Xander managed to fall asleep for a little while after he went to bed. With the television running it was a bit easier to tune out his thoughts and though he didn't have a nightmare—thankfully—he only managed to stay asleep until two-thirty. After that, he was awake and flipping through channels until he found MTV. They were having some sort of hard rock music video fest, and although he didn't normally like hard rock, the angry bass helped chase away shadows for some reason.

He sat against the wall, staring at the videos in front of him, but not really seeing any of it. Instead, he thought about the day, thought about the five hour Passions marathon and the for the last two and a half hours of it, he had been touching Spike in some way, most ways enough to be considered intimate, at least between two men. When he looked back on it, he felt a bit of panic trying to well up, but mostly it was…it had been kind of nice.

He felt the need to look around for someone—for his father, or someone to come charging at him for even thinking such things—but in the dark of the night, alone in Spike's room, he felt that he could think what he wanted. Touching Spike had been relieving. Not having to say anything aloud, yet knowing that Spike could see in the Box, didn't shun him for having those thoughts and apparently thought the same if the statement at the mall—"That's more my type. Tall, dark…"—was anything to go by.

He touched his left pinky, the one that Spike had snared earlier, and in the process bumped his cast against his hand. Those brought up thoughts about his father, his parents in general, but his father specifically. He knew somewhere deep in his mind that not everyone would be like him. Not everyone would break bones and spirits for liking and maybe falling in love with the same sex. Larry's mom had been very supportive of him, and had started a PRIDE in Sunnydale that was actually doing really well.

But the nightmares…damn, the nightmares scared him so bad. Nightmares where his father would suddenly be everyone he trusted, people he loved and had loved more than he had ever loved Anthony Harris. In real life, he knew that they wouldn't do what Tony had done to him. Most of him hoped that they would accept him if he could ever convince himself to…to be himself. But he feared that chance, that voice that said they would leave him, and that was worse than broken bones and torn skin.

The bedroom window opened, allowing Spike to crawl through. When he saw Xander still awake on his bed, his brows fell. "The telly not help you sleep, then?" he asked, locking the window off-handedly.

Xander shrugged. "I slept for a bit. I just woke up about an hour ago." Spike looked at him curiously and for some reason, Xander didn't mind telling him, "Just woke up. No big deal."

Spike nodded, then started patting his duster down. "Got ya somethin'," he mumbled, finally digging into one of the inside pockets. He tossed his prize over and Xander caught it, somewhat, holding it in his left hand to see what the Brit was talking about.

"Headsets?"

"Yeah. You said you forgot to buy 'em at the mall yesterday. Stopped at an electronic store to get you a pair." When Xander didn't say anything, Spike sighed heavily. "Say thanks to good ol' Spike."

Xander came back to himself, pulling himself from the shock that Spike had done something so…nice for him. Then he realized that he should probably pay him back and reached under his bed, searching for the pants he had finally pulled on after the Passions marathon.

"If yer searching for that dosh the Watcher gave you, you'd best stop it. They were five bucks and it's not five dollars I'm gonna miss, Whelp."

He glared at Spike from his position half-off of his bed, but in the end he sat back against his pillow and made himself comfortable. After a minute or two, he sighed, fingered the plastic around his new headset, and finally said, "Thanks, Blondie. I appreciate it."

"S'not a problem, pet." He took a deep breath and looked around his room. "Right then. I'm gonna go make sure the house is locked up properly. Be back in a tick," he said, heading towards the door.

Xander against all better judgment, hopped off his bed, asking, "You're gonna do what?"

He looked back over his shoulder, eyes glowing a strange silver in the light of the television. "Make sure the doors and windows are secure. Don't want any nasties going bump in the night, eh?"

He opened the door and headed downstairs, Xander hot on his heels. With him in tow, the older man checked the front door, all the living room windows, and then shut and locked the kitchen window, stopping only to hang his coat in the hallway closet. He checked the back door, every other window in the downstairs before he went back upstairs. Up there, he opened Buffy's door and was almost about to go in to shut the window in her room when Xander stopped him by whispering fiercely, "You're just going to go in there?"

Spike gave him an exasperated look, shrugging out of his hold. "Look here, Whelp. Mine and Buffy's rooms are easy access. The back porch's awning is under both our windows," he whispered. "If someone were to break into a room, ours'd be easiest. I'm just going to shut and lock the window, not snoop through her knickers."

It took a few seconds, but Xander finally nodded, understanding the logic even if he didn't like it. Spike did like he said, only shut and locked the room down before he was out and gently shutting the door. Then he was at Joyce's room, where he again, shut and locked the window. He skipped over Giles' room, which still had the light on. He paused when he passed it, however, asking, "Does the Watcher ever sleep?"

Xander shrugged, whispered back, "He's probably asleep now. He falls asleep reading a lot, so the lamp light is on all night."

"Right." He looked like he wanted to open the door, take a peek to make sure no window was open in Giles' room, but he stopped himself. "Alright, back to my room, Whelp."

Xander led the way into their shared room and sat down on his bed. It shocked the hell out of him when Spike took his seat next to him on his bed. "Let's see what's on the telly tonight, eh, pet?" he asked, grabbing up the remote from beside Xander's thigh but not touching.

That night they watched Nick at Nite for some reason. Two episodes of The Nanny and one of Diff'rent Strokes. Xander slid down the bed, pulling his pillow under his head. Spike didn't move, just rearranged around Xander's form.

It was odd at first, and he felt tense and trying not to squirm around too much. The bed wasn't really that big to begin with, but Xander settled on his left side, his casted arm resting by his chest protectively and Spike's calves curled in the hollow behind his knees. They made it work.

Soon, he fell asleep to the sounds of Diff'rent Strokes, and the feel of Spike's legs over his.