C is for Cars, Clubbing, and the Confessions.

Note: The song is "Temptation Waits" by Garbage.

Spike was having the time of his life, driving way too fast down the highway towards LA. Xander was sitting in the seat beside him, pretending to be terrified by the speed they were going, leaning down in the seat and cringing, but Spike knew it was just for show. He could see Xander laughing, out of the corner of his eye.

And the three red balloons were still clenched tight in Xander's fist.

They'd spent the first half hour listening to nothing but the wind and each other's voices as they argued over who got to pick the music. Spike said that it was driver's rights, but Xander claimed that it was his birthday, and eventually he got his way. There was some god-awful country-western crap pouring out of the speakers, and Spike had lived with Xander long enough to know that Xander listened to perfectly acceptable music most of the time, so he had to be doing it just to torture Spike. Not that Spike minded all that much. If Xander was going out of his way to bother Spike, that meant that things were back to normal between them, and whatever sore spot that Spike had inadvertently poked back before they'd left was out of reach, for the moment.

Spike wished he knew what it was, though. He didn't want to hurt Xander- his friend, as odd as that may be. And he couldn't avoid hurting him, if he didn't know what was going on.

But he didn't know what was going on. And he didn't even know where to start guessing. He knew that it had flared up when he said something about clubbing, and again when he was talking about getting "down and dirty." But that wasn't exactly enough to go on- Xander might have had a traumatic experience in a club once, but someone Spike didn't think that was it. What could someone who fought demons find traumatic? It was a puzzle. One that Spike intended to figure out. Eventually.

He could just ask Xander- which is what he would usually do- but he wasn't sure how. Most of their conversations were about utterly trivial things, and he wasn't sure how to go about talking about something that Xander obviously found deeply painful. Besides, he still had to figure out what to say about the things that Tara had advised him to talk about. It wasn't like that was another common topic between him and Xander. Emotions? Not so very much their thing.

"Hey, Deadboy Junior. You heard a word I said?"

Spike turned to look at Xander, who had given up on his pretense of terror and was grinning at him from the passenger seat. "Er, of course I did." Pause. "What was it again?"

"Well, it was something about whether you were enjoying finally getting a chance to drive my car, but if you ask me, you're enjoying it a little too much. You were off in lala land, my friend."

And there it was, the thing that always made Spike go all melty and un-vamplike inside. Friend. He and Xander were- friends. Ridiculous, wasn't it? But it worked.

At the same time, though, it made things harder. Spike had never had to worry about hurting a human's feelings before. He'd never had to worry about them, period. And yet, here he was.

He shook his thoughts aside and focused on answering Xander before the boy could mock him again. "Was not off in lala land. Was just thinking."

"I thought I smelled something burning."

"Ha ha, very funny," Spike said dryly. "I'm not so stupid as all that."

"Of course you aren't," Xander said soothingly. "That's why after decades of being in the States, you still try to get in the passenger side when you're going to drive."

"Sod off," Spike said, without any real heat in his voice. "I learned to drive in England. Just proof that I remember what I learned, is all."

"Yeah, well, I'd appreciate it if you'd remember what you learned here, and not try to drive on the wrong side of the road."

"It's the right side of the road, you git. You soddin' Yanks got it all arse backwards, is all."

"We had cars first."

"Roads weren't invented when cars were. They had carriages, and the like, long before the invention of the combustion engine. And roads were needed for carriages. And we had those before you lot took off for a new life in the colonies. So there."

"A remarkably mature conclusion to your argument, Spike. Truly, I am impressed."

"Good to know I'm still impressive," Spike said, and Xander laughed.

Comfortable silence fell between them for the next little while. Finally, Spike got off the highway and fought his way through LA traffic to reach the downtown club that he'd been in just a week before, when he'd run into Angel.

He parked, then turned to look at Xander. The boy was dressed in his usual clothes, which is to say, jeans and a fairly ragged t-shirt, with heavy construction boots on his feet. Spike shook his head, clucked his tongue sadly, and decided that it was a good thing that he'd planned ahead.

"Right. Strip."

"What!" Xander's yelp echoed through the parking garage, and a dark red stained his cheekbones. Hell, since when was Xander all that modest around him?

"There's no one around, you pillock," Spike said impatiently.

"Besides you!"

"I've seen you naked before," Spike said. "C'mon, you can't go into the club looking like that. I'll be ashamed to be seen with you."

The blush went darker and something like hurt flashed in Xander's eyes, and Spike had to sigh. "Look," he said in a gentler tone. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I got you clothes that'll fit and make you look a treat, so forget I said that and just change already, before I die of old age."

His joke didn't get the expected laugh, but the hurt look faded away a little. "Turn your back," Xander said.

"What?"

"Turn your back."

"I've seen it all," Spike pointed out. "What's your problem?"

"Spike, you're asking me to strip down and change in a public parking garage. Also, it's my birthday. Indulge me, will you?"

Grumbling, Spike obliged, but it was only with great willpower that he didn't turn around and watch. He was insanely curious as to how the clothes he'd picked out would look. He suspected that with a little help from him, Xander the construction worker could turn into Xander the attractive.

Which he didn't just think, because Xander was Xander and therefore Spike wouldn't find him attractive. So he ignored the thought entirely.

At last, Xander's tentative voice behind him said, "Alright, you can look now."

"Finally!" Spike said, and whirled around to see if his fashion sense still held strong.

Xander was wearing black jeans tight enough that you could probably count change in the pockets, if you could fit any in. Black boots gave him another couple inches in height, and a tight black t-shirt outlined every muscle on his body. His hair, which usually just looked messy, somehow looked styled when paired with the clothing he was wearing. And the heavy black leather collar around his neck, decorated with a single silver ring, was just icing on the cake.

Oh yeah. He still had it.

"How do I look?" Xander said, uncertainty clear in his voice. Spike had to swallow once before he answered.

"You look great, pet. Now let's go dance, yeah?"

Xander nodded, and started walking towards the elevator, and Spike was able to watch his ass in those jeans the whole way there.

Suddenly, he was looking forward to this night a hell of a lot more.

Inside, the music was loud, and the dance floor was full. Just the way Spike liked it, Xander had no doubt. Unfortunately, Spike dragged him straight into the middle of the crowd, ignoring his protests, and pulled him close- far too close for his rioting nerve endings- just as another song started.

"I'll tell you something/ I am a wolf but/ I like to wear sheep's clothing."

He recognized the singer as Garbage, but wasn't sure what the song was. Either way, Spike had good timing, because this was his song all over.

"I am a bonfire/ I am a vampire/ I'm waiting for my moment."

God. Spike was writhing in front of him, his back to Xander, looking like sin in his painted-on black t-shirt and jeans, habitual black chain hang loose across his chest. He felt small, almost delicate, against Xander's much larger body, fitting just right against him when Xander gave in to temptation and slid his hands down Spike's sides to his hips and pulled him back flush against his body.

"You come on like a drug/ I just can't get enough/ I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more."

His head was spinning, and his cock was already hard and getting harder as Spike rubbed his ass back against it. Xander felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel Spike against him. His senses were overloading, and it was the best thing he'd ever felt. The song was so, so right- he couldn't get enough of his drug, of his Spike.

"And there's so much at stake/ I can't afford to waste/ I never needed anybody like this before."

There was too much at stake. An easy, comfortable friendship of the like he hadn't enjoyed since he and Willow and Jesse, back in elementary school, before everyone figured out the difference between girl parts and boy parts and what it all meant. But he'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted Spike, and that was the excuse that allowed him to keep dancing, keep feeling everything he'd wanted to feel for... months, now. Maybe forever. That huge want that overrode everything else, and the thought that this wasn't real; they were just locked in their own little bubble of time, and it wouldn't be real when it was over. It didn't count. It was just one song. Just one dance.

Just everything.

"I'll tell you something/ I am a demon/ Some say my biggest weakness/ I have my reasons/ Call it my defense/ Be careful what you're wishing..."

He slid one hand up Spike's chest, slow and sensual like he'd always wanted to do, pausing to rub on stiff nipple with calloused fingertips. A groan vibrated through Spike's torso and into his chest, but he wasn't finished, and if he was really going to do this, then he was going to go all the way.

"You are a secret/ A new possession/ I like to keep you guessing."

The upper hand kept moving until it was tangled in the chain, and he twisted it in a clenched fist, the ownership he'd always wanted. The other hand slid downward, from Spike's hip to his crotch. Xander was both surprised and not surprised to feel Spike's cock swollen against his fingers, and twisted his hand just so in a firm, slow, caressing rub. He thought he could get high off the way Spike's moan vibrated through their bodies all the way to the back of his head.

"You come on like a drug/ I just can't get enough/ I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more."

This was what he'd always wanted. This was what he'd been craving. Flesh and heat and moans. And Spike. Always Spike. Nothing in the world that he wanted as much as he wanted Spike, and for a moment it was like the ache and want that lived permanently in his gut was sated.

For just a moment.

"And there's so much at stake/ I can't afford to waste/ I never needed anybody like this before."

And then it was too much. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Too much. Too much like every dream he'd ever had, every fantasy that had ever entered his head. Too much like he'd ever wanted. Too much like Spike, being in love with him too.

"When I'm not sure what I'm living for... When I'm not sure what I'm looking for... When I'm not sure what I'm living for..."

Xander ran.

Spike stood alone in the middle of the dance floor as the song trailed to a close, and wondered what the hell had just happened.

Everything had been going according to plan. Club- check. Great outfit- check. Maybe a little better than eve he'd expected, but that wasn't exactly a problem. He was there with another hot guy- nothing wrong with that. Hell, everyone in the place was probably jealous of him, the way Xander had looked when they'd gone in that place. Even in sunny LA, where everything was about the glamour and the polish, Xander had stood out.

And then there was the dancing. At first, it was just dancing, and hey, that was why they were there, wasn't it? And then all of a sudden there'd been hands on him, hands that he recognized from dozens of nights spent in the bathroom with stitches and bandages. But this wasn't the same thing at all. Xander's hands had been hot, burning even, as they'd slid over him, pulled him back against a body that was so much larger than his that he'd been startled. Sure, he knew that Xander was bigger than him, but so often Xander acted smaller, it was easy to forget how big he really was- tall, solid, roped with muscle from construction work and furnace-hot.

And then he'd realized that Xander was hard, and his whole plan had been shot to hell.

He'd been surprised, of course- this wasn't exactly a usual thing for the two of them. But then he'd decided, with his usual hell-with-it attitude, to just go along with it and deal with the consequences later. He was sure that there would be- Xander would probably pull away as soon as the song was over, and babble something, and Spike would laugh it off and it would all be fine.

And then Xander got a hell of a lot more active- touching him with hands that seemed to know instinctively what to do, what he liked. The hand wrapped in the chain around his throat, claiming him, owning him- he'd been burning in that moment, and he completely forgot about anything, including the fact that this was Xander touching him like this. His roommate. His friend.

And then it was over, and Xander was gone. Spike had a brief flash of dark hair disappearing into the crowd, and then he was alone.

Which he was bloody well not going to stand for.

He wove through the knots of people dancing with the ease of experience, tracking the scent that he was so familiar with. And there it was- heading for the exit to the parking garage. Something had set him off, and he was instinctively trying to get away.

Spike caught him right outside the door and spun him around, pinning him to the wall and getting right up in his face. "What the hell? What was that about?"

Xander just shook his head, not even bothering to answer, and Spike growled, animalistic and deep in his throat. Xander flinched, and Spike gentled his voice.

"Xander, please. Tell me what's wrong. What was that back there? And why did you take off like a bat out of hell?"

Xander surprised him by starting to laugh, high and wild. Spike backed off slowly, letting him go, and Xander just slumped there against the wall, laughing in a way that was more hysteria than humor.

"Fuck, Spike. You don't get a damn thing, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" Spike demanded.

Xander continued talking as if Spike hadn't spoken. "God, I can't believe you haven't figured it out by now. You always claim to know me better than anyone, but it's been right in front of your nose for fucking months now, and you never. had. a. clue."

"What?"

"I'm in love with you."

And just like that, Spike's whole world came tumbling down. He would have liked to be able to say something witty and Spike-like, but all that came out of his mouth in response was a strangled, "What?"

Xander laughed again, that same bitter, slightly hysterical laugh. "God. For months now. Maybe longer. Anya knew, of course. That's why she left. She loved me, you know. But she knew that I only really wanted you, so she left me with a kiss on the cheek and the best wishes. Like that would do any good. You never even noticed."

"You're screwing with me," Spike said. Still not believing, still not taking it in. He couldn't. His whole world was being reordered from Xander's fast spill of bitter, angry words.

"Yeah, wish I was. It's no picnic, being in love with a fucking moron who has no idea. Jesus, Spike, do you have any idea what it was like? You were always touching me, always wandering around naked, because we're all guys around here, aren't we, Spike? Yeah, but one of the guys has wanted you, wanted you so back it was like a hole in my gut. Couldn't think sometimes, I wanted you so bad. And there you were, wandering around blithely, with no idea what I was thinking, what I was craving."

By this point Spike was recovered a little, not to mention hard as nails from Xander's little speech and the memory of the dance just minutes before. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why do you think?" Xander demanded. "Didn't want to get rejected again, of course. Do I look fucking stupid to you? You're Spike, the immortal and incredibly sexy vampire. I'm just the construction guy. I'm not so deluded as to ever think that you could really want me. So I didn't say anything, because it was better to dream than to face the reality, which is that you would have shot me down in a second."

"You don't know what I would have-"

"You would have," Xander said, and it was easy to see that he absolutely believed it. "And I wasn't gonna risk it. But there you were tonight, and you were just so fucking sexy I couldn't stand it, and I just wanted you so much-" His voice broke. "Fuck. I can't do this. I just can't."

Spike had expected what he was going to do, but he foolishly thought that he would be fast enough to catch him. Unfortunately, a car came roaring past just after Xander darted across the road, and when it had passed, Xander was nowhere in sight.

As the taillights of the car faded into the distance, Spike stood there on the sidewalk, left alone once again.