Chapter Eleven: Love You Forever. Lost without Dru, Spike clings even more tightly to Xander, Buffy has to keep Angel from killing himself, and Willow starts falling in love with a werewolf.

It was a solemn group who trudged back into the library that night. Well, Cordelia was smugly victorious, but everyone else's cheer was depressed by the sight of someone they'd all trusted and depended on being carried into the room, unconscious and wrapped in chains.

Xander, for his part, was far too distracted by Spike to even notice Angel. The younger vampire was long finished with his crying jag, and instead had retreated into some place that only he could see, leaving a quietly lost man in place of the Big Bad that Xander was used to.

Willow and Mrs. Calendar ran to meet them when they pushed their way through the library doors, Oz and Cordy in the lead, Buffy and Giles following carrying Angel, and Xander, with his arm wrapped around Spike's shoulders, trailing behind. Angel was deposited on the hastily-cleared-off table while Xander guided Spike into Giles' office and sat him down.

He didn't come back out of the office, guessing rightly that he wasn't needed for the spellcasting, and instead focused on Spike. It made his chest hurt to see his usually badass lover so blank and empty, staring into space like he wasn't ever going to wake up and make some smartass comment about Angel's hair or Buffy's short skirts. He sat on the floor at Spike's feet, leaning his head against the vampire's thigh, and wondered if he'd ever feel okay again.

"C'mon, Spike," he whispered. "You're stronger than this. You're gonna come back. I know you are. You can't make fun of Angel if you don't come back, you know that?" No answer, of course. "Spike, I need you to come back. How am I supposed to keep going without you?"

Spike stayed perfectly still, staring off into space, and Xander gave up. He let himself drift, indulging in depression and a little blankness of his own, listening with half an ear to the building chant of Latin in the main room. The smell of burning herbs was almost overwhelming when it finally made its way under the closed door, and his nose twitched.

He felt an answering twitch behind him, and spun around so fast his back almost cracked. And sure enough, Spike was blinking and opening his eyes, the smell of the herbs having apparently woken him out of whatever place he'd gone to.

"Spike?"

Spike's gaze slowly focused on the boy sitting at his feet. "Xander?"

"Yeah, Spike. It's me. Are you okay?"

Spike's confused expression quickly crumpled into grief as memory hit him. "Dru?"

"She's gone," Xander confirmed, softly because he knew how much of a blow it was. Spike stared at him silently out of lost blue eyes, and Xander reached up to gently touch his cheek. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I dunno," Spike said. "I feel all... empty. Cold. So fucking cold."

Shock, Xander thought, and found that he wasn't that surprised that vampire bodies could even go into shock. Xander quickly stood up and scooped Spike into his arms, making handy use of his vampire-strength, and settled back into the chair, with Spike in his lap and wrapped in his arms and simple body heat.

Spike buried his face in Xander's shoulder, and Xander knew that when Spike was back to normal he'd be kicking and screaming at the thought that he'd behaved like this, but at the moment all he could do was hold him and revel in the feel of Spike in his arms again, when just a minute ago he thought he might have lost him forever.

The door opened a few minutes later, and Willow stood there, looking first shocked and then closed off to see Spike wrapped around Xander like he was the last unlife-line that the vampire had to hold on to. Upon reflection, Xander realized that it was probably true.

"The spell?" he asked, when it looked like Willow wasn't going to say anything.

"It worked," she said, and Xander noticed how drained she looked. Her skin was ashen, and it looked like she was holding onto the doorframe to keep upright. "Buffy is taking Angel back to her house to keep an eye on him. Giles is going with her, to explain to her mom what's going on."

"Finally decided that her mom should be let in on the whole Slayer thing?" Xander asked. Willow nodded.

"She's not going to take it well."

"Understatement," Xander said, then looked away from Willow's tight expression and down at the vampire in his arms. "I think I'll be taking Spike home, too. Seems we're done here for the night, and I don't know about you, but I'm going to sleep all tomorrow."

Willow just nodded once, and left the room without saying anything else. Xander winced. Looks like Will really wasn't going to forgive him any time soon, if ever.

"Gonna take me home, pet?" Spike asked, looking up at him with the blue eyes that had always been able to get whatever he wanted out of Xander.

"Yeah, I'm taking you home."

"Where's home?"

Xander began to wonder if there wasn't something seriously wrong with Spike, more than just simple grief. "The factory, Spike. Don't you remember?"

"That's not home anymore," Spike muttered, burying his face against Xander's shoulder. "It's empty. No one home but me. Don't wanna go back there. Don't make me go back there. Please, pet. I don't wanna go home alone."

"Shh, it's okay," Xander murmured, stroking one hand over Spike's stiffly gelled hair. "I'll take you back to my place, okay? We can stay there for a while, until you're all better. That sound okay?"

Spike nodded silently, his face still pressed to Xander's shoulder, and Xander stood up, still cradling the vampire in his arms. He thought about setting Spike down and letting him walk on his own, and then on second reflection decided that it was far more enjoyable for him, as well as being safer, to just carry him.

He nodded to Willow, who was gathering her stuff up to walk home, but she didn't nod back. Deciding that there was nothing he could do about it now, Xander just gave a mental shrug and left.

Cordelia Chase was not happy. She'd let herself get dragged into saving-the-world schemes, again. Sure, she hadn't done anything more than pick up pieces and wave around stinky herbs, but she could have been spending the night at home, getting her much-needed beauty sleep. Bags under the eyes were just so unattractive.

And it wasn't like any of them had actually bothered to thank her. Everyone had just left, not even bothering to even look at her, much less acknowledge all the hard work she'd done at their request. She couldn't believe them. How could they be so self-centered?
She saw Xander the next morning, though, looking pale and heavy-eyed and as exhausted as she was pretending not to be. She felt a brief surge of completely unwelcome sympathy, but before she could quash it down to nothingness, she found herself moving over to intercept him.

"Hey," he said quietly when he spotted her. "All rested up from your world-saving duties?"

Well, maybe the sympathy wasn't so unwelcome. His priorities might have been sadly confused the night before, but they were clearly back in the proper order- with her first- this morning, so perhaps it was acceptable to be the slightest bit worried about him after all.

"Better than you are, that's for sure," she said with some asperity. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

He flashed her a brief smile, and she was suddenly, forcibly reminded of the boy he'd been so many years ago. She quickly squished the memory, because mental-kiddie-Xander was way too cute for her peace of mind. Also, the Xander that stood before her bore about as much resemblance to the grinning five-year-old of her memory as he did to the grinning sixteen-year-old of just a few months ago. Not a whole hell of a lot.

He'd changed.

"Not really," he said. "Mentally disturbed vampires do not make for a well-rested Xan-man."

Right. Spike. Xander was gay now. What was that she'd been thinking about changes? "How is our resident evil?"

"Sleeping, I hope," Xander said with a shrug. "Maybe he'll be a little bit more stable if he gets some sleep."

"You could use some, too," she pointed out. "You look like death warmed over."

"That's what class is for," he said cheerfully, but with only a shadow of his usual energy. She frowned at him, and grabbed his arm.

"You can skip class for a little bit. Go see Giles. If nothing else, he can write you a note and let you sleep in his office."

He gave her an intense, steady look that was not at all like him. "You're not as heartless as you pretend, are you?" When she sputtered with insult, he grinned at her, leaned over, and kissed her on the forehead. "Queen C."

Then he turned and walked away in the direction of the library, leaving her staring after him, stupefied and maybe just a little bit in love with him.

Giles, Xander decided, looked no better than Xander felt. "Did any of us get any sleep last night?" he asked. "Or do we all look like 'death warmed over,' as Cordy so kindly informed me."

Giles looked up from the book he was reading. "Oh, Xander. Hello. No, I didn't get any sleep last night. I spent most of the wee hours trying to explain to Mrs. Summers what, exactly, being a Slayer entails, trying to keep her from hitting me over the head with the bottle of whiskey she was gulping from, and trying to make her understand that her daughter couldn't just quit being the Slayer."

"And Buff? How's she doing?"

A shadow crossed Giles' tired features. "As well as can be expected. She's still at home, looking after Angel, who is doing somewhat less well. He's consumed with guilt over the actions he carried out, and those he didn't succeed at, while he was without his soul. Buffy is terrified that he'll attempt suicide if she doesn't stay by him."

"Two deranged vampires in Sunnydale," Xander said dryly. "I miss life when it was boring."

Giles looked at him sharply. "You're looking after Spike?"

Xander shrugged. "He's asleep now, as far as I know. There's not much he can get up to in our house even if he isn't- it's full daylight and there's no sewer access, so the worst thing he could do is kill my parents, which, hey, no great loss." Giles stared at him, but Xander turned his head, avoiding meeting his eyes. "He's barely able to function right now, anyway. I'll deal with him when he's back to normal. Until then, leave off."

Xander's voice was as harsh as Giles had ever heard it. "You've determined that he's to live, have you?"

"I've always determined that," Xander said. "That's not likely to change."

"Even if he kills again?"

Xander stared at him for so long that Giles started to feel uncomfortable. There was power in those dark eyes, power that had been there since summer, but he'd never turned it towards any of his friends, and as such Giles was feeling the full effects of it for the first time. This was no boy in front of him, ready to be scolded- this was a predator.

"I did some reading after the incident with Eyghon," Xander said slowly. "I found some interesting things about you and a certain Chaos mage. I also notice that he's gotten away twice now, right from under your nose. I wouldn't be so quick to cast stones, Giles. You of all people should know what it's like to love the wrong person."

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the library after his last little bombshell, leaving Giles standing, staring mutely at his retreating back. The boy had certainly developed a skill for a dramatic exit, Giles had to give him that much. And apparently he'd honed his research skills, if he'd found as much as he said he had about Ethan and himself.

It wasn't the same thing, he reassured himself. It wasn't the same thing at all. Ethan was a nuisance, but he wasn't usually truly dangerous. Spike, on the other hand, was a vicious killer, and no amount of grief or trauma would change that fact.

But Xander's words echoed in his head, and the seed of doubt was planted. No matter how many times he told himself that the two situations were not the same, he couldn't be sure that if the time came, he would be able to kill Spike, knowing that Xander, the closest thing he had to a son, loved the creature.

Xander decided not to go back to class. He wasn't in any shape to deal with school, anyway, so he'd be more useful checking on Buffy and Angel.

Mrs. Summers opened the door and let him in without a word, leaving the door open and going straight back to the living room, where she promptly poured another generous shot of whiskey. Xander closed the door behind him and made his way quietly up the steps, heading for Buffy's room, where he could hear her murmuring to Angel.

He halted in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and just looking at her. The windows had been covered by heavy blackout curtains, and lit candles were scattered around the room, for a softer light than the bright one the lamps provided. The flickering light played over her bent head, picking out red strands in her pale hair, and painting a golden glow over the hand that was stroking Angel's cheek.

"Hey," he said softly. "How're you holding up?"

She looked up, unsurprised to see him there. "I'm okay," she said, her tired tone belying her words.

"And what about him?" Xander nodded towards Angel.

"He's... not really okay," Buffy said. "He's consumed with guilt for everything he's done, both in the last couple days, as well as from before, hitting him all over again. He's asleep now, though."

Xander smiled sadly at her. "You want me to spell you for a while?"

She smiled back at him. "I'll be fine," she said softly. "I want to be the one he sees when he wakes up, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." He stood in silence for a minute. "You're going to have to talk to your mom again soon, you know."

"I know. She's still drinking?"

"Slugging it back for all she's worth," Xander admitted. "She'll come to terms with it. Eventually."

"It's the 'eventually' I'm worried about," Buffy said with a sigh. "How do your parents deal with it?"

He snorted. "Oh please. Those two don't notice me coming in at odd hours, much less that I'm not exactly Joe Normal anymore. Hell, they didn't even notice me frigging carrying Spike in last night, and I walked past them. Hellmouth denial at its best, liberally assisted by large quantities of cheap alcohol."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said.

"Don't be," Xander said, shaking his head. "I got used to it a long time ago, and it's actually easier for me now. Besides," and he smiled a little, "I've got a different family. You, Angel, Giles, Willow when she stops hating me, even Spike."

Buffy glanced at him, startled. "Spike? He's your family?"

"Well, only sort of, because otherwise it would be incest," Xander said dryly. "But yeah."

"He means that much to you?"

"He does," Xander said, completely seriously. "He really does."

She smiled at him, a tiny smile, but there nonetheless, and real. "Then he's a lucky guy," she said. "Go to him. I know you want to."

He hesitated. "You're sure you don't-"

"I'm okay by myself," she assured him. "I can keep Angel from doing anything stupid, and you have more than enough on your mind, with your own vampire to take care of. I'll call you when Angel wakes up, if you're that worried."

"I am," he said seriously. "And please do. I worry about both of you, you know."

"We're fine," she said. Then she glanced down at Angel's sleeping face, and a shadow crossed her features. "Well, as fine as we can be, considering the circumstances. Go ahead, okay? Spike needs you more than either of us does, I bet."

"Thanks for caring," Xander said, and it should have sounded sarcastic, but didn't, because Buffy could tell that he meant it. "It's more than I could have asked for. I'd been expecting something along the lines of everlasting hatred and a speedy staking."

"He means something to you, so by extension he means something to me," Buffy said. "I don't necessarily like it, but he did help, and he obviously makes you happy, so maybe he has some redeeming qualities after all."

"He really does," Xander said, giving her a slightly silly grin, and she laughed in spite of herself, feeling better than she had for the last couple days.

"Just go, alright? Play with the crazy vampire, and I'll call if anything happens."

He smiled at her, and it felt almost like a hug, for all that he was standing clear across the room. "Take care," he said, and disappeared from view. She heard his footsteps fading away down the hall, and looked down at Angel, sleeping on the bed beside her.

She loved him more than anything. How could she stand to lose him?

Spike wasn't asleep when Xander home, which made him glad that he'd decided to skip school that day. It wasn't even noon yet, and despite the fact that Spike hadn't fallen asleep till well after dawn, he was already wide awake and crouched in a corner, shivering and looking lost.

Xander shut the door behind him with a quiet click to make sure that his parents didn't wander in at an inopportune moment, then swiftly crossed the room and scooped Spike up in his arms. He carried Spike over to his bed and held him, as much for the pleasure of the rare chance to cuddle with the Big Bad as to reassure him.

"Hey, I thought you were gonna get some sleep. You were already snoring when I left."

"Don't snore." The protest was weak, quiet, but it gave Xander hope.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but you definitely snore. Unlive with the fact. Why'd you wake up, then?"

"Quiet," Spike said. "Alone. You went away. Everyone goes away in the end."

"I just went to school, Spike. And I came back, see? I'll always come back."

"Why?" Spike asked. "Dru didn't mean to leave, either. And now she's gone."

"Because I belong to you," Xander said seriously. "I'm yours. It doesn't matter how much I pretend otherwise 'cause it's true. I'll always be yours. Till dust do us part and afterwards. Got it?"

"Will you wear my name?"

Xander glanced down at him quizzically. "Huh?"

"If I belong to you, will you wear my name?"

"A nice black dog collar okay for you?" Xander joked. "They make them in zebra-stripe patterns now, did you know that?"

Spike slowly uncoiled himself out of Xander's lap and stood a few inches away, looking steadily into Xander's dark eyes. "Not a collar, pet."

"Then what?" Xander asked, when Spike didn't elaborate.

"Do you trust me?" Spike said, instead of answering. Xander locked gazes with him and just stared at him, silently, for a long, tense moment.

"Yes," he said finally. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Spike bent down, and pulled a short, delicate knife out of his boot. He held it up and Xander couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from the blade, gleaming just a little in light filtered through the curtains.

"Then take off your shirt, and turn around."

It was the most intense experience of his life. More than Angel's blood, more than the first real fight with his new and improved body. More even than the incredible rush that sex with Spike always gave him. It was so all-consuming that he couldn't even see out of open, tear-brightened eyes. All he could do was clench his fists on the bedspread and stare blindly at the wall, panting out of a half-opened mouth while every muscle in his body clenched against the white-hot invasion on his back.

He could feel it, ever tiny millimeter of it, stroking oh-so-slowly in Spike's steady hand, and he knew without looking that the letters were square and angular, very different the elegant Victorian handwriting he'd seen on the odd occasion that Spike had left him a note somewhere or other, due to the medium of blade rather than pen. The whole area felt inflamed, swollen, red-hot, with the letters icy lines of fire tracing his ownership through the burn. Blood trickled down, tickling and soaking into the hem of his jeans but he didn't move, just held himself so very, very still while he let himself flow into the pain and eventually closed his unseeing eyes against the rush of a lifetime.

And when it was over, Spike gently cleaned and bandaged the wounds, and wrapped his arms around him, holding him like he was never going to let go. Xander's last thought, before losing himself in sleep, was that he wasn't sure anymore who was the comforter, and who was the comforted.

A ringing phone awoke them both. Spike flinched but didn't roll away from the sudden noise, as Xander had half-expected he would. Instead he cuddled closer to the heat of Xander's body, almost purring when Xander stroked one calloused hand down his spine while reaching for the phone with the other.

"Xander here. Yeah. There was a what attack? Christ. Aren't those just legend or something? Yeah, I know vampires are supposed to be too, but Giles never said anything about these, that's for damned sure. Oh, so you don't know anything about them either. Oh, that's just great. No, I was asleep. What time is it, anyway? Right. Fine, we'll be there in a few. Yes, we. Fine. You don't want to know. No, you really don't want to know. I said we'll be there in a few. We have to get dressed first, okay? I told you that you didn't want to know, but did you listen to me? No. Fine. Just let me hang up the damn phone, would you? Great. Bye."

Xander stretched out one arm and dropped the phone back in the cradle. "Cordelia," he explained unnecessarily, since Spike had been able to hear every word. "We have werewolves in Sunnydale, apparently. Or one werewolf, at least. And we're to meet at the library. Nowish."

Spike just nodded, and crawled out of bed. Xander regarded him with astonishment as the vampire found his jeans and started to get dressed.

"You're actually going to help? Without arguing about it?"

Spike glared at him. "Don't get too used to it. I just don't like werewolves. Give me the creeps, they do. Plus they smell all wonky."

Xander stared at him for a second longer, and then a huge grin spread across his face. He crossed the space between him and Spike in a flash, and wrapped a hug around Spike that would have choked anyone who actually needed to breathe.

"Here now, what's that about?"

Xander pulled back just far enough to grin into Spike's startled eyes. "You're back!"

Spike looked at him as if he'd lost his wits. "Are you daft? I didn't bloody well go anywhere!"

"Well, okay, you didn't go anywhere, but you're Spike again! The Big Bad, William the Bloody, and boy can I say that I'm glad to see you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in," Spike muttered, but he didn't protest when Xander kissed him. "Let's go hunt the werewolf, yeah?" he said, when they separated again. "Before the Watcher hunts you down and scolds you."

"Heaven forbid I get scolded," Xander said, rolling his eyes, "but you're right. Off to the library we go."

"This should be great fun," Spike muttered under his breath, and Xander obligingly pretended not to hear him.

"Next time you bring me along," Spike was growling at Xander when they pushed through the doors to the library, "can you get dressed faster so we don't almost have to take the tunnels?"

"I doubt I could have gotten dressed that fast, since the sun was already up when the phone rang," Xander retorted. "Besides, whose fault is it that I took too long dressing, hmmm?"

Giles cleared his throat before Spike could answer. "Please, spare us all our sanity and leave that unanswered, Spike. Xander, I'm glad you're here. We have a bit of a problem."

"A werewolf, yeah, Cordy told me."

"Well, there's a good chance that the werewolf is actually a student here. It would be useful to identify it before tonight, because then we won't have to hunt it tonight."

"Hunt with what? If it's a normal person the rest of the month, we don't want to kill it, right?"

"Tranquilizer gun," Willow said, very carefully not looking in Xander's direction.

"Excellent idea, Willow. That will incapacitate the best until he or she turns back into their regular selves. With a bit of care, whoever it is can be sure to avoid any unfortunate incidents in the future."

"And that's really great," Xander said, "but how are we supposed to find whoever it is without actually watching them turn into a werewolf?"

This interview wasn't going as well as Xander had hoped. He'd hoped that he'd be able to smell the werewolf on Larry, but a few minutes in his presence was enough to prove that either werewolf wasn't something you could smell on a person, or Larry wasn't it.

And less than two minutes later, Xander got to be on the other end of a Heartfelt Confession, and he became sure that whoever the werewolf was, Larry was not it.

"Look," he said. "Being gay is not the end of your life. Plenty of girls think the whole gay thing is too cute for words, and so you're not going to lose your fan club just because you like the male meat."

Larry winced at his phrasing. "It's not that fuckin' simple, man. I'm not worried about what the girls will think. Who the hell cares about them? I'm worried about the way people will look at me. The way my friends will look at me. They'll never talk to me again."

"At least three guys on the football team are bi, at the very least," Xander said. "Not everyone will hate you. Trust me on this."

"How do you know?" Larry demanded.

"All three of them have hit on me in the last month or so," Xander said. "You're in good company."

Larry scowled at him. "So how did they know that you were gay? Did you just come out and tell them, or is there a sign over your head or something?"

"They caught me kissing another guy," Xander said dryly. "It wasn't hard to put two and two together to get sixty-nine." When Larry gaped at him, Xander sighed. "Spike. You'll probably meet the bleached menace sometime or other. In the meantime, I really have to go. Glad we could have this little heart-to-heart."

Well that was a waste, he thought to himself as he made his way back to the library. Always nice to have a little bonding moment with someone who beat you up for years, but he still had no clue who the werewolf was.

Sticking his head into the library, Xander found Spike sitting at a table, reading some large and dusty tome that was undoubtedly about werewolves, a thoroughly rebellious look on his face. Xander wondered how Giles had made him do it, and then wondered if this was going to be enough to convince Giles that Spike wasn't going to kill anyone. If Spike had been going to start killing again, he would have started with Giles for this.

Spike looked up as soon as he heard the door opened, and grinned to see Xander there. "Luv! I knew you'd come and rescue me."

"Larry isn't the werewolf," Xander told Giles. "It's back to square one."

"You're sure?" Giles said. "You and Willow were fairly certain that he was the one."

"I'm sure," Xander said, skirting around the table to lean against the back of Spike's chair. "We had a lovely little heart-to-heart, and I'm very, very sure that he's not the werewolf."

Spike leaned back against Xander's arms, crossed over the back of the chair. "So, Rupes. Where does that leave us?"

"Don't call me that," Giles snapped at Spike, and there was an edge in his voice that told Xander that it wasn't the first time he'd had to given Spike that order. "I'm not sure, exactly. We may just have to wait till the sun sets, and make sure to capture the beast before he can harm anyone."

"Great, the stalk and snatch," Xander said, and sighed. His hand was reflexively smoothing over Spike's stiffly gelled hair, and Spike had leaned back into the touch, his eyes closed. Giles looked at them both sharply, but as far as he could tell Xander wasn't even aware of what he was doing. "Do I call Buffy, or am I enough for the werewolf-hunt?"

"I'd prefer that Buffy do it," Giles said somewhat distantly, still distracted by Xander's absent-minded petting of Spike, and Spike's unabashedly pleased response. At the moment Spike looked like nothing so much as an overgrown cat, enjoying his chosen person's attention. "Which isn't to say that I don't trust your skills, Xander. I just think that the Slayer is better suited to this particular task."

"Sure thing," Xander said easily. "She needs to get out of that house for a little while, anyway. I can watch over Angel for her while she's out a-hunting."

"It's a plan, then," Spike broke in, before Giles could answer. "Xan, we heading home till sunset, then?"

"Can't," Xander said. "Classes that need to be attended and passed. I've skipped enough the past few days as it is. Oh, don't give me that look."

Spike was, indeed, giving him That Look- a slowly forming pout that should be categorized as a lethal weapon in its own right. "But we could-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Giles said sharply. "For my sanity, please just stop talking. Take this discussion somewhere else. Anywhere else, in fact, except this library."

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but Xander grabbed his arm and hauled his arm out of the chair. "C'mon, Bleachboy. Let's continue this elsewhere, alright? We don't want Giles mad at us, remember?"

Xander's voice was particularly intense and it caused Spike to shoot a quick, cautious glance towards Giles. "Right. I'll just be heading home, then, and you can meet me after you're done babysitting the Souled One. I can wait."

Giles realized that he was gaping at Spike, but he wasn't particularly able to control his reaction. Spike? Being altruistic? Or obeying Xander's implicit orders, at least. This was strange indeed.

"Thanks," Xander said softly, and Spike shrugged one shoulder in reluctant acknowledgement. Xander snagged his arm in a strong grip and reeled him in for a soft kiss, which caused Spike to soften the tense lines of his shoulders and back.

The two of them walked out of the library, side by side, without saying anything further to Giles. He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off an oncoming headache, and wondered what he was supposed to do now. He'd learned, only yesterday, that Xander was in love with the vampire. But now he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Spike loved Xander in return. What was he supposed to do with this knowledge? Was there even anything he could do?

Nothing, he decided. Nothing he could do except sit and wait. And watch the two of them very, very closely.

Angel was awake. Buffy knew he was awake, because the muscles in his back were completely knotted up under her hand when she stroked it soothingly down his back. Angel was determined to pretend that he was asleep, however, so she just sat there and watched him pretend.

God, this hurt so much. How could he want to kill himself? She got the guilt thing, really she did, but she loved him. She wanted him to live; wasn't that enough?

Apparently not. The only reason he hadn't killed himself yet was because she hadn't left his side for a second. She was starving and exhausted, and when her mom had come out of her drunken stupor long enough to come up and demand answers she'd been so shocked at Buffy's appearance that she'd left without saying a word.

She still smelled like cordite, herbs and burnt flesh, since she hadn't had a chance to shower since the night they'd destroyed the Judge.

She'd been watching over him for almost two full days, now. She needed sleep, and she needed food. She knew that. But more than both of those things, she needed Angel to stop pretending that he was asleep, sit up, and tell her that everything was alright again. That he wouldn't kill himself. That they were going to be okay, and he wasn't going to go away again.

That he loved her.

He did still love her, right? He'd promised her that he would love her forever, till the world ended and the stars fell from the sky. And sure, maybe all guys told that to girls, but when Angel had said it, she'd believed it. She'd believed him, because he'd looked at her, and his gaze had been so tender that she almost lost her breath...

But maybe things were different now. Maybe he blamed her because she'd been the trigger that caused him to lose his soul. Maybe he didn't love her anymore, because he was going through all this agony of guilt, and it was all her fault.

The phone rang, interrupting her unpleasant train of thought. She picked it up without looking to see who it was, guessing rightly that it would be someone calling about the werewolf problem they were all working on.

"Hey Buff. No lead on who the werewolf is, but the sun's almost down, so we need you to do your Slayer thing." Xander sounded cheerful, and she could hear voices in the background.

"Xander, I can't leave Angel."

"I know, Giles told me that he wants to kill himself." Xander's voice was impossibly sympathetic. "I'll come over and watch over him while you hunt he-who-howls-at-moons with Giles' pretty little tranq gun." Buffy didn't say anything, and Xander added, more seriously, "Buffy, you can trust me to keep him in one piece, okay? I won't let him dust himself. Or anything else happen to him, for that matter. We need you to go after the werewolf. I'm strong, you know that, but I'm no match for you, and for this we need the Slayer."

"Alright," she acceded. "You'll come right over?" She couldn't help the anxious tone of her voice.

"Be there as soon as I can."

Xander was a little irritated. Buffy had met him at the door, and it had taken everything he had to smile and nod and act like she didn't look half-dead. Exhaustion from watching over Angel, no doubt. That and the strained lines around her eyes and mouth could be laid at the vampire's door. And would be, just as soon as Xander got upstairs to give the bastard a piece of his mind.

Angel ignored his entrance, of course, but Xander hadn't spent all this time with Spike for nothing. He had more patience than anyone, by this point, and he was sure as hell more stubborn than Angel. Angel might be the Grim Brooder- one of Spike's pet nicknames for him- but Xander could control Spike, when need be, and Angel was as nothing to the skills of the Xan-man.

"I know you're awake," Xander said, leaning on the doorframe. He figured that it was safer to stay away from the bed, because if he got to close to Angel and remembered the look on Buffy's face he might just hit him. "And unlike Buffy, I'm not here for a little Tender Loving Care. I will feel no guilt about kicking your ass if you don't open your eyes and look at me in the next five seconds."

He'd counted to four before Angel opened his eyes. Damn.

"What do you want, Xander?" Angel's voice was harsh and rough, most likely from grief and lack of use. Despite himself, Xander felt a twinge of sympathy, but he ruthlessly suppressed it.

"I want to kick your ass, but you opened your eyes, so I'm waiting for a new excuse. No, wait a minute, I don't need one. I got a good look at Buffy on her way out the door. Okay, I can kick your ass now."

Despite his words he didn't move from the doorway, just stood there and gauged the effect of his words on Angel. There was a fresh surge of guilt, he'd expected that, but there wasn't any of the true remorse that he was waiting for. Well, he'd just gotten started.

"She looked like someone ripped her heart out and stomped on it. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Angel remained silent. "See, what I'm thinking is this. I'm thinking that some guy broke her heart once, maybe more than once. And I know you know something about that."

"Love her," Angel said hoarsely. He very deliberately didn't look at Xander. "Hurt her. Can't make up for that."

"Sure you can," Xander said. "You could talk to her, apologize for something that, by the way, wasn't really under your control since it wasn't you, it was your evil twin, and tell her that you love her. Of course, you could always do what you've been doing, and wallow in your guilt, threaten to kill yourself, and generally break her heart even worse. Your choice."

"She can't want me. Not after what I did to her."

This time Xander did move from the doorway; he crossed the room to grab Angel's shoulders and shake him. Which would have been harder if he didn't have more-than-human strength, even with Angel's complete and total lack of resistance.

"Angel. Listen to me. She loves you. She wants you. She hasn't been sitting here beside you for the last two days because she thinks you're not worth it. She wants you to be better, and if I know her at all, which I do, she's wondering what she did wrong, and if you even love her anymore."

"Of course I love her. How could I not?" Angel sounded truly puzzled, and Xander called on all the gods he could think of for patience. Jesus Christ, Angel made a lump of granite look wishy-washy.

"Yeah, I get that. But she doesn't, and you haven't exactly been giving her the impression that you care, these past two days. Too wrapped up in your own problems to even realize that the girl you're guilting over is being torn apart because you've got your head up your ass."

Angel looked at him then, really looked at him, and- Praise Jesus- there was the understanding that Xander had been waiting for. "I'm hurting her?"

"Hell yeah, you're hurting her. What did you think you were doing, making things better?"

"I didn't think, really," Angel admitted. "I was so sure that she wouldn't want me. I never thought that I'd be hurting her. I never, ever meant to hurt her."

"Well, it's a bit late for that, but you can fix things."

Angel fixed those huge brown eyes on Xander's face, and Xander was reminded why he'd been just a little bit in love with the guy, all those months ago. Pun alert, but his eyes were just so frickin' soulful that you could almost fall into them. He was like a puppy dog with those eyes, the kind of puppy that you never could resist petting.

Thinking of Spike and the way he could almost purr if you treated him right, Xander smiled inwardly. Good thing he was a cat person these days.

"How do I fix things, then?"

"Easy," Xander said. "She'll be back in a while, after she's finished hunting werewolves. Then I'm going to leave, and you and her are going to have a nice long talk. And you're going to apologize for being an asshole, and you're going to tell her that you love her. Anything else is window dressing. She wants to be with you, even though you've been a moron, because all those things you said to her, after you lost your soul? They weren't you, and she knows that. They came out of your mouth, and it was your face that smirked at her, but it wasn't the same person, and you'd know that too if you just thought about it for a second. She doesn't care about the things you said right now. She cares that you've been suffering, and you won't let her help you. She's putting her own pain aside to try and deal with yours, and you haven't been making it easy on her because you haven't been letting anyone deal with it, much less yourself."

Angel stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "I can do that."

"Well good." Xander grinned at him and sat down on the side of the bed. "Now that that's out of the way, you're going to love hearing about what happened recently. Especially with Spike."

"Spike?" He had a vague memory, running away from the explosion behind him, and seeing Spike and Xander standing side by side in front of the Old Navy store before the tranq dart hit him and blackness overtook him. Xander grinned wider, and Angel suddenly realized that the smell all over Xander was an interesting combination of sex and Spike. "You and Spike-"

Xander nodded. "Did you know he helped us save the world?"

Angel set aside the extremely confusing thought of Spike and Xander together, and traded it for the even more confusing one of Spike doing something helpful. "What? How?"

"He was the one who translated the gypsy curse for you to get your soul back, and helped us with the Judge."

"Spike helped?"

"Even more than that, he's been researching."

The mind boggled. Spike, with books? Spike reading? Voluntarily? "You're kidding."

Xander shook his head gleefully. "Giles managed to press him into werewolf-research today."

"And Giles is still alive?"

"Yep."

Angel stared at him. "I think you should start at the beginning."

"Well, you remember when Impata the mummy girl made her appearance? Right around then, he started stalking me, and-"

Xander was waiting for her with a smile on his face when Buffy trudged up the steps. "Did you get the werewolf?"

"Yeah," she said. "He's locked up in the cage in the library. Giles and Willow are watching over him right now."

"Do you know who he is?"

"He changed right in front of Willow," Buffy said. "She went to Oz's house to talk to him, and-"

"Oz?" Xander interrupted her. "Man. If I'd pegged anyone for being the least likely to be a werewolf, it would be Oz."

"Guess it just goes to show that personality has nothing to do with getting bitten, huh?" Buffy glanced at the half-open door to her bedroom. "How is he?"

"Go in and see for yourself," Xander said. "But give me a hug first?"

She was baffled, but she gave him a half-hearted hug. She gave and undignified squeak of surprise when he scooped her off her feet and spun her around, holding her much tighter than she'd held him.

"What was that for?" she said breathlessly when he set her down.

He gave her a satisfied little grin. "My hug was because I deserved it. Your hug was because you looked like you need one. Now go talk to Angel. I'm heading home."

He brushed past her and made his way silently down the steps without another word, and she stared after him, mouth just a little agape. Was it just her, or was he getting weirder?

Figuring that it wasn't going to get any easier if she put it off, she turned and opened the door to see how Angel was doing.

And stopped dead when she saw him sitting up, eyes open, and looking at her a little uncertainly.

"You're... awake," she said, and winced as soon as it was out of her mouth. Jeez, Buffy, you can do better than that.

"Yeah," he said.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, because it was her next thought, and was surprised by the tiny smile he gave her. He smiled.

"I guess Xander was right."

Was it just her brain that was unable to keep up, or was this conversation, such as it was, really making no sense? "You talked to Xander?"

"Yeah. He said that I had my head up my ass."

Right. Making no sense. And she'd have to kill Xander later. "Why did he say that?" she asked, keeping her voice nice and calm.

"Because I haven't told you how much I love you."

Okay. Now she had to sit down. She half-collapsed on the bed, and blinked a few times, just to make sure that she was really awake, and not delirious from exhaustion. "Ah... did Xander have any other pearls of wisdom to share?"

"He told me that I was just hurting you more. That you were worried about me. That I was wrong to think that you didn't want to be with me, and that you were worried that I didn't want you, didn't love you. Was he right?"

"Yeah," she said dazedly. Then her mind caught up with the rest of her, and she blurted out, "How could you think that I wouldn't want to be with you anymore?"

"All the things I said to you," Angel said seriously. "I never meant them. It wasn't me. But I said them. I wanted you off-balance, distracted, so I could end the world. I couldn't understand how you could forgive me for that." He paused. "How could you think that I didn't love you anymore?"

"I- I was the one who caused you to lose your soul. If we hadn't done the things we did, you never would have had to suffer all the guilt that you did. It was my fault. I thought you'd hate me for it."

"It wasn't your fault, Buffy," Angel said, shocked. "It wasn't your fault at all. Neither of us could have known what would have happened. I could never hate you. There's nothing in the world I can't forgive you for." She glanced away, and he reached out and touched her chin, making sure that she looked at him. "I love you more than life itself, Buffy. You were wrong to think that I didn't want you. I'll want you when I'm dust in the wind, when the world goes up in flames around us. I'll want you forever."

She looked at him with a tremulous smile and curled her hands around his larger one. "Then it looks like we were both wrong," she said shakily. "Because I love you. I want to be with you. Nothing else matters."

"Nothing," he agreed, and tugged carefully on her hands until she came to him. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her against him as if he would never hold her again. "We're forever."

"Forever," she said, and laid her head against his chest.

Spike was waiting for him when he got home, like he'd promised. He paused in the doorway and just basked in the sight of Spike, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, wearing only a pair of jeans, with a genuine smile on his face.

This was a welcome that he could get used to.

And wasn't that just the problem? He could get used to it. So easily. And though he knew that he belonged to Spike, he had no hopes that he'd be able to hold Spike for long.

"Buffy bagged the werewolf," Xander said finally, in response to Spike's unspoken question. "And I gave Angel a little talking-to. I think he and Buff are on the mend again."

"And what about you, luv?" Spike asked. "You look all worn out."

"I'm not that tired," Xander protested, but he didn't put up a fight when Spike uncoiled his lean body from the bed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him over to the bed. "I'd just like a little down time, you know? Time to settle a little bit, without some fresh crisis getting in the middle of things."

"Know what you mean, pet," Spike said, as he pulled off Xander's boots and started on the buttons of his shirt. "If it's not one thing with you lot, it's another."

Shirt off, Xander acceded to Spike's nudges and stretched out on the bed in his jeans. "That's the truth," he said with a sigh. "Cost of living on the Hellmouth, I suppose."

"Things are a bit livelier here than they are elsewhere," Spike agreed. "Here now, roll over."

"Why?" Xander said, but he rolled over anyway.

"Want to check your back, see how it's healing."

Xander stretched a little, to feel how the cuts tightened his skin. "Feel like they've closed over."

"Have. Should be healed proper in a day or two."

"They'll scar, right?"

"Should," Spike said, and nudged his shoulder till he rolled back over onto his side, facing Spike. "Though you know a bit more about it than me, I suspect, with it being your body and all."

"Probably will scar," Xander agreed, his eyes drifting closed despite his desire for them to remain open, so he could look at Spike. "You can always do it again if it starts to fade."

Xander felt the sudden and total tension in the body next to his and cursed inwardly as he opened his eyes again. "Sorry," he blurted, when he saw Spike studying him with a blank expression. "I didn't mean to expect that you'd be hanging around or anything. Just a figure of speech."

"Oh, I'll be around," Spike said grimly. "You really want it to scar?"

Ah. So that was why Spike was all Tension Man. "Yeah," Xander said cautiously. "I'm yours. I told you that already, and I meant it. I want to wear your name. I still think a nice dog collar would be cute, but I like this. It's you all over. And this way anyone who sees it will know that I belong to you."

Spike made a low sound in his throat and almost crushed Xander with his grip. "Fucking right you're mine," Spike said fiercely. "Always gonna be mine. Rest of your life and you'll belong to no one but me."

"Even when you're gone," Xander agreed, then paused when he felt tension invade Spike's frame again. "What did I say this time?"

"Gone?" Spike asked. "You think I'm going somewhere?"

Xander twitched one shoulder in a shrug. "Can't imagine how you'd stay around," he said, carefully keeping his voice level. "Got nothing to hold you here."

"You're sodding wrong about that," Spike snapped, and his eyes shot fire at Xander. "I've got you. Christ. I thought you'd've gotten that by now. I stayed with Dru for well over a century, till the day she was dust, in fact. What makes you think that I'm going to be leaving you any sooner?"

Xander stared at him. "You mean it," he said wonderingly. "You really mean to stay."

"Bloody right I mean to stay. Think I'll take off and let you and your bloody Scoobies get yourselves killed? Not fucking likely."

Xander leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft and so unlike anything that had ever been between them that Spike stilled. "I love you," Xander said softly. "I can't imagine how things are going to work between us, what with you being evil and my best friend being the Slayer, but I love you."

"We'll work things out," Spike said. "I think she's a stupid bint who needs to have her arse kicked, but you like her with her intestines where they are, so I'll leave off."

Xander huffed a laugh. "Plus you know she'll kick your ass," he said with a grin.

"Bloody well would not!"

"As you say," Xander said, clearly placating him, and Spike glared at him for a moment. Then he sighed.

"I know it's not gonna be easy for you with your mates, luv," he said. "That's why I'm going to stop killing."

"You- what?" Xander wasn't sure he'd heard that right. "You're going to stop killing? But- you're a vampire. Killing is what you do. And you love it. You used to torture people with railroad spikes and stuff, and-"

"You're babbling, love," Spike cut him off with a grin. "Yeah. I love it, and it's what I do, but it's not the only way to unlive. The Poof gets on well enough with pig's blood, and I imagine I can survive. I want you. And I know I can't have you unless I'm not killing, 'cause your mate the Slayer will introduce me to a sharp piece of wood otherwise."

Xander could only gape. This was... huge. He wasn't even sure he could get his mind around it. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Because, hey, that's great, and I'd kinda hoped you'd say that because even though I'd love you even if you got dusted I would hate to have live without the sex and everything, but I wasn't going to ask because, well, it's a hell of a lot to ask."

"Yeah it is, but yeah, I'm sure," Spike said, and kissed him. "Now shut up, and go to sleep."

Xander pushed himself up on one elbow and grinned down into Spike's face. "Oh, I think I can think of something more important than sleeping," he said, and kissed him.

This story is officially on hiatus. I know that alot of people are really enjoying it, but I'm having trouble with the next chapter and there are alot of short stories and ficlets that I'm working on, and I'd like to finish those before I come back to this. Don't worry, because I will come back to this, and within a month or two if I can, but I'm not going to be updating with quite the same regularity. I have another nine chapters planned, with the end of the story taking place right after Graduation, and they will be written. Just not right now.

Thank you so much, everyone, for all the feedback you've given me on this story. It's been wonderful knowing that there are people out there that enjoy my humble scribblings.

Sorrel