A Far More Pleasing Sound
Xander did actually learn a lot on his summer trip to Oxnard. It wasn’t exactly the male rite-of-passage thing he’d pictured, but he certainly felt more mature when he returned.
That may have had something to do with his stint in the Ladies’ Night Club. He wasn’t entirely honest with the girls about that for various reasons. Most of them to do with the fact that he had a fairly clear role in their lives: reliable sidekick. This wasn’t the kind of thing they’d really understand.
The male stripper had fallen ill after only two days of Xander working as a dishwasher. Final stages of AIDS. He was a nice guy, really, and Xander visited him a couple times after taking over his job.
Xander sighed, kneaded his temples. There were just things you couldn’t talk to his friends about. Even seeing all they had, it somehow didn’t translate well to their non-vampire-and-demon-lives. Sex was a consummation of love, something special, and there was no point in a relationship if you didn’t want it to last.
A few nights into the stripper gig (which paid more than washing dishes, at least), Xander had sort of gotten used to having everyone’s eyes on him, to being propositioned by a roomful of people. Body shyness wasn’t so much an issue- he knew he was fit from all the fighting and staking and stuff, and anyway, it wasn’t like he knew any of the people here.
Plus, all that propositioning did wonders for his ego. The fact that at least half of the propositions came from men was actually pretty okay. He’d gotten used to Larry hanging around last year, shooting him suggestive winks whenever they were alone.
After Faith went over to the dark side, he’d taken him up on it. All everyone seemed to care about was how Buffy felt about her sudden betrayal, but it hit him just as hard. He’d liked her. She was cool, relaxed in a way Buffy would never be, and he’d freaking lost his virginity to her.
Larry was surprisingly understanding about it all, the parts of it Xander could explain, and he’d just reached over and kissed Xander. That was when Xander decided he was definitely bi.
In Oxnard, he figured it wasn’t a big deal. No one knew him, he could do whatever the hell he wanted until he returned to Sunnydale.
It was actually pretty fun, being a stripper. Being desired. He spent too much time being a loser not to love the feeling of being wanted. So having a few one-night-stands was really his divine right. He wasn’t looking for anything, and he wasn’t leading anyone on. Sex was fun, and people wanted to do it with him. Big gift horse right in front of him and there would be no looking in its mouth.
So it was kind of a jolt when the damn thing bared its own teeth and showed him it wasn’t quite as good as he’d thought.
He was just coming out of the back door of the club, and there was a guy standing there, waiting for him. Not that unusual, really, all things considered, only this guy? Was platinum blonde, pale, and his cheekbones stood out in the half light of the alley the back door of the club opened to.
“Spike!” Xander said, hand scrabbling in his bag for the stake he always kept with him these days.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Spike drawled. “Stay away from that stake, please.”
“Give me one good reason.”
“Well, I kind of already know it’s there, and that basically screws over the element of surprise, which would have been your only chance.”
“Yes,” Xander said, “but, see, you’re Spike, and being in your immediate vicinity without a weapon sounds like a really really dumb idea.”
“Probably is,” Spike said, shoving his hands. “But, see, I’ve got a proposition…y…thing.”
“It doesn’t involve sucking my blood, does it? Because if it does,” Xander said, unable to get the tremor out of his voice, “the answer is no.”
“Look, ‘m not stupid,” Spike said. “I don’t know how many times I’m gonna have to say it.”
“In my defence, you’re kind of good at making the impression,” Xander said, slowly taking his hand out of his bag and away from the stake. He wouldn’t last a second in a fight and Spike would’ve killed him by now if he’d wanted to.
“Shut up,” Spike said, but it lacked venom. “Anyway, I don’t want to kill you. Don’t really want much stress, and having your little Slayer on my back qualifies as stress.”
“What do you want, then?”
“Basically?” Spike grinned dangerously. “You.”
Xander squeaked. No other word for it.
“Way I see it,” Spike said, leaning against the wall right next to Xander, “’S a safe bet. No nasty secrets to surprise either of us. You’ve met my poof of a grandsire, I’ve met your ex-girlfriend-“
“Hey,” Xander said, “do I need to mention Drusilla?”
“No,” Spike said, desolation and pain in his tone. He looked off to the end of the street, head turned from Xander, inhaled slowly. Then, his head snapped back, eye dark and predatory. “Look, pet,” he said, taking a step closer, “We’re both after mindless sex, we already know each other, you want to do something your precious Slayer’d never dare- don’t bother denying it, sugar, I can tell- and you,” he breathed out the last bit right against Xander’s ear, “you, darlin’, you looked fucking hot in there, stripping, showing off all of you for the world, and I want you to fuck me.”
Xander stared at Spike for a second, sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, bleached hair, and then their lips were connected.
Spike’s body was pleasantly cool against his in the summer heat, and Xander’s brain was wondering if that wasn’t annoying in winter, but it so didn’t matter, because Spike was getting hard against him and he’d kind of always wondered what it was like fucking a vampire, ever since he’d first seen Jesse turned, when it’d shot through his head that Jesse was dead, dead, and they hadn’t done half the things they wanted to, neither of them had even gotten rid of their virginities, even, although Jesse’s corpse might have, and could vampires do that?
They definitely could, he knew now, from extensive experience with them, but this, this was completely different, the sharp lines of Spike’s body pressing against him, tongues intertwined, god, it was good. “I have a motel room,” Xander gasped against Spike’s lips.
“Lead the way,” Spike growled, painted fingernails digging into Xander’s arms as Xander nipped at his jawline.
They made it back to Xander’s room, barely, before they were all over each other. Xander had never- well, okay, he had thought about this, in the idle way all teenage boys think about sex with everyone they see. He’d never ever thought it would happen, though. But god, Spike was gorgeous, and he was climbing all over Xander, covering him in kisses and licks and nips, each of which shot a spark of fear down Xander’s spine that just made it that much better, made the adrenaline racing through Xander’s system go that much faster.
He licked a stripe up Spike’s neck, wondered if he had passed over the spot where Drusilla had bit him when she changed him when Spike groaned and bucked against him, and then Xander’s remaining brain decided this was going to happen now.
He picked Spike up- actually, physically picked him up- and carried him over to the bed. He sprawled out unceremoniously as Xander set about removing their clothes, ran his hands over Spike’s chest, tweaked a nipple. Spike gasped, hips jerking, and gritted out, “Please.”
“God, yes,” Xander agreed, and coated his fingers in lube before reaching down to prepare Spike.
Spike moaned loudly, head thrown back, unrestrained and wanton. “More,” he demanded, voice low and gravely, and Xander realized Spike was so desperate, so lonely, so fucking horny that he was completely at Xander’s mercy. He could…god, he could do anything to Spike.
Turned out, though, all he wanted to do was fuck him.
So he did, hard and fast and deep till he was sweating and they were both moaning out inarticulate sounds, till they both broke, fireworks and pretty shiny stars floating around all over the place.
It took a while for his heart rate to return to normal. Spike, he supposed, didn’t have that problem, but he seemed to share the need to recover. He was lying next to Xander, chest rising and falling as if he actually needed air.
“Oh my god,” Xander said. He could hear his own heartbeat. It was loud. “What was that?”
Spike snorted, apparently too tired to manage a sarcastic look.
“I mean, was that a spell or something? Because I’ve never…I mean…we don’t even like each other.”
Spike grinned, propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Xander, trace fingertips over his sweat-soaked chest. “Don’t have to like someone to have good sex, pet. Sometimes it’s even better if you don’t. My guess is we’re both lonely and frustrated and angry and hate each other just enough to drive that into overload.” He huffed out a laugh. “God, I’d forgotten what having a mortal lover is like. So hot, so alive…I could feel your heartbeat inside of me.”
Xander felt himself flush. Spike leaned down, kissed him deeply before flopping down against the pillows. “God, I’m tired.”
“You promise not to drain my blood while I’m asleep?” Xander asked.
“You promise not to stake me in my sleep?” Spike retaliated.
Spike was wrapped all around him in the morning, clinging to him like a security blanket.
There was a certain amount of freak-out involved- this was Spike, murderous, bitchy, vampire. The only good thing about him was that he didn’t actually want the world to end. And what had happened the previous night. That had been…god, that had been good. But there had to be consequences lurking somewhere. That was just how Xander’s life worked.
Spike shifted closer to him, slowly blinking awake. “Morning,” he said, and if arousal roughened his voice, sleep soothed it, made that accent ripple over words like silk or honey or something that would make a good analogy.
He drew Xander in for a kiss and Xander figured, what the heck. It wasn’t like Buffy hadn’t slept with a vampire. At least he wasn’t about to make Spike even more evil than he already was.
Spike hung around for a week, in the end, eating Xander’s food, watching him strip and having mind-blowingly good sex, before he announced that thanks, it’d been great, but he was leaving.
Xander shrugged, kissed him goodbye and knew the next time they met they were likely to be mortal (immortal. Same difference) enemies again.
He was right. The next time they made eye contact was somewhere in between Spike’s fist on Xander’s jaw and Xander’s back against a wall.
Of course, what no one else really knew was that later, that night, a knock sounded on Xander’s basement door, and he opened it to find Spike there.
They stared at each other in silence for a while, before Xander pushed the door open wider. “She’s sending the Gem of Amarra to Angel,” he said darkly, and invited Spike in.
“Bloody poof,” Spike snorted.
“That one’s getting old,” Xander said idly.
“Don’t think I don’t know that,” Spike said and sprawled out on the chair next to Xander’s bed. He lit up a cigarette, and he would so need to think of an explanation for that for when his mom came in next. “Don’t you ever think it blows?” Spike asked the cloud of smoke he’d exhaled.
“What?” Xander asked back, settling down on his bed.
“Well, you’re not alive, technically,” Xander said.
“Shut it. I mean, let’s face it- I’m never gonna be Big Bad. Not wanting an apocalypse here, just a little blood and gore. Is that too much to ask?”
“Asking the wrong guy, here,” Xander said dryly. “Remember how I’m one of the good guys?”
“Oh, sure,” Spike said. “Good as they come. Undervalued, bored, lonely…but good, and that’s all that fuckin’ matters, ain’t it?”
When they started kissing, Xander tasted smoke and bitterness, and when they fucked, it was so sharply good against a world that seemed so dull and grey these days it almost hurt.
And when he heard from Cordy that Spike’d been in LA to get that dumb rock, he was surprised at how easy it was to suppress the guilt.
Spike, tied to a chair, eyes glowering, pain and anger written all over his features, rendered impotent by the commando people.
Fucking Anya with that image in his mind wasn’t as kinky as some of the things she wanted to get up to, after all.
Sleeping with Spike didn’t count, Xander figured. How could it be cheating if there was no emotional attachment? If the Spike thing predated the Anya thing? If no one knew? If they never spoke of it?
He knew it was a bit out of control. Knew it should’ve stopped after Oxnard, because Oxnard didn’t count either, wasn’t part of his regular life.
But somehow it was part of the routine, now- pretend to be falling for Anya, pretend to not hate his job, pretend to not hate the basement, pretend to help Buffy, pretend to hate Spike, fuck Spike…
Okay, so his life kind of sucked. He knew it did. But then, he figured, it wouldn’t always be this way. He wouldn’t always have to banish Spike to the chair after sex just to keep the picture straight, narrow and unrevealing. Anya would one day announce that they were going in different directions and break up with him, because she had to. He was just her prototype relationship, a test run before she went on to find someone actually suited to her.
He had to be.
And then Spike tried to stake himself. Threw the farce of his life into his face with a few well-chosen words (because you could take the fangs away from the vampire, but never the venom) and moved out.
That night, as Anya was babbling away about statistical probability and vengeance demon stuff, he finally turned to her and said, “Anya. You must know this’ll never work.”
“What?” she asked, voice completely different than the usual happy-ish chatter.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Ahn, I like you a lot, and I’m kind of terrified of doing this because you kind of have a history of killing men who do this in horrible, brutal ways, but it would be completely unfair to both of us to keep pretending.”
He could see her fingers trembling, and took her hand between his. “We both know I’m not exactly boyfriend material, and if we try to build a relationship over the fact that we have nothing in common and barely know each other, we’ll end up hurting each other, and I don’t want that.”
Her lip was trembling. There were tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Anya,” he said firmly. Thank god he at least knew how to deal with crying women. Not. “You know what you should have isn’t a guy who doesn’t know what he wants or where he’s going or who he is. You need someone who’ll really love you and who’ll never hurt you, and that’s not me.”
She nodded slowly. “I…you’re right. I’m sor-“
“Don’t apologize,” Xander said quickly, because he didn’t want to know how easily he could live with that bit of guilt, too.
He found himself relating to Giles, strangely enough. The impotence, the spectator sport aspect his life had suddenly taken in relation to his two best friends. Being on the outside looking in was never fun. Though Spike did nod to him with something less than blistering hate when he heard Xander’d broken up with Anya.
In the buzz of the whole Initiative thing, he almost started feeling useful again, started regaining some of the sense of self he’d been losing over the last year. When it ended, he was almost disappointed that things would go back to normal.
“Hey,” Spike said to him in an undertone once, “Don’t know much about this do-gooder bollocks, but if you wanna do good, you have to like the little stuff. Ninety percent of good ain’t actually doing good, ‘s stopping bad, and whatever little you contribute to this fine gathering of losers is probably more good than most people do in a lifetime.”
Of course, he stalked off afterwards with a particular huff of undefined broodiness and sarcasm about him, but that was just to make up for a brief moment of empathy.
They hadn’t fucked since Spike moved out.
He came over to watch Passions sometimes, though.
Then there was the time the gay strip club strippers started going missing.
One of Willow’s friends had been friends with one of them, had gotten worried, and Willow’d looked into it. The police weren’t coming up with anything, unsurprisingly, and it looked dangerous.
“They have a security system,” Buffy said disdainfully after a failed recon mission. “We’re going to have to try undercover unless we want to beat our way in.”
“No,” Giles said, polishing his glasses, “That would be inadvisable, given that we know…well, nothing.”
“So, undercover,” Buffy said. “Well, they need a replacement stripper.”
There was dead silence. Spike glared at Xander pointedly.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Xander growled. “I’m sure you could pull it off just as well.”
“Yeah,” Spike said, “Only anything…what was that nice term? Subterrestrial would recognize me in a heartbeat. Anyway, you’ve got more experience.”
“I hate you,” Xander grumbled.
“Ah, excuse me,” Giles said, “But what…exactly, what did you just say?”
“We just agreed that Harris here will be doing the stripping.”
“Experience?” Buffy asked with raised eyebrows.
“Not talking about it,” Xander said firmly.
“Oh, but he was bloody good at it,” Spike said.
“Okay, you’ve gotten me into enough trouble as it is,” Xander said. “Just don’t say anything else.”
It was kind of fun, like slipping into a past persona. He’d strip and get cheers and catcalls and pass info on to Spike, who fit right into the crowd there, and he carried it on to the others.
Of course, eventually they had enough for a field trip, and he was seriously, seriously glad he hadn’t seen them there while he’d been in the middle of…well, stripping, because that would have thrown off the whole thing.
As it was, he was having a lot of trouble looking any of them in the eye. They dusted the vampire in cahoots with the guy who ran the place, though, so that was good.
“You should’ve seen their faces,” Spike said when he let himself into Xander’s basement that night. “They were completely floored.”
Xander groaned. “And that makes it less embarrassing?”
“Didn’t look embarrassing to me,” Spike said, voice low and husky and right next to him, vibrating against his skin.
Xander turned, took Spike’s face between his hands and kissed him, hard.
Spike melted against him, arms coming round his neck, drawing him in deeper. Xander groaned, he hadn’t forgotten how good this felt, but god, he’d missed it.
Spike fell back against the bed. “Come on, Harris,” he said. “Haven’t got all night.”
Xander growled, low in his throat, and kissed Spike again, at least partly to keep him from talking. That went out the window, though, when Spike rubbed himself up against Xander like a giant cat, body almost vibrating with arousal.
Pulling and pushing at each other’s clothes, they wrestled around on the bed till they were both naked, ending with Spike on top, straddling Xander, their cocks pushing together with every movement.
“Oh, god,” Spike groaned, “missed this…more…”
Xander was only too happy to comply, scrabbling for the lube, flipping them over, fingers inside Spike, and god, he was just as tight as Xander remembered.
Sliding into him was like a revelation. The good kind, with the shiny clicking sound, not the oh-my-god-so-that’s-what-that-occult-symbol-means kind.
Spike’s spine arched up off the bed as he moaned in satisfaction, trying to fuck himself back on Xander’s cock. Xander wasn’t having any of that, held him down by his hips as he fucked him. This wouldn’t last, it’d been too long since the last time, but it was damn well going to be good.
Spike’s legs slid up to wrap around his waist, and the angle changed, going deeper. Spike moaned, threw his head back. “So close,” he gritted out, then lost his speech in another moan.
“Yes,” Xander moaned right back. “Almost…” And it felt good, so fucking good, just a little bit more, and Spike’s neck was pale and stretched out before him, and biting into the juncture where neck met shoulder? Seemed like a really good idea.
Spike seemed to think so too, given that he screamed, hips bucking wildly, and came sobbing Xander’s name.
That was all it took for Xander to follow, and next thing he knew, they were lying together in bed, basking in the afterglow.
“You bit me,” Spike said after a while, sounding blankly shocked.
There was an angry red mark where his teeth had almost broken skin. “Uh, yeah,” Xander said. “Sorry. Heat of the moment and all.”
Spike gave him a look that was exasperation and part something completely different. “Don’t apologize,” he said, and then he rolled out of bed, got dressed and left.
Xander didn’t sleep all night after that, that strange look on Spike’s face not leaving him alone. First thing in the morning, the sun was still rising, he was over at Giles’ place, letting himself in with the spare key Giles’d given them all in case of emergencies.
Giles and Anya were in the kitchen. Her back was pressed against the fridge and he was kissing the hell out of her. They jumped apart in a way strangely reminiscent of him and Willow when they’d had their thing when they heard the door close behind Xander.
“Xander!” Giles said, looking strangely terrified. “I, um…ah…”
“Hi, Xander,” Anya said, sounding a bit squeaky.
Xander realized he was blushing. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be right out again. Just needed to ask if you have a book on…vampire customs and stuff.”
“Certainly,” Giles said. “What for?”
“Um. Spike thing. He’s taking the whole not-a-Big-Bad thing pretty hard and I was looking for something to make him stop moping,” Xander lied effectively.
“Oh. Good…good idea, that,” Giles said. “I’ll go get that book. It’s upstairs.”
Xander and Anya spent a few moments in awkward limbo, complete with tuneless humming and finger tapping, before he asked, “You’re happy?”
She smiled at him, nodded. “Rupert’s…a wonderful man. We have more in common that I’d thought. And he’s fantastic in-“
“No, no,” Xander said frantically. “I don’t need to hear it. Please do not make me think in that direction. There will be steam coming out of my ears and then you’ll have to take me to the hospital due to mental trauma and it will be very ugly.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “I’m glad we can be mature about this.”
“It’s good you’re with Giles,” he said. “The two of you sort of match, and he was lonely.”
Giles came back down with the book, then, and Xander left as fast as humanly possible.
It turned out that biting, for a vampire, expressed possession. Which, yeah, okay, duh, but at the same time…
Not so duh. Because outside of sucking blood and turning people? Apparently it basically meant “you’re mine.”
He didn’t need to worry about avoiding Spike, at least, so that was nice. Spike was doing that just fine on his own. He just…wasn’t there, and if Xander hadn’t felt so freaked all on his own, he’d probably have actively looked for him.
As it was he gave himself time till the next time the gang happened to need Spike’s help before talking to the vampire. He still almost chickened out when it did happen, but it worked. Apparently all that stuff about thinking things through was actually true.
Spike’s crypt was no less dusty and unwelcoming than he remembered.
“Harris,” Spike said, and if he hadn’t been, like, the permanently poised poise-machine he’d probably have jumped. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Yeah, no, sorry…” Xander trailed off, looking around. “Do you really like it this gloomy or is it one of your image things.”
“Do you have a reason for being here?”
Spike gave him a look that was particularly devastating in its sarcasm.
“During the Initiative showdown,” Xander said at last, “Why’d you join up with Adam?”
“Said he’d take out the chip, didn’t he?” Spike said, not meeting Xander’s eyes.
“But before that,” Xander said, “you played us so well, you knew these things…you’ve watched us, and you didn’t care a tiny bit about what happened?”
“I don’t watch, it’s called lurking, you’d think the bloody ponce would’ve taught you that much…”
“Spike,” Xander said sharply.
“Listen, mate, I haven’t got a purpose here. I’m designed to want to cause chaos and I can’t make it happen, and there’s not much left for me. Your lot’s not too keen on me, and if I list all the ways in which that Slayer bugs me we’d be here till…well, a long time.” Spike sighed, sat down on a tomb. “I’m not going anywhere, not doing anything. You must understand that.”
Xander watched him, waiting for him to finish.
“Look, there’s no point,” Spike said, sounding frustrated. “No bloody point! Even if I didn’t find the whole Scooby business abhorrent, ‘m not cut out for it. My very nature goes against yours. It’d be a disaster. Add that to the fact that I’m a bloody softie and we all know it and before long, looky, we’re saving the world, only we forgot that everyone else is mortal and I’m left leavin’ soddin’ daisies on your librarian’s grave.”
Xander nodded slowly. “I looked up what the biting thing means,” he said.
Spike stiffened. “You couldn’t know,” he said carefully, his eyes on the floor.
“No,” Xander agreed. “Kinda like the idea, though.”
“Really?” Spike asked, looking up. His voice trembled with…vulnerability.
“Yeah,” Xander said.
The next instant, Spike’s lips were all over him, kissing and licking and Xander groaned. “Not…” he gasped out with difficulty. “Not doing this over someone’s dead body. I have an apartment now.”
“So I hear,” Spike groaned against him. “Gonna invite me in?”
“Anyone know what’s up with Spike?” Willow asked. “He’s been…quieter, these days.”
Xander shrugged disinterestedly. Don’t babble, he warned himself. Babbling bad.
“You think he’s planning something?” Buffy asked.
“No, not that kind of quiet,” Willow said.
“More like…serene,” Tara said, quietly.
“Spike? Serene?” Xander asked, his eyebrows somewhere near his hairline. Tell that to his muscles. They were still aching from the night before.
“No, I get it,” Willow said. “Kinda like he’s gotten used to his life more. Less…unhappy.”
“Less likely to betray us to the nearest possible enemy?”
“Then I’m cool with it,” Buffy said.
That about concluded that talk.
“So have you guys heard about Giles and Anya?”
“You’re a lot like a big peroxide cat,” Xander said once, in the afterglow, Spike nestled against him.
“And you’re like a nice, cute toaster oven,” Spike said. “Shut up.”
“…well if they’re all coming over here then I’ve got to clear out, it’s simple as that!” You could hear Spike’s voice from outside already.
“What’s he doing in Xander’s apartment?” Buffy hissed to Willow, who shrugged.
“You do this every fucking time,” Xander said.
“Well, you said I should!”
“I said so once! Once does not imply every time from now until eternity! Jeez, Spike, you practically live here!”
“I know that. Do you?”
“I just said I do!”
“Not like that, you wanker!”
“Well how the fuck else?”
“Are you ever going to tell your friends about…us?”
“What am I supposed to tell them? Hey, I’ve been fucking this guy, kinda corpsey, goes all Cold One on you when he’s angry but he can’t hurt a soul, and oh, yeah, you kinda hate each other.”
“Dammit, Xander!” The sound of a fist hitting the wall. “You claimed me. You fucking claimed me. You agreed afterward yourself, and you can’t unclaim a man.”
“Don’t think I don’t know that.”
“…you regret it?” Quieter now, less sure of himself.
“God, Spike…no, of course not. Could never regret that. It’s just there’s a big chunk of fucked up history between the two of us that no one else knows about and how do you start that conversation?”
“Hi, guys, I’ve been lying to you for the past few years?”
“Very funny. But please, Spike. Stay.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Spike said.
Buffy and Willow stared at each other in shock for a moment, before Buffy called through the door, “Uh, guys, we probably shouldn’t have heard that, but I think you’ve got some heavy-duty explaining to do.”
“I can’t believe,” Buffy fumed, “that he was lying to us for so long.”
“I can’t believe he’s been having an on-and-off thing with Spike all year,” Willow fumed right back.
They fumed away to themselves for a few seconds.
“Okay, is that enough fuming?” Willow asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Buffy said.
“So, that demonstrative making out thing?”
“How do you feel?” Spike asked Xander, the next morning.
“Kinda relieved,” Xander said. “I mean, the conscience thing is feeling way better now…”
“Sorry, haven’t got one of those,” Spike said.
“You’re way too insecure.”
“Someday, I’ll tell you about Dru and Angelus.”
“No details, I beg you. If I never have to hear another story about Angel’s sex life, I will die a happy man.”
“Oh, really? Not even the ones where he was chained up?”
“…Well, that does hold a certain appeal…”
“There was this one time, in Luzern, in the 1920s…”
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