Shame the Devil

by
Yindagger

Chapter One

*****

Xander Harris thumbed through the neatly sorted stacks of mail that were precisely arranged on his borrowed desk. The desk itself was in a cramped office that was nestled deep in the bowels of the God-knows-who Memorial Coliseum, Arena or Civic Center in Atlanta, Kansas City or possibly Memphis, but he just wasn’t sure. Each stack of mail had a yellow sticky note on top of it and they were labeled in Annie’s precise handwriting. Not surprisingly, the smallest stack was marked "personal". It consisted of a single thick, heavy, cream-colored envelope – the kind that invitations and announcements came in. Xander was about to open it when he heard a tentative knock at the door.

"Come in, CJ," he said, and cursed under his breath. He hated doing this, and he hated the reason he had to do it. CJ, a tall, thin guy with glasses, entered the room and perched uneasily on the folding chair set up in front of the desk. He would not raise his head to meet Xander’s sharp-eyed gaze, instead looking nervously around the room and smoothing wisps of his sandy hair where they had escaped from a scraggly ponytail.

"Fuck, CJ – why are you doing this to me?" Xander asked, running his hands through his own shaggy, dark hair. "You know better than this. You fucking know I have to fire you. It’s Rule #4 – the Springer Caveat."

CJ slumped in his chair. "I know, man. He’s just so …" his voice trailed off miserably.

"Yes, CJ – I know. That’s why when I hire you guys, I make it a point to specifically ask you if you can hold out against him – you said you could." Xander’s voice softened. "I know he can be terribly convincing – it’s his nature. I understand." Xander sighed. "However, that doesn’t erase the image that’s burned on my retinas of having to pry Spike off of that woman and her sixteen year old daughter. And then she bitched me out about it! You know the rule – no mother-daughter teams. Christ, CJ – not only is it annoying, disturbing and illegal; it’s the second time this week!" CJ merely hung his head.

"Get your severance from Annie – your confidentiality waiver is still in effect," Xander said as he stood and held a hand out to the younger man. "I’m sorry, man." CJ took Xander’s hand and shook it, then left with a resigned sigh. Xander echoed the sigh and rested his head in his hands. He was contemplating the envelope again when he heard his name being frantically shouted from down the hall. Fuck, what now, he thought, as he raced out the door.

Isha, one of the bodyguards, was standing outside another anonymous door thirty feet down the corridor, gesturing for Xander to hurry. Xander rounded the corner at a dead run, and Isha snagged his arm to slow his momentum and push him toward the door. Bursting into the dressing room, Xander swept his eyes around to assess the situation. Another beefy bodyguard, Ace, was standing in the middle of the room. Spike’s much smaller body was wrapped around the larger man in a parody of an embrace.

At first sight, it looked like Ace had Spike in a headlock, but Xander knew better. Spike’s head was cradled in the crook of the bodyguard’s arm, but it was not restrained there – the vampire had his fangs buried in the soft flesh of the inside of beefy man’s elbow and was feeding. Ace was pale and struggling, his eyes were beginning to look panicked.

Xander tried not to notice that Spike was lost in the ecstasy of the blood, his eyes rolled back in his head, his tongue working against the flesh in his mouth, his hips pumping his erection against the body in his arms. Ace was trying to pry the vampire’s mouth away from him, but Spike easily held the man in place as if he didn’t weigh well over 300 pounds and have biceps as big as Spike’s thighs.

Stepping up to the entwined men, Xander reached forward and twisted his right hand into the vampire’s blond curls. He tightened his hand viciously, ignoring the angry growl that emanated from Spike.

"Let go, fucker," Xander hissed, being careful not to give in to the urge to shake Spike’s head until his teeth rattled, so he wouldn’t hurt Ace further. "You’re draining Ace, you dick." Spike’s eyes flew open and he stopped feeding. After a long moment, he carefully eased his fangs out of the larger man’s flesh. He tried to push the bodyguard’s arm away. Seeing that Ace was free, Xander gave in to the impulse and shook Spike’s head sharply by the hair several times.

"Lick it. You aren’t leaving him with a scar just because you can’t control yourself," he said, and Spike did as he was told, laving the puncture wounds on Ace’s arm until they closed. Xander and Isha ignored the small moan that Ace couldn’t suppress. Xander kept his hold on Spike’s hair, not allowing the vampire to raise his head. With his other hand, he gave Ace a gentle push toward the other bodyguard.

"Get him out of here, Isha. Take him to Julie for a shot, get him a steak, and reshuffle the roster so he gets a couple of days off." Xander sighed; giving both men what he hoped was a smile that was equal parts apology and reassurance. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Xander pulled Spike upright and looked into his face.

The demon visage had receded, but the blue eyes were spacey. Xander looked at the vampire’s pupils and cursed again. "CJ?" he asked. Spike nodded. "Well, I already fired him, so that’s that. How much?"

"Nine." Spike’s voice was low. Xander cursed again, and let go of Spike’s hair. The vampire stumbled slightly, and Xander automatically reached out to steady him. Spike sidestepped and moved in, pressing his body against Xander’s side. He rubbed his crotch against the human’s hip.

"Xanderrrrr," Spike growled. Xander knew that a blood-lusting, horny Spike with nine thousand dollars worth of heroin in his non-streaming bloodstream wasn’t likely to listen to reason, so he merely wrapped his arm around the narrow waist and tilted his head back as he shoved one of his thighs between the insane vampire’s legs. Spike clamped his own thighs against Xander’s, wrapped his arms around him and started thrusting. His lips came to rest against Xander’s throat, and he eagerly mouthed the warm flesh, taking care not to touch the human with his teeth.

Spike muttered and moaned against Xander’s neck as his pace sped up, and if the human heard his own name in those growls and groans, he didn’t dwell on it. The vampire climaxed with a shudder and a sigh, and hung limply off of Xander’s larger frame for a moment. As soon as Xander felt dampness soaking into his jeans, he unwound their bodies and half-walked, half-carried Spike to the attached bathroom.

He shoved the still-unsteady form into the shower and turned the cold water on full blast. He ignored the indignant curses and howls that rang through the small room, but did relent and reach in to turn the hot water on. He waited for ten minutes; studiously ignoring his hard on until it finally gave up and subsided, then peeked into the shower. Spike was on his feet, washing listlessly, his clothes scattered on the tile. He turned his head and gave Xander a sheepish smile. His eyes were less spacey and he was regaining some of his characteristic grace. Xander withdrew.

The shower turned off, and Spike pulled back the curtain, sluicing water off of his hair with his other hand. He stepped out of the shower and shrugged gratefully into the thick terry robe Xander handed him. The human draped a towel across Spike’s shoulders and took his arm, leading him back out into the main dressing room and over to a large, plush sofa that was covered in an electric blanket. Spike sank down onto its warmth and started blotting his dripping hair with the towel. Xander sat beside him and pulled another blanket off the arm of the sofa, wrapping it around Spike.

"Sorry," Spike muttered, not looking up.

"Sorry for what? Ace? I know you aren’t sorry about the mom and daughter team – either one of them, or the smack," Xander replied in an even voice.

"Yeah, Ace. Didn’t mean to – I just got caught up. Is he mad?"

"I don’t know, Spike. Probably not – Ace is pretty mellow. You’re lucky it wasn’t Jack – he would have probably punched you." Spike could hear Xander’s smile, but still didn’t look up.

"’M sorry about the other, too." The vampire’s voice was still low.

"What? Humping me?" Xander laughed. "You are so not sorry – you just wanted to get off – I could have been anyone. Now, stop pouting. You know it doesn’t work on me. You have to be onstage in two hours. Wanna sleep a little?"

"Will you stay?" Xander sighed yet again at the tone in Spike’s voice. It was that tone he used every now and again; the one that made Xander almost believe there was a shred of actual emotion in the vampire’s unbeating heart. The tone that sounded lonely. He bit back another sigh and raised his arm, allowing Spike to fold himself to his side. He propped his chin on top of the wet curls and let himself relax. A fleeting thought – the word "envelope" – flitted across Xander’s mind, but he didn’t bother to chase it. Within minutes, they were both asleep. They stayed that way until the hairdresser, makeup artist and stylist arrived an hour later to work on Spike before the show.


*****

Chapter Two

*****

"No. No, no, fucking no."

"Yes, you twat – we’re going."

"What part of ‘fucking no’ do you not understand, Spike? I’m. Not. Going. You’re a grown up vampire – you want to go, go. I’m not." Spike crossed the room and laid a hand on Xander’s shoulder. As soon as stormy brown eyes met his own, he smiled gently.

"We need to go, Xan. It’s for Dawn. She will never understand if we miss her graduation, and you need to face them – you need to face Buffy and hash it all out once and for all." Spike’s smile twisted into a smirk as he continued, "besides – if I go, you have to go. I’m completely co-dependent and couldn’t find my ass with both hands without you. At least, that’s what you tell everybody."

Xander batted the vampire’s hand off of his shoulder and sat down heavily into another anonymous desk chair in another anonymous office in another anonymous venue. He dropped his dark head into his hands and sighed.

"I don’t want to do this, Spike," Xander said. "I don’t want to go back to Sunnydale with my tail between my legs and crawl to Buffy’s feet to beg forgiveness for being an asshole. On my list of top ten things I don’t want to do, this ranks pretty damn high."

"She forgave you a long time ago, you stupid git," Spike said. He leaned against the desk and propped one of his booted feet on the corner of Xander’s chair.

Xander straightened in his seat and lifted his head to eye Spike suspiciously. "How do you know that? When did you talk to her?" he said.

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Uh – once a month for the last eight years? I am paying for her sister’s education." Spike enunciated each word carefully, as if Xander were very drunk.

"When did she tell you what I did?" Xander’s voice was much less forceful than before, and Spike hated the shame he heard there.

"She didn’t," he answered.

"Then how do you know she’s forgiven me?" The suspicious tone was back in Xander’s voice.

Spike looked at the human for a moment, and then placed his hand on the slumped shoulder again. "I asked her what was between the two of you. She said that you both did and said some things you didn’t mean and that she’d forgiven you and hoped you’d forgive her and yourself."

"She didn’t do anything wrong," Xander’s eyes dropped from Spike’s and back to the floor.

"She says she did," Spike said softly.

"No," Xander said miserably, "It was me."

Spike awkwardly patted his friend’s shoulder. "What did you do, pet? You can tell me – not big on judging, you know."

Xander raised his head to meet Spike’s eyes, and the vampire saw a dangerous glint there. When Xander spoke again, his tone was harsh, and his eyes glittered. "You want to know what I did, Spike? Well, just remember that you asked, OK?" Xander took a deep breath and leaned forward. Neither man noticed that Spike’s hand slipped a little to curve toward the back of Xander’s neck. "I helped drag her out of Heaven – but you knew about that. And you made your feelings pretty clear – with the yelling and the leaving." Spike’s mouth opened and Xander made a quelling gesture.

"Shut up – you wanted to hear this and I’m only saying it once. So, dragged out of Heaven because her friends were stupid – that was major. But, then it got better. You were gone, and she was a mess – she couldn’t deal with anything, couldn’t feel, she said. And then, I got my wish. Buffy finally turned to me for comfort. I finally had the girl of my dreams in my arms, begging me to love her."

Xander laughed bitterly. "I was still in shock after Anya died, you’d gone, Willow and Tara were miserable, Dawn was terrified, and Buffy – God, Buffy wanted to fuck me. She wanted me to make her feel… to make her feel anything. For a while it was enough just to fuck. All the time, anywhere, any way – whatever she wanted. She nearly killed me, Spike. I could barely keep up with her. And then I couldn’t. And then fucking wasn’t enough. There had to be screaming and yelling and arguing."

Spike wanted to stop the recitation – the look in Xander’s eyes was scaring the hell out of him; the restrained violence in the other man’s voice was arousing his demon as much as it was unnerving the human part of him. Xander paused and took a breath, then kept speaking in a low, vicious voice. "Then, one day, screaming and yelling wasn’t enough – she pushed me. I pushed her back. She made some smartass remark, and I – I hit her."

In an instant, Spike’s hand moved from the back of Xander’s neck to gather a fistful of the front of the human’s shirt as he jerked them both to their feet. His eyes glowed a baleful yellow as he stared into Xander’s face. A small part of his brain noted that Xander wasn’t exhibiting any signs of fear, simply returning the venomous look with one of rage and shame.

"You. Did. What?" Spike gritted out.

Xander calmly removed the vampire’s hand from his shirt and stepped back. "Don’t make me rethink my decision to stop carrying a stake, Spike." They both settled back into their original positions, Xander in the chair, Spike leaning against the desk with his hands clasped on his knee hard enough to make the small bones creak

"To answer your question," Xander said, "I hit her. I hit Buffy in anger. Then I left. Six months later, I met up with you again."

"Did you hurt her?"

"No. I don’t think it actually even registered for her at the time," Xander’s tone betrayed the disgust his still felt for his actions.

Spike felt all of his righteous anger leave him in a flood. "What did it do for you?" he asked.

Xander laughed bitterly and wiped a hand across his mouth, as if he could wipe away the taste of his shame. "Made me sick. Made me want to die. Proved to me that, if nothing else, I am my father’s son." The bitter laugh again. "It scared the shit out of me, Spike. It made me leave every person I ever loved, because, not only was I useless at protecting them from vamps and demons, I couldn’t even protect them from monsters like me."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Xander noticed that Spike’s eyes had changed back to blue. "Your Dad hit your Mum?" the vampire asked softly.

"Yeah."

"And you?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Forever. Doesn’t matter."

Spike reached out one more time and laid a hand on Xander’s shoulder. "It does matter, pet. It matters to me. You want me to kill him?"

"I already offered," Xander said, "she wouldn’t let me."

Spike snorted. "And people say demons are fucked up."

Xander sat very still, drawing a tiny amount of comfort from the cool hand on his shoulder and the easy camaraderie that seemed to surface between them at the oddest moments.

"I still don’t know why she’d ever forgive me," Xander said.

"It’s what she does. She’s the forgiving sort," Spike replied, squeezing the shoulder under his hand, and then releasing it with some reluctance.

"I don’t deserve it," Xander sighed.

"Xan?" Spike said.

"Yeah?"

"Get off the bloody cross, would you? Accept the forgiveness, give her yours and move the fuck on." His smile was gentle. "Beside, you know broodiness gives me hives."

Xander smiled back. "Well, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for marring your pretty skin."

"Damn right."


*****

Chapter Three

*****

"I can’t tell you how excited I am that you guys are coming!" Willow was so giddy that Xander had no idea how she was keeping the pitch of her voice out of dog-ears-only range. She and Xander had been on the phone for over five minutes – the longest they had talked in years. So far the conversation was mainly Willow squealing and Xander laughing. "OK, what’s the plan?" she asked, and could sense that she had her "detail-oriented face" on.

"Two more shows in wherever the hell we are – Indiana, I think?" Xander realized that he truly didn’t know, and reminded himself to look at the front of the phone book as soon as he got out of bed – the phone book always knew where it was. "Then we’ll fly back to LA and drive to you, so we’ll arrive Thursday night. Party’s Saturday, right?"

"Yep. Do you want to stay with us?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah – we’re set up at the Delta. I hope it’s up to Spike’s extremely prissy hotel standards. We have to bring the obligatory rock star entourage, and what with being mostly nocturnal it’ll be easier on you if we just hotel it." Xander kept his tone light. He didn’t want Willow to suspect that he had very specific reasons for not wanting to put himself and Spike into close quarters with the others.

"How many in the entourage? I’ll need to tell the caterer for the party," Willow said, and Xander could hear a pen scratching on paper.

"Just the two of us and the four bodyguards – skeleton crew," he joked.

She snorted. "Spike needs four bodyguards? His body’s not that big. Oh! Does he need a source for blood?"

Xander didn’t speak for a moment, and then replied carefully, "We’ll bring what we need, but thanks. The guards are two shifts, just in case. He tends to get mobbed."

"Yeah, I get that – that photo on the cover of his latest CD is drool-worthy in a big way. Gah!" Xander could hear her blush.

Xander’s thoughts raced back to the photo shoot for the album cover in question. The photographer had been a prancing sissy who drove Spike absolutely insane, and the vampire had very nearly stormed out of the studio several times. Finally, Xander had made everyone leave the room. He had sat Spike down in the center of the floor and made him laugh until he nearly cried by doing imitations of Angel in the old days. After Xander had improvised a three minute riff called "the Magnificent Poof and the Case of the Missing Hair Gel" that had left Spike lying weakly on the floor in near-hysterics, he had allowed the photo crew back in, with the caveat that none of them speak. They’d gotten some good photos of a much more relaxed Spike.

The photo that had eventually become the album cover was the last one that had been shot. The photographer had gestured that they were finished, and Xander had jokingly blown a kiss at Spike, to thank him for cooperating. Out of the blue, a bolt of – something – something hot and coiled and electric - had shot between the two men. The photographer had snapped one last digital frame that captured Spike crouched down on the floor in front of a blood-red backdrop, wearing all black. His hands were dangling down between his spread knees, his head was tilted, and he wore a look that was direct, primal, appraising and raw – part predator, part seducer. It was an image that graced a million teenagers’ walls, and the fantasies of many of their parents. Xander felt parts of him responding to the memory of being the object of that look. At the time, the photographer had started shrieking about what a great shot it was, and Xander had been forced to move quickly to keep Spike from killing the shrill little man, totally wrecking the mood.

"Hello? Xander?" The tone of Willow’s voice told him this was not the first time she’d called his name.

"Sorry. Got distracted. What?" he babbled.

"I said, tell Spike he has to make a speech at the party – the other girls’ parents are doing it, and Buffy and Spike are pretty much Dawnie’s honorary Mom and Dad."

"What about Giles? That seems like a Giles thing," Xander said, thinking about how loud Spike was going to yell when told he had to make a speech.

"Giles is…" She hesitated. "Giles is kind of… not himself right now."

"What does that mean, Willow?" Xander asked, and she was suddenly glad that she couldn’t see his face, wondering if it was half as fierce as his voice right then.

"He’s recovering from what we think is a magical backlash – he cast a spell that backfired on him. He’s a little… nuts. But, he’s getting better." She sounded desperate.

"How long has he been nuts, Willow?"

"A couple of days. I’ve consulted some others in my coven – we’re working on a fix. He’ll be fine, I promise. Tara and I are taking good care of him – and he’s going to be just fine." Her fervent tone told him that she was reassuring herself as much as him.

Xander decided to let the subject drop for the moment. "OK, you want me to call you when we get into town or wait ‘til Sleeping Evil gets up on Friday?" he asked.

"You better call when you get in – Dawn will be bouncing all over the place." She hesitated. "Xander, have you talked to Buffy?"

"No."

"Will you please call her? You guys really need to get all this stuff between you settled before you arrive," she said.

"OK," he sighed, "I’ll call her tonight as soon as I get Spike safely on stage."

"Can I ask you something?" She sounded as if she were afraid that she might anger him, and Xander felt his guts twist a little at the thought that she might fear his reaction.

"Anything," he replied.

"What’s the deal with you and Spike, anyway?" She sounded genuinely curious, and he had to laugh a little.

"It’s… complicated. And, yes, I know that’s not much of an answer. Technically, I’m his business manager – I hire, I fire, I book the tours, I sign things. I yell at people who fuck up and give Porches to people who don’t. Xander giveth and Xander taketh away," he joked. "I do all the stuff that Spike hates, and he goes out there and sings and dodges panties and makes millions of bucks."

"I know that," she replied, with an edge of impatience. "I meant personally."

"Personally?" His voice squeaked a little at the end of the word. "We’re friends, I guess. Business partners. Why?"

Oh," she said, and she sounded – disappointed? "I just thought maybe you were together. It’s just that all the nice little cards and presents and things are always signed ‘love, S+X’, and he talks about you a lot when he calls and stuff."

Xander was momentarily speechless. Nice little cards? Presents? Spike calls Willow? Spike calls Willow and talks about me? Xander-brain shutting down now… all unsaved work will be lost. Please press any key to continue.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Wills, but there’s nothing romantic going on with me and the evil undead." Xander-brain failsafe engaged, sarcasm released. Crisis averted.

"Well, is there anybody else special? For either of you?" Willow sounded wistful.

"Depends on your definition of ‘special’, I guess," Xander replied ruefully. "Spike nails a lot of groupies. And roadies. And strippers and waitresses and God knows what else."

"Xander!" Willow sounded outraged.

"What? Hello – gorgeous, immortal, stud-muffin rock star. The guy gets laid a lot."

"Well, I guess that’s not much of a surprise," she conceded. "But, nobody for you?"

"I get by." He smiled into the phone, hoping that the sentiment transferred down the wire. "Wills, we don’t have a normal life, OK? I mean, neither of us has lived anywhere but hotels and vacation rentals for over five years. Neither of us owns a car. If we aren’t recording or touring, we’re raising hell in some beach town ‘til it’s time to record or tour again."

"It seems lonely," she said.

"It isn’t. We have a great group of people. Take Annie – she’s the brains of the operation. She’s been with us for seven years. She makes sure we eat and bails us out of jail and makes us pay our taxes and stuff – she loves us. And the guys – the bodyguards – they’ve all been with us for at least two years. We have a strange little family, Willow, but it works for us."

"Tell me more, Xander – I want to know about your family." Her voice was so hopeful and sweet that Xander found himself falling back into the warm cushion of scoobiness that he’d left behind so long ago. He balled up a pillow and propped himself up comfortably.

Over the next hour he told her more about Annie and the four bodyguards – individually Ace, Jack, Isha and Carl; collectively "the guys". He related funny stories about Julie, their fitness trainer/ nurse/ chef; Dave, the guitar technician who had been giving Xander lessons for six months; the members of the touring band; the sound and lighting engineers and the assorted assistants, administrators and hangers-on who populated their insular little world.

Xander explained to Willow how they kept Spike’s vampiness a closely-held secret, with only the inner circle being privy to the knowledge. She was fascinated with his descriptions of how they controlled his public appearances, photo shoots, interviews and other details. Throughout the conversation, Xander had been steadfastly ignoring the cell phone that was trying to vibrate off of the bed table. Finally, he knew he had to get back to the demands of his job.

"I’m sorry, Wills – but I’ve got to go. People are screaming for me." Xander was surprised to find that his reluctance to hang up was entirely genuine.

"OK – Mr. Famous Guy," she mock-whined. "But, I get lots and lots of your undivided attention when you’re here, OK?" She was quiet for a moment, and then added, "I’ve missed you, Xander."

Speaking through the lump in his throat, Xander said, "I’ve missed you, too. I promise – lots of catching up time." He hung up the room phone and picked up the cell.

"What?" he snapped. He listened for a moment. "Call Annie – I’ll be down in an hour. If she can’t help you then it can wait a fuckin’ hour." He clicked the tiny phone shut and turned over onto his back with a sigh.

Thoughts of the conversation with Willow turned to thoughts of the photo shoot where they’d taken the album cover shot she had mentioned, and Xander felt his cock twitch and start to fill. He slipped a hand down his naked body and loosely circled himself with his fingers. He concentrated on the look that had been in Spike’s eyes – the look that had pinned him on the spot with raw, electric, seething need, and he was instantly fully erect.

He squeezed his shaft and felt a small gush of fluid at the tip. He rubbed his thumb over the slit and used the pearly drops to lubricate the slide of his palm. It wasn’t enough. Rolling onto his side, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a nearly empty tube of lubricant. It was a sad testament to the state of his love life that he’d only used it on himself. Shrugging off that thought, he squeezed some of the slick gel onto his fingers and began stroking himself in earnest.

Xander let his other hand trail down to roll and cup his balls, pulling lightly on the heavy, velvet sac and rolling it against his body. He let his thoughts drift to an incident that had happened on their last tour.

There was a certain point in each show where Spike left the stage. While the guitarists and the drummer each took a long solo, Spike was able to change clothes and get some blood, Jack Daniels, drugs (if Xander had been less than diligent in his pre-show sweep) and usually a blowjob from a handy groupie before resuming the stage. On this particular night, Xander had walked into the backstage area just in time to see Spike, naked from the waist down and knee deep in girls, draining a fifth of JD. As the empty bottle had been flung aside, Xander’s gaze locked on the girls at the vampire’s feet. On was in front of him, deep-throating his cock. The second was crouched between his legs, sucking his balls. The third girl was kneeling behind Spike, with her tongue buried between the firm globes of his ass.

Spike had one hand buried in the hair of the girl blowing him, roughly fucking her mouth. The vampire’s head was thrown back, eyes closed, and a steady stream of filthy language was pouring from his mouth. Out of the four of them, Spike was the only one to notice Xander, just as his eyes flew open preceding his orgasm. The vampire and mortal had locked eyes, and Spike’s free hand had flailed out to grab one of Xander’s, squeezing their linked fingers with punishing force as he came. The two men had stood unmoving until the girl on her knees in front of Spike had released his cock with a small "pop". Shaking himself, Xander had dropped Spike’s hand, turned and left the room.

The memory of the fire in the depths of Spike’s eyes at that moment of release brought Xander to the edge, and he stroked himself harder. It still wasn’t enough. Stopping, he squeezed the remainder of the lubricant onto his hands and rubbed them together. He returned his right hand to his straining erection, and raised one leg so he could bring the other hand down to circle the puckered entrance to his body. He slid a finger inside and gasped. He stretched himself and added another finger, hissing at the burning sensation.

He let his mind wander to the memory he saved for occasions like this – when the normal beat-off fantasies weren’t enough; when it had been too long between lovers; when he had one of his infrequent, usually drug-fueled, semi-sexual encounters with Spike that confused the hell out of him. The memory of a night several years past, when he had stormed into Spike’s bedroom to yell at him for some transgression – drugs, underage groupies, something – and found the vampire sprawled across his bed with a young man crouched between his legs.

At first, it had looked like a garden-variety blowjob. Xander wasn’t shocked – Spike was just as likely to get one of those from a man as a woman, or even a non-human, depending on where his fancy took him on a particular night. But this was different. The man had straightened, Spike’s heavy cock slipping from his mouth, and Xander had seen that his entire hand was pushed inside Spike. The word "fisting" crossed Xander’s mind – he knew what it was, but had never even seen photos.

Spike was on his back, with his knees bent and his feet flat on the bed. His hands were at his sides, curled tightly into the sheets. His hips were canted forward, and his back was tense. His eyes were open, awash in tears. Xander had never seen a look like the one on Spike’s face – pain and pleasure and need and bare, open lust, all watered by the tears that streamed from huge, shining blue eyes. Those eyes had met Xander’s as one of the vampire’s hands had shot forward to grab the wrist lodged at the center of his body to keep the other man from withdrawing.

"Close," Spike had rasped, "So close, don’t stop." At his plea, the young man had carefully rotated his hand and pushed it up into Spike. The motion had caused the vampire’s back to bow further, and he came with a harsh cry, white spurts arcing into the air and landing in heavy drops on his pale chest and abdomen. The young man had repeated the rotating motion and slowly pulled his hand out. As the knuckles exited his body, Spike had cried out again, coming dry. As Spike panted harshly, Xander had closed the door.

On the bed, Xander twisted his fingers sharply and found his prostate. He rubbed it hard and tightened his hand around the swollen, reddened head of his cock. One more rub, and his balls drew up; one more hard stroke and he shot all over the sheets. Xander wiped his hands on the bedclothes, caught his breath, then got up and walked unsteadily to the shower, ignoring the vibrating telephone on the table.

*****

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