Xander had come home from the bar and flung himself into the shower where he rinsed off the evidence of his encounter with Dean. Xander felt a mixture of of smugness and apprehension as he watched the water sluice down the drain. Sex and Xander were a combination guaranteed to complicate any situation. And now that Dean had shown an interest in him, there was a fair-to-good chance that the guy was a demon; something Xander would have to investigate at a later date. After showering Xander had thrown himself into bed where he had a series of confusing and erotic dreams, including one where Dean turned into Spike and then made an omelet out of giant praying mantis eggs.

Xander awoke late the next morning to the enticing smell of coffee. Grabbing his phone, Xander walked into the living room, checking over his missed texts from Willow. "I thought I smelled coffee. Is there still coffee?" He asked without looking up.

"Half a pot, mate. Help yourself."

Xander froze, still looking at his phone. His giant freaked out eyes reflected back at him from the shiny surface of his phone. Slowly, barely breathing, he raised his eyes and stared across the kitchen at the stunning creature sipping coffee out of his Disappearing Tardis coffee mug. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as his vision narrowed to mildly amused blue eyes. He opened his mouth and words he couldn't contain tumbled past his lips.

"Kerple."

Spike raised his eyebrow and smirked. Xander felt the familiarity of that smile like a kick in the gut.

"Relax, mate. Not a home intruder. Your boy got a little too drunk last night so I helped him along. Then I just crashed because it was late and I wanted to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. Be out of your hair soon enough."

Xander blinked.

"My boy?" he repeated automatically, not really hearing himself. Spike, busy swallowing another mouthful of coffee, gestured with his had to a point behind Xander. Xander looked back as Dean staggered into the kitchen, drawn as Xander was by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and looked rough after last night's dance with the whiskey devil. He staggered past Xander to the coffee pot, oblivious to the awkward tension.

"Ah." Xander added, staring between the two of them. He looked to the door, then back to Dean, who was now seated at the table drinking his coffee black. "I mean," he continued, feeling the need to fill the silence in a way he hadn't since he was a teenager, "he's not my boy. Not even a boy, really, more of a man. And certainly not my man. Not that I have a man. Or am looking for one." By this point both Dean and Spike were looking at him as though he were nuts.

"Riiiiight then," Spike said slowly, registering how uncomfortable his presence was making Xander. "I suppose I'll just be shoving off then," he said, dumping his empty mug in the sink. Dean looked up.

"Mm. Thanks for helping me out last night. You've got some impressive moves." Xander blinked.

"Moves? There were moves?!" He squeaked. Dean gave him another 'what the hell is wrong with you' look.

"Yeah, we got jumped by some vamps on our way back. Between the two of us it was a cake walk." Xander felt himself beginning to hyperventilate.

"Vamps?" he repeated, then looked to Spike. "Vamps? You can't fight vamps!" he shrieked. Spike stared at him.

"Why the hell not?" he asked, genuine confusion mixing with his surprise at the casual nature with which the two others discussed fighting vampires.

"Because you're not supposed to! You're supposed to..." Xander trailed off, eyes bugging as he realized he may have said too much. Spike tilted his head, scrutinizing Xander for the first time since he had emerged from his bedroom.

"Supposed to what?" he asked quietly, and Xander couldn't help but shiver. He remembered when Spike's voice used to sound like that; usually when he was contemplating pure, beautiful chaos.

Xander's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. He got a random, illogical urge to scream for Buffy to save him.

Spike looked at Xander as though he were prey that Spike wasn't entirely sure how to hunt. Suddenly Spike's eyes lit up suddenly.

"You're always at the bar." His face clouded over. "You spying on me?" Xander clamped his mouth shut, and shook his head sharply, not trusting himself to speak.

Dean glanced between them, beginning to pick up on the awkward vibe. He swallowed his coffee nervously.

"Look, I'm sorry if I crossed a line here. I wouldn't normally invite a random person to your place, but I figured you guys knew each other so it would be cool," he said defensively.

Spike fastened on him with the intensity of a shark scenting blood. "How did you know we knew each other?" he asked carefully. Xander was impressed at the leading way he phrased the question. Dean continued to glance back and forth between them.

"Because of the photo?" he said haltingly. Spike's eyes glittered intently.

"What photo?" he asked quietly.

"Stop..." Xander whispered, feeling as though his control over this conversation was quickly slipping away. Dean either didn't hear him or chose not to understand, because he pointed blandly in the direction of the mantel. Spike strode rapidly towards the area Dean had pointed at. Xander couldn't seem to make himself move to stop him. He couldn't even make himself move when he saw Spike storm towards the fireplace.

He couldn't imagine what Spike would think when he saw the photos on his shelf.

Dean looked at Xander with concern.

"Sorry?" he offered, still incredibly confused. Xander glared at him.

"Can you clear out for a bit? This might get ugly." Dean acquiesced quietly, grabbing a poptart and heading upstairs. Xander steeled himself and entered the living room. Spike was standing in front of the mantel, staring at the photo of him, Xander, and the rest of the Scoobies with a tightly clenched jaw. The photo showed Dawn with her arms flung around Spike's waist. In the photo, he was looking down at her with a mix of awe and affection.

"Did you do this?" he asked, deadly quiet. Xander twitched. He had anticipated Spike's anger but he wasn't entirely prepared for it.

"Do what?" he asked quietly. Spike glared at him over his shoulder.

"Did you fuck with my head?" He turned fully around. "Did you steal my memories?!"

Xander snapped into babble mode.

"What? No! Of course not! I would never do that to you! I just ran into you by accident and when I realized you didn't know who you were I didn't want to ruin what you had going for you."

Spike snorted.

"And just what the fuck did you think I had going for me? No, forget that. Who the fuck do you think you are to make decisions for me?"

Xander shifted awkwardly for a few minutes. He studied his feet silently and tried not to meet Spike's eyes. He had no idea what to say.

"So who am I?" Spike asked quietly. Xander's head shot up. His mouth flapped open for a few minutes, unsure of how to really answer the question. Spike rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't remember anything before I woke up in an alley in LA. You can't possibly know what it's like, to start your life in the middle, and be completely alone the whole time. So at the very least you owe me an explanation."

Xander sighed deeply and collapsed onto the couch.

"You're...complicated." He said at length.

"So start simple," Spike said tersely, plopping down next to him on the other end of the couch. "Start with my name."

"Okay," Xander murmured, running his hands through his hair. "Your name was William Pratt, but you went by Spike."

Spike looked at him for a full minute. Then he burst out laughing. Xander couldn't help but smile as Spike grasped his sides and shook with laughter.

"Mate," he gasped after a few minutes, "I've been wondering what my name was since I woke up. And believe you me, 'Spike' never even crossed my mind," he smiled.

Xander couldn't help but smile back. His heart hurt with how much he had missed that smile.

"Okay, so, Spike. How'd I get that name?" he grinned. Abruptly the smile fell from Xander's face. He wondered suddenly how the hell he was going to make it through this conversation.