Just Before Dawn.
He hated this time more than any other. He knew the sun was coming up, knew that he'd be saved by light and warmth in just a little while, but during those last few minutes before it actually came up, he was filled with a hopeful sort of terror that was far, far worse than the hopeless kind of terror.
And he hated being alone. Being alone, that was the worst of it. He hated curling up in bed, his back pressed against the headboard and his knees pressed against his chest, but he couldn't help it when he was alone. And he was alone, alone in a big bed he was used to sharing. He was used to falling asleep with a cool body wrapped around his and waking up with short blonde curls in his mouth. He wasn't used to all the empty space on either side of him. He wasn't used to the cold. He wasn't used to the silence.
But they were here. The Scoobies. More importantly, she was here, attempting a reconciliation with Angel at last, and Spike had been wary of her reaction to the two of them. So they were sleeping in separate bedrooms while Spike was getting the lay of the land, so to speak, and Xander was miserable.
Why had they decided to stay at Angel's hotel, anyway? In retrospect, it seemed a little stupid, but they'd been able to guilt him into it, it was free, and it offered almost endless opportunities to torment Angel.
Only now the gang was all here, and Xander was sleeping alone in their big bed. Which was just... bad. All bad. There was no good there.
So why was he still in here?
Long hours sparring with Spike had given him a talent for walking much lighter on his feet, so he made almost no sound as he padded down the hall to the room Spike had temporarily taken over. He didn't bother to knock, just pushed the door open and grinned when Spike's eyes snapped open at the click of the door shutting behind him.
Xander crossed the room in a couple steps and crawled into bed next to Spike, who automatically raised the covers so he could snuggle in. "Hey," Xander whispered, when he'd wriggled into a comfortable spot, with his head pillowed on Spike's chest and one arm draped comfortably over his waist. Spike smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"What's up, pet? Thought we were sleeping separate till we sussed out how to break the news to the Slayer."
"We are. But it got all lonely in there, and you know damn well that Buffy isn't going to be up till noon, after all the alcohol she drank last night."
"Oh, well then," Spike said, and Xander could hear the grin in his voice. "Whatever shall we do till then?"
"I'm sure we'll think of something to do," Xander said, and rolled them over.