Closeted by Kimberly


The closet seemed a lot smaller from the inside. When Xander had come up with the plan, the closet had seemed plenty big enough to hide in for an hour.

Of course, he hadn't taken the annoyingness of Spike into account.

In the pitch darkness, Xander pressed the button to light up the face of his digital watch. 11:13. They'd only been in the closet about 13 minutes, and Spike had already managed to piss him off at least twice that many times. It was almost impressive, how annoying Spike could be when he was really trying.

When the little green light went out, the darkness was nearly complete again. 47 more minutes until they could safely venture out. 47 more minutes ... with Spike ... in a closet the size of a postage stamp.

No one'll blame me if I dust him, right? I mean, there's a broom right here. Handy wooden handle. It'd be a lot easier to share this closet with a pile of dust than with a pain-in-the-ass chipped vampire.

Spike's voice was pointedly casual in the darkness, spoken almost directly into Xander's ear, due to their forced proximity. "You been working out? 'Cause I don't remember your pecs being this hard before." Indeed, their chests kept brushing whenever either of them moved.

"Spike, just ... just don't touch or comment on my body, okay? Because that is just too much with the wrongness." Xander attempted to step away, but his ass immediately collided with what felt like several rolls of paper towels on the shelf behind him. No escape in that direction. There was barely enough room for the two of them in here, let alone any space to move around.

"Just sayin' ... kinda hard to miss in such close quarters. Used to be a bit on the padded side, but you've gotten pretty fit, Not-So-Droopy Boy." Spike shifted position, and his hip brushed against Xander's groin.

Xander instinctively jerked away from the contact, but his resulting slight bounce off the paper towels only succeeded in momentarily pressing him more firmly against Spike's body. "Shut up! And stop rubbing against me, you undead pervert!" Xander pulled away, momentarily holding his breath to avoid touching the vampire ... before realizing that not breathing really wasn't the best long-term plan. With his every breath, though, some part of him seemed to touch some part of Spike.

"S'not my fault. Crowded in here, ain't it? And, anyway, I'm guessing you like it." Xander could almost hear the arrogant smirk in his voice.

"Spike, if you keep talking, someone out there is going to hear us. Reconnaissance, remember? We're not here to take in the thrilling broom closet scenery. So enough with the witty homosexual banter."

Spike slapped his hand against the steel-reinforced door, making Xander jump nervously at the unexpected sound. "Army base, lack-brain. Even the closets are secure. Wouldn't want anybody stealing their patriotic toilet paper, now would they? No human'd be able to hear anything through this monster of a door. We could shag our brains out against it and somebody standing right outside'd be none the wiser."

"Shag our...? Spike, quit it with the suggestive remarks. I get it. Taunt the homophobic guy. Fun for the whole family. Well, I'm here to tell you that I am too secure in my manhood to be threatened by anything you have to say. So just give up and shut up."

Spike chuckle sounded low and -- to Xander's mind -- dangerous. "Now that sounded like a challenge. If you're so secure in your manhood, whelp, then why's the idea of a bloke sucking your dick got you squirming?"

At the words "sucking your dick," the appendage in question responded enthusiastically. Xander's entire body stiffened with fear that Spike would notice the more specific stiffening down below. Trying to sound appropriately mocking, Xander bluffed, "What ... Are you offering, Spike?"

Spike sounded bored when he replied, "Could be. Gotta waste time in here somehow 'til these soldier types bugger off."

"You're joking." Xander wished he could see Spike's face, though that probably wouldn't help the situation any. Spike pretty much looked arrogant and condescending full-time. It was like his job. His job of evilness. Evil condescending smirkiness. With the raised eyebrow, sometimes, for extra annoying flavor.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Give me a try."

"No." It didn't matter if some parts of Xander's body were standing at attention ... he knew Spike was just jerking his ... uh ... yanking his ... pulling his ... uh ... chain? Nothing else, though. No jerking or yanking or pulling of anything else belonging to the Xan Man. Not now, not ever. Not by Spike.

"Afraid?" Oh, the smirk had gotten louder in Spike's voice, like he was really enjoying this. Prick.

"I don't need to prove anything to a loser like you." Okay, so that was sort of lame. But Xander certainly wasn't going to admit to any less-than-manly tinglings. He would just have a quiet little panic attack when he got home. Because he really wasn't getting turned on by rubbing up against Spike. That wasn't possible. Not unless they'd fallen into some kind of hell dimension without noticing.

"Oooh! 'Loser'? Sticks and stones, mate. And I haven't seen you parading any lovelies on your arm lately."


"So we could probably both use a bit of a hand, so to speak. No shame in it."

"Damn, Spike! How desperate are you, that you'll come on to me?" It wasn't until it was out of his mouth that Xander realized how stupid that sounded. Why does my mouth move so much faster than my brain?

"Quite an ego you've got there. That work on the ladies, does it? Would explain your luck."

"Shut up. You know what I mean. I'm not into guys, Spike, and last I heard you weren't either. So what's your deal?"

Xander could feel Spike's shrug in the darkness. "I've nothing against blokes. Hell, simplifies matters, don't it? No guessing 'bout how things work and what they want. A cock is a cock. If I know how to handle mine, then I know how to handle yours, eh?"

"What?" Xander's voice nearly squeaked in panic. The mental image conjured by Spike's words was so not helping. Spike's hand on his cock, stroking, squeezing ... "No! No handling! Keep the hands away from the ... handling!"

Of course, Spike's hands hadn't been touching him at all. But in the darkness, his imagination had sort of run away with him. Problem was, he had been sort of enjoying where it had been running to, and that was just way too humiliating. Spike was obviously just amusing himself by trying to get a rise ... er ... reaction out of Xander. He'd been with Dru for how many years? And...

... wait. Did he say ... ?

The silence stretched for a really long time. Xander fought the compulsion to check his watch again. Spike couldn't have meant what it sounded like he said. Because he was straight. Right? Right? Xander wasn't trapped in a closet with a hard-on and a gay vampire ... and no way in hell was he going to come remotely close to touching the obvious closet jokes. Or anything else, for that matter. No touching. Of anything.

But did he mean ... ?

Eventually Xander couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "So ... you've ... with a guy?" He probably wouldn't have even asked under normal circumstances, but in the dark he knew Spike couldn't see his face, and that made it easier, for some reason. Like he wouldn't be giving anything away. Not that there's anything to be giving away! No giving! I have nothing to give! Crap. Why is this all starting to sound a little pathetic, even to me? What's that saying about protesting too much? Okay, so I'll just stop protesting, right? Okay, so ... so maybe I sort of think Spike is attractive. I mean, everybody's noticed that, right? I mean, with the cheekbones, and that thing he does with his tongue... Xander bit his lip at the twitch from his cock in response to that thought. Okay. I can admit to noticing when a guy's attractive, without being gay. Perfectly normal. Doesn't mean I want...

"You want details and helpful demonstrations?" Spike's voice sounded so sexy ... so hot...

"Huh? No!"

"You sure? 'Cause I've been getting the impression you wouldn't mind."

Something rubbed firmly and deliberately against Xander's erection. Is that his hip? Or ... his hand? Xander was horrified to realize that he hadn't moved away from the contact this time. If anything, his hips gave a little surprised buck toward the pressure.

"That doesn't have anything to do with you! That's about friction! You keep rubbing it, it's gonna get hard..."

"Mmmm. I noticed."

Grateful for the darkness that hid his blushing confusion, Xander turned abruptly to face the unseen paper towels, but Spike almost immediately moved closer to press against his back. And Xander suddenly felt the hardness of Spike's own erection prodding at him through both their jeans ... nestling at the crack of his ass. That's not supposed to feel sexy, right? That's not supposed to be hot. Hell. Fuck. I am so screwed. Spike will NEVER let me live this down.

Desperately, Xander looked down and pressed the button on the side of his watch. 12:26. According to the plan, they were stuck here for 34 more minutes.


I should know better by now. First Cordy, and now Spike. I should know to avoid closets. Closets are evil. Closets and me should never exist in the same place, because it just never leads to goodness. When I get out of here, I'm going to design myself a closet-less house ... no closets at all ... I mean, who really needs closets?

Spike's body was pressing against his back, and Xander found that for some strange reason he couldn't bring himself to object. The sound of his breathing seemed embarrassingly loud in the dark. Spike's voice was smooth and smug as he whispered into Xander's ear, "You want it. I know you do." He nipped Xander's earlobe lightly before adding, "I can smell it." Xander shivered in response to not only the bite but also the words.

And then firm hands were on Xander's hips, sliding forward from behind, meeting in the center to explore his fly and the now-straining bulge it covered. At the first touch, Xander gasped, but he didn't pull away. He closed his eyes, and his head hung forward slightly, his breathing even louder in his ears now. This is crazy. This can't be happening.

Lips pressed to the nape of his neck, and then a tongue flicked against the sensitive skin. Xander groaned, and the hands at his groin shifted, one rising to his waistband to deftly unbutton his jeans. A moment later, the sound of the zipper was loud in the dark. Xander felt blindly in front of him, finding a shelf at chest height, which he pressed with both his hands, the cold metal smooth against his palms as he braced himself. He was panting now, the sound seeming to fill the darkness around them.

As Spike's cool hands -- I thought they'd be warmer -- slid inside his boxers, Xander tilted his head forward, his forehead resting against something soft. Patriotic toilet paper? And then a hand was holding his cock, another man's hand, not Xander's hand, and it was squeezing hard, just like Xander did when he jacked off. "Oh yeah!" he moaned aloud before he could stop himself. And then another hand was cupping his balls, rolling them and squeezing them gently as his cock was squeezed tightly again. Xander's body arched with surprised pleasure and his head fell back, luckily not colliding with anything along the way.

But then he felt cool lips against the skin of his ear, just brushing, lightly enough to make him shiver, as Spike murmured, "You like that. My hand on your cock." The hand squeezed again and began a slow stroke. But then the hand was abruptly pulled away, making Xander groan in disappointment. The other hand still fondled his balls, but he needed more than that. "I want it wet," Spike whispered. "Lick my hand."

Xander felt blindly for Spike's hand, and found it in the dark, bringing it toward his face. Spike's other hand had risen from his balls and now roughly jerked his boxers down, making Xander gasp. As Xander licked Spike's palm, the jean-clad erection behind him ground against his bare ass. Without thinking, Xander instinctively moved his hips, grinding himself back against the rough fabric and the hardness it covered.

Xander's tongue stroked Spike's hand over and over, thoroughly wetting the skin. When the hand moved away, Xander almost wished it had stayed, his mouth and tongue now suddenly bereft of stimulation. But when the wet hand fell to his cock, Xander forgot about anything else, moaning, "Oh god!"

His hand now stroking Xander's cock firmly, his other hand returned to gently massage his balls, Spike murmured in Xander's ear, "Knew you'd like it. Bet you wish there was a little more space in here, room maybe for me to get on my knees, suck you off, yeah?" Xander moaned again, his hips thrusting helplessly.

"Yeah. Want to feel your cock in my mouth, feel me sucking you down, taking you all the way down, deep, deep, looking up at you while you thrust into my mouth, looking up at you and begging for more..."

Xander was panting heavily now, his cock hard as it had ever been. He was getting close already, trying to hold off orgasm if only to avoid humiliating himself by coming so quick.

But Spike kept whispering as he roughly gripped Xander's cock, his hand now rising and falling quickly in faster strokes. He ground his erection hard against Xander's ass, trapping the boy between his dick and his hand. "Or maybe you'd rather I fuck you, eh?" Xander jerked in surprise, trying to turn his head, but Spike kept stroking, kept grinding against him, kept whispering.

"Oh, yeah, you'd like it. Me stroking you like this while my cock drives into you, filling you up, thrusting into you, making you beg for it, making you whine and thrust your ass back to meet me..." And that's exactly what Xander was doing, mindlessly rubbing back against Spike's thrusting hardness as his breath came in harsh gasps interspersed with inarticulate moans. He was close ... so close...

And then Spike's tongue was tracing the whorls of Xander's ear before he breathed softly across the area he had moistened, the air on wet skin making Xander tremble. "Yeah, you'd beg me for it. Slick me up in your mouth and beg me to bend you over ... beg me to slide in, all hot and wet and tight. Beg me to give it to you. Beg me for more. Beg me to fuck you harder..." And finally the mental images conjured by Spike's words were too much. Xander couldn't hold back anymore, and with a startled cry -- a sobbed, "God, yes!" -- Xander came, his body shuddering and jerking in Spike's arms as his throbbing cock spurted onto unseen cleaning supplies.

Silence. When Xander's cock had softened, Spike released it, raising both of his hands and wiping one of them against something soft on the shelves.

"My turn," Spike said, once again pressing his erection tightly against Xander's ass, his hands coming to rest on Xander's hips, holding him still while Spike ground against him.

Xander stammered, "Uh ... what?"

Spike used his hands on the boy's body to turn him, so that they were once again face-to-face in the dark. Xander heard something that sounded like buttons popping free of cloth, and then Spike grabbed his hand, placing it on cool bare skin.

The bare skin of a very hard cock. Which wasn't Xander's.

The sensation was strange, feeling a cock only from the outside. And it felt different, too. Not quite as smooth, but softer. Xander figured that must be foreskin. Curious, he stroked down and then up again, fascinated by the feel of the soft skin stretching over the hardness.

"That's it," growled Spike. "Harder." His hands were still resting on Xander's bare hips, as if he were about to pull their bodies together. But he didn't move. He just maintained that firm touch while Xander handled his cock.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Xander tightened his grip, absurdly pleased at Spike's resulting groan, and began stroking rhythmically. It was a bit awkward, holding onto a cock from the wrong way around, but the mechanics were still basically the same.

And I've got plenty of experience with the old game of naked solitaire. Who'd've thought it'd come in handy someday? Heh. "Come" in "handy."

Spike was thrusting his hips into Xander's hand. "Ah yeah," he grunted. "Like that. Just like that." Xander tried to keep a steady rhythm, but Spike's hips were moving fast now. "God, wish I could fuck you," Spike moaned, "right up against this fucking door, all tight and hot, make you come for me, make you come just from the feel of my cock in your ass..."

This should be grossing me out. Why isn't this grossing me out? Why is it really really hot, instead? What's wrong with me?

Suddenly, Spike was groaning loudly as his cock throbbed in Xander's grasp, spilling liquid onto his fingers, some shooting far enough to land on Xander's bare arm, some even hitting his naked thigh. It was strange to feel it without being able to see it.

For a long moment, the only sound in the darkness was heavy breathing. Xander pulled his hand away, holding it suspended away from himself, acutely aware of the thick liquid on his hand, arm, and thigh. He hesitated briefly, and then used his left hand to grab one of the rolls of paper towels, opening it awkwardly with fingers wet with Spike's spunk. When he'd gotten it open, he tore off a few paper towels and handed them to Spike, then tore off a few for himself.

Xander found that getting his boxers and jeans back up was a bit more of a production. There was little room to maneuver, but he was eventually able to manage and was once again fully dressed. He stood still again, painfully attuned to Spike's nearness.

What now?

Neither of them spoke. Xander tried to avoid fidgeting, since it only made him brush against Spike and that seemed incredibly complicated right now. Time seemed to crawl. In the darkness, there wasn't even anything to look at, and the only sound was Xander's heart and breathing. It was eerie, having Spike so close, making no sound whatsoever.

But, after what felt like an eternity, Spike casually drawled, "So. How we gonna waste the rest of the time, eh? A rousing game of I Spy?"

Glad for an excuse, Xander pressed the button on the side of his watch. "12:53," he said quietly. "Only 7 more minutes and we can get out of here. If everything goes according to plan, they should all be gone by then."

Another long silence.

And then, unexpectedly, the quiet clicking, turning sound of the door handle.

Xander whispered frantically, "Spike, are you doing that?"

But the tense voice beside him only hissed back, "I don't think everything's going according to plan, pet."


The cell wasn't a lot bigger than the closet, but it was somewhat of an improvement. Except for the armed guards. Spike could've done without them, quite happily.

Not fond of being prisoner to military types. Had enough to last me plenty, last time 'round.

Sitting with his back against the concrete wall, he rested his head in his hands, pressing against his temples. He still had a bitch of a headache from the fight when they'd been discovered. He'd gotten up close and personal with the butt of an M-16, but most of the lingering pain was probably due to the chip's repeated firings.

Yeah, he and Harris hadn't gone easily ... but Spike wasn't much good against humans, and Xander couldn't handle five guys on his own. They'd been thrown into this cell hours ago and hadn't seen but a few glimpses of their captors since.

Well, to be precise, Xander hadn't been seeing much of anything. He'd taken some pretty harsh-looking blows to the head during the scuffle and got knocked unconscious. It was the length of time he'd been out that worried Spike, though. The kid might have a concussion ... or worse.

Xander lay motionless on the sagging gray mattress in the corner of the cell. Spike had investigated his head, but only found some impressive lumps beneath the kid's thick dark hair. No way of knowing what was going on inside. Could only hope the kid hadn't suffered any permanent damage.

How the fuck are we going to get out of here? And am I gonna have to carry him out?

His head still aching, Spike got up and walked to the bars that formed the front of their cell. The three cement walls didn't present many opportunities, particularly since the room had no windows. But the bars ... the bars would be their only chance.

Their. They. He kept thinking 'they.'

Kid could be dying right now. Nothing I can do about it. Shouldn't care. Not like we're best mates of a sudden, just 'cause of some mutual handiwork in the dark. Doubt he'll be inviting me over for tea.

Spike strained at the bars, but couldn't budge them. Iron, probably. And thick. He investigated the lock on the cage door, but it was controlled by one of those computerized keypads, not so easy to pick as the old-fashioned type.

Swearing colorfully, Spike walked back to sit sullenly beside the mattress, muttering to the unconscious Xander, "You'd better bloody wake up soon, or I'll go round the twist talking to myself in here. You're the one's supposed to know this place backwards and forwards. What do I know about the sodding Army? So you damn well better wake up and know the way out of this."

No response. Silence.

Spike drummed his fingers restlessly against the cement floor. Glanced around. Not much to see. Toilet. Sink. Mattress. Boy. Bars. Spike drummed his fingers. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Silence.

Spike hated silence.

"Twenty - twenty - twenty four hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do
Nowhere to go
I wanna be sedated..."

A groan sounded from the mattress, followed by a mumbled, "What on god's green and bountiful earth is that horrific noise?"

"I sing bloody well, I'll have you know. So you're finally awake, eh?" Spike's voice was casual. Doesn't matter to me. Not like I care about the kid or anything.

"Uh ... yeah. I guess." Xander tried to sit up, but abruptly swayed and braced himself with a hand against the wall. "Whoa! Who set the world on 'spin'?" Scooting carefully to rest his back against the wall, Xander brought both hands to his head, groaning, "And why is someone shoving knives in my eyes?"

"Headache?" Spike asked with mock solicitousness. "Yeah, that happens sometimes when you get the shit beat out of you."

Xander raised his head to meet Spike's gaze. "Somebody beat the shit out of me? Well, I guess that would explain the excruciating pain." Looking around, Xander suddenly frowned and asked, "Am I in jail? Why am I in jail? Was there alcohol involved? Because I really can't be held responsible for anything I do after the third beer. Was there dancing? Did I keep my clothes on, at least?"

Smirking broadly, Spike replied, "Oh, your clothes were on for most of it. Only dropped trou long as it took." The kid knocked his head even harder'n I thought, if he doesn't remember that. Oh, the fun we're gonna have with this!

Xander's brown eyes were wide and confused, his voice a bit hysterical when he repeated, "Dropped trou? Okay, what the hell is going on here? Who are you, and who beat me up, and why are we in jail, and ... and ... what the hell is going on around here?"

Spike just stared at him for a long moment of stunned silence.

"You're joking, right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? Do I look like I'm having fun? Because I've gotta tell you: I'm not. My head hurts and the room won't hold still and I have no idea what I'm doing here."

"And you don't know who I am."

"Not a clue. Except you're obviously English. Are we in England? Are you the one who beat me up? Is that why we're in jail? Some kind of bar fight? Or I guess you call them pubs here... I don't remember going to a pub, but..."

"Oh bloody hell."


"So what do you remember?"

"Uh ... never clear a table saw while it's still running.... Bubblegum ice-cream isn't nearly as tasty as it sounds.... The third season of Star Trek sucked, and the summit of the suckage was 'Spock's Brain'.... Never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line... All the lyrics to Weird Al Yankovic's 'The Saga Begins'...."

"Hold on, there, nerd boy. Do you remember your name, where you live, who your friends are, that sort of rot?"

"No. But I think I could probably build a damn fine window casing."


"All right then. Your name's Xander Harris..."

"Ander Harris?"

"No, you pillock. Xander Harris."

"It sounded like you said..."

"Xander Harris. Just shut up and remember it."


"So we noticed that some pseudo-soldier types had moved into Sunnydale's empty Army base..."

"Why was it empty?"

"Fucked if I know. End of the Cold War? Cuts to the military budget? Abduction by aliens? Doesn't matter. Point is, these other blokes moved in and seemed to be planning something shady."


"Seems somebody caught on to our little voyage of discovery. Decided to put a stop to it."

"Uh ... voyage of discovery?"

"Not talking about that business in the dark. Talking 'bout the plan to check this lot out, see what they're up to, that sort of thing. Guess they didn't want us knowin'."

"What business in the dark?"

"Never mind 'bout that now. Point is, there was a fight, and we lost. That's why we're here."

"Well, is somebody going to come get us out?"

"'Fraid not, pet. The witches don't even know we're here."

"Okay ... hold on a second. Witches?"


"I already tried, and I can't budge the bars."

"Well, duh. I mean, you're not Superman or anything. Hey! I remember who Superman is, too! I even know that Dan Jergens killed him. But you can't keep a good Kryptonian down, and so Superman returned in issue..."

"Could you just please shut the fuck up?"


Xander stood up and began walking around the tiny cell, investigating everything, peering out through the bars in hopes of seeing something that might help them escape, but the room was nearly empty. Only a small metal table, a folding chair, and a black stick.

Spike noticed that the boy seemed to be moving differently than usual. A bit more confident, maybe. He still winced occasionally, probably still feeling the knock on the head, but he carried himself with more self-assurance, less cringing. Spike had always hated the cringing. The slouching. The way Xander had of carrying his body so that it shouted, "Please don't hurt me." It was pathetic.

Truth was, the kid was a lot more attractive this way. Spike found himself eyeing the muscles bunching beneath the boy's gray t-shirt, the long legs, the large hands.

Oh yeah. Those hands on him had been the best thing he'd felt in a long time. His cock stirred at the memory. He licked his lips, eyes still following the boy as he stood at the bars and tried to shake the hinged door. It didn't move.

"How are we supposed to escape if no one even knows we're here?"

Spike raised his eyes to Xander's face. That wasn't too bad to look at, either. The boy had a beautiful mouth, all curved and pink. Spike wanted to suck on the upper lip.

Wait. Hadn't Harris said something? Oh, right. No one knew where they were.

"Red might notice you're gone after a couple days," Spike suggested. It seemed pretty likely, actually. He wasn't sure how often Xander and the witches got together, but he had the impression they were still pretty tight.

"What about you?" Xander asked, watching him curiously. "Won't any of your buddies notice you're missing?"

Spike looked away. "No."

"Why not?"

Spike clenched his teeth. A muscle jumped in his jaw. He spat out, "Shut it."

"Why?" Xander's voice was earnestly confused. Of course he would assume that Spike had friends. Everybody has friends, right? Not quite everybody.

This time, Spike's voice was just tired. "Just shut it." He kept his face turned away, not wanting the boy to see his expression.


Xander came over to sit beside Spike on the mattress. He eyed Spike speculatively. "So ... you and me ... are we ... friends? Or ... ?"

Spike shrugged and said, "Not exactly..."

"Yeah, I kinda thought so. I mean, it seemed like..."

Even now, kid thinks he's too good for the likes of me. Couldn't be friends. No, 'course not. His eyes narrowing defensively, Spike demanded, "Seemed like what?"

Xander didn't look away, but he looked a bit uncertain now. "Well, like there was something going on. Between us, I mean."

Something going on? The brat thinks we're lovers? Well, now, that's an interesting development, now ain't it? Spike raised an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

Xander shrugged, and Spike again noticed muscles moving beneath his shirt. "Well, there was that stuff about 'dropping trou' earlier ... and the way you've been looking at me..."

Spike smirked. "How've I been looking at you?"

"Like you know what I look like naked" -- Spike grinned -- "or like ... like I'm covered in chocolate and you want to lick it off..." Spike's cock twitched again, hardening further.

He tried to make his voice cool and casual when he remarked, "Nice. Graphic. I like it. You're a lot more fun this way. Should bash you on the head more often."


"Vampire, remember? It ever cross your mind that maybe I was lusting after your blood, and not your flabby ass?"

"Hey! My ass is not flabby!" Xander reached behind him to clutch a butt cheek in each hand as if to verify that the body part in question was suitably firm, which it was. As if Spike hadn't noticed that fact already. "And, anyway, that wouldn't explain what you were saying earlier about 'dropping trou'. So what was that all about, huh?"

"Oh, that was a long time coming." Pun definitely intended. "You've been wanting me for years ... hid it under a pile of half-baked insults. Y'ever read Shakespeare? He had a bit to say about protesting too much. You're a prime example of it." Spike didn't know if this was actually true, but it seemed like a pretty good theory.

Xander was frowning slightly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just a bit of slap and tickle in the closet."

Xander was still frowning in confusion. "Uh ... is this a metaphorical closet we're talking about?"

Spike chuckled. "No, no metaphors. An actual broom closet. Though now that you mention it..."

"What were we doing in a closet?"


Eyeing Spike with a new light in his eyes, Xander said, "So ... mutual hand-jobs?"


"We gave each other the devil's handshake?"

Spike only raised an eyebrow.

"Tickled each other's Elmo?"

Spike was rolling his eyes now.

"Frigged each other's love muscle? Spanked each other's monkey? Choked each other's chicken?" Xander was grinning, obviously enjoying himself immensely.

Spike gave the kid a scorching look and said, "Now, see, how I remember it is that I wrapped my hand around your cock, all hot and hard and throbbing, and squeezed and pulled 'til you came all over some soldier's cleaning supplies. An' then you returned the favor."

Xander swallowed audibly, all traces of amusement on his face now replaced by hunger. "Uh ... sounds different when you put it that way."

Spike smirked again. "Be glad to demonstrate."

Xander glanced anxiously at the door and shook his head quickly. "Anybody could come in!"

Shrugging, Spike replied, "I'm not shy."

"Well, apparently I am." The kid was looking a bit pink, actually. Blushing? Didn't seem to stop him eyeing Spike's body, though. Definitely like him better like this.



When the room's thick metal door opened a while later, they both turned to look.

Two different armed guards -- a thin cowboy and an older man with a comb-over -- had taken turns stopping in periodically during the hours Xander was asleep, but this was the first time anyone had come in since he woke.

It was the cowboy this time, wearing his brown leather cowboy boots beneath his military fatigues. These guys obviously weren't really military, judging by their haircuts and such, but they were still in a position of dangerous power ... and Spike and Xander were currently in a position of considerable weakness. It was driving Spike nuts.

"Sleeping Beauty has risen at last!" the cowboy guard grinned. "You wake 'er with a big juicy kiss, Blondie?"

Xander immediately rushed forward to the iron bars, grabbing hold of them and shouting, "Let us out of here, you gun-toting Nazi! I have friends who are witches, and when they find out you're holding me prisoner..."

The guard calmly put down his Uzi and picked up the black stick from the table near the door, a dangerous smirk on his face. Spike knew that expression well: the gleeful anticipation of violence against the helpless. Kid's asking for it, stupid sod. Spike stepped forward, glaring at Xander and explaining quickly, "Kid got knocked on the head, jarred his brain a bit loopy. He's even stupider than usual." But the guard walked slowly toward the bars, swinging the black stick casually in his right hand.

"Witches, hmm?" grinned the guard. "Well, Sleeping Beauty, I don't think your little imaginary magic friends can help you now. And you shouldn't shoot off your mouth when you're locked in a cage."

As the guard stepped forward with the black stick, Spike grabbed Xander's shoulders and shoved him back hard enough to send the boy crashing into the cement wall and falling momentarily dazed to the gray mattress. Spike had barely a moment to turn back toward the bars and the guard beyond them before he was jolted with pain. The guard had thrust the black stick through the bars, and it seemed to be some sort of cattle prod, sending electricity surging through Spike's body. When Spike roared and tried to reach through the bars to grab the guard, he was jolted with the cattle prod again, and again, and again, until at last his muscles contracted strongly, sending him toppling to the floor motionless and rigid, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his teeth grinding against the pain.

The guard laughed. "That's what you get in here when you wise off, boys. You keep good and quiet 'til we decide what to do with you, eh?" Grinning, the man walked away toward the door, placing the black stick again on the table and picking up his Uzi. Glancing back toward the barred cell, he remarked casually, "Play nice and we won't have to hurt you again." And then he opened the door and left.


When Spike opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the mattress with Xander gently wiping his face with a damp cloth. Where'd he get a cloth? But then Spike saw Xander rise and walk back to the sink, running the water over the wad of gray in his hand, and realized the boy was bare-chested. He's using his t-shirt. Obviously, Xander hadn't realized Spike was conscious again, because he didn't say anything, just continued moving with that new confident grace, wringing out the wet t-shirt into the sink and turning to return to the mattress.

Xander stopped walking, noticing Spike's eyes had opened. But neither of them said anything. Then Xander walked the rest of the way to the mattress and sat by Spike's side, once again applying the cool damp cloth to his skin. Even though Spike didn't experience body temperature changes as humans do, the coolness still felt somehow comforting.

Or maybe it's just the fact that someone's taking care of me. It's been a long time. A really bloody long time. Not used to this ... connection. Not used to this ... care.

Spike's muscles were still recovering from the electricity, and so they didn't want to move. He lay there and allowed Xander to stroke his face and neck with the damp cloth, and he watched Xander's face. The boy didn't make eye contact, watching his hand instead as it moved along Spike's pale skin. After several long moments, Xander stood again and walked back to the sink, wetting the t-shirt again, wringing it out. Fascinated, Spike openly watched the bunching and rolling of muscles in the boy's bare arms, shoulders, back ... watched the flowing of muscles under the boy's tanned skin. Must work with his shirt off sometimes, out on those construction sites. A sight to see, I'm sure.

This time, when Xander came back to sit on the edge of the mattress, he gently lifted Spike's head and rested the cool cloth against the back of Spike's neck, keeping one hand cradling his head so that Spike's neck did not arch uncomfortably.

"Does that help?" Xander asked quietly, his eyes now meeting Spike's. The kid's eyes were dark and warm, filled with some emotion Spike couldn't identify. But it was there, whatever it was.

"Yeah. Helps," Spike's voice croaked. "Been electrocuted before. Not my favorite way to spend a Saturday night."

Xander nodded, biting his lower lip for a moment. Then he looked intently into Spike's eyes. "It looked pretty bad. I ... I'm sorry I opened my big mouth. That guy wouldn't've zapped you if it wasn't for me."

A bit awkward with the boy's intensity, Spike replied dismissively, "I'm sure he would've found a reason eventually."

Xander stroked the cloth along the back of Spike's neck, still holding the vampire's head cradled in his hand. Something inside of Spike just wanted to abandon itself to this gentleness. Xander stroked the cool, damp cloth along his face again and said quietly, "Still ... I feel bad. Is there anything else I can do?"

Spike tried to shake his head, but his muscles still weren't reacting quite normally yet. "Nah. Just need to rest, maybe sleep it off."

Xander checked his watch. "Well, it's 8:52 in the morning, and I've been thinking. I figure our chances of escape are probably better at night. During the day there's probably more people around, more of these fake-military jerks."

Not to mention the fact that I'd burst into flames in the sun. But somehow don't think you're ready to find out you're locked in here with a vampire, chip or no chip. "Yeah, night's our best bet."

"So I guess we're stuck here all day. And, you know, you've been electrocuted and I've probably got a concussion, so I think we could both use some sleep before we try to get out of here. The mattress is big enough for two if we scrunch. My manhood can handle it if yours can."

Biting back a smart remark about the handling of manhoods, Spike admitted tiredly, "Probably a good plan." The electric shock really had taken a lot out of him, and sleep beckoned.

Xander tossed the damp t-shirt onto the floor, and then gently nudged Spike over enough to make room for himself on the mattress. Soon, they lay side-by-side, sound asleep.


Spike woke to a comfortable warmth and an odd sound. It took him a long drowsy moment to realize that the sound was a heartbeat. And the warmth came from a human body. He opened his eyes to find his head resting on Xander's bare chest, his cheek nestled in the hollow between the boy's shoulder and pec. One of Spike's hands was also resting on the smooth bare skin of the kid's chest, and there was a strong arm wrapped around Spike's waist, holding him close.

Probably thinks I'm the demon bint. That ended a while ago, but old habits die hard, as they say.

From his vantage point, Spike could look down the length of Xander's body, and he noticed a bulge in the boy's pants. Speaking of "hard." Spike felt his own cock begin to fill and rise in reaction. He knew Xander was probably only dreaming, but the boy's nearness and arousal were delicious, especially after that business in the closet, especially now that he knew the feel of the boy's hard cock, knew the noises he made in pleasure, knew the kid's tight grip and heavy breathing. Spike's dick grew even harder as he remembered.

And then he felt a subtle tensing to the body against his. Kid's awake. Spike lifted his head slightly, enough so that Xander could turn his head, and indeed he did.

Always thought the kid's eyes were brown, but they're not. More like hazel, all filled with flecks of green and gold.

And then the arm around him tightened, pulling him closer, and those sleepy green-gold-brown eyes fluttered closed, and then warm lips pressed to his, a moist tongue tracing the exquisitely sensitive skin, requesting entrance. Spike's lips parted in surprise, and then they were kissing.


Xander hadn't been planning to initiate a kiss ... it just sort of ... happened. There'd been all that talk about sexual shenanigans in a broom closet, and about Xander secretly lusting after Spike for years without having the nerve to do anything about it, and ... well ... Xander didn't remember any of that stuff, but he did remember the dream he'd been having.

And the dream sure seemed to support what Spike was saying.

Okay, yeah, so apparently he had the hots for Spike. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Okay, so he'd been dreaming about Spike holding him down, bending him over a table and fucking him with deep, slow thrusts. So in his dream he'd been begging for more, panting and squirming and arching and pushing back to meet Spike's hip bones with the flesh of his ass.

So, okay, yeah, maybe Spike was right. It looked like he was gay.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

Or maybe it was just the situation, with Spike giving him all those looks, with his blue eyes all intense, sort of glancing down Xander's body all the time. With them locked up alone together, and all the sex talk, and Xander not remembering anything ... maybe it was just the intensity of the weirdness.

Whatever it was ... it was hot.

And so when Xander woke up from his dream of incredibly hot fucking -- his dream of being bent over a table and just taken while he cried out for more, begging please please more -- when he woke up and saw Spike's blue eyes so close, staring at him so intently ... well ... kissing just seemed like the thing to do. He didn't really give it a lot of thought.

And Spike hadn't seemed to mind at all, his mouth hard and eager, his hand absently stroking Xander's bare chest, toying with a nipple, tracing the outlines of various muscles in his arms, chest, stomach. Xander moaned and flexed slightly, wanting more, wanting to tell Spike to keep going, move lower.

As he gradually woke more fully, the kiss grew increasingly passionate, their tongues thrusting against each other, their bodies pressing together more and more tightly. Feeling Spike's erection pressing against his hip, Xander found himself wanting to touch ... wanting more...

When he needed air, he pulled his lips from Spike's, panting heavily, his lips swollen and sensitive from the roughness of their kissing. Xander pulled his face away only far enough to be able to see Spike's eyes, and they seemed darker than before, watching him with some deep hunger that made heat curl low in Xander's belly.

Yeah, he wanted this.

Whatever it was, and whatever the reasons, he wanted this.

Licking his lips, his eyes still holding Spike's gaze, Xander stroked a hand along Spike's hip and down to where their bodies were pressed together. Spike's eyes widened at the unexpected touch of Xander's hand against his denim-covered erection, but then his lids lowered slightly, his gaze simmering with heat, his mouth open slightly, his lips red and wet. He pulled away just enough to give Xander space to touch him.

At the first firm squeeze, Spike's eyes closed and he groaned softly. Encouraged, Xander stroked and squeezed and explored more fully. His hand was on the button at Spike's waistband when he heard the door on the other side of the room beginning to open.

"Fuck!" Xander ground out.

"Apparently not," replied Spike, leaping to his feet with a murderous look of frustration directed at the doorway, which produced a short balding man dressed in military fatigues.

Unlike the cowboy, this guard carried an M-16 and seemed less interested in witty repartee. He merely eyed the prisoners suspiciously and took a good look at everything in the room, making sure nothing had changed. After a few moments, he turned and left without a word, shutting the door behind him.

Spike turned back around to find Xander standing near the mattress. Smirking, he said, "Where were we?"

"No way." Xander shook his head. "No more messing around. I don't want Mr. Hair-Club-For-Men coming back in here to see me bare-assed with my pants around my ankles."

"Not even if it meant getting your end away?"

Xander frowned again. "Getting my...? What? No. Whatever that means, no. We need to worry about getting out of here, not about getting 'ends' away."

Spike pouted, but still managed to look amused. "Any bright ideas, then, Captain Amnesia?"

"Uh ... not at the moment. How about you?"

Spike grinned. "Already told you my bright ideas."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Any bright ideas that don't involve your dick?"

"Well, now, that's no fun, is it?"

Xander didn't reply. Spike sighed heavily, shrugging. "Could pass the time talking 'bout shoes and ships and sealing-wax and cabbages and kings..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know. I am the walrus. Goo goo g'joob."

"Okay. Have you gone completely insane? Because you aren't making any sense at all."

"Lewis Carroll? The walrus and the carpenter? Ever read a book, nobhead?"

"Well, if I read that one, I guess I don't remember. There's a lot of that going around. The not-remembering, I mean."

"Rather hard to miss."


Xander walked to the sink, turning on the faucet and cupping his hands to get a drink and splash water over his face. "Hey, Spike, you should drink, too."

"I don't need water."

"Seriously. If we're gonna break out of here, we need to be strong. If you get dehydrated, you won't be much help."

"Won't get dehydrated."

"Spike, quit being so stubborn and..."

"Did you hear me say I don't need water? Leave it the fuck alone."

"I'm deadly serious. If you get weak from dehydration, it could mean the difference between getting out of here and getting killed. So just drink the damn water, okay?"

"Fuck! If it's so bloody important to you, then fine!" Spike stalked over to the sink, elbowed Xander out of the way, and brought a hand full of water to his mouth, gulping quickly. "There! Are you satisfied?"

Xander was frowning in confusion. Why was Spike making such a big deal about it? He turned off the faucet and went back to sit on the mattress, his back against the cement wall.

He watched Spike. "Is something going on here that you aren't telling me about? Because you're sort of freaking me out."

Still standing near the sink, Spike replied guardedly, "You don't want to know, pet."

"How do you know? Maybe I'm a really curious guy."

Cursing, Spike turned away and didn't say anything. He saw where this was going, and it wasn't going to go well. Spike could feel Xander's eyes on him as the silence stretched on and on.

"Fine," he muttered, "remember what I said about the witches, and fighting demons, and all that?"

Xander nodded, then realized Spike couldn't see it while he was facing the other direction. "Yeah. Pretty weird stuff. Why?"

Rolling his eyes, Spike vamped out and turned to look at the kid, waiting for the screams and hysterics.

"You're a vampire!" gasped Xander in shock. And then, grinning, "Wow! Cool!"

"Bleedin' hell! Aren't you even afraid of me now, what with the memory loss and all?"

"I don't know. It just seems like ... like I've seen it before. I know I should be wigging big time, but I'm not. I mean, you could've bitten me while I was sleeping, or even when I was unconscious before, but you didn't."

Spike grumbled, "Yeah, well, I can't." He shot a brief glance over his shoulder at the closed utility door that was the only way into the room. Wouldn't do to let the shady fellows know his weakness. Turning back to look at Xander, face now smoothed into human planes again, Spike explained begrudgingly, "Got a chip in my head, gives me a migraine any time I try to hurt a human."

"Hurt how?"

"Any how. 'S why we got taken prisoner. I tried to fight the blokes who caught us, but the chip just kept firing. Pretty much knocked me flat."

Xander shrugged. "Yeah, well, I got knocked flat, too, so I'm not gonna be pointing any fingers on that score."

"But I'm a vampire," Spike growled. "I shouldn't get bashed up by a bunch of kids playin' at tin soldiers."

"Well, look, okay, yeah, I guess that sucks for you. But let's just figure out how to get out of here, okay? I mean, you must have some kind of ... I don't know ... super powers or something, right?"

Spike raised an amused eyebrow. "Super powers?"

"Vampire stuff. Like, can you change into a bat?"

"Everybody remembers that stupid parlor trick! Bleedin' Dracula and his flashy..."


Still bare-chested, Xander shook out his damp, rumpled t-shirt and lay it across the sink to dry. "So is that why you said your friends wouldn't be coming to save you? Because they're vampires?"

Spike shook his head cynically. "The vamps aren't much fond of me these days, what with me fighting alongside you lot."

Xander turned to look at Spike sitting casually on the mattress, his legs spread, his arms resting on his knees. "So we're your only friends? The ... uh ... witches ... and me?"

Spike looked away, not saying anything.

"We are your friends, right?"

Spike turned to look at Xander again with a shuttered expression. "Depends on your definition."

Frowning in confusion, Xander asked, "What's your definition?"

"Don't know. Something more than..." Spike broke off, turning away again.

"Spike, quit it with the cryptic routine. I've got amnesia, remember? I'm already confused enough."

Spike looked Xander in the eye and said defensively, "You and your little friends hate me, all right? That what you wanted to know?"

Xander frowned. "Hate you? But I thought you worked with us ... with the ... fighting the ... demons ... all that stuff."

"Right. Doesn't mean we're pals."

"It doesn't? Then why do you help us?"

"Fucked if I know."

"So ... you help us ... but we aren't your friends."

"That's about right. Get no bloody thanks for it, either."

"Why don't you just take off, then? You know, go do your own thing? Leave us twisting in the wind?"

"With this chip, I can't hunt. Depend on packaged blood to survive. Can't really be a vampire, but can't be human, either. Just stuck."

"Stuck with us?"

"I suppose."

"Even though you don't like us?"

A moment passed, and then Spike shrugged casually. "Not so bad, I suppose."


"See, when Buffy died, I took it hard. Guess you did, too. Started showing up at my crypt, toting a six pack and a bottle of JD, nearly every night. We'd sit there and get pissed out of our heads, 'til we couldn't remember anymore."

"That's not in your definition of 'friends'?"

Spike shot Xander a dry glance. "Don't think you'd be tossing that word around so lightly if you were all set in the head."

"Okay, yeah, maybe somebody knocked some sense into me without meaning to. I mean, whatever went on in the past, I consider you my friend now."

Spike was silent a long moment, then awkwardly joked, "Bit more than that, eh? What with the heavy petting?"

"Maybe so, but I think we're friends, too."

"Well, we'll just see when you remember, eh? Don't think we'll be holding hands and strolling through the daisies."

"You know, I might not remember much, but I'm pretty sure I'm not big on daisy-strolling, anyway. So no big loss."


Xander was wandering the cell restlessly again. "You know, much as I'm enjoying our little chats, I really want to get the fuck out of here. I mean, these guys haven't given us a single thing to eat the whole time we've been here, and that's been ... uh ... what? Two days? I could eat a camel."

"Nasty beasts. Better off with a llama, and they're pure evil. Spit the most disgusting..."

"Spike? Focus? We need to figure out how to get out of here."

"Well, there seem to be two fellas keeping watch on us. A tall bloke with cowboy boots and a little balding git."

"Yeah. Baldy doesn't look so tough, but Cowboy Guy's a real sadist with that cattle prod. You sure it's only them?"

"I've seen a couple other guards come in, but only during the day. At night, it's just these two, and they take turns. So between the times when they..."

"Or," interrupted Xander, a thoughtful expression on his face as he eyed the porcelain toilet bowl, "maybe there's another possibility." Cowboy boots don't have treads on the bottom. And I do not want to even think about how I know this, because unremembered fashion errors of times past deserve to rest in peace. But ... no treads ... cement floor...

He turned to look at Spike, running his eyes over the length of the other man's body, noticing the black t-shirt and jeans, the red over-shirt, the black Doc Martens. Spike smirked and cocked an eyebrow, enjoying the attention.

Xander asked suddenly, "Those boots have rubber soles, right?"

Spike shot him a puzzled look. "Yeah."

"Then loan me your red shirt. I've got a plan."


The next time the door opened, Spike and Xander were waiting. Spike stood near the toilet. Xander stood near the bars, wearing his still-damp gray t-shirt, figuring that he could deal with a bit of cold if it meant getting out of this place. He also held Spike's red shirt in his hands.

Great. It's Cowboy Guy. Got it on the first try. Now I won't need the shirt to tie up Mr. Comb-Over. Tossing the red shirt back to Spike, who put it on, Xander nodded slightly and thought, Here we go.

"So, you're a big man, huh? Electrocuting a guy just because he's helpless in a cage? What, you going to electrocute me next? I'm not as hardy as my friend, you might actually kill me. Sound like fun?"

Cowboy Guy put down his gun and picked up the black stick. So predictable! The guard walked cautiously toward the bars, and Xander backed away from them, keeping his eye on the cattle prod stick.

"What, even with that thing you're afraid? Even though your friends beat the shit out of us and left me with a concussion, and then you electrocuted my friend ... and then you starve us ... what ... you're still afraid of us?" Xander laughed with pretended glee. "Now I can't wait to tell this story when we get out of here, about how you were afraid of a couple of half-starved, thoroughly-beaten, electrocuted prisoners. Pretty damned funny."

Just as Xander had been hoping, Cowboy Guy was approaching the door to the cell. Xander had moved back so far that the black stick couldn't reach him, and the guard was too stupid to realize he was being baited.

Spike spoke up, saying ironically, "Oh, I think we're supposed to be afraid of him. Because he's got a stick, and he's not afraid to use it."

Cowboy Guy narrowed his eyes and said, "That's right, you low lifes. You break in here, nosing around in our business, and now you think you're better than us? You really think you can take another beating?" He stepped that last step forward, and punched buttons on the keypad to the lock. Xander heard a click, and the door to the cell swung open.

Wait for it. Wait for it.

When the guard had taken two steps into the cell, stupidly leaving the door open behind him, Xander did not take his eyes off the man, but said quietly, "Spike, now!"

At the signal, Spike smashed his foot across the toilet bowl, shattering the porcelain and sending water flooding across the cement floor. The cowboy guard had been caught with one foot in the air, in mid-step, and when he quickly put his foot down to steady himself, the smooth bottoms of his boots sent him sprawling to the ground, the black stick flying from his hand, his head cracking against the cement.

Without waiting to check if the guard was okay, Xander and Spike ran out through the cell door. "Follow me," said Xander quietly. "I seem to know a lot about the layout of this base."


Spike was driving Xander's car toward the boy's apartment -- since Xander didn't know where it was -- when he asked, "Bloody good plan, Boy Wonder. How'd you come up with it?"

Xander grinned. "You know, it's weird. I can't remember my life, but I know that in issue 8 of Watchmen, Rorschach is in jail, but he uses his jumpsuit to tie one guy up through the bars, and then another guy comes at him with an arc welder, but he breaks the toilet and the guy gets electrocuted..."

"I get it, I get it."

"See, I was really hoping Cowboy Guy would get electrocuted by his cattle prod. That's why I wanted to know if your boots had rubber soles. Because my sneakers do, and that would insulate us from the shock..."

"Whelp, I said I get it."

"It was kind of disappointing when he didn't get electrocuted. I suppose it was too much to ask for, that it would happen just like it did in the comic."

"You think?"

"I guess. Anyway. Whatever. Home, Jeeves."

Spike just rolled his eyes, while Xander tried not to get nervous. What now?