Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS.

Spoilers: Where the Wild Things Are.

ObscureBookWyrm is nearly overwhelmed with her own workload, yet she found the time to beta this. We should all thank her, because without her, this would be unreadable.

Remember When

Chapter Fifty-Six

It was Friday night after midterms and the Fish Tank was hopping. Onstage, Candi with an 'i'––the talented trollop––had just dropped her gold-spangled tube top, revealing red tassel pasties, and by some complicated gyrations Spike couldn't fathom, she managed to twirl them, mind-bogglingly, in opposite directions. Bloody glorious, it was.

Most of the crowd went wild for it, throwing fives and tens, and even a couple of twenties at her feet. All except a small party in the corner, whose attentions were centered on their waitress.

"Touch her again, and I'll break your spine in three places."

Spike unleashed his most fatal glare at the trio of frat-boy looking demons, sporting the UC Sunnydale colors of goldenrod and navy. The ringleader went so far as to dye his hair school-bus-yellow with a blue stripe down the middle; washed and faded, it resembled a tatty squirrel pelt. Besides making bad hairstyle choices, he also had the poor judgment to put his hands on Anya.

"Spike, you're ruining my gratuity."

"Don't care. Law says they touch you, I touch them. In very bad ways." His Death Star destructo glare didn't waver. The boys wilted in their seats, their former good cheer visibly diminished.

Anya's smooth brow crumpled. "What law?"

"Man's law."

"Which man's law?"

"The law that says if I see my lad's woman being manhandled, I break the offender's face."

Anya's hands shot to her hips. "That's a made-up law."

"It sure as bloody hell isn't."

She poked him in the chest, hard. "You are disrupting my cash flow. This makes me very unhappy. Do not do it, or I'll curse your important man bits. How's that for man law?"

Spike took a large and very healthy step away from her. The wilted frat boys perked up, grinning as they slurped the drinks the hottie waitress had just delivered to their table.

"Besides, I'm no longer Xander's woman."

"What?"

Anya sniffed and all the frat demons froze. "Dude." The ringleader nudged Spike. "Do something before she cries."

The look Spike tossed the guy could have curdled milk.

Spike scratched the back of his neck, trying to remember if the boy had rattled on in his meandering way about jilting Anya when they spoke last. Spike was almost certain he would have noticed if the boy had complained about trouble in paradise with his demongirl. Almost.

"You two call it quits?" Spike asked.

She nodded, rubbing her nose with her forearm. "He doesn't want orgasms anymore. Not even a blow job!"

Every man's jaw dropped. Not wanting a blow job was inconceivable. A bitch would have to be pretty ratchet for a man to turn one down, and the hottie standing in front of them was far from it.

"Do you think I'm fat?"

The demons closest to her leaned far away. Hell, the demons at the neighboring table leaned away. Males who had regular females stood up and crossed to the far side of the room. Spike sputtered. Anya's face scrunched up in a dangerous precursor to tears.

"I am, aren't I?" she wailed.

"What the fuck?" A big-breasted blonde with hair teased out to skankdom and a heavily lined face no amount of pancake could hide came to a halt next to Anya. She turned the full force of her blue-eye-shadowed, lash-extensioned, forty-years-of-hard-living glare on the frat boy demons. "One of you call her fat?" Her serving tray flew up, ready to swat them like horseflies.

"No!"

"Hell, no."

"No way, boo. That piece is lush."

Spike swatted Mr. That Piece is Lush in the back of the head.

The waitress turned back to Anya. "You're not fat, honey. Your ass is tight in that latex mini."

Anya twisted around, trying to see her ass. "You think?"

"Hells yeah. It's white. It's hard to pull off a tight ass in white. Black, sure. Red, maybe. But your ass has got to be the real deal tight to pull off white." Having imparted her wisdom, the waitress wandered off to serve the next table.

Rubbing her hands over her tight tush, Anya nodded. "It is tight. But that doesn't explain why Xander doesn't want me to give him orgasms."

"Did you ask him why?" Spike asked, having no idea why he was being drawn into this asinine conversation, even going so far as to actually having a vested interest in it. If the lad didn't have a lady, he'd be at Spike's crypt more often than he already was. Spike liked the boy well enough, but he wanted to keep his evenings free for Buffy.

"He said he was tired from work."

"Babe, your man don't want you, I'll take you out. There's a party on campus tonight. Come with and I'll show you a good time."

"Don't talk to her again," Spike snarled at the demon.

Anya's chin went sky high. "I can go out with who I want, Spike, and I think going to a party is an excellent idea. I'm a free woman; I should be able to do what I want now."

"Fuck, yeah." The frat boy demon pumped his fist in the air. Spike smacked him on the back of the head.

"She sure as fuck ain't doin' what she wants with you, wanker."

"Fine." Anya crossed her arms, tapping her foot. Spike felt a sinking sensation in his gut. "You take me to the party."

"Bloody hell. No."

"Then I'll go with him."

The demon brightened. Spike smacked him.

"Dude, stop hitting me."

Spike pivoted, getting in the boy's face. "Or what?"

The demon swallowed. "Nothin', man. Never mind."

"You'll go with me. You'll have a good time, blow off some steam…" Anya perked up and Spike quickly added, "No givin' or gettin' orgasms. Then when you're not so brassed off we'll find your lad and find out what's what."

Anya pouted.

"Or we can go find him right after work, and you can talk it out," Spike said.

"Fine." Anya sighed. "We'll party first, then find him. I need to have a good time without him. It's not like my life hinges around him. I'm my own person. Right?"

Thinking about how his life consistently seemed to revolve around the women who held his leash, Spike crossed his arms and frowned. "Not really the one to ask, luv."

Anya gave him a curt nod as if coming to some sort of decision.

"Here now," Franklin, their Two-faced Cephalopod demon boss slithered up. Spike looked into his right face, since his left was aimed at Anya. "None of that, you need to be working." Franklin reached out for Anya with one of his tentacles.

"Touch her, and I'll break your spine in three places."

Both of Franklin's noses sniffed, chins going up. "I don't have a spine."

Spike rocked forward on his toes. "I'll find something to break, even if it takes me all soddin' night."

Franklin hitched back, his gelatinous form quivering. "Just get back to work, you two."

Anya shrugged and made her way to the next table. Spike gave the frat demons one last warning glare before heading back to his post.

8888

"Are you sure you want to go to this party, Buffy?" Willow watched her friend with big eyes, concern etched over her pale face. Buffy knew Willow wanted nothing more than to 'fix it' for her friend, but Buffy had to do this herself. She couldn't put it off or ignore it.

Buffy stood in front of her tiny closet, finally deciding on a filmy pink blouse to pair with her flowered skirt. Looking over her wardrobe, Buffy decided she needed a change. All of her clothing reflected the girl she used to be, all bubble-gum pink tops, flowered skirts, and giraffe print pants. Maybe it was time to select a new wardrobe to reflect a more mature side of herself.

And bonus, she still had the prepaid gift card for Niemen Marcus Dad had sent for her birthday. Nothing says, 'Happy you were born' like a piece of plastic and a cheap card.

"No, I need to talk to Riley in person. I need to make it clear we're broken up."

"Maybe you can just avoid him?" Willow plucked at her purple fuzzy sweater. She had taken a quarter of the time to dress that Buffy had. But she wasn't dressing for battle either. Conversations with soon-to-be exes were by far the most difficult battles Buffy ever engaged in.

"Like he's been avoiding me for the last few days?"

Willow shrugged, sheepish.

Admittedly, things were screwed up in the wake of Jonathan's spell. Buffy couldn't believe how she had allowed herself to be subjugated so completely by both Jonathan and Riley, even if it had been a spell. She shuddered to think how long it would have gone on if Spike hadn't taken it upon himself to wind the hair stick into her hair. Who knew a tiny piece of wood and a stone would have enough power to break a spell like Jonathan's? It wasn't like the boy hadn't been throwing some pretty heavy mojo.

Speaking of which… Buffy leaned down to check her appearance in the vanity mirror, tucking the hair stick more securely into her hair. No way was she ever leaving home without her talisman again. Not when it had proven to be indispensable.

"No. No Avoidy Buffy for this girl. This is too important. While under Jonathan's spell, I was convinced I was in the wrong and told Riley I'd give us another chance, and while no one except Faith can be blamed for what happened, I know in my heart that Riley and I can't ever have a relationship after this. The adult thing to do is tell him face-to-face."

"Wow, that is pretty adult-like."

"Yeah, I know. It's kinda wigging me out a little."

Willow laughed and Buffy joined her.

A knock sounded at the door. Willow opened the door, only to be greeted by Xander, who bowed to them with a flourish, doffing an imaginary hat.

"Ladies. Are you ready?"

Linking their arms together, the three best friends left their dorm and headed for Riley's frat.

8888

"You didn't tell me this was an Initiative party," Spike hissed to Anya.

"How was I to know?" she hissed back.

They stood just inside the door, surreptitiously looking for the opportunity to back out before being seen. Unfortunately, before they could make their escape, Anya caught sight of something that made all her innate survival instincts fly right out the window.

A man.

The downfall of women everywhere.

"That ass!" she snarled like a feral cat, rushing into the crowd.

"Anya!" When she didn't do the sane thing and turn around, Spike rubbed his face briskly, wading in after her.

"What are you doing here?" Spike heard Anya snap as he approached her from behind.

"Having a beer," was Xander's droll reply. Spike rolled his eyes. If he were a religious man, and you know, not evil, he'd be asking his Creator, 'why me' at this very moment.

"You told me you were too tired from work to do anything."

"No. I told you I was too tired from work to service you like some stud kept in a stall for your amusement. I've got better things to do than provide you with orgasms every second of the day, you know? If you need it so bad, I'm sure you can work something out."

Anya's gasp was in no way shy or retiring or meant to convey ladylike disappointment. It was pure shock.

"Okay." Spike circled around the pair, latching his hand around the back of Xander's neck. "Look there," Spike pointed across the room. "There's Buffy and Willow. Why don't you go do the pretty with them, while Xander and I talk?" Spike had no idea why Buffy was in attendance, having a casual drink in Riley's home, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was getting damn tired of trying to keep up with the woman's sudden fits and starts. Besides, he had another, more important, bomb to defuse.

The look in Anya's eyes was stark as she looked across the room at her friends, her silent nod as she moved off even more condemning. Anya wasn't a woman to keep her mouth shut when angry. Which meant she'd moved past brassed off and into the realm of hurt.

Spike's fingers tightened around the lad's neck, his demon rising. "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to be a man?" He barely resisted the urge to shake the boy.

The hurt that flashed over the boy's face was quickly hidden away, and too late Spike remembered Xander's piggy-eyed father.

Xander shrugged off Spike's hand forcibly, spinning around to half-heartedly shove the vampire. "You don't get to lecture me on how to be a man! You terrorized women for over a hundred years, you blood-sucking freak!"

Spike knocked his hand away, eyes glinting yellow. "I may be a murdering vampire, but my woman never had cause to doubt my devotion to her. Can your lady say the same?"

"Devotion?" He snarled. "What about her devotion?"

"What're you on about?" Spike asked, his voice low and quiet. Dangerous. If the lad was questioning Anya's fidelity, they were going to have words. Very loud, very angry words.

Xander swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing. He glanced around the room, taking in the plethora of muscular men with military haircuts. They didn't make him comfortable. Knowing Anya was within their reach didn't make him comfortable at all.

"She works at the Fish Tank. You know what kind of women work there?"

Spike stilled, watching the boy closely. The lad's face was red, a muscle in his tightly clenched jaw ticking overtime.

"Ladies who need to eat? Who need to feed their families?"

"Whores," Xander hissed.

Spike grabbed a fistful of Xander's shirt and hauled the boy close. A few weeks ago, Xander would have struggled to get free; now he leaned in just as aggressively, certain of his ability to defend.

"You callin' your girl a whore?"

Uncertainty flashed through Xander's eyes. With a powerful shove, he freed himself from the vampire's hold.

"How can I know what she's doing, man? I've been dating her for months, and I had no idea she worked there."

"Whose fault is that? Didn't you wonder where she went at night?"

"I just assumed she had some night clerk job."

"Well, there's your first mistake. You assumed. Don't you talk?"

"No. We fuck. Repeatedly. No time for chit chat with that girl. Besides, she was keeping it from me. Deliberately," Xander sneered. "She always left the house dressed conservatively. I thought all those skimpy outfits were for role playing. Come to find out, they're work attire."

"Maybe she kept it from you 'cause she knew you'd react like this. You ever think that? How'd you find out anyway?"

Xander's lips flattened into a mutinous line, more telling than any words.

"You went for a look-see, didn't you?"

"We live right next door. I was just curious!"

"Curious to see all those half-dressed whores, while your girl wasn't about," Spike snarled, disgusted by the boy. Spike could condone looking at the chippies. Hell, the birds who danced were fine. Spike could even understand wanting to do it while his girl wasn't around. Awkward that, unless you had an understanding with your lady. An understanding that Anya would more than likely agree to, probably even encourage. But calling those ladies whores? Calling Anya a whore? No. Hell to the no.

"You saying they aren't whores? They aren't taking men into the back room to suck them off?"

What happened to the nice sweet boy who choked on saying something as simple as 'hell?' Spike was beginning to see the wisdom of the swear jar. Clearly, as an evil, blood-sucking, foul-mouthed vampire, he was a bad influence. He was definitely corrupting the youth of America. "That's what I'm saying."

"How would you know?"

"'Cause I work there too. How'd you think I get all my dosh?"

"You strip?" Xander looked confused and just a little fascinated.

Spike barely restrained himself from smacking the boy in the face in an attempt to reactivate what must be dormant brain cells. Brain dead was the only way Spike could explain the boy's stupidity. "No, you git. I bounce. And I can tell you nothin' but dancin' goes on there. If the girls want to provide additional services it's off the premises. So is that what you think? That your girl is taking men home and shaggin' them in your bed?"

"No!"

"Oh, then you just think she's getting on her knees in the back room?"

Xander didn't answer.

"How did this nonsense get in your head, boy?"

Xander aimed his eyes to his toes. "Dad used to go there. When I was fifteen he took me. Got me a girl…tried to make me a man."

Spike's hand curled over Xander's shoulder. The idea of fathers getting their sons whores to make them men wasn't new. Hell, if Spike's da had lived, he probably would have done the same for him. Spike wondered if he would have been the same shy, quivering man-child Dru found in the dirty alley if his father had been on hand to see to his upbringing.

"I ended up throwing up my beer before she even got my dick out."

"So you think Anya's waltzin' around the Fish Tank, servicin' men like your maggot of a father? Really?" Spike just couldn't believe the lad thought that of his girl. Yes, Anya had a forward attitude about sex, but she was loyal to the bone. The woman couldn't abide cheaters. Had spent over a thousand years punishing the disloyal and faithless, and her boy wanted to accuse her of being such? Had the boy lost brain cells during his short stint flipping burgers? Spike needed to get the boy enrolled in community college ASAP. Get those brain cells reactivated.

"I saw her." Xander ran an agitated hand through his hair. "In the red vinyl dress that's supposed to be just for me."

Spike knew exactly the dress Xander was talking about. So incredibly indecent, Anya saw a twenty percent increase to her gratuity whenever she wore it, but even she felt slightly uncomfortable doing so. She only wore it when she needed cash. The last time had been the other night. She needed extra money, she told Spike, to buy Xander a birthday gift. Christ on the cross, what a mess.

"And you saw her doing what?"

Xander didn't answer.

"Well, boy, what did you see her doin'?"

"Serving drinks," Xander muttered.

"That's right. That's what she does. Serves drinks. Nothin' more."

Xander looked away, surveying the crowd, not liking what he saw. Crew-cuts and polo shirts.

"She used to dance, you know?" Xander whipped his head around to glare at the vampire. "She started datin' you and got off the stage. Lost most of her income too. Said you wouldn't understand." Spike shrugged. "Guess she was right."

Xander looked away, but not before Spike saw shame in his eyes. None too gently, the vampire shoved Xander toward the corner of the room where several corrugated steel tubs held ice and cold beer.

"You sure her workin' at the Fish Tank is what got your knickers in a twist, or is it somethin' else?"

They waited in line for their turn at the beer. Xander rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the room for Anya and not finding her.

"She's just so damn beautiful, Spike. She knows exactly what she wants and how she wants it. And she wants it all the time!"

"So give it to her!"

"I'm not a vampire! I'm just a man, and I get tired. My dick is starting to chafe," Xander hissed the last part.

"Bloody hell," Spike mumbled, rubbing his hand down his face. He quickly scooped two PBRs from a tub, handing one to Xander, while motioning to some empty chairs.

Xander took the ice-cold bottle, twisting off the cap and expertly flicking it into the trash can beside the buffet table.

"She's got needs, and I can't see to them. It's better just to end it now, before she has to go looking elsewhere." Xander took a swig of his beer, nearly downing half the bottle.

"Demongirl would never stray. Not unless you gave her reason. Like you actin' like a complete wanker."

"Maybe she wouldn't. But it wouldn't stop her from leaving me because my dick is broken."

Spike didn't shy away from conversations about sex. He liked sex. A lot. And in his estimation he wasn't having nearly enough of it lately. But this conversation was straining the edges of Spike's long-dead sense of propriety. It felt like he was talking to a younger brother or maybe even a son.

Reinforcing himself with a swig of beer, Spike swallowed, and offered some advice. "You do realize that you've got more tools at your disposal than your dick, don't you?"

"My fingers aren't cutting it," Xander mumbled into the mouth of his beer, embarrassment streaking his cheeks.

Yep, TMI. "There's a place down on Ninth and Holly. Called Kiss 'N' Tell. You'll find everything you need there."

"I can't go there," Xander balked.

"Why?"

"'Cause they'll think I'm a pervert."

Spike snorted. "Better that than losing your girl. Besides, they won't think any such thing, but if you're worried, take your girl with you. I'm betting she'll like it. Best open up a frequent customer account first thing."

They settled into their seats, Xander in the corner of the couch, Spike in a ratty armchair. If he angled his body just right, Spike could see through the crowd across the room where Buffy stood talking to Riley. From the fierce expression on her face, their conversation was serious.

"She's breaking up with him."

Spike jerked around to face Xander. "What?"

"Buffy. She's breaking up with Riley."

They both looked across the room in time to watch Buffy follow Riley upstairs.

"Don't look that way to me," Spike muttered. From where he was sitting, it looked like they were going upstairs for a quick shag.

And if that was the case, then he was done. No more mooning after the Slayer. Sure, he'd back her up in a fight, look after her family and friends, but no more late night chats or canoodling on the bed. No more comforting her when she needed it. No more being her confidant…Christ, who was he kidding? If she needed him, he'd be there. He was helpless not to be.

Bloody, buggering fuck. Maybe he shouldn't be giving advice to the lad. Obviously, he was as just as cocked up.

The men sat silently, watching the crowd around them with predator awareness. Even Xander, who seemed to be nothing more than a boy with a crap part-time job and no prospects, surveyed the crowd with the finely honed instincts of a man who grew up on the Hellmouth. His instincts were far superior to those of most of the soldiers in the room, who had never experienced anything remotely supernatural up until a few months ago. Not like Xander, who had lived on the battlefield his entire life.

"I just…ever since Faith…"

"What about Faith?" The last thing Spike wanted to talk about was that bint. Seemed she cocked up everything she touched. He gave an invisible shudder. Just the thought of her hands on him made him sick.

Xander took a swig of his beer, his eyes skating over the other guests, landing everywhere but on Spike. He watched a game of spin-the-bottle turn into a five-alarm make out session with only mild interest.

"Did I ever tell you she was my first?"

"Seriously? Good on you, mate. Bagged yourself a slayer."

"Yeah. It was great." Xander let out a shaky laugh.

Spike's eyes sharpened on him. "I bet shaggin' a slayer ain't like shaggin' any other bird." Xander kept his eyes locked on the crowd. Spike kept his eyes on Xander as he spoke, ignoring the young girl who ran by wielding scissors and clutching hanks of her newly shorn hair. "All that strength. 'Specially in the thighs. I'm bettin' stamina's the name of the game."

Xander shrugged. "It only lasted about five minutes. I didn't even come."

"How's that?" Spike's hand tightened on his beer.

Xander cast him a sick smile. "Oh, you know. She was a real wildcat. Pinned me down, shagged me, like you say, got hers, then threw me out. Wasn't even dressed yet." His laugh was just as sick as his smile.

Spike put his beer down on the second-hand, garage sale coffee table with a sharp click. "Doesn't sound so great to me." Xander didn't reply. "Did you even want it?"

Several people started getting frisky with a nondescript wall separating the den from the large kitchen. One girl tongued the light switch, moaning as she sucked on the toggle.

"Course I wanted it! I'm a dude! Not gonna turn down sex. I might not be the man my father wants me to be, but I know how to be a guy!" Xander shot up from the sagging couch. "Look, shit's going down; I gotta find Anya."

Spike lunged after him, pulling him up short. "Sounds to me like you didn't want it one bit."

Xander edged his body so he could shove his face into Spike's. "I wanted it. No man with half a brain is gonna say no to that. My dick was hard, so of course I wanted it." He yanked his arm out of Spike's grasp. "Now get out of my face, Deadboy."

Time to fetch the Slayer, but Spike needed to make sure the lad was clear on an important point. He leaned in, his voice a low, silky whisper. "Just because your dick was hard doesn't mean you wanted it."

Dropping his eyes away from Spike's steely gaze, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Anya makes me feel like that's all there is to me. My dick. If I don't give her what she wants she's going to leave me. I know you probably don't get this, you being all sexual magnetism guy, but I want to be more than someone's orgasm provider."

Spike's hollow laugh echoed deep in his chest. "Trust me, Harris. I understand. I was Dru's sex toy for a hundred and twenty years and not once in all that time did she ever tell me she loved me." Xander's shocked gaze flashed to his. He opened his mouth to speak, but Spike cut him off. "So let me ask you this. Has Anya ever told you she loves you?"

"Yeah," Xander exhaled shakily. "She has, but I haven't said it back."

"Then you need to do some thinkin'. Then after that, you need to do some talkin' to her. No matter what you decide, she deserves for you to look her in the eye and tell her how you feel."

Xander turned his head away, scanning the room for Anya. He found her talking to some ape with a crew-cut. Not good, not good at all. If the guy even put one hand on her Xander would rip him apart.

"Still don't see Cardboard or the Slayer. She should be here, putting an end to the fun by now." Xander pulled his eyes away from his girlfriend just long enough to scan the room.

"Dunno. You better find her. Keep a lookout for Willow and Tara too." Xander didn't wait for Spike's reply before he headed across the room. Crew-cut just put his hand on Anya's arm. No way in hell was that going to go down.

No way.