasn't the only thing Spike hadn't been planning, because talking obviously wasn't on the evening's menu, either. He tilted his head, looking impatient. "Yeah?"

Xander smiled weakly. "You're not just doing this for me, are you? Because I…I mean…"

But he didn't get a chance to clarify, because Spike was grinning at him. "I'm touched. Really." A chuckle and a shake of the head, as if he was finding something highly amusing. "Just 'cause I work with you lot, you thought I'd turned into some kind of vampire Mother Theresa?" A wolfish grin. "Sorry, mate, I don't do charity work."

"Gonna make it worth my while, aren't you? No strip tease this time. Done with teasing. This time, you make me come."

And at those words, Xander promptly lost his brain. It fell out somewhere, or maybe just became instantly paralyzed, but he wasn't worried about finding it, wasn't worried about his brain at all in fact, because Spike's voice when he said those words was low and rough and wanting.

Spike was wanting. Wanting him. Him. Xander. Spike was wanting him. And that was huge. World- shiftingly huge. Because this wasn't the resentful, rejected Spike from the time loop. This was Spike big and bad and arrogant and choosing to get naughty with him.

And he wanted Xander to make him come. He'd never actually seen Spike come, never seen what his face looked like when he lost control, because he'd always looped out before it happened. But now he was going to see it, going to see Spike's face. Not just imagine it, like he had a million times. He was going to actually see it, actually going to be there when Spike came. Came because of him.

All these jumbled thoughts swirled through his paralyzed brain in an instant. But there was no way he could have formed a complete sentence understandable by other life forms. Not right then. Verbs. Nouns. Way too complicated. All his brain was really capable of saying in that moment was, Guh?

Spike leaned a bit closer, his eyes flickering over Xander's face, and Xander caught his breath – kissing seemed imminent – but then Spike abruptly pulled away to walk into the living room, where he dropped onto the couch, just as he'd done last time. He pushed the coffee table away with one foot and said, "C'mere."

Xander walked on only slightly unsteady legs and stopped to stand on the other side of the coffee table. "C'mere," Spike repeated, gesturing to the floor in front of him where his booted feet were set wide apart.

Okay, this looked like it was maybe going in a familiar direction, which helped Xander calm down a bit as he walked forward. He stood with his bare feet between Spike's boots, his legs between Spike's spread knees, and watched Spike's face for any hint of what he was thinking, aside from the obvious. But Spike's face was unreadable.

"On your knees," he said with a bit of a smirk, and Xander complied. To steady himself as he knelt, he rested his hands on Spike's thighs, then realized that was a fairly intimate touch. He looked up to make sure Spike wasn't offended or something, but Spike was only watching him.

What's he thinking? Does he want me to just do what he says? Or do I get some say here, too? Because I like the whole him telling me what to do thing, but…I want it to be more than that.

On his knees now, his weight firmly settled, Xander kept his eyes on Spike's face as he dared to stroke his hands along Spike's denim-clad thighs. Spike eyed him in that same lordly way Xander remembered from the time loop and said, "Undo my jeans."

Xander let his hands slide further up along Spike's thighs, over the bulge beneath his fly – He's hard. Oh god. Okay, it would be really embarrassing to come from just that. – until both hands hovered at the top button at his waist. He pushed Spike's black t-shirt up a bit to get it out of the way, revealing a pale sliver of skin. The jeans were tight enough that he had to slide his fingers pretty snugly against Spike's stomach, and he felt the muscles twitch.

Not going to come. Not going to come. Well, eventually going to come, at least I hope so, but not right now, not while we've still got all our clothes on and all I've really touched is his stomach.

When the button was released, Xander kept his fingers inside the denim, sliding down along the inner seam to give him leverage to open the next button. No underwear. He felt Spike's cock, and yeah, it was hard. At that first touch, Spike jerked slightly, but when Xander looked up at him, his face was still carefully composed.

I wonder how long it's been since he had sex. I mean, he's not with us all the time. What does he do when he's out on his own? It sounded like he was at a bar or something when I called earlier. I suppose he could be getting laid every night, if he wanted to. I mean, duh. Of course he could, if he wanted to. He's Spike.

Xander rubbed one finger slowly against the side of Spike's cock. He couldn't move much inside the tight jeans, but it was enough to make Spike take a quick surprised breath. Xander's own cock throbbed at the sound.

Returning to his task, Xander slid his hands down to the next button and popped it free. Spike's cock now thrust insistently against the back of his hand, and suddenly he just wanted to tear off all of Spike's clothes and leap on him.

But that was sort of what he'd done during the time loop, and it hadn't worked out so well. This time, Spike was leading. He couldn't fuck this up if he just followed what Spike wanted. Right?

Xander slid his hands down just enough to release the next button with a slight give, the rough fabric parting a bit more as he slid his hand further down to the next button. He'd given up on watching Spike's face right now, because he couldn't tear his eyes away from that slowly emerging cock. He opened the last two buttons in quick succession, getting impatient to move on to the next stage, wanting to taste Spike again after spending so long remembering and wanting.

He glanced up at Spike to make sure he hadn't misread the situation. This was what he wanted, right?

Spike's face was tight and closed, letting nothing show. But his voice was a bit ragged when he said, "Go on. Suck it."

Xander tried to pull Spike's jeans down, but Spike shook his head. "No. Leave it."

Xander nodded and licked his lips, a bit nervous after all because it had been a while. But the sight of Spike's eyes suddenly focused on his mouth took care of any hesitation. Xander took Spike's cock into his hand and squeezed.

Spike arched, just a little, and gasped, "Ah!" His smug superior act was looking a bit worn around the edges, but he obviously wanted to stay in control. And that was probably the most seductive thing Xander had ever seen, because it made him want to do everything in his power to make Spike lose that control. He leaned over and quickly licked the head of Spike's cock, making Spike arch again, biting his lip. Xander shifted position slightly as his own cock throbbed for attention. Why didn't I wear looser pants?

His eyes now trained on Spike's face, he leaned forward and slid the head into his mouth, sucking gently. Xander saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked aside out of curiosity. It looked like Spike's hands were clenched on the couch cushions, which seemed like a good sign. He returned his gaze to Spike's face and slowly slid his mouth down.

Spike's jaw looked tense now, a muscle in his cheek standing out in clear relief. When Xander gave the first good, hard suck, Spike jerked and his eyes closed for a moment. But then he was looking down again, frowning slightly, watching Xander between his legs.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd done this before." Spike's voice sounded a bit gravelly. After a moment, he said suspiciously, "But maybe you've got secrets, yeah? Maybe you have done this before?" Xander kept busy, kept tonguing and sucking Spike's cock, but inside he started to panic.

Oh god. I'm going to have to tell him about the time loop. Because just not saying a thing is one thing, but actually saying a thing that isn't true is just…that's another thing. Totally different things. And I'm not going to do that. Especially when this…thing…is going on between us. I'm not going to lie.

Spike pulled on his hair, pulling his face up to look at him with narrowed eyes. "Xander? 'S that how you got that postcard? You been slutting yourself around?"

Xander shook his head as much as was possible with Spike's hands tight in his hair. "No! You're the only guy I've ever…"

But Spike was pushing his head down again and that familiar cock was nudging at his lips and, suddenly, telling Spike about the time loop didn't seem that crucial. It didn't have to happen right now. There would be plenty of time later.

With Spike's jeans in the way, Xander couldn't really touch as much as he wanted to, couldn't reach his balls, so he put all his attention into working Spike's cock with his tongue and lips, sucking, even scraping a bit with his teeth. And Spike's hip thrusts and quiet moans were only serving to get him more and more turned on, himself.

He kept his eyes trained on Spike's face, and so he saw when those blue eyes suddenly clenched shut and those pink lips parted on a loud groan. And as he watched Spike's face, as he tasted Spike's come in his mouth, Xander suddenly felt himself rocketing over that edge, too.

He felt completely limp, his cheek pressed to the denim of Spike's thigh, his eyes closed. He was still catching his breath when a hand stroking his hair made him turn his head. Xander could feel moisture on his face. Spike's come. And Spike's hand in his hair, lightly touching. Xander looked at him.

Spike's voice was lazy. "Good boy. Think you deserve a reward." A bit of a smirk.

Xander was confused for a moment – he'd never done any of his greatest thinking in the five minutes immediately following an orgasm – but then understanding dawned. "Oh! A reward!" He blushed and sat up a bit, looking away, self-consciously wiping at his chin and mouth. "Uh, actually, I sort of already had my reward." Why do I always blush so much around Spike? It's humiliating, is what it is. But, you know, I've never been big on announcing that I just came in my pants. It just isn't something the world needs to know. Not that it happens all that often, of course. Because…hello! Embarrassing! His face prickling with heat, he looked back at Spike, sort of hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. "But I could have another reward. Just give me a few minutes."

Next time? So he's planning on a next time? Definitely planning on it? Woo hoo! He shoots, he scores! Um, wait. That sounded wrong. But, you know, he did shoot. And so did I. And apparently we are again, sometime. Woo hoo!

At a glance from Spike, Xander carefully tucked him back into his jeans and rebuttoned everything. Then he stood up and got out of the way when Spike got to his feet.

There was a sort of awkward moment as they both stood there next to the crooked coffee table. Then Xander realized that he was blocking the way, and so he stepped aside. As Spike passed, so close, their faces at just the right height, Xander's heart rose into his throat and he stepped forward again in his bare feet, his hand coming to lightly touch Spike's shoulder, his face moving in for their first kiss. Their first non-time loop kiss.

No kiss. Xander's hand was left suspended in mid-air a moment until he noticed it there and let it fall to his side. Spike stepped away. He knew I was going to kiss him, right? He purposely dodged? Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he just thought I was getting in his way. Yeah, right, because that is so likely. It was definitely a dodge. There was definite dodging action.

Spike was frowning, and Xander suspended his own internal monologue at the horrified realization that he sort of recognized that frown. It looked a little bit like a time loop frown. It reminded him of the frown that said, if he wasn't mistaken, "Why are you acting like you give a shit about me when we both know you don't?" It was like the time loop all over again.

"You know you're my best friend, right?" The words were almost unintelligible, he said them so fast.

Spike's frown deepened. "Don't worry, Harris. I wasn't planning any candlelit dinners just because you sucked my cock."

But Spike already had the door open. "Patrol tomorrow. Don't be late. We've still got some Bregnis to deal with." And then he was gone.

The next night on patrol, Spike acted perfectly normal. As if nothing had changed. No secret glances. No sly flirtatious remarks. No indication whatsoever that anything had happened.

It's because Willow and Tara are here, he told himself. Otherwise, we'd be talking about it. Or, okay, probably not talking about it, but, you know, not ignoring it, either. There would be acknowledgment. Things would be acknowledged. But right now all Spike seems to be acknowledging is that the Bregni demons are making themselves scarce. Where are his priorities, I ask you? More important things are going on around here. Like blow jobs. And dodged kisses. And oddly avoidy vampires who won't make eye contact.

When Spike declared the Bregni hunt a loss for the night, Willow piped up that Xander could walk her and Tara home, and Spike simply shrugged and waved a hand in a vague salute before heading off to do who knows what.

Off to hang out at loud talky places where I won't phone him on his cell phone, even if last time he came over afterward. Because I'm not desperate. Nope. Not desperate. Ahh, sweet, sweet denial.

Willow and Tara were unusually quiet on the walk to the house. When they got to the door, Xander started to offer goodnight hugs, but Willow gave him a look. It was the kind of look that deserved a capital L. It was a Look. It said, "You're not going anywhere, buster."

Xander heaved a resigned sigh and followed them into the house. Tara excused herself to go upstairs and do something – do what wasn't entirely clear, since she sort of mumbled and then practically vanished, though you shouldn't say things like that about witches, since there might in fact be actual vanishing – and Willow dragged him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table. When she turned the Look on him again, Xander slouched and looked away.

Willow sat across the table from him and looked at him worriedly. "What's up with you tonight?"

Willow frowned her cutest little "I'm worried about you" frown. He'd been seeing it since kindergarten, and it never failed to melt his heart. "I'm worried about you." Apparently the innocent face failed in its mission. Maybe I should practice it in the mirror or something. Yes, because I am not already enough of a crazy person…I now need to set aside time from my busy schedule in order to make faces at myself in the bathroom mirror. A sure sign of sanity.

"Nothing to worry about. I'm right as rain. But, you know, how right is rain, anyway? People tend to want to avoid rain, right? So wouldn't rain be more accurately described as wrong? But nobody says 'wrong as rain'. Huh."

"What? I'm not acting funny or anything. I'm just me. Just the same old Xander, with the knife-throwing and the carpentrying and the sometimes inappropriate humor." He smiled his best innocent smile. It was no more successful than the innocent face had been.

What? She noticed? Did Spike notice? Because that would just make my night complete. He's blowing me off – unflatteringly soon after I blew him, I might add – and everybody notices that I'm staring at him like some kind of slack-jawed love-sick moron?

Willow watched him, still looking concerned and hopeful, obviously waiting for him to open up and tell her what was going on, but he couldn't tell her. No way. But then he realized he could tell her part of it, and it might actually be kind of nice to get her opinion.

"I tried to kiss Spike last night," he said all in a rush before he could chicken out.

"What?" Willow was grinning now, bouncing a bit in her chair. "You kissed Spike?"

Xander raised a hand in a sort of traffic stop motion, his mouth twisted in a rueful mockery of a smile. "I didn't say 'kissed', Will. I said 'tried to kiss'. Big difference."

Willow looked confused, which was sort of flattering, actually. So it doesn't occur to her that Spike might actively avoid being kissed by me. Nice to know that somebody considers me kissable. Even if she does happen to be lesbian. Maybe if Spike was lesbian, I'd have better luck. Willow probably has a spell for that, but this train of thought is just getting wronger by the second. Willow was still watching him expectantly.

Xander sighed and went for honesty. "I tried to kiss him last night. He dodged."

Willow frowned deeply. "Maybe it was a misunderstanding. You know, like he thought you were reaching past him to get the TV remote and so he thought he was getting out of your way. That sort of thing."

Willow seemed to still be having trouble absorbing this information. "Why? I mean, what was the situation? Why did you finally decide to kiss him all of a sudden? Something must have changed, right? Like…whatever it was you didn't want to tell me before."

She looked hurt again, and Xander felt a pang of guilt. But he wasn't going to discuss kinky sex antics with Willow. It would be kind of like showing porny pictures to a nun. It was just wrong. Not that Willow was a nun. He was perfectly aware that she and Tara were un-nun- like, though he tried not to imagine the details…well, except when he did, but those times were few, and not recent. And never to be mentioned.

No, Willow wasn't a nun, but she still had a sort of innocence to her that made kinky sex seem like something that just shouldn't ever ever be discussed. Ever. Just telling her about the time-loop sex had made her blush so hard he'd worried she might burst a blood vessel or something.

So he went for vagueness. It had never worked before, but he was eternally hopeful.

"He…said some stuff…about sex" – which was true, since there was no denying that Spike had been talking, and that sex had been the topic, he was just leaving out the picky little detail that there had been a naked penis involved – "and it sort of led me to believe that…I don't know…that he might be interested." See? Vague, and yet not lying. The whole "suck my cock" thing does seem to indicate that Spike might be interested in more than friendship. Right?

"You talked about sex?" Xander nodded, hoping Willow wasn't going to ask for details. Please let the vagueness work! Please let the vagueness work! "What sort of stuff did he say?" Damn. The vagueness never works.

"Just…stuff." He knew he was blushing and swore to himself he would work on his tan this year. Living on the Hellmouth, what were the chances he'd live long enough to get skin cancer? The blush camouflage would be worth the risk.

Willow nodded slowly, watching him. "Ooookay. Stuff. He said 'stuff' about sex, and you thought this meant he wanted you to kiss him?"

"It's not like I really thought it through all that clearly. It wasn't like a 'sex equals liplock' decision in my head. It was just…something finally happened, you know? I've been waiting for months, ever since the time loop, and it finally happened."

Willow sat up a bit straighter and looked like she'd had some kind of realization. "The sex stuff he said…was it time loop sex stuff? Did you finally tell him?"

"Wait. You tried to kiss him, and you haven't even told him the truth yet?" Her voice was filled with disappointment and disapproval. Ouch.

He looked at her again, wanting her to understand. "It isn't that simple. I want to tell him, but I don't want to mess things up. We're friends now, you know?" He desperately wanted her to say it was okay. Even though he knew it wasn't. He knew he was making excuses, and that it sucked.

"You have to tell him, Xander. Friends shouldn't keep secrets from friends." Her face showed that she wasn't just thinking of Spike, here.

"You've gotta admit, though, that this isn't your normal 'I broke the toaster oven' sort of secret. This is an 'I had sex with you and you don't remember it' secret. Kind of on a different level of secretness."

"You did! You broke our toaster oven!" Damn. Innocent face just never works. Definitely need to practice it in the mirror.

"Yeah, but you acted all surprised, like 'Oh, the toaster oven is broken? How'd that happen?'"

Okay, hello, defensiveness. "Wait, is this some kind of little-known rule? Friends don't let friends break toaster ovens? Because I fixed the toaster oven with my manly powers of fixingness. And I'd hate to have my friend credentials revoked over a rarely-used household appliance."

"And again I notice that we have strayed from the crucial subject here. Which is Spike." He looked down at his hands, miserable.

They were both quiet for a minute. He looked back up to meet her eyes, and she didn't look upset anymore. Good old Willow, queen of forgiveness. What would I do without you?

She said gently, "Back when you first told me about the stuff during the time loop, you said you wanted to romance Spike, right? So…what happened to that plan? Isn't Spike worth a bit of romancing?"

Xander looked down at the table. "I just…I suck at the romance thing. I mean, I've never really romanced anybody before, and Spike isn't exactly an easy guy to romance. What, am I supposed to bring him flowers and candy? Serenade him under the stars? Because outside of cheesy movies, I haven't really seen a lot of romancing to learn from. And I don't think Spike would appreciate a candlelit dinner and a dozen roses."

"Oh, I'm sure he would. But I doubt it would be a pleasant surprise." He imagined the sheer extent of potential Spike mockery and cringed inside.

Xander stared at the table, not replying. A couple of minutes passed. Then Willow spoke again.

"Xander, Spike's your friend, right?" He nodded uhappily. "Well, as your friend, he deserves better than this. You have to tell him about the time loop."

That brought Xander's head up. "But, Will, if I tell him right now, while everything is all messed up, with the kiss dodge and everything, then I might lose him even as a friend. I don't know what he's thinking right now, you know? I need to figure that stuff out, first. Make sure he knows that I'm his friend, that I care about him."

Willow was watching him with sad eyes. "You've spent the past few months making sure he knew we all care about him, Xander. You've worked really hard to make things better for him, to get to be friends with him, to make him feel better about himself. And that's really admirable. You've done a lot for him, even if he doesn't know. But that doesn't mean you can't move forward. And it doesn't make it okay to lie to him."

He looked at her, feeling lost. "I don't know how. I mean, Spike and me, we're buds now, but we don't really sit around talking about our feelings, you know? Our friendship is more of the WWF- watching, beer-drinking, smack-talking variety. Not the deep sharing variety."

Willow reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing gently. "I have faith in you, Xander. You can do it."

On his drive home, Xander's head was swimming with all the things he "should" do to fix things with Spike.

Not to mention the whole sex thing, which I didn't tell Willow about but which I still need to figure out on my own.

Too many things that needed doing. Too many things to think about. And all of it seemed impossible. He didn't even know where to start.

As he lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep, Xander imagined a perfect world in which Spike knocked on the door and strode into the room, all black-wearing and attitude-having. His imaginary Spike didn't use hair gel, though, and so his hair was sort of fluffy and messed up. He was carrying a bouquet of red roses.

"Really?" replied Xander, standing in the living room in his bare feet. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and imaginary Spike's imaginary eyes blatantly admired his naked pecs. Xander flexed.

"You're my best mate," imaginary Spike said, walking closer, coming to a stop only inches away from Xander, "but you're more than that."

"Yeah. I've been wanting to do this for a long time." And then imaginary Spike reached out and pulled him close – the roses had conveniently disappeared somewhere – and kissed him deep and slow. When he pulled away, Xander just stared.

By the time imaginary Spike had gotten his imaginary boots off, Xander was asleep.

The next day at work, Xander made so many mistakes his boss threatened to send him home until he got a grip. Of course, Walt didn't word it that politely. Language on the site tended to be a bit more colorful than among the Scoobies.

And that was what was distracting Xander so badly that he short- cutted a dozen 2-by-4s by three inches each…just enough so that they'd all need to be replaced. Well, it wasn't exactly Spike's dirty-talking that was distracting, though too much thought on that topic was a little too interesting as well, given recent events.

Or, rather, the fact that he'd be seeing Spike for patrol that night, and he had a jumble of ideas clanging around in his head about how he should act and what he should say and even – god this was humiliating – what he should wear.

He was leaning toward the solid green pullover. Willow said it brought out his eyes.

But it wasn't just patrol that had him so nervous. Today was Friday. That meant the movies. Which now seemed decidedly date-like, even though he and Spike had gone to the Sunnydale Majestic's Midnight Creature Feature every Friday night for the past two months. Well, every Friday night except when they were distracted by Sunnydale's real-life creature features.

They'd first started going because a midnight horror movie in Sunnydale seemed like some kind of sick joke. They'd speculated that it would be a vampire feeding ground, and they'd been right. They caught a few fledges there every Friday while they watched the movie, and they always had a great time cracking jokes and heckling and throwing popcorn at the screen during the most ridiculous bits. It was one of the highlights of Xander's week.

It had always been a buddy thing in the past, but with everything that was going on, it now felt like an opportunity for something more. Going to the movies together was a date-y thing to do, right? Sitting in the dark together, holding hands, sharing popcorn, leaning in close to whisper.

Of course, Spike tended to talk out loud during the movies – often even shouting at the screen – so he was unlikely to lean in close to whisper anything. And it was pretty hard to imagine Spike holding hands with anybody, let alone another guy.

But the possibilities still had Xander nervous enough to fumble around all day as if he'd never worked a table saw before.

When they closed up the site at 4 – one of the few nice things about starting work at the construction worker's butt-crack of dawn – Xander headed home for a couple hours of supposed relaxation before meeting everybody over at the Summers house for patrol.

It's times like these when I actually miss Cordy, because if nothing else she always seems to know what clothes to wear. But even she might be stumped by this whole "uncertainly date-like double feature of patrol-and-movie with a potentially gay vampire" situation. Not exactly an occasion for which Hallmark cards exist…or Cosmo fashion tips. Not to mention the "come clean about the time loop" optional adjunct to the evening. And the potential "kinky gay sex" nightcap.

He thought briefly about phoning Cordy in L.A. to ask her for possible-gay-vampire-date fashion advice, but immediately dismissed the idea. How was he supposed to explain the situation? On the other hand, Willow already knew most of the situation, but Willow – wonderful though she was, and cute as a button, and wise in many matters – was not someone from whom to seek fashion tips. Even Xander knew that much. He didn't plan to meet Spike tonight wearing anything fuzzy. Or corduroy. And no hats.

Xander parked his car in front of the Summers house – Buffy's house, his mind whispered, but he didn't listen, it still felt wrong, though maybe someday it would seem right again – just as the sky was fading from sunset to darkness. Wiping his palms against his jeans, he walked up the steps and knocked, then opened the door without waiting. It was what they all did. Only the girls lived here, but it was in some ways home to all of them, in the same way the school library had once been home. It was where they gathered.

"Hello?" he called as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Nobody was in the living room.

But Willow came down the stairs almost immediately, smiling a smile that made Xander think, Uh oh. Whatever this is, I'm not going to like it.

"We aren't going on patrol tonight," Willow said, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, tugging and straightening in some sort of unnecessary dance. "Tara's sick."

Xander watched her. Obviously something else was going on. "Sick," he repeated dubiously.

Willow nodded quickly. "Yeah, she's sick. So you and Spike will have to go on your own tonight."

Xander rolled his eyes. So that's what this is all about. "Gosh, that's awfully convenient, Will. Yesterday you bug me to talk to Spike, and today you can't go on patrol?"

Should have known better than to try to pull one over on the Xan- Man. I've been seeing through your little white lies since kindergarten, missy.

"I just think it would be good if you got a chance to talk, you know, alone." Willow looked up at him and smiled, looking all hopeful and friend-like.

Before Xander could reply, he heard a knock on the door behind him and Spike stepped inside, commenting dryly, "Everybody's ready? Now that's one for the record books."

Willow glanced at Xander, then said quickly, "Actually, Tara and I aren't going to patrol tonight. She's not feeling well, and I don't want to leave her on her own."

Spike just shrugged, saying, "Don't really need the whole parade, at any rate. Think the Bregnis have skipped town. Nobody's seen hide nor hair of them for days now, and they aren't generally the shy type."

Willow brightened, her guilt alleviated. "Oh! Well, that's good!" She glanced back and forth between Spike and Xander…and Xander wanted to cringe with embarrassment. Could she be any more obvious?

Xander nodded numbly, and the next thing he knew they were on their way, Willow left behind to play doctor with Tara as much as she liked. As Xander turned to leave, Willow caught his eye and glanced meaningfully at Spike with a slight jerk of her head.

Sheesh. Bossy. Yes, I know I'm supposed to talk to Spike about all that stuff. Too much stuff, if you ask me, which you pretty much haven't. How am I supposed to cover everything at once? "Oh, Spike, hey, I don't just want to be friends, because I'm kind of maybe in love with you, and I know that might seem sudden, but it's not, because we also happen to have had sex repeatedly during the time loop and that's when I started feeling these feelings, which I never told you about because I was afraid you'd freak." Oh, yeah, I'm sure Spike would sweep me into his arms and declare his undead affection.

Xander looked around and realized that they'd been walking in the cemetery for a few minutes, and that he'd been lost in thought since they left the house.

Great way to start off the evening, Xanmeister. Ignore Spike completely. 'Cause that worked so well before the time loop. Yeah, great way to romance the guy.

So where should I start? Try to get with the romancing? Tell about the time loop? Subtly scope out what's going on in that bleach- blonde noggin'? Explain about the "just friends" thing from the other night?

Xander glanced at Spike, who was walking beside him, alert as always to everything around them. His coat billowed slightly behind him as he walked, and his profile was pale and sharp against the darkness. Xander cleared his throat. Here goes. He dove in without preamble. "You know, the other night, after the…the stuff…when I said you were my best friend…I didn't really mean that the way it sounded…"

Spike looked at him and smirked. "No worries, Harris. I know we're mates. A bit of fun on the side doesn't change anything."

Spike didn't reply, just kept walking, glancing around for potential danger. Xander had just opened his mouth to say something – he hadn't yet decided exactly what that something would be, but it certainly would have been something suave and debonair, sort of Cary Grant-ish, something that would have made Spike immediately want to be more than mates-in-the-British-sense – but before he could voice this irresistible suavosity, Spike reached out a hand and stopped Xander with a touch to his chest. Okay, that could have been a good sign, except for the fact that Spike wasn't looking at him. Spike was instead looking into the shadows between two nearby crypts. And now that they'd stopped walking, Xander could hear a sort of snuffling, crunching noise coming from that general vicinity.

After Spike had killed the demon – "What was that he was crunching over there? Wait. On second thought, the potential nightmares say I'm very okay with the not knowing." – they continued walking, leaving the carcass hidden in some bushes.

So he said the sex games don't change anything. Well, that's good, right? That means we're still friends and he doesn't think I'm using him or anything like that. And who says everything has to change overnight, just because there was naked touchy-feely-ness? Maybe friends is okay for now. A good place to start, right? I just need to do the romancing thing. About which of course I'm completely non-clue- having. It's not like the library has books on romancing vampires. At least, I don't think they do. But maybe I'm wrong…it is Sunnydale, after all. But when's the last time I visited a library for the purposes of librarying? Pretty much never. It's just not exactly a Xander-friendly environment, what with all the books and learning and stuff.

Wait. Why am I thinking about libraries? When has this ever been a Xander thought topic? It's just wrong on some basic, primordial level. The words "Xander" and "library" don't even belong in the same sentence. If it hadn't been for Giles and Buffy, I probably would never have stepped foot inside a library in my entire life. It was a source of pride, my successful learning-avoidance. So why do I have libraries on the brain?

Maybe I'm just not wanting to think about the stuff that's actually important. Like how to romance Spike. And how to tell him about the time loop sex without ruining everything. Because there's the whole problem with the non-clue-having.

Spike looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, but looked forward again as he continued walking. "What brought this up?"

Okay. Not really an answer to the question, but the question was sort of on the rhetorical side anyway, so kind of not an issue. "I just…there's some stuff that happened during the time loop…stuff I haven't told you."

"Yeah?" Spike glanced over at him briefly, then looked away again, keeping an eye on the cemetery around them.

"Yeah. Like…um…we…on one of the loops…we…we had coffee with Willow." Cop out!

"So…you don't feel betrayed or anything, right? I mean, that I didn't tell you earlier…about having coffee with Willow?"

Spike went back to looking around them as they continued walking. "Don't need to know about every bloody detail, Xander."

"But…but…this was stuff you and I were doing…together…and I remember it, but you don't…that doesn't feel weird to you?"

I never thought of it that way. So…I guess I don't really need to tell him, then. Because it sort of wasn't really him. And he's pretty much said that I don't need to tell him. So there's no reason to mess things up now, when he doesn't even care if I tell him or not. Yeah. Cool. That's settled, then. So why do I feel like Willow isn't going to understand guy logic on this one? But I'm an independent man of independent thought, making an independent decision based on independence. And okay maybe a tiny bit of fear. But mostly independence. I don't have to do something, just because Willow thinks I should. Okay, so she's usually right about stuff like this…but I can do what I want. Spike doesn't care, so this is fine.

Why does that all sound suspiciously like a pathetic attempt to convince myself?

No. Spike said he doesn't care. I should take him at his word, right? I mean, he wasn't talking specifically about sex during the time loop. But what applies to time-loop coffee drinking should also apply to time-loop sex having. Right? Right. So it's all good. It doesn't count as a secret anymore. And as a non-secret it becomes non- disclosure-requiring. No disclosure necessary. Nope. We have complete official alleviation of secret sex guilt.

Spike let his hand drop, but continued to watch him suspiciously. "You're acting off."

Xander shook his head. "Nope. Not off. I'm definitely on. I'm the On Guy. I'm the guy to call when onnage is required. I'm so on, you might even say I'm…"

Spike winced, but started walking again. Xander caught up with him and they continued patrol with only minimal conversation. It wasn't a weird silence, though. It was pretty normal, just patrolling and keeping their eyes and ears aware to the night around them. It was just a pretty normal patrol.

A pretty normal Friday night patrol…ending up at the Sunnydale Majestic for their standing weekly movie date.

They took their usual seats near the back of the theater, right on the center aisle…prime real estate for vamp spotting and slaying. But once they were seated, Xander found himself fixated on how close Spike's knee was to touching his, how Spike's hand rested on his black- denimed thigh and was thus also close to Xander's blue-denimed thigh. There was chipped black polish on Spike's fingernails, and his hand was pale and slender.

This isn't a date. Spike isn't going to hold my hand and blow in my ear, even if we are sitting in the back of the theater like a couple of teenagers looking for somewhere to make out. We're just friends. Friends who've messed around a bit. And maybe more, if I can manage not to fuck it up. So…romancing somebody. You just…do nice things for them, right?

Xander sat silently, staring at the blank screen, supposedly waiting for the movie to start, but actually trying to work up the nerve to make some kind of move. He remained frozen in place during the "previews" – which were actually just old trailers for random cheesy horror movies – but as the main feature started up, he licked his lips nervously and shifted his weight.

"I'll be right back," he whispered, and then leapt out of his seat, striding up the center aisle and out to the lobby.

When he came back, he held a box of Snow Caps in one hand, a box of Red Hots in the other. As he fell into his seat again, he dropped the red box into Spike's lap.

In the flickering light from the screen, Spike peered at him through narrowed eyes.

Xander hoped his blush was hidden by the darkness of the theater, but he just said defensively, "What? I thought you liked Red Hots."

"Yeah. But you bought 'em for me." Spike was, as usual, using his normal voice instead of whispering. The guy two rows ahead of them turned around and shushed loudly.

"Blokes buy each other beers, Xander. Blokes don't generally buy each other candy."

The guy in front of them shushed even louder this time. Xander slouched, feeling wrongly accused, as usual. It wasn't his fault Spike had bad movie manners!

"Jeez, Spike. It's not a bottle of Chanel No. 5, okay? It's just a box of Red Hots. No big. If you don't want it, give it here. I'll eat them."

Spike knows what kind of candy I like! That's definitely a good sign. I mean, okay, so he's giving me shit about the whole candy thing, but his knowing what I like must mean something. But aloud he only said, "Well, then, Mister Difficult, I guess you'll just have to eat them yourself, won't you?"

Spike was quiet a moment, eyeing Xander suspiciously, but eventually he turned to watch the screen again. His voice was actually reasonably quiet when he said, "Fine. Just watch the film, and keep an eye on that fledge in front of us."

"What? Fledge? That guy's a vampire? The shushing guy? You can tell from back here?"

Spike gave him a funny look. "Yeah, the fangs and yellow eyes were a bit of a clue."

Oh. Guess I was kind of distracted. "He's sitting there watching a movie in game-face? What kind of idiot does that?"

"Nah." Spike shrugged and settled comfortably, stretching his legs out to the side and propping his feet on the row in front of them a few seats to the right, crossing one boot over the other. He opened the box of Red Hots and popped a few in his mouth, keeping his eyes on the werewolf transformation happening on the theater's large screen. "Might as well let him watch the flick first."

Despite his certainty that Spike wouldn't actually hold his hand, Xander found himself keeping his hand accessible, resting either on his knee or on the arm rest, where Spike could easily brush against him if he so chose.

He didn't chose, of course. There was no chosing. Xander was not, after all, the chosen one.

There was some accidental brushing, though, and every glancing touch sent a jolt through Xander. He was hyper-aware of Spike's every movement in the dark.

But Spike seemed completely oblivious, calmly watching the film without a glance in Xander's direction.

Spike's a smart guy. He must notice that something's up. Um…not that kind of "up," not at the moment, anyway. I mean, he must notice that I'm interested. Maybe he just isn't into the public displays of affection thing. Maybe he's just being discreet. Sunnydale doesn't exactly have its own gay pride parade.

A little part of his mind whispered, Spike? Discreet? In what universe? But he chose to ignore it. Because discretion was the only explanation he'd come up with that made any sense. Except the obvious.

When they left the theater after dusting two fledges – including Shush Guy – Spike put his hands in the pockets of his duster and they walked toward Xander's car. It was unclear how the evening was going to end. Xander kind of hoped that Spike wanted to spend more time with him, but there hadn't been any actual discussion on the subject.

But when conversation started, it wasn't quite what he'd been expecting or hoping for. Out of nowhere, Spike said, "Don't need you buying me bloody Red Hots, Xander."

But Spike interrupted him, turning to face him with a scowl. "Look. Don't need sweet talk to get my knickers off. I'm not your bloody prom date and I'm not lookin' to cuddle in front of the fire, listenin' to Barry Manilow. Let's skip the pretense."

"You White Hats probably think it's all gotta be sweet and romantic, yeah? Well, sod that. You aren't half bad at sucking cock. Seem to like it, too. So we both get off, yeah? Don't need the romantic trappings."

Spike sighed and turned to face him squarely. "Xander, if you want a girlfriend, find yourself a bloody girl. If you want to fuck, then let's go."

But it isn't impersonal, not really, because Spike is still my friend…we still know each other pretty darn well. So it isn't impersonal, exactly…it just isn't romantic. It's not a love thing. Yet. But can I really do that? Have sex with Spike, even if it's only sex? Do I even want to do that? Because that would just be asking to get hurt, right? How big a fool would I have to be to do that? Okay, yeah, I'm a plenty big enough fool. But can I really turn this down? I want it. And maybe it might turn into something more. Eventually. Maybe. Can I really walk away from that?

Xander didn't realize how long he'd been lost in thought until Spike's voice interrupted to say dryly, "Let me know when you figure it out, eh, Harris?" And then he walked away, leaving Xander standing at the driver's side door of his car, still confused.

The metal of the door handle was cold against his hand. He stood there and held it a moment, still watching the place where Spike had vanished into the dark. But even he wasn't stupid enough to stand around in Sunnydale in the middle of the night. He opened the door and got into the car, then drove home in a sort of fog and fell into bed still fully dressed, minus only the shoes.

Now that the Bregni scare was over, everything was back to normal. And that meant Xander had Saturday night off. Spike and Xander patrolled on Friday night, Willow and Tara patrolled – with the Bot, of course – on Saturday night. Everybody had a weekend night free.

Not that Xander was doing much with his free weekend night. He wasn't really in the mood to go out. He spent the day re-reading his entire X-Men comic collection, just kicking back on the couch with a dwindling "unread" pile to his right and a growing "read" pile to his left. It was his traditional way to deal with feeling overwhelmed. Escapism.

Friday night had left him more than a little confused. It sounded like Spike was definitely interested in the sex – that meant he must be attracted to Xander, at least a little bit – but he didn't want anything romantic.

Maybe he just thinks I was being polite or something, that I don't actually want more. Like during the time loop. He said nobody's ever loved him, not even Dru…so maybe he doesn't think anybody can. Or that anybody will.

Or maybe he's just being all Control Freak guy, trying to stop me from going to that stupid domination club, even though I mostly wasn't planning on going anyway.

Or maybe he's not into guys, and he's only doing this because I'm convenient, throwing myself at him like some kind of desperate horn- dog. So he gets to have sex without all the complications. Except I kind of want the complications. But he doesn't. Want them, that is. He was pretty clear on that score.

The question is Why? Why doesn't he want complications? And why do I sound like such a girl all of a sudden? Maybe I should spend my evening watching football and guzzling beer and belching, instead of sitting around contemplating why my vampire lover doesn't want snuggles.

The simple truth is that Spike apparently wants to have sex with me. And I have to decide if that's enough. I mean, even if it doesn't go anywhere, because I don't know if it could or would or might or definitely won't. So if it really is just sex…can I do that? Do I want to do that?

Okay. Duh. Sex with Spike? And I'm thinking about this so long why? Even if it's just sex. Dude…it's sex with Spike. So maybe he just wants my bod. Spike wants my bod. What could possibly be wrong with that?

Heh. A year ago, I would have thought there was a world of wrong with that. But now…now's different. Now, the phrase "sex with Spike" makes me say, "Yes? Please? Now?"

In comparison, the X-Men were blissfully uncomplicated. Xander read until he was so tired and it was so late that he staggered off to go to bed leaving piles of comic books in his wake.

He woke up the next morning to a ringing phone and Willow's voice telling him to come over for a research party that night. Apparently, there'd been another run-in with a bone-cruncher. Goody.

He had the rest of the day to angst about what to say to Spike when he saw him again.

It all ended up being moot, anyway, because he didn't get any time alone with Spike. Everybody was ranged around the living room, searching through Giles' old books, trying to find out about these bone-crunching demons, and Spike never walked away from the group. Xander wandered into the kitchen a couple of times, trying to give Spike an opportunity to follow him, but he ended up just standing around the kitchen by himself like a moron.

Unfortunately, the third time he went to the kitchen, Willow followed him. Not really what he'd been hoping for.

Xander fiddled with the orange soda he'd just taken out of the fridge. "Not really. But I tried. He said he didn't want to know." Okay, so that isn't exactly what Spike said, but close enough.

Willow frowned. "How could he say he didn't want to know, when he didn't know what it was he didn't know?"

"Trust me. It's all cool." That's right. Say it with a tone of authority and it must be true.

Willow looked like she was about to say something more, but Xander gripped his orange soda and made a speedy escape, smiling apologetically.

When it started getting late and they still hadn't learned anything useful about these particular bone-crunching demons – though they had learned that demons in general just seemed pretty much down with the bone-crunching thing, like it was a common hobby or something – eventually Xander started making noises of the "I should probably be getting home" variety.

Any hopes he'd had that Spike might see him home were dashed when Spike pretty much ignored him when he got up to leave.

Idiot me, I was so happy the first time he decided I was man enough to go home without a bodyguard. Like he'd finally stopped seeing me as some pathetic kid. Like throwing a couple knives around made me an equal with him or something. I never really thought about how nice it was, always having him make sure I got home safe. Yeah, I'm still pathetic.

He left to a chorus of "See you tomorrow"s. The next day was New Year's Eve, and they'd all made plans far in advance to spend the evening together, just as they had with Christmas.

He arrived at the girls' house around 8. He'd been tempted to show up just before dark – so that he could have maximum potential Spike timeage – but he didn't want to look too desperate. And he still wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say. Plus, if he showed up early and Spike didn't, then he'd be submitted to more Willow grilling. It was safer to show up when he knew everyone would already be there.

He knocked on the door and stepped inside, calling out, "I come bearing booze with which to ply unsuspecting womenfolk and vampires!" as he waved two bottles of cheap champagne.

Willow and Tara were in the kitchen, putting various munchies into bowls and onto plates. They both smiled and said hello when they saw him come in to put the bubbly in the fridge. Hearing voices coming from the open back door, he walked over and rested one hand on the doorframe.

Spike and Dawn were sitting on the back stairs, and Dawn was saying, "So now he's going out with Summer Thompson, who is a total slut-o- rama. She is to 'slutty' what Michael Jackson is to 'freaky', you know? And he's all totally lying about it. He's like, 'We're just friends.' Shyeah right."

Xander interjected, "Wait, have I been missing out on the crucial 'girl talk' portion of the evening's festivities?" Both Spike and Dawn turned to look up at him. Dawn grinned. Spike just watched him with an annoyingly calm expression.

We've got this whole sex thing out there, totally unresolved, and he can't even manage to look a little uncomfortable? He's got that unflappable thing going, and I want to see some flap. I'm flapping all over the place, and I don't like to flap alone.

Dawn explained, "We were just taking a break. Spike was showing me some self-defense stuff so I can go patrolling."

Dawn rolled her eyes and said, "Can you spell 'overprotective', boys and girls? I knew you could."

Xander shook his head. "Come on, now, Dawn. How many fifteen-year- olds are lucky enough to have their own personal guard-vamp? Ya gotta see the up side, here."

"Oh, right, like I want somebody telling me what to do all the time. Most kids at school only have one parent. Lucky me, I've got like four."

Spike stood up and leaned against the railing. "Want to help with the training?" He was looking at Xander.

Spike gestured at the grass of the back yard. "Go out and rush at her. I'd do it, but if I make a mistake and hurt her, I'd get a hell of a migraine."

"Rush at her?" Xander glanced uncertainly at Dawn, who was rising to her feet and walking toward the middle of the lawn.

"I can take it. Spike's teaching me how to use somebody's weight to throw them."

Xander shrugged and sort of half-heartedly rushed her, not wanting to accidentally knock her down. But the next thing he knew, he was the one on the ground with the wind knocked out of him, staring up at the night sky.

"I rock!" Dawn crowed, leaping up and down with her arms raised triumphantly in the air. "I rule!"

But Spike sounded firm, insisting, "Just because you can toss a slow-moving human who doesn't want to hurt you doesn't mean you're reading to face demons."

Dawn grinned and did a happy little dance. Xander could see it out of the corner of his eye as he lay there savoring the bitter taste of humiliation. Dawn had smacked him down. "What've you been teaching her?" he asked ruefully, still not moving.

"Just some aikido." Spike's face appeared above him and a hand was extended to help him up. Xander reached up to take Spike's hand, and the touch sent a jolt of excitement through him. He saw Spike's eyes narrow slightly, and then he was pulled to his feet.

As they walked into the house, Xander found himself watching the back of Spike's head, the set of his shoulders, the pale skin of his neck. Spike and Dawn were talking about something, chuckling and nudging each other, but Xander didn't really hear anything they were saying. All he could think was, Spike wants to have sex with me. And I'm hesitating why?

The evening passed in a sort of Dick-Clark-narrated blur. When the ball dropped in Times Square and firecrackers went off somewhere outside, Willow and Tara kissed. Xander glanced nervously at Spike, who wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was watching Dawn, who rushed toward him and kissed him on the cheek, smiling. Then she kissed Xander on the cheek, as well. "Everybody should get kissed at midnight," she insisted seriously.

Xander sneaked another peek in Spike's direction, but Spike still wasn't looking at him.

It's not like he's going to bend me over and give me major tongue action in front of everybody, but still…everybody should get kissed at midnight.

When the kissing – real and imagined – was done, Willow insisted that they all raise their glasses and make a toast. "To a new year, and to good friends," she said, smiling, and everyone touched their glasses together. Even Spike made no objection to the sentimentality of the proceedings. He just clinked his glasses with everyone else's and took a sip of champagne.

He wants this. I want this. I don't care why. I don't care if I might get hurt. I want this. Yes.

Spike held his gaze for a long moment, but looked away when Tara said something to him. He smiled slightly, and Xander watched how his lips curved.

After a few minutes of feeling almost paralyzed with nerves, Xander cleared his throat and said, "I should get going."

The girls looked disappointed, but hugged him goodbye with many more "Happy new year"s.

Spike stood and said, "I'll be heading off, as well." Willow glanced back and forth between the two men, then gave Xander a questioning glance. He gave a tiny shrug of non-knowingness.

They walked out the door together and toward Xander's car, getting a respectable distance from the house and the girls, before Spike asked, "You planning on going to the club?"

Club? Oh…right. The postcard. And the New Year's Eve party. And the club. The postcard that started this whole thing.

Xander focused on getting his key into the driver's side door lock, not looking up, and said in what he hoped was a casual voice, "Not really."

Spike leaned one hip against the fender, his arms crossed across his chest. "Got it out of your system, did you?"

As Xander opened the car door, he looked over at Spike. Xander swallowed. Time to end the poultry impression he'd been doing. "Not exactly. I just…you said…I thought…" Xander licked his lips nervously, and Spike's eyes followed the movement. It gave him the last bit of courage to say, "I thought maybe we could just go to my place, instead."

He didn't look away. Spike tilted his head slightly, as if he were studying Xander, and then he nodded. "All right, then."

It wasn't all that surprising, really, that Spike hadn't wanted to stick around. This thing they were doing…it wasn't about curling up in bed together and waking up to morning-breath kisses. It was about sex, and that was all.

Not that Xander was complaining, exactly. It was just going to take some getting used to.

Spike, on the other hand, seemed completely relaxed about the whole thing. When they'd gotten to the apartment last night,

Late Night Double Feature

by Kimberly A

Copyright © 2006

kimberly_a@livejournal.com