An Amnesiac's Love Story (Amnesia!Xander)

by Green

Summary:

Xander loses two years of his memories and forgets the life he's built with Spike.

Notes:

Majority of this was written in 2003. Unbeta'd.

Sounds of beeping and electronic humming and the low murmur of familiar voices.

Bright white tiled ceiling.

Cold, heavy sheets.

Uncomfortable bed.

The smell of ammonia and citrus scented cleaner.

He was in a hospital. In a hospital bed, obviously a patient. This seemed familiar.

He struggled to sit up, and found it easier than he would have at first thought.

"Xander!" Willow said, rushing over to his side. "You're awake! Oh, thank god. The doctor said there wasn't any reason for you not to wake up, but he couldn't tell us when you would, or if you'd be okay right away, or ..." she continued to babble on.

His head was throbbing. He brought his hand up and encountered thick gauze. Exploring with his fingers, he followed the bandage around his head to a padded place on the right side of his skull. As he experimentally pressed down, the dull throb blossomed into a full fledged pain, and he called out.

"Oh!" Willow said sympathetically. "Don't do that. It's... it was pretty bad."

So it was a head injury. Common enough, and definitely not anything new. He wondered what exactly had happened, and realized he couldn't remember. Probably another demon.

"Hello?" a voice called from the doorway. The voice was Buffy's but Xander couldn't see well enough to make out her form. "I left as soon as you called, Wills. The traffic, and the... He's awake? How are you doing?" she asked him. She sounded worried and tense. "How's he doing, Willow?"

"He just woke up... I was about to call his nurse. He's been out since they found him."

Who found me? You weren't with me? Was I patrolling alone? I wouldn't do that. Maybe I was ambushed... a parking lot, maybe? Maybe it was something more human, like a mugging or something. Had Anya been with him? Oh, God, Anya. Is Anya all right?

Xander's head fell back to the pillow as he suddenly became weak.

"Where's Spike?" Buffy was asking.

Spike. Was Spike there when it happened? He probably sat back and watched me get pounded by some monster, then took off. He probably left me there, thinking I was dead. Or maybe he finally found a way to do it himself... Shit! Maybe he got the chip out and came after me! What if he's after Buffy and Willow now, too?

"The police said the other victim was sent off with the coroner. I'm guessing he's unconscious in the morgue. He'll be here as soon as he can, I'm sure," Willow said. She turned to Xander and smiled lovingly. "I'm sure he'll be here right away. Don't worry, you know Spike. He'll be here in no time to fluff your pillows for you and growl at the nurses."

Uh... what? His question went unasked, however, as his eyes closed and the healing darkness once again claimed him.

***

The first thing he was aware of was a soothing coolness against his cheek. He tried to turn his head further into it, but the feeling left. He frowned, unable to open his eyes or voice his protest, but another cool touch to his hand placated him.

Eventually, the sound of familiar voices brought him back to reality.

"... no broken bones, just some bruises, some cuts from the glass on his face and arms... mostly just a bump on the head..."

Willow.

"...took me four hours to get here, the interstate was clogged with all the holiday traffic..."

Buffy. Buffy? Buffy driving?

"...sodding timed locks on the drawers in the morgue now. Guess they had too many corpses come to life and eat the coroners..."

Who... Spike?

"Do you need any blood?" Willow asked.

"Nah, nicked some from the morgue."

"Eww," Buffy said, succinct.

"Gotta heal, don't I?"

"For Xander... yeah," Willow said.

And now the theme from The Twilight Zone is playing in my head.

Xander's eyelids lost the weights that had been holding them closed, and his eyes drifted open. "Guys?" he said... or rather, croaked. His mouth and throat seemed to be entirely devoid of saliva.

He tried to focus on Willow's face, but everything around him was hazy and whirling. His tongue was thick and dry, and he wanted to ask for a drink.

Then there was something cold and wet on his lips... ice. Some marvelous person was feeding him an ice chip. He wanted to thank them, but he was too busy trying to drink the water dripping into his mouth. He managed to open his lips enough to get the ice on his tongue, where it promptly melted. He swallowed the water greedily. "More," he rasped.

There was more ice, and after a minute he felt he could speak again. "Thank you," he said.

"Anything, luv," came the answer, and then a tender kiss on his cheek.

That's nice.

He turned his head and focused on the person beside him. Spike sat beside him, looking at him with an expression that Spike just wasn't supposed to have. Ever.

Yep. Twilight Zone time. I must still be asleep. Either that, or the hospital has been giving me acid instead of pain medication. Good thing I'm going back to sleep now.

***

The next time Xander woke up, he felt more or less like himself. He had a throbbing headache, a sore throat, and a pain in his back from the hospital bed; but when he opened his eyes, the room stayed in one place. He could make everything out clearly, and when Willow came over to him, she didn't have any blurred edges.

"Hey Wills," he said with little trouble. "Can... water?"

She smiled and poured some water into a pink plastic cup from a matching pitcher.

The liquid was the best drink he had ever had. He quickly downed the water and handed it back to her in a request for more.

After drinking three cups full, his throat felt considerably better. Cautiously, he tried sitting up, and was pleased to find that he could do it without pain and without the world tilting upside down.

"Woah, there, Mister. You had a pretty bad accident, and I don't know if you should be..."

"Willow, I'm okay. My head hurts a little, but really, I feel fine. Hey.. did you get hair extensions or something? It's longer."

Willow frowned and touched her hair.

"I like it, though. I mean, it's different, but I'll get used to it. Hey, um... you think you could help me get up here? I'm not hurt... but maybe a little stiff from laying here. I need to ... um... the bathroom?"

"Do you really think you're up to walking?" she asked, worried.

"Yeah.. fine. Plus, I've really got to go. I think I'd crawl if I had to," he said with a grin.

"I could always hit the call button and ask for a bedpan," Willow teased.

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

He sat up, holding on to the hard metal bed rail, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He slowly stood, making sure not to do it too fast. He remembered that his head was hurt, so he tried to move slow enough so he wouldn't get dizzy. He faltered a bit when he first stood, but that was more his cramped legs' fault than any real injury.

"Hey! What're you doin'?" Spike called from the door. He was quickly in front of him. "Xander, you get back in bed 'til a doc can tell you that you can move around. You shouldn't be..." he trailed off when he saw Xander's incredulous look.

"Since when the hell do you tell me what to do, asshole?" Xander asked. "I've gotta take a piss, and I'm not gonna sit in bed and let some sadistic nurse make me use a little portable urinal."

A look of hurt seemed to pass over Spike's face, but he quickly covered it with a blank mask. "Right, then. You want me to help you into the loo?"

Xander's mouth opened and worked as if he were trying to say something but couldn't. Finally, he said, "Do I want you... to help me? Am I the only one with the head injury here? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Spike's jaw clenched. "Fine," he gritted out. "You want me to sod off? I will. I'm going home. Just..." He sighed. "Let Willow help you, all right?"

Xander just stood beside the bed and stared at him with a mix of disgust and bewilderment. After a few seconds, Spike turned and left the room.

"What the hell was that?" Xander asked no one in particular.

"Xander..." Willow began, but stopped. "Let's get you in that bathroom."

After a few steps, he found that he could walk on his own quite easily. Even carting the wheeled IV pole with him, he made it to his destination and back without any complication. When he returned, he sat on the bed.

"So... what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Nope. What happened? Was it a demon? Something all 'grr!' and fangs and requiring some slaying?"

"Well, yeah, except for the slaying part..." Willow said, grinning.

Xander didn't get the joke. "What?"

Willow rolled her eyes. "It was Spike. Or rather, Spike, your car, and a tree."

"Spike put me in the hospital? And.. my car... tree? You mean Uncle Rory's car?"

Willow looked at him strangely. "No, the Blazer. Spike was driving and... he said you two were arguing. I don't know what happened, but somehow you guys crashed into a tree. It was a pretty bad accident, you could have died. Spike... well, when the ambulance came, they thought he was dead. I mean, human-dead. And they brought you here. The doctor said you were really lucky, no broken bones or internal bleeding or anything. They were worried about your head, about you waking up, but you woke up within the first twenty-four hours, so... that's a good thing."

Xander blinked. "The Blazer?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I know you love it, but... is that why you're so mad at Spike? Or is it... the other thing you were arguing about, before the crash?"

"Mad at Spike? Shouldn't I be? I think mad at Spike is a normal reaction to.. his general Spikeness."

"Come on. You should call him, let him come back. He was so upset... so worried."

"Call him? On the phone? Since when does he have a phone in his crypt? And why would he be worried? And why the hell would I care if he's upset? And... Willow, what..."

She placed her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "Xander... um.. what's the last thing you remember?"

"I'm... not really sure," he said after a moment.

"Okay..." she said slowly. "How about... what did you do yesterday? Do you.. remember what you did yesterday?"

His face was intent for a minute, and then he smiled.

"We went to the beach."

"Umm... we?"

"Buffy and Riley, you and Tara, and Anya and me. We had to leave early, 'cause it started to rain."

Willow's eyes widened. "Tara... and Anya?"

"Yeah. And we drove home, me and you and Tara and Anya. Buffy and Riley took his truck. See, I remember! We played the license plate game. Well, not Anya, she fell asleep. But you and me and Tara. Oh! I beat you guys! First time, ever," he said proudly.

"You... this is what you remember happened yesterday?"

"Well... yeah. That and Anya and me... when we got back to my place..."

"Your place... with Anya?" Willow asked carefully.

"Heh... I wish. No, the basement."

"The basement," Willow repeated. "And... what do you remember about Spike?"

Xander snorted. "Hadn't seen him all summer. Last time was the big showdown with Frankenstein's monster."

"Adam,"Willow squeaked. "The last thing you remember about Spike is... him setting Buffy up to die?"

"Yeah... damn, you say it like that, now I wish I had staked him while he was here," he said, pondering.

"Oh. Shit."

"Willow!"

She looked at him in horror. "I'm ... going to get your nurse to call the doctor. Or maybe he's here. Oh... oh, this is not good."

"Willow, you're scaring me. What's wrong? What's going on?"

"You... what you remember," she began, pacing within the small room. "What you don't remember. Oh, this is not good. I have to call Spike. Oh, no! Oh... let me get your nurse."

He stood and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Willow! What the hell are you talking about?"

She turned and faced him, and her eyes showed her fear and worry. "That day... at the beach, Xander," she said slowly, "that was over two years ago."

*

Xander's mind was a whirlwind. He couldn't grasp the concept of losing two and a half years worth of memories. He tried to talk with Willow about what had happened, but she told him she wanted to hold off until she spoke with his doctor. She slipped off a few times to make phone calls, and Xander assumed she was trying to get in touch with Anya. Buffy came in again, bearing balloons and a box of doughnuts. After speaking briefly with Willow in the hall, she returned with a sad and wary expression. She wouldn't talk to him about any "recent" events, either.

Spike came again and poked his head through the door. Xander glared at him until he turned again, but he had the impression that he was lurking right outside.

Something extremely odd is going on here, and it has to do with Spike. If someone doesn't tell me what's happening, and soon, I'm going to... scream. Scream and yell and have a hissy fit like a two year old.

Xander had never felt more helpless in his life.

Maybe something hellmouthy is going on. Maybe... maybe someone put a spell on me, to make me forget something important. Maybe...

His doctor, who he learned was Dr. Denise Fulmer, came in and looked him over thoroughly. She tested Xander's reflexes and his eye movement. She looked at his head wound, which she explained wasn't that bad, and Xander was lucky that it was swollen out and not in. When she was finished, she asked him some questions.

"What's the date?"

Xander thought a minute, and answered.

"Willow's told me already that I... that I've lost two years."

The doctor smiled. "Yes, of course. But what date does it feel like to you?"

"September twenty-seventh, two-thousand."

Dr. Fulmer took a deep breath. "Do you remember anything after that date?"

"Not a thing. I mean, I don't even remember that day... the last thing I remember is.. my girlfriend and I... together... and then she left, and I went to bed. I remember it was raining. Storming, actually. But that's all, that's it. Not a thing until I woke up here in the hospital today."

"All right," she said, straightening. "I'll have you scheduled later today for a CT scan, and we'll see if that can tell us anything. To be honest, I don't think it's anything dangerous, probably just a little... confusion from the shock. I'd call it amnesia, except amnesia doesn't usually work this way. I'll have to do a little research, I'm not a memory expert by any means. If this continues, I'll make some phone calls, see if someone at an institute can help."

"And in the mean time?"

"We wait and see."

Xander raised his eyebrows. "Wait and see? I'm missing over two years of my life!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harris, there isn't anything else we can do right now." She turned and left.

After a few minutes, Willow returned, with Buffy this time.

"Hiya," Buffy said.

Xander smiled wryly. "Hey."

"Dr. Fulmer is talking to Spike now. She told us... you don't have any... you..."

"Can't remember anything that has happened since September of two thousand?" he asked. "Yeah, that's it. Hey what's the date, anyway?"

Willow pointed out the calendar on the wall.

December 26, 2002

"Guess I missed Christmas," Xander muttered. Then a thought flashed in his mind. "Hey... what's up with Spike being here and acting concerned and talking to the doctor?"

Buffy and Willow exchanged a look.

"He's..." Willow began.

"You and he are..." Buffy said.

"What?"

"Friends!" Willow squeaked.

"Right, Xander," Buffy agreed, looking at Willow. "You and Spike are... friends. Good friends. Almost... you could say...best friends."

"What? How? When?" Xander sputtered, looking back and forth between the two women. "What?" His face held a look of utter bewilderment. "In what possible drug induced fugue state could Spike and I ever be friends?"

Buffy looked as if she might cry, and Willow appeared almost angry.

"What? What am I missing? Well, besides the two years. You guys need to give me rundown of everything that's happened, cause I'm feeling a little out of the loop here." Xander said, a bit calmer.

"Spike has..." Willow said and exchanged another look with Buffy.

"Just tell me!" Xander said, frustrated. He gripped the bed rail so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Do you want some more ice, Xander? Willow, let's go get Xander some more ice," Buffy said nervously.

"What? Oh... ice! Yes! We're going to get you more ice!" Willow grabbed Xander's pitcher and flew out the door behind Buffy.

"Do they think I'm that stupid?" Xander mumbled.

***

Returning from their "ice run", Buffy and Willow, along with a hesitant Spike, entered the room, their faces wary.

"We... talked. About what to tell you. And... we can't really tell you everything, all at once, so..." Buffy said.

"So ask us questions, and we'll answer them," Willow finished.

"All right," Xander answered. "Let's start with how the hell Spike and I became friends, because right now that seems like the major difference here. By the way, when's Anya coming?"

Spike ran a hand through his hair and turned away.

Willow reached out for Xander and took his hand. "There was a battle, about a year ago. A hellgod tried to open the doors between all the dimensions. Anya... well, she got hurt really bad, and she..." Willow took a deep breath. "... she didn't make it," she said gently.

"Anya.. she didn't make it? Anya's dead?" he asked, looking back and forth between his friends. "She's gone? How... oh god. Anya's... dead," he said to himself.

"She was very brave," Buffy said. "There was some rubble falling, and she pushed you out of the way. She... saved your life."

"Anya's dead," Xander repeated.

"You know, I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Spike announced. "Willow, you remember what it was like, after... well, after. Do you really want to..."

"He asked," Buffy said, facing them. "We agreed that if he asks..."

Willow and Spike looked unsure, but Xander spoke up. "I need to know. I'll try to keep in mind that... that I've already... grieved," he said, swallowing hard, "but I really need to know. Just tell me. The bare bones of what's been happening in my life. Something. Anything."

The three looked at one another, not seeming to know where to start. Spike leaned over and whispered something into Willow's ear. Her face lit up.

"You've got a great job! A job that you're good at and love. You've got a ton of friends from work now, and you make good money," Willow told him, smiling widely.

Xander took this news in with wonder. A hidden, unsure part of him didn't believe that he, Xander Harris of the ever revolving door of careers had found something both permanent and fulfilling; an equally hidden part of him did the Snoopy dance. Well, okay, not so well hidden, since he was grinning like an idiot. "Really?"

Spike smiled, (a genuine, good-guy smile, not a smirk or ironic twist of his lips) and Xander found himself smiling back, though just for a second before he focused back on what Willow was saying.

"... you got a promotion right after... the time you remember," she was saying. "There was this big mix up with a demon and two Xanders, and, well, you don't really need to hear about that. But that was when you finally found your 'thing'. you were so happy. And now you're a crew-leader... leader," she looked perplexed. "What's his title again?" she asked Spike.

"Site Foreman," Spike said proudly. "Only under the boss-man himself."

"Oh, that reminds me," Willow said to Spike. "Did you call Xander's work and explain the... situation?"

"Called and talked to Isadore, told her to tell Havier. Just told her about the accident, though, not the... " Spike clenched his jaw, "other."

Xander watched them closely, trying to decipher what remained unsaid. Willow was looking at Spike Spike! with worry in her eyes. He had been on the receiving end of that look many times before, and he understood that it only came from a place of friendship and love. Oh, god, what if Willow and Spike are... No. Willow's gay, remember? She's in love with Tara. Tara. A thought niggled at Xander's mind.

"Uh... Willow?" Xander asked. "Where's Tara? Did she come by while I was asleep?"

Willow's face fell, and both Spike and Buffy reached out to her. She clasped their hands, one in each of her own and looked at her oldest friend. Her strength was so visible around her that she nearly glowed.

"Tara died last year," she said.

"Oh god. Oh god, Wills, I'm sorry." Xander felt not only his own grief, but Willow's. He felt shame for not remembering, for bringing her pain to the surface. "I didn't know, I'm sorry. I... "

Spike drew nearer to him and gently cupped his cheek. When Xander jumped at the contact, he withdrew suddenly. "Sorry, luv," he said, his voice breaking. "I think I'll..." he hesitated and looked at the girls. "I'm going home. I'm not... welcome here."

Willow, still holding his hand, gave him a sad look before a one armed hug. "It'll be okay," she whispered, but Xander heard her. "He'll remember. He'll... it's gonna be all right, Spike."

"Ta, pet," he answered, and kissed her forehead.

Buffy let go of Willow's hand and went to the vampire. Casting a quick look at Xander, who watched with interest, she reached out and hugged Spike. Spike's face held a look of surprise and genuine pleasure, and Xander somehow knew that Buffy's show of friendship meant a lot to him. He also knew that the show was not only for Spike's benefit, but for his own as well.

Spike's departure brought more furtive looks between Buffy and Willow. Xander thought about asking them again what it was that had them looking sad and pitying, but he knew it would only bring more hedging and more discomfort. He was tired of it, and wished he could just go back to sleep and wake up where everything made sense again.

There was a brisk knock on his door, and an orderly appeared, pushing a chrome wheelchair with a blue fabric seat. "Harris? Your limo awaits," the twentyish man said with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "Gotcha penciled in for a CT scan, dude. Let's go before you lose your reservation."

"Right," he answered. "Guys," he said to his friends, "why don't you go on home? You've been here pretty much all day, now. Go home and get some rest. It's almost five o'clock, so when I get back I'll get my dinner," and I hope it's not something liquid, "and then I'll just go to sleep. I don't know exactly how tired I should be, since I've spent the better part of two days asleep already, but I'm feeling pretty worn out."

After assuring them a few more times that he would be fine without their company, they agreed to leave.

"You staying at Xander's place or mine while you're here?" Xander heard Willow ask on the way out.

"Are you kidding?" came the answer. "There's no way I could stand sharing a living space with Spike. I'm staying with you."

*

There was a brisk knock on his door, and an orderly appeared, pushing a chrome wheelchair with a blue fabric seat. "Harris? Your limo awaits," the twentyish man said with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "Gotcha penciled in for a CT scan, dude. Let's go before you lose your reservation."

"Right," he answered. "Guys," he said to his friends, "why don't you go on home? You've been here pretty much all day, now. Go home and get some rest. It's almost five o'clock, so when I get back I'll get my dinner," and I hope it's not something liquid, "and then I'll just go to sleep. I don't know exactly how tired I should be, since I've spent the better part of two days asleep already, but I'm feeling pretty worn out."

After assuring them a few more times that he would be fine without their company, they agreed to leave.

"You staying at Xander's place or mine while you're here?" Xander heard Willow ask on the way out.

"Are you kidding?" came the answer. "There's no way I could stand sharing a living space with Spike. I'm staying with you."

Xander's brain seemed to be melting. It really was the only option. He *lived* with Spike. He was *friends* with Spike. Buffy apparently didn't live in Sunnydale any longer, if she needed a place to stay while she was in town. And where was Dawn? Everything was different, and nothing made any sense anymore. Supposedly, he had a place in this world, but he sure didn't know how he was going to find it. Especially when his friends were keeping things from him.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

Xander blinked and looked at the orderly and the proffered conveyance.

"Yeah... just thinking."

"Well come on and sit down so we can get you down to radiology. Take a few pictures of your... whatever..."

"Brain."

"Yeah, that's right. You're the one they've been talking about... the one that lost his memory."

"Oh, yeah? What, is that a big deal?"

"In this town? No way. It's just different. Sounds like something out of a soap opera. Pretty vanilla stuff around here, though."

Xander settled into the wheelchair and his mind went back to one realization. I live with Spike?

***

There wasn't much to do in the hospital. Sleep. Harass the nursing staff. Blow up latex gloves until you have a bed full of funny heads with finger-spikes for hair. Watch TV.

The news had been disturbing, and none of his regular shows were on when or where he expected them. When he was almost ready to plan his escape from the hospital, a gentle tap on the door announced visitors.

"Guys, I thought I told you to go home," Xander said.

"Xan, it's only Javier and I," an accented feminine voice called out.

Javier. Boss, right?

"William called me and told me about your accident, we were so worried for you!" the woman continued. "And William... he was so upset."

William? Does she mean Spike? Spike said he called someone... Isadore?

"Izy and I came over to see how you are doing, and to tell you to take as much time as you need," Javier said. "You come back to work when you're ready, not before, yes?"

"Right," Xander said. I wonder if I could get any information out of these two? I'll just go along, maybe they'll slip up and tell me whatever it is that Buffy, Willow and Spike are so sure I don't need to hear. "I'll be back bossing everyone around before you know what hit you," he joked. He was just playing along, but the thought of going to a job where he was respected filled him with excitement.

Javier grinned widely.

"Oh, and we brought you an mp3 player. I downloaded some of your favorite music and put it all in here," Izy said. "I have no idea how the technology works, but I sure am glad it does. Here." She handed the player to him.

Xander hadn't seen one before. He remembered Willow talking about mp3s before, but he hadn't the slightest idea how to work the thing he was holding.

"Oh, you're used to that monster of a stereo Spike bought you, aren't you?" Javier said, chuckling. "Izy, show the man how the gadget works."

After Xander got the general drift, he put the headset on and was rewarded with Patsy Cline. He played with the buttons some more and skipped through several more songs, some familiar, some not. Putting it aside, he smiled at the couple. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"What are friends for, yes, Xan?" Izy said, smiling. "And I put on a few of William's favorite songs, too. You know.. if you feel like sharing."

Xander snorted. "Not likely." Like I would share anything with him. This is getting ridiculous, to the point of insanity with a side of alternate dimension. It's like Sliders, only without the timer counting down to when I get the *hell* out of here.

Izy clucked her tongue. "Are you two having another tiff? And with you in the hospital? Is that why he's not here? I wondered. I would have expected him to be here, hovering and acting like the big bad protector."

Maybe there *is* a timer, and I'm just forgetting where I put it.

"You want me to call him, tell him to come by?" Javier asked.

"No," Xander said. "No, just... just let him rest."

Izy frowned at him. "How is he supposed to rest with you here? He's probably pacing the apartment, waiting for you to call and ask him to come. He loves you, Alexander. There's no way he can rest."

Woah. And... woah. Back that train the fuck up. Spike... what?

"Izy," Javier said, lightly chiding. "You leave your nose out of the men's business. If Xander wants your opinion...."

"Well, he'll get it whether he likes it or not. Alexander needs to call William and put whatever silly disagreement they are having behind them."

"Izy..." her husband groaned.

"It's all right, Javier. I..." What am I supposed to say? What the hell is going on here, and what can I say to figure it the hell out? Should I even try? Because it just keeps getting freakier and freakier. Spike's my best friend all of a sudden? We're roommates? He cares about... no, LOVES me? "I'm actually pretty tired. I think I need to get some rest."

"Right, Xander. I'll tell the boys at work that you're recovering and that you'll back to keeping their asses in line in no time," Javier said. He reached out and shook Xander's hand, then turned toward the door. Izy appeared to resign herself to leaving.

"Thank you guys, for stopping by, and for the ... player. The music. Thank you for thinking of me."

Izy bent down and hugged him. "Of course we thought of you, silly. You're like family to us. Now, you get some rest," she said, then murmured, "You'll want to keep your strength up for William. You look positively sexy in that hospital gown."

What? And... what?

"Don't look so shocked, Alexander. You look scrumptious to me, and I'm not even in love with you. William must be having some amazing fantasies of you in that getup," she said, smirking.

Xander's mind couldn't seem to make up its mind. Did it want to race with questions, or did it want to go blissfully blank?

Javier and Izy left with a wave and a promise to visit the next day.

Xander... thought.

"Anytime luv," that soothing voice had said. There had been a kiss.

Spike kissed me! And we... live together. Best friends? In love with me? Spike loves me. Spike.. and me? Together? I am SO not gay. Not gay. Well, maybe a *little*, but only in off moments. Occasional, few and far between moments. But I am *not*, I repeat NOT, gay with a *vampire*.

The good thing about being in a hospital bed was that if you fainted, you didn't hit the floor.

*

Spike stood at the sink, rinsing out a mug, when he heard his Xander come in. The scent of sawdust and sunshine wafted in to him, and he became instantly hard. He always missed Xander while he was at work, and usually his first thought was, 'Xander. Pounce. Now.' Today he thought he might be able to exhibit a tiny amount of restraint, at least for a minute or so.

Xander came from behind and folded his arms around him, resting his chin on Spike's shoulder. "Hi," he said, then took a deep breath.

"Hi yourself. Hey, you smelling me?" Spike asked.

"Yeah. I like the way you smell."

"So you've told me," Spike said with a grin, then turned around in Xander's arms. He pressed a quick kiss along the line of his jaw. "How was work?"

Xander grinned. "I came out to Izy today."

"Came out? What, you make a big announcement?" Spike asked, tilting his head to kiss Xander's neck.

"She asked me to a cook out, implied I should meet one of her friends," he said, then sucked in a breath as Spike nipped at his skin. He groaned and tightened his hold on his lover. "Fuck, you know what that does to me."

Spike chuckled and licked the reddening patch of skin. "So what'd you tell her, pet?" he asked, not really curious, only wondering how much longer he would have to tease Xander before he found himself naked and writhing, sprawled beneath his lover on the cool tile of the kitchen floor.

"Told her I had someone ... oh, fuck yes, do that," Xander gasped when Spike reached down to stroke his eager cock through the thick fabric of his jeans.

"Someone, eh?" Spike said, unbuttoning Xander's jeans and nimbly tugging down his zipper.

"Gah ... fuck, Spike," he said as a hand closed around his erection.

"Did you tell her about me?" Spike breathed into his ear, ready *now*, wanting to drive Xander wild with his words and hands and mouth. "Did you tell her about the things I do to you? How we shag each other senseless every night? Did you tell her how I fuck you into the mattress and make you howl?"

Xander dropped his head down to Spike's shoulder and gave a moan that was low and needy. "Boy ... ah!" he said when his cock was stroked.

"What's that pet?" Spike asked, amused.

"I told her ..." he began, then gasped at the friction of Spike's palm and the pads of his fingers rubbing just right on his dick. "Oh, fuck Spike! Told her I had a ... gah! Boyfriend."

Spike pulled away and lifted an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"

"What'd you stop for?" Xander strangled out, confused. He tried to pull him back.

"I'm your boyfriend?"

Xander grinned. "What'd you think you were?"

"Lover ... mate ... your bloody reason for being, maybe," Spike said, again nuzzling at Xander's neck.

"Well, yeah." Xander tilted his neck to give Spike's blunt teeth better access. "That too," he said, happy. Then he forcefully tugged his 'boyfriend' down onto the floor with him.

***

Spike paced the length of the living room, feeling frustrated and impotent and resembling a restless panther in a cage. Every now and then he would pause in his movements and a growl would emanate, low and menacing.

It wasn't right, that this would happen. They had been through so much, had hurt each other and suffered and had ached so badly that they thought nothing would ever be right between them again. But it all had finally settled down into a special hellmouth version of a normal relationship, and it had been good. They were in love, committed, and past all the previous prejudices and initial hate that had cast a shadow over them in the beginning. All their doubt was gone, their insecurities, at least about *this*, being together. But now, with the accident ...

Spike's arm shot out and the wall gained a nice new fist shaped hole. He winced at the pain that shot from his bloodied knuckles up to his elbow, and bit out a sound that was part bitter laughter and part sob.

His life, or unlife, or state of being dead and yet not, always took these sharp, unexpected turns. He could never just be happy, or content now, could he? The past ten years had been the worst, though, coming to a head when he cared for Xander, and yet watched his then friend sink into a cycle of rage and shame after losing Anya. Not being able to reach him with words or friendship, allowing the human to use him to beat out all of his pain.

Then there were tears. Spike could remember the way Xander's mouth had tasted the first time they kissed, like salt and mourning. They had clung to each other like only two people desperate to not be alone could. After, there were biting accusations and hate spewed out of their mouths like venom. They had avoided each other then, at least until the pain became too much for them to handle alone, and they knew that together they were ... not alone anymore.

Then Willow and Tara had brought Buffy back, and with her resurrection came a whole slew of new problems. Eventually, Spike and Xander had sorted out their feelings and realized they only wanted each other. It had been a long, painful road, but it had been worth it in the end.

But now all of that was lost. Everything that had been gained, every trust that had been freely given or painfully earned... gone. They were right back where they started, except now Spike knew what it meant to be in love totally, completely, and to be loved in return, as an equal, a full partner. He admitted to himself that he ached to have Xander in his arms, his whole being cried out to be with his ... his everything.

The phone rang and startled him out of his self imposed dysphoria, and he allowed a tiny thrill of hope to spark inside, that it would be Xander, memories fully restored, calling for him and asking him to come to the hospital. Needing him. He swallowed hard and picked up the phone.

"'ello," he said gruffly.

"Mr.... er, Spike?" asked a feminine voice that he identified without trouble.

"Dr. Fulmer?" he asked. "What is it? Is Xander..."

"Oh no, he's fine. I just wanted to call and ask you to come to the hospital. I've been speaking with Xander's therapist, and, well, she'd like to see how Xander is doing. How he's reacting to his ... situation. She's going to want to speak with you."

"Therapist?"

"Psychotherapist, sorry. She's concerned. She spoke with him today. I can't really give you any details, but she is insisting she see you."

"Concerned? He's not ... worse, is he?" he asked, panic for his lover shooting through him like electricity.

"What? Worse, no. Just ... I think it has to do with the way he's dealing with everything. I really can't say anything more, I'm sorry. It's confidential, and Mr. Harris hasn't given his consent to share," she explained, apologetic.

"Right then. Is she there now? When do you want me to come in?" he asked, mindful of the sun still glaring hotly in the sky.

"She's wanting to speak with you as soon as possible. She has two other patients to see before she's free, though, so let's say ... an hour and a half?"

"Right. I'll see you then. Where do you want to meet?" He considered his route options, deciding that his best bet would be the sewer, of which the closest access was fifty feet from the house. He'd have to grab a blanket and make a run for it.

"Mr. Harris's room, if you will."

"Oh, I uh, don't know if that's the best idea, pet. See, Xander and I aren't exactly ..." he tried to explain, "He doesn't remember what we ... or us ..."

"I understand the situation. It's one of the things we need to talk about."

"Is this ... We haven't told him. His mates and me. We thought it might be too much for him, he's had enough to deal with."

"You may have been trying to protect him, Mr ... Spike, but it seems he figured it out on his own."

"He..." Spike's mind reeled. "He *what*?"

 

***

Spike decided calling Willow for a ride would be the best thing after all. Strange that he hadn't thought of that first, but could blame his disorganized mind for that.

Worried, but knowing the doctor had only requested Spike's presence, Willow hung back in the hall and motioned her friend to go ahead.

Spike entered Xander's room and was greeted by Dr. Fulmer, Xander, and a new woman that they assumed was the psychotherapist.

Xander sat up straighter in the bed, a cheerful grin on his face. "Oh, look, there he is now. Spike. My *boyfriend* Spike."

Spike stopped and looked at the man waiting, smiling, on the bed. Hope and relief flared inside him. Xander, *his* Xander, was back! He strode over to the bed, leaned over and took Xander into his arms, burying his face in the warmth of the man's neck. "God, I missed you so much," he murmured against the hot skin. "So bloody much ..."

Xander stiffened, and Spike pulled back in confusion.

"Woah, there, Spikey," he said, his face wearing a frozen smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not all here yet." He tapped his now unbandaged head with a finger.

Spike looked to the doctors in confusion. "What the hell is going on here?"

The woman Spike he didn't know turned to Xander. "So you give your consent for us to share the specifics of your case with your partner?"

Xander let out a shrill laugh. "Sure, why the hell not. He's my boyfriend, after all. Spike, my gay lover."

Spike looked worriedly into Xander's eyes and noticed the wildness, recognized the joviality as an extreme case of the famous Harris coping mechanism.

"This is Dr. Hadley," Dr. Fulmer said. Spike turned to look at the young woman.

"Mr ... Spike," the therapist said. "If you'll come with me, we can speak in private."

Giving Xander another worried glance, and receiving an odd smile in return, Spike followed Dr. Hadley out into the corridor.

"There's an empty office down the hall here," she told him.

Willow straightened and looked attentive as she saw them, looking questioningly at Spike.

He shook his head. "Why don't you go in on there with Xander. He's a little ... stressed."

Willow crinkled her forehead and went to check on her friend, while Spike and the doctor continued down the hall.

They had barely entered the room when Spike stopped and said very quietly, very controlled, "What's wrong with my boy?"

"Oh, well Mr Spike ... "

"Spike. Just Spike."

"Right. Spike. I'm concerned with the way he's taking everything. With the amnesia, with learning everything that's happened in the past two years ..."

"We just tried to be honest with him, and we didn't tell him about ... about me and him. He's got enough right now, dealing with his girl being dead, and ... other things. Other people that're gone now."

"Yes, well the problem is that he *does* know about ... you and him, as you put it. He was quiet vocal in our session today. It seems that ... he had never considered himself homosexual before your relationship?"

"Yeah. And he's not really queer, just a little ... bent. Bisexual, you know. He's still got an eye for the birds, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, um, yes. But still, he just discovered something huge about himself, and instead the anger and denial we would expect to see in this sort of situation, he's -- on the surface -- taking it all in stride."

"Yeah, he'd face down an apocalypse with a smile on his face."

"Excuse me?"

Spike shrugged. "Figure of speech. But that's just him. Not always, though. And not with something like this. When he's scared, he jokes. When he gets some news he doesn't like -- he loses his temper. I would have thought he'd be knockin' down walls or throwing furniture at me, finding out about this."

"Yes, well, that sort of reaction is psychologically sound. What worries me is that he's *not* responding in a healthy way. I'm afraid he's repressing his emotions as a means to control the situation."

"So what does that mean? He'll be all right, right doc?"

 

"He will, if he would break down and just let himself react. The longer he subdues himself and covers his feelings and pretends everything is fine, the worse the inevitable explosion will be."

"So what should I do? Make him get angry?"

"Maybe, if he continues this way, that will be a possible approach. I'm reluctant to do that right now, however. He's got enough to deal with, and our most important goal is to get his memory back."

"We can do that?"

"He needs to be in his home, at his work, to do everything according to his normal routine. Hopefully after he does this for a while, things will start to come back to him. But that will entail going home with you, to a relationship he not only doesn't remember, but completely goes against who he thinks he is. His identity has been completely destroyed and turned around, in his eyes. It won't be an easy task, living with him. That is, if he agrees to go home with you."

"I'm up to it. It doesn't matter, whatever's best for Xander," Spike murmured.

"That's good. He may seem amiable at first, but you have to remember at all times that there's something boiling there beneath the surface, and there's no telling what will occur when he finally lets his emotions out. He may even become violent, Mr. Spike."

Spike looked at her steadily. "Whatever's best for Xander," he repeated.

***

"I've touched base with some memory experts," Dr. Fulmer was saying, "and I've gotten a pretty clear picture of what needs to be done in your particular situation."

Xander looked up and smiled. "Wills! Come on in, pull up a chair, have a seat. We're having a little discussion about how I can stop being Amnesia Boy. I can't wait to hear this, you know," he said, then turned back to the doctor. "Well, go on. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of my best friend here." He looked at Willow again, frowning. "We're still best friends, right?" At Willow's puzzled nod, he turned back to the doctor expectantly. "Okay! Now, what's the big plan to get my memory back?"

"I'm afraid it's not quite that easy, Mr. Harris. Memory isn't like a videotape that you can just pop in and play. Memory is a collection of fragments, of images and scents, emotions and sounds. Anything could trigger one of these fragments, and that's what we want to happen. The best course of action is for you to go home, to be in a familiar environment. You should go to work, you should listen to your favorite music and watch your favorite television programs, eat, sleep, *live* the way you have been for the past two years."

"With Spike," Xander said tightly.

"Well, essentially, yes. Dr. Hadley and I have discussed it, and it seems to be the best chance you have to regain your missing time. In fact, Dr. Hadley should be discussing this with your ... Spike right now."

"When?" Xander asked flatly.

"When what, Mr. Harris?"

"When am I supposed to go ... 'home'?"

"All of your tests have come back negative. You don't even have a concussion. You've got a nice bump on your head, and a bruise on your chin, but other than that, you're fine."

"Fine?" Xander asked, smiling tightly.

"Well, of course there's the amnesia ..."

"Don't want to forget that ... heh. Forget the forgetting," he looked at Willow for a reaction and got a wan smile. "Okay, so that wasn't my best."

"It's okay, Xan," Willow said. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, then looked at Dr. Fulmer. "When will he be discharged?"

"Right away, actually. The sooner he gets back to a familiar environment, the better."

Willow worriedly looked over at Xander, who seemed to be taking everything in stride. "Could you leave us for a little while? I'd like to talk to him." Dr Fulmer nodded and left.

"Are you okay?" Willow asked.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be? Well, I know I shouldn't be, I mean, I just found out I'm boinking the undead, the *male* undead, the ... Spike! But hey, I'm feeling okay. A little weirded out, but I can handle it. Nothing that big, compared to what we've faced, right? I mean, Spike's nothing compared to a hellgod. Not that I *remember* the hellgod, but ... you know."

Willow frowned. "And you're okay with going home? I know the doctors say it's best, but if you want to ease into it, or ... "

"No, Will, you heard the doc, familiar surroundings. Not that I'll remember that they're familiar or anything, and I've got to hang out with an annoying, snarky, arrogant blood sucking fiend, but hey -- can't be that bad."

*

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Willow said after she parked the car. "I could come in and make you something to eat, or I could, I don't know, make you some hot cocoa? Or we could play Monopoly. Or maybe there's some laundry I could do for you ..."

"Willow," Xander said, smiling. "It's okay, really. I can face a house. I mean, it's just a house, right?" He peered out the window at the small gray brick house. It was a nice looking one story home with bluish-gray trim. There wasn't anything special about this particular house; it blended in with the neighborhood. The yard was neat and the bushes that lined the house beneath the windows were all trimmed.

"Just a house. Spike said he'd stay out for a while, to let you have a chance to get used to the place without ... without him being there. I know this has to be hard, Xander ..."

"Hard? No, this isn't hard at all. I mean, three days a go I was living this life in my very own house with my very own great job and sport utility vehicle and bank account and my very own gay vampire lover, Willow. Now I've got to go figure out how to fit myself into this life I can't remember and that I'm not really sure I *want* to remember." His laugh was hollow. "I mean, what could possibly be hard about this?"

Willow reached over and pulled him into a hug. "It's going to be fine, Xan. You'll remember everything and things can go back to normal."

"Normal," Xander murmured.

Willow pulled back and smiled. "As normal as us hellmouth kids can be, right? Now if you aren't going to come back home with me, and you aren't going to let me come in with you, just go on in there and get to work with the familiarizing and remembering." Her smile faltered. "I mean, not that you have to remember everything right away. Or anything! You don't have to remember anything if you don't want ... or feel like it. Or, you know, if you can't. Remember anything, that is. Right away. I mean, no pressure or anything."

Xander grinned. "I get it. I'll go in. And I'll try not to strain anything as I get familiar with the carpet color or whatever."

Willow gave a weak smile and nodded. "Okay."

Xander took a breath a steeled himself. "Okay."

Willow handed him a key ring. "It's this one," she said, pointing out the house key.

"Thanks," he said, taking it. He put his hand on the door handle and stared at the house through the window. "Okay," he said to himself. "Home."

***

What he really wanted to do was close his eyes completely to the house and head straight for the shower, to wash away that sickly hospital feel and smell that hung on him in a thick film. He opened the door and tried not to look around. It didn't help, and he soon found himself staring.

The living room wasn't neat, but it wasn't filthy either. Clean clutter, he decided to call it. It looked homey, inviting.

There was a Christmas tree up, a real tree, he could tell. He had smelled it when he'd first walked in. It reminded him of Buffy's house during the holidays. Willow's family had been Jewish, so no tree there, and his own family had always put up the same ancient fake one, and it had never been the same. But here, in his own house, in his own living room, was his own real tree. He briefly wondered whether Spike and he had picked it out together at a lot. He turned away from the tree and the unopened presents beneath the boughs and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his mouth and pushing those particular thoughts away.

When he opened his eyes again, he was once again in control. He looked around the living room some more, avoiding the tree. The couch looked comfortable and sufficiently cooshy, and there was a fuzzy plaid blanket draped over the back, just the kind he loved. He decided to sit down, hoping something would come back to him. It looked like it was his spot, after all.

He sat, then fidgeted, then twisted and turned on the sofa. He put his legs up, shifted, sat crosslegged, put his feet flat on the floor -- and couldn't get comfortable. Well, yes, it was *nice*, but for some reason it just didn't feel right. Like something was missing. He shrugged and got up.

He vaguely registered the hole in the wall as he walked past, it seemed out of place but he was too busy looking on the walls. Photographs of himself and Willow, Buffy and Dawn. A smiling picture of Joyce. And scattered throughout the hallway, here and there, were candid shots of Spike and himself with the others. There was a photo of the two of them with Dawn between them on a sofa, an older Dawn than he remembered who had an arm draped over each of their shoulders. The three of them smiled broadly at the camera. There were other pictures, one with Buffy and a man that looked vaguely familiar but who he couldn't place, who wore a brown leather jacket and gave a genuine smile. He wasn't looking at the camera like he and Spike and Buffy, but instead smiled at the Slayer.

He passed the half open door of the bathroom and stopped in front of the other, closed door. Deep breath, breathe breathebreathebreathe. He slowly turned the handle.

He had been expecting black satin sheets and red velvet bed hangings, maybe. Something suitably vampiric and ... weird. Maybe a mirror over the bed, even though Spike was reflection disabled, still it might have been some strange kink for him. Xander looked around the room and saw ... nothing out of the ordinary. Two dressers, queen sized bed with tan and hunter green sheets, two night tables on either end, wicker laundry hamper in the corner, and not a chain or manacle in sight.

He didn't know if it was better to find such a normal domestic bedroom, or if it made things worse.

There was a framed photo on the dresser that Xander stared at for a moment.

He hurried out to the bathroom, intent on scrubbing away the feeling that surrounded him.

*

After the shower, Xander wrapped a towel around himself and hoped he was still alone in the house. He hurried into the bedroom and closed the door.

The first thing to do was figure out which dresser was his. One was tall, one was long and mirrored. He took a guess and picked the one with the mirror because, hey, reflection.

The first drawer he opened revealed boxers. Plaid, plain, Wiley coyote ... yeah, definitely the right dresser.

Second drawer was socks. Not just plain white socks, either, but blacks and grays and brown -- dress socks. And not just all scattered around the drawer, but paired with their tops folded down to keep them together. At least they weren't in orderly little piles. Xander picked out a pair of white ones.

The closet was a walk-in. He'd never had a walk-in closet before, and certainly not this many clothes. One side of the closet was filled with black and red and the occasional blue, and that was *not* the side he wanted to look at right now. He turned his back to *that* side and surveyed his options.

There was a tie rack. Which was wiggy, because only adults had tie racks. Responsible adults, with good, stable jobs and a mortgage (did he have a mortgage?) and checkbooks to balance (and he'd failed that part of Life Management in High School). *Let's not panic. Tie rack. No big deal. So, I've got a job that requires a tie sometimes. That's feasible.*

Up on the shelf, he found and grabbed a pair of navy sweat pants. He went back into the bedroom, put them on, and started searching for a tee shirt.

A tapping on the bedroom door made him jump about a foot. "What? Who is it?"

"Just me, love," Spike said.

Love. Xander, Spike's love. Nope, not panicking. Xander grabbed his damp towel from the floor and held it to his chest. "I'm not dressed. I mean ..." Xander looked down at himself. Sweatpants, socks, white fluffy towel -- actually, pretty decent. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I mean, come in."

Spike opened the door slowly, like he was afraid of making any sudden movements. "Is everything goin' alright? You finding everything?"

Xander clutched the towel to his chest tightly. "Um, yeah. I just can't find the, um, where's the shirts? Tee shirts?"

Spike's mouth turned up at the corner, and it looked to Xander like a pity smile. "Bottom right drawer over here," he said, pointing to the the mirrored dresser where Xander had found the socks and underwear.

Xander stood still, looking back and forth between the dresser and Spike. "Could you, uh ..." he said, glancing meaningfully at the doorway.

Blankfaced, Spike nodded. "Sure," he said, leaving and closing the door behind him.

Xander found a gray tee shirt and donned it quickly. He opened the door and peered out and seeing nothing, proceded down the hall. He stopped off in the bathroom to hang up his towel over the shower rod. As he turned around, his eye caught on something he hadn't seen when he'd been in there earlier. A Post-It note, attached to the side of the medicine cabinet.

Xander recognized his own tiny writing.

"Spike --

Stop rinsing the demon goo off of your weapons in the bathtub! Use the hose out back.

I love you.

--Xander."

Xander gripped the edges of the vanity with his hands, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. There it was. Spelled out and signed, a tiny little yellow mocking of everything he knew to be true.

Xander took some deep breaths and forced the panic down once again. He could handle this. He'd handled all sorts of things before, and he'd always gotten through them, no matter what. This was *nothing* compared to the Mayor or Adam. He'd just learn to adapt. No big deal. No big ...

There were hands on his shoulders, strong and caring.

"Xan ... Xan, are you okay? What's wrong love?" Spike asked worriedly from behind him.

Xander looked up into the mirror, and saw only himself. He took another deep breath and turned to face Spike, who was looking at him full of concern. Xander smiled stiffly. "Got a little dizzy."

"You need to go to bed for a while?"

"No!" Xander yelped, then collected himself. "I mean, no, I'm okay now. I think I just need to eat something."

Spike looked at him intently, and slowly nodded. "Alright. You want me to make you something? Something light, eggs and toast maybe?"

"I can make something, you don't have to ..."

"Bollocks. Come out and sit in the kitchen and I'll make you one of those southwestern omelets you like."

Xander opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a loud rumble from his stomach.

Spike laughed. "A big one, then," he said, and turned and walked out. Xander followed.

*

"Oh my GOD, Spike," Xander moaned, chewing slowly. He swallowed the delicious food and looked at his lover in wonder. "Where'd you learn how to cook like *this*?"

"You live as long as I have, you're bound to pick up a few skills," Spike answered, waggling his eyebrows.

Xander completely missed the innuendo, so completely focused on his omelet he was. He took another bite and moaned again. "The cheese," he said, his mouth full. "The ... hell, the peppers. And the ... Mmmm, the onions. How did you *do* this?"

Spike smirked. "Try it with a dab of sour cream," he said, pointing to the side of the plate.

Xander did as instructed and let out an even louder sound of approval. Spike's cock got harder with every noise his lover made, and he desperately tried to sit still and let Xander eat.

In no time, Xander had cleaned his plate and was looking at Spike in adoration. "That has got to be the *best* omelet I've EVER had. Is there *anything* you're not good at?"

In a flash, Spike was beside him, pulling him up from the chair, backing him against the wall, and licking and sucking at the skin of his neck. His hands roamed under Xander's shirt as he rocked his hips and ground against him. "Self control," he murmured. "Terrible at it."

"No," Xander said, chuckling. He gasped when Spike pinched a nipple, and then laughed again. "I think you've got just the right amount of control."

Spike blinked and came to himself. Xander sat at the table, looking everywhere but at him. Spike set the plate in front of him and handed him a fork. "Eat up," he said.

Xander looked at the food and then took a dubious bite. His eyes rolled back and he fought back a moan.

Spike clenched his jaw. "I'll go see if anything's on the telly," he said quickly, walking away.

In the living room, Spike stared blankly at the flickering television and tried to shut out the sexy Xander sounds from the kitchen.

*

Six hours, fourteen minutes. Spike looked once again at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes, he corrected.

Spike's hearing was trained on the hearbeat of the other man. Every so often, Xander's heartrate would accelerate, and the scent of panic would waft into the living room where Spike sat on the sofa, supposedly watching television.

It took a lot to keep from running in to distract Xander, or try to comfort him, but Spike managed it, somehow.

Meanwhile, Xander was trying *not* to think. Thinking only led to more questions, and more questions led to ... nothing at all. He had no answers. He didn't want to *know* the answers. Part of him wanted to barge into the living room and stick a stake through Spike's heart, just so that this would all be over. He kept seeing that worried expression, hearing love -- love! from Spike! -- in his voice whenever he spoke to him. He could tell that the vampire was trying to hide it, that he was trying to stay cool and relatively distant, but Spike had never been a good at keeping his feelings hid, even if Xander was used to those feelings being negative or violent. Spike -- what was the word? -- *emoted*. Xander just wished he would *stop* it, before the questions in his head reproduced and multiplied any more.

He paced the bedroom, stopping every so often to glare at the picture that stood on top of the dresser, mocking him. There were two men, so wrapped up in each other and obviously in love. Xander in the back, his arms around Spike, his chin resting on Spike's shoulder, close to his ear. Spike's hands were on top of Xander's, fingers entwined. Spike's smile, genuine, happy smile, and they were *together*. Xander squinted at the photo every so often, then went back to pacing. Finally he went over to the picture and picked it up. He put a finger over each of the faces and just looked at the body language. The men looked comfortable with each other, intimate. Xander slowly uncovered his own face. He knew that face. That was Xander Harris's 'in love' face. He'd seen it sometimes, caught a glimpse of his reflection when he was with Anya. Anya, who was dead and gone and replaced.

Xander dropped the picture back to the dresser like it had burned him. It landed face up, and Spike looked up at him from behind the glass. Happy, fucking joyful, so in love, goddamn souless vampire freak. He wanted to smash that face in. And his own -- Xander the total bastard, who'd forgotten Anya, who'd forgotten what Spike was, who'd completely become someone he didn't know -- he wanted to smash that happyhappy face in, too, drive his fist through his nose and out the back of his skull.

In a blur, faster than he could blink, he was turned around and Spike was standing in front of him, grabbing at his hands and growling.

Xander tried snatching his hands back, but they were held fast.

"What the fuck are you doing? Let go!" Xander said.

"You're bleeding," Spike said, turning the hands over and examining them. Xander pulled them back and Spike looked up, with some kind of unreadable expression. "What'd you do?"

Xander pushed hard on Spike's chest, shoving him away, looking feral. "And you what? Thought you'd get a little snack, since your pet human was in here giving away free O neg?"

"No, that's not ..." Spike began, then saw the smashed picture on the dresser. "You cut your hand on the glass." He moved toward the dresser, wanting to see if the photo itself was damaged, or if he'd lost that too. Unfortunately, he moved too close for Xander's comfort.

"I told you to back off!" Xander said, shoving him hard against the wall. "Stay away from me!" He reared his fist back but Spike was quick enough to block the sloppy punch before it landed.

"Xan ..." Spike said, using his most calming voice. Xander's eyes were wild with rage and grief.

"What did you do to me?" Xander ground out between his clenched teeth. "What did you do to make me forget Anya? What did you say to make me believe it was okay to be with you?"

"I didn't do anything ..."

"You're a fucking liar!" Xander spat. "You've always been a liar. There's no way I could just ... just decide to take up with *you* to play house with. You're leaving something out. What was it, some love spell? Did I ask you for some apocalyptic-preventing favor and you ... you decided you'd take me as the repayment?"

Spike glared back at him. "I. Didn't. Do. Anything."

Curling his lip in disgust, Xander pushed him against the wall once more before releasing him. "I can't stand to be here one minute longer," he said. The front door slammed closed before Spike could get another word out.

*

"What do you mean, you just let him walk out?" Willow was slightly panicked as she spoke into the phone. "You know what could happen, that's what started this whole thing in the first place! You can't let him out until Buffy takes care of ... Yes, I know, I understand you weren't thinking, Spike, but you can't just ..." She sighed as Spike went on, realizing he was just as worried as she was. "Okay, okay, I'll ... do a location spell, and I'll let you know as ... Yes, Spike, dammit, slow down! I'll let you know as soon as--"

Willow broke off at the knock on her door. "Hold on a minute, someone's here."

When Willow opened the door, revealing a very upset looking Xander, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness," she said, then spoke into the phone again. "It's okay, he's here. I'll ... yes, he's fine. I'll call you later, okay? Okay. Bye-bye."

She set the phone down on the table beside the door and pulled Xander inside to hug him tightly. "Don't do that, Xander! We were worried sick! You have no idea what could have happened, there's stuff going on you don't remember, and we couldn't bear to lose you ..." she continued to babble, hugging him so tightly he pulled away with a half-smile.

"Okay, Wills, I gotta breathe here eventually."

Willow gave an embarassed smile. "Oh, sorry about that."

Xander smiled but it quickly slid off his face as he turned serious. "I had to get out of there.

She nodded and pulled him further into the house. "Come in and sit down. Talk to me, okay?"

"I had to look your address up in the phone book," Xander said. He sat beside her on the couch and looked around. "It's kinda nice, though. Grown up looking."

"I've done a lot of growing up," she answered quietly. She took a breath and gave him her best 'I'm your friend, talk to me' smile. "You wanna tell me about it?"

Xander sighed and relaxed against the back of the couch. "I ... blew up at Spike."

She nodded. "I know. He called; he was worried."

"I just ... I can't. I can't believe it, I don't want to believe it. And what's so bad is that I saw this picture, Will, and it was me and him and we were so happy, and I can't believe I would have ... could have forgotten Anya like that and just ... " He trailed off and leaned forward to hold his head in his hands. Willow reached over and rubbed his back.

"It didn't happen like that," she said softly. "You didn't go straight from Anya's death to ... to jumping into his arms."

"But how did we even ... " He didn't finish, just gave a small, hysterical sounding laugh.

Willow answered the unspoken question. "He was hurting. Buffy was dead, and so was Anya, and you ... fought. Took it out on each other. Got raving drunk and kicked each other's butts, or so you guys've told me."

Xander shook his head. "That I understand. I get that. But how did we go from that to playing house? I mean ..."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I think that's between the two of you. But Xander, it did happen. It's not ... not a betrayal of Anya. I know how you feel, I swear I do. After Tara ..."

He looked up at her. "Have you ... dated?"

She blushed a little and nodded. "Yeah. Nothing serious, but ... but I've started. And it was really hard at first, I mean, you should have seen me the first time I kissed another woman! After Tara, I mean. I kinda wigged," she said. It was a vast understatement, but she didn't want to have to get into the horrible details with him right then.

"But you got over it, huh?" It wasn't really a question, and he stared off into space.

"Yeah." She was quiet, letting him think. After a few minutes, she pulled him into a hug. "Spike loves you, Xander. And you love him. I've never seen you so happy, and you're good for him, too."

"It's weird," he mumbled. "I don't even remember liking him."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Yes, you did. You guys used to bicker and ... and threaten to kill each other, but underneath, you liked each other, didn't you?"

"No, not really," Xander answered. He thought a minute. "Maybe we could have, though. You know, if he hadn't tried to kill us all."

"Well, there you go," she said, trying to be positive.

"Do you think maybe this amnesia thing is a spell? Have you checked it out with your little ... things?"

Willow giggled. "Yeah. I've tried, and I haven't found anything."

"Well, shit. Is there anyway for you to fix it? A re-memory spell or something?" His voice sounded so hopeful she didn't want to say no.

"There's a spell, but I don't have everything I need for it. And it can backfire. Um, Angel used it a while back and it ... wasn't good."

Xander ran his fingers through his hair and gave a frustrated sigh. "So what am I supposed to do? Just sit around, waiting for things to come back? Hoping something will just ... click?"

"Um, yeah," she said. "Yeah, I think that's the only option right now."

"And I should be at home. With Spike. Because ... because that's what I'm supposed to be remembering." He sounded defeated.

"That's the idea." She squeezed him again. "It's not so bad. I mean, you could have ... you could have woken up to find you were with an ugly guy. Or a Fyarl demon, even!" she said with a grin.

Xander snorted. "Yeah, I guess there's that."

"You wanna stay here tonight?" Willow asked. "You can have the couch since Buffy's got the guest room."

He was quiet as he thought about that. "No," he said finally. "I should get back to Spike's ... I mean, to my house. Home." He had a funny look on his face as he said it.

"You sure? You don't have to. Spike understands, he really does."

He shook his head. "No. No, I should go back. If that's home, and ... and Spike's my, you know ... whatever, then that's where I should be. Trying to remember. Trying to ... to get along with him."

"I know I've said this, Xan, but he loves you. He's hurting right now, and I know it feels like you're whole life is gone or changed or whatever, but he's there, and he's hurting. Please ... try to remember that." She sniffed and tried to blink away the tears. She hated the thought of either or them in pain, and the entire situation was painful, for them both.

Xander swallowed and nodded. "I'll ... I'll try. It's ... " He sighed. "It's hard. But I'll try."

"Good."

"Can you give me a lift home, then?"

Willow grinned. "Sure thing. I need to go over there anyway, and make sure the wards are still as strong as they should be."

"Wards?" Xander asked, looking confused.

"Um, protection. We've had a little problem with a new bad in town, lately. It's just a precaution, until we can take care of it." When Xander looked worried, she went on. "Buffy's going to help, now that she's back in Sunnydale for a little while. With her, I'm sure we'll ... work it out." She didn't let him ask any more questions, just ushered him out the door. "Come on, let's go."

*

Xander just stood in the living room, a little nervous, while Willow wafted through the house like a breeze.

"Okay, everything checks out!" she said, smiling, when she returned. "Safe as houses, as Spike would say." She grinned at the vampire and gave him a quick hug.

"Thanks, pet," Spike said.

When Willow just stood there for a minute, Xander reached over and took her hand. "Thanks, Will. I think ... we'll be okay now."

She smiled and took her cue. "Alright, I'll just go on home and let you two boys, um, get to know each other."

Xander let out a little snort of laughter, but then he immediately felt guilty for laughing and just smiled sadly. "Okay."

And then Willow was gone and it was just Spike, Xander, and a house full of memories that were just out of reach.

Xander didn't know how long they stood there. Neither man nor vampire seemed ready to speak, but Xander could feel the words just under the surface.

"Look," he finally said, "I didn't mean to ... uh ..."

"Yeah. It's ... it's alright, love."

The quiet understanding in Spike's voice triggered a reaction in Xander. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, though. It wasn't like anything he'd felt before. It was almost how he felt when Buffy and Willow and he were together, laughing and having fun just being in the others' company. Something more than acceptance.

Xander swallowed and nodded.

"Hungry?" Spike asked. "I can make you something ..."

Shaking his head, Xander crossed the room and sat on the sofa. It still didn't feel quite right, sitting there, but things seemed better than the day before.

"So. Apparently we're this big romantic couple, madly in love, absolutely perfect for each other," Xander said. The words felt strange as they left his mouth.

He was expecting immediate agreement, or at least a grin. Spike just looked at him sadly.

"I fucked up, Xan."

Xander blinked and looked up, searching the vampire's face. He wish he knew what to look for, how to read Spike's expression. "How?"

A shrug. Then a deep sigh, and Spike was sitting beside him on the sofa. Not too close. Almost too far away.

"It's my fault," Spike said. "The accident. My fault. You almost died, and it's because I was too proud to ask for the Slayer's help, and too ... too bloody stupid to trust you."

Xander just shook his head in confusion. "You're gonna have to speak a little clearer there. I'm not remembering how to translate Spike-speak."

Spike went on like he hadn't even heard. "And now you're grieving over things you should already be over, and hating me -- prob'ly right to, but not for the things you think -- and I can't make it right."

While Xander was trying to figure out just what exactly he was supposed to do with those words, Spike turned to him and grabbed his hands.

"I keep tryin' to protect you, pet, and I can't. I keep buggerin' it all up, making it worse."

Xander stared down at where their hands were joined, wondering why the weight and strength of Spike's cool grip didn't feel as foreign as it seemed in his mind. Perhaps his body held memories his mind couldn't access. Spike pulled back but his eyes held Xander in place as firmly as his hands had.

"I need to tell you. Want to apologize."

Xander couldn't look away. He shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Just ... just listen and let me tell you what happened."

Spike looked so desperately sad, and Xander recognized that as something he'd felt so many times before in his own life. Nodding, Xander prepared himself for whatever Spike had to say.

*

When Spike was finished, Xander just looked at him.

"That's it?" he asked, looking a little confused. "That's the big thing you did that you feel so guilty for?"

Spike frowned and nodded, silently waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Well, I mean, I can see where you'd feel like that. A little. But the accident wasn't your fault, exactly." Xander sounded strangely calm.

"If I hadn't ..." Spike tried to explain, but Xander cut him off.

"Do you still have your chip?" Xander asked quietly.

Spike gave a quick nod. "Hasn't gone anywhere. Not that I wouldn't want it out, if the situation presented itself." At Xander's frown, he went on. "Still can't hurt humans, pet, even if I'm just tryin' to defend myself. Or you. It's a limitation that might cost you your life, one day. Or me, mine."

He could hear the almost inaudible swallow Xander made.

"But you did. You punched me out. That's hurting me, how'd you do that? Because you were doing it for my own good?" His words seemed mild enough, but Spike wasn't so sure the question wasn't loaded.

Spike shook his head slowly. "Put me down for a good five minutes, pet. Hurt like hell, but I knew I had to do it. Least I thought so at the time."

Xander was silent for so long then that Spike thought the man had finally decided it was all his fault.

Out of nervous habit, Spike started twitching his foot where it rested over his knee. Xander's hand seemed to automatically shot out to hold it still. It was a familiar reaction, and Spike wondered if Xander even noticed what he'd done before he pulled his hand away and went back to thinking. Brooding? No, that had never been his style. This was Xander's patented Me think deep thoughts mode.

After several more quiet minutes, Xander turned to Spike. He wasn't scowling, which Spike took as a good sign.

"So ... you punched me out and were driving me out of town to save my life?" he asked.

Spike shrugged. "Yeah. Buggered it up right and proper, but yeah."

"Okay," Xander said. He was nodding and had the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips. "I'm cool with that."

"You are?" Spike asked, completely thrown.

Xander's smile grew as he took in what was probably a very confused expression on Spike's face. "Yep. Just as long as you don't do it again. Unless that would jar my memory. Hey, you think that would work?"

"No!" Spike growled. "No hurtin' yourself or bangin' your head. Might work on cartoons and kiddie shows, but ..."

Xander fell over laughing. "Kidding! Spike, I'm kidding!" he choked out.

The tension which had been filling the house since Xander's return dissipated, and Spike sighed in relief.

"So it's okay, then?" he asked, still a little worried, but feeling a hell of a lot more hopeful.

Xander slowly sat up, still laughing a little. "Yeah. No problem, Spike. I guess I'd have done the same thing in your place. I know how stubborn I can get, and you weren't entirely wrong. But aren't I still in danger, now that I'm back here?"

"Slayer's here now. I reckon with her and Willow and me, we'll do a job on the new Boss and clear his followers out. Got to get up with them tomorrow to plan." Spike paused and looked over at Xander, who seemed interested. "You want to come?"

Xander shrugged. "Sounds good. If there's one thing that's familiar, it's the basic Scooby meeting." He chewed on his lip a little and then said, "Only this one will be a little different. Uh, where's Giles?"

"Back in London. Working with some Potential. Not on official Council pay or anything, just helping out a few friends."

Xander deflated a little. "It won't really seem like a Scooby meeting without Giles. I ... I can't imagine him leaving us like that."

Spike's arms twitched, wanting to go around Xander and give him a little comfort. Spike limited himself to a pat on the back. "Wasn't like that, love. He just didn't have any work left to do, here. Went where he was needed."

Xander stared for a minute and burst out laughing again.

"What?" Spike asked, a little offended.

"You! You're so ... so normal! And a little, I don't know, caring? Sorry, you're just nothing like the Spike I know."

Spike crossed his arms. "'m still me. Just cause I'm not tryin' to kill you doesn't mean I'm not still me. Still a demon here, pet." The words came out a little more pouty than he'd hoped.

"Yeah, big bad evil vampire." He didn't sound very convinced.

Spike didn't realize he growled until Xander started staring at him.

"Uh, sorry Spike," Xander said. "Didn't mean to ... shit. I don't know. I have no idea how to talk to you, you know that, right?"

Spike got a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, sighing as he let out a stream of smoke. "Yeah, pet. 'm not exactly sure how to talk to you, either."

Yawning, Xander stood up and gave Spike an apologetic look. "Why don't we try again tomorrow?"

"You're looking a bit knackered there, love. I'll ..." He stopped himself before saying he'd be right in. He shook that thought out of his head. "I'll take the couch."

Xander looked as if he was going to argue, but he didn't. Instead, he just nodded. "Yeah. See you in the morning. Or whenever it is you wake up. Will you be okay in here?"

Spike tilted his head towards the windows. "Blackout curtains. Whole house has 'em."

"Of course it does. Vampire's house, after all," Xander said, mostly to himself. "Good night, Spike."

He was gone and Spike heard the bedroom door close before he could answer.

"Night, love," Spike whispered.

*

Sleep didn't come easy. Xander couldn't quite get situated in the bed. It wasn't that the mattress was uncomfortable, because it was. It was more like something was missing, the same something that had seemed to be missing when he had sat on the sofa before. He would doze off, but then he would startle awake, reaching for something that wasn't there. Deep inside, he knew that something was Spike. Maybe his mind didn't remember, but his body did. The thought terrified him, but at the same time gave him a small measure of comfort. It was real. This whole reality was *real*. Spike really was his ... lover.

*Lover*, he thought, then quickly backtracked. Partner? Yes. That was better. Roommate was even *better*, but that was just a lie. He'd stick with partner for now.

Finally, he ended up hugging a pillow, one that smelled familiar and comforting. He fell asleep holding it close, his nose pressed against it enough so that he could inhale the scent.

His dreams were like waves in the ocean, constantly moving, crashing, and then taking shape again. There was Buffy, falling into a giant hole of white light. And Anya, crushed and bloodied. There were demons and vamps, gore and blood, and his mind said 'memory' even while his heart ached and relived it all.

Spike. Snarling, crying, pushing, aching, pulling, kissing ... always, there was Spike.

Xander tossed and turned unknowingly, reaching out, hugging Spike's pillow tightly against him, smiling in his sleep.

Until his dreams morphed into something else. Something more terrifying, more *real* than anything else.

Something was trying to take his soul. Something insidious. Evil. He heard laughter, but could see nothing. He was in some sort of void, nothing but blackness and thick mist around him, but he *knew* if he didn't get out of there, the Thing would get him. Would suck his life from him.

From far away, he could hear Spike's voice, but he couldn't see him. Couldn't find him. He called out, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the Thing's laughter.

"Shhh, love, it's okay. I have you. It's just a dream," Spike was saying, and Xander could finally feel his arms around him.

"I couldn't find you," Xander said, trembling. He still couldn't see, wasn't quite awake yet. There was a flash, the Thing, right before his eyes, and then he was holding on to Spike for dear life. "It was here, I could feel it. I could *hear* it, Spike. It wanted me. I heard you, but I couldn't find you!"

"Just a dream," Spike repeated, and his arms held Xander tightly, chasing away the horror.

"Don't leave. Don't let me fall again," Xander murmured.

"'s okay, love. Not leaving you, not ever."

Xander settled back into sleep, his head against Spike's chest.

When he awoke in the morning, Spike was gone, and he couldn't remember what had been the dream and what had been reality.

***

Xander didn't know what to expect from a Scooby meeting without Giles. It was like writing a book report without the book. Apparently they'd been doing it for a while, but just the thought of it made Xander's stomach hurt. His head hurt, too, and he downed a couple of maximum strength ibuprofen before Buffy and Willow arrived, the prerequisite old books in their arms.

"I think I'll just sit back and let you guys start," Xander said, "since I really don't know what's going on, and ..."

"It's okay, Xander," Willow said. "No problem. We'll get you up to speed soon enough, all right?"

Over the course of the next few hours, Xander learned that the new Big Bad in town was *probably* a demon, *probably* from another dimension, and *probably* recruiting the local demons and vamps for whatever insidious plan he *probably* had in the works. It seemed that Spike, Willow, and Buffy didn't know much more than Xander did. No one had seen the probably demon, nor did anyone seem to know his name. Xander went with the assumption that the demon was male, because one more *probably* and his head might split in two. Although his headache was coming back and that might be a possibility either way.

"So what do we do?" Xander asked. "Have we already hit up the local demon haunts and asked around?"

Willow nodded, her face scrunched up. "No one is saying anything. Even with Spike to put the hurt on them. Even with *me* trying truth spells on them. They're close-lipped and have some kind of magical protection on them so they stay that way. Whatever's behind all this – well, he's pretty strong. Stronger than my magic."

Xander had learned that Willow's magic these days was ten times what he remembered it as, and he leaned back on the sofa with a grimace. "We can at least try to follow some of them. See if they lead us anywhere."

Spike made a face.

"What?" Xander asked.

"That was your last idea. I said it was too dangerous. You wanted to go ahead with or without me. That's what started our fight, and me wanting you out of town," he said guiltily.

"I told you not to worry about that," Xander said. He couldn't believe his voice was as soft as it was, and apparently neither could Willow or Buffy.

"Did you ... get your memory back?" Willow asked hesitantly. Buffy leaned in, the same question etched on her face.

Xander sighed and gave a tired smile. "No. I mean, not really. I had a dream, and some of the things in it seemed like memories, but I couldn't say for sure. Other than that, no, I haven't remembered anything." He shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."

Buffy broke the awkward silence that followed. "But we can do it, now," she said. She got blank looks all around. "*Xander's plan*. I mean, I'm here, and with Willow's magic and Spike, too, well ... we can pretty much protect ourselves if we end up in a situation that calls for kicking a little demon butt, right? Not to mention you, Xander. I hear you're not so bad yourself with the butt kicking these days."

Xander gave her a very dubious expression. "I sort of doubt that."

"No, she's right, love. You might not remember doing it, but it's true. Me an' you've sparred a lot, an' I've taught you a trick or two. You're still comin' along, but you're not to shabby." Spike gave him a look that was almost proud. Xander didn't know whether to blush and thank him or blush and turn away. He settled for blushing and staring at the ceiling.

"Well, even if I've forgotten how to fight – I mean, not really, because I've always been able to hold my own, sort of, well, not really but kind of, but anyway – even if I've forgotten, with you guys there I won't be dead. And I think it's a good idea. Following them. Seeing if we can at least get a look at this guy, so we know what we're dealing with. If we can pin down what kind of demon he is ..."

"We can find a weakness!" Willow finished triumphantly.

***

"Who's bright idea was this again?" Xander muttered as he and Buffy carried Spike's prone body into the bedroom of their house. He managed to look apologetic at Buffy's pointed glare. "Oh, right. My plan."

"We're just lucky they weren't expecting Buffy," Willow said, coming in behind them. She sounded guilty. "If it had just been the three of us ..."

"We'd all be toast," Xander finished, arranging Spike as gently as he could on the bed. "I know. And even *with* Buffy ..." His voice trailed off.

It had been a trap. Apparently, the demon, this latest baddie, had been expecting them to try just this. While the four of them followed some minions at what they thought was a reasonable distance, a astonishing number of bloodthirsty demons and vampires had lurked in the shadows of a warehouse their final destination.

Spike's yell of, "It's a trap! Get out now!" was almost lost in the mayhem that followed. Willow had held some of the demons off at a distance with magic while Buffy and Spike kicked and punched their way through the horde. Xander's honed fighting skills kicked in, but it wasn't enough to do any real damage, not when faced with the sheer number of attackers that just kept coming at them. Xander never saw the big one with the even bigger axe. Spike did, and jumped an amazing distance to put himself between the weapon and Xander's body. Xander heard him, and turned in time to see the ensuing fight. Spike had the speed and the reflexes, but the demon had a very sharp, very lethal looking weapon. Spike was slashed, multiple times, before he managed to tear the thing's head off with a sickening, wet-sounding crack. But then Spike fell, and Xander saw the blood.

Willow managed to cast a barrier around the four of them, and they escaped by sheer luck. Spike, however, wasn't looking very lucky right now.

"He needs blood," Xander heard himself say. "And bandages." His voice sounded like it was coming at a distance, and all he could feel was sheer panic and pain. The emotions were completely alien to him, but they had to have been coming from somewhere. Maybe his mind didn't remember, but his heart certainly did. He felt completely stricken. "Guys ..."

"It's okay, Xan," Willow said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "We'll take care of it."

Buffy and Willow left him alone with Spike, and Xander sat on the edge of the bed. Spike looked pale, even paler than usual. His wounds were open, still, unhealed, and Xander's hands hovered over them. He wanted to heal him, wanted to close them himself, but he knew there was nothing he could do at that moment besides make Spike hurt more. And Spike was hurting. He wasn't fully conscious, but he groaned with pain.

Xander's hovering hand finally settled on Spike's forehead, smoothing back the blond mess of curls that had fallen there.

"Shh, it's okay," Xander said softly. His mind gave him a sudden shard of memory, of Spike doing the same for him when he was hurting. It had been flu, and Spike had stayed with him, at his bedside, the entire time. Murmuring to him, giving him his medicine, bathing his face with a cool cloth when his body felt like it was going to burst into cold flames.

Xander tried to hold tight to the memory, but it slipped away. The more he grasped at it, the further away it seemed. He blinked back tears of frustration.

Spike seemed to calm somewhat from Xander's touch and voice, so Xander continued. It seemed to be such a small, inadequate thing to do, and Xander felt so helpless.

"Here," Willow said, handing Xander a roll of bandages and medical tape, and a pile of clean gauze. Buffy held a basin of steaming water in one hand and a big thermos with a straw in the other.

Xander set the supplies to the side and reached for the basin. "Let me," he said, swallowing hard. "It'll be better if ... if I do it." He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was going to roll with it. Spike had saved his life. Spike loved him. And it was becoming more and more clear that somewhere, deep inside of him, Xander loved Spike, too.

*

Xander found and made his own breakfast, waving Spike away when he offered to do it for him. Xander wasn't feeling at all *hostile* towards him, not like before, and he didn't know if that was because of the talk they'd had the day before or the almost-dream he'd had during the night.

"I'm not an invalid, Spike," Xander said when Spike looked hurt. "I can pour my own cereal and milk."

"D'you mind if I ..." Spike asked, holding up a bag of blood.

"Oh, please. I think I got past the ick factor of that back when you were staying with me in the basement."

Spike smiled, and Xander had that warm feeling again.

So Xander ate and Spike made his own liquid breakfast. After Xander was done and put his bowl and spoon in the sink side by side with Spike's mug, Xander wandered around a little more. Spike kind of hung back, just watching him.

"What's out here?" Xander asked.

Spike looked up and smiled. "Patio."

"Can I?"

Spike shrugged. "Sure. Sun doesn't really come in much, it's a nice, shady spot."

Xander pulled back the curtain and looked out. It was shady because there was an overhang built on, probably so Spike could sit out there and enjoy the outdoors during the day. Xander unlocked the latch on the handle and opened the door wide. He stepped out, taking a deep breath and a good look around.

It looked like heaven. There was a grill made of brick, and a patio table. There were chairs all around, but two chairs were side by side, and Xander just *knew* they belonged to him and Spike. There was an ashtray in the middle of the table.

Xander sat in one of the chairs. He heard something a second before a ball of fluffy, purring weight jumped into his lap.

"Well, hey, kitty," Xander said, one hand automatically petting. The rumbling purr intensified.

The cat was a mix of brown and black and gold, like a patchwork quilt. She had a collar around her neck, and Xander reached down to look at her tag. He knew without a doubt that she belonged to him. Or he belonged to her.

"Delorian, huh?" Xander asked with a chuckle. "Don't tell me, *I* named you."

Delorian purred her agreement, putting her paws up on Xander's chest and bumping her head beneath Xander's chin.

"She missed you, too," Spike said from beside him.

Xander looked over at him, tried to read the expression on his face. He hadn't always been able to read Spike's emotions very well, but now it seemed so much easier. Spike was hesitant to push too far, hurting from the situation they were both faced with, and he was putting on a brave, nonchalant front. Xander wanted to reach out to him, but his mind was warring with that emotion.

Instead, Xander motioned to the chair beside him. "Sit with me?"

Spike didn't have to be asked twice. He took the seat next to Xander and lit a cigarette. It felt comfortable, familiar, and *right*, somehow.

Xander stared out into the small backyard.

"My dad hated cats," Xander said, almost to himself. "Wouldn't ever let me own a pet. I always wanted one, but ..."

"I know," Spike said, just as quietly.

"I think about this life. This house. What it must have been to finally leave there, to strike out on my own ..."

"You loved it," Spike said simply.

Xander was quiet for a few minutes, just idly petting Delorian, scratching under her chin and around her ears when she demanded.

"Tell me about it?"

Spike seemed to know exactly what Xander was asking, and he talked about the moving, about the two of them carting boxes from basement to crypt to the house. About the house hunting itself, and about Xander's job. He talked about Isadore and Javier, and barbeque afternoons with Willow and Xander's friends from work.

While Spike talked, Xander watched him. He heard the pride in Spike's voice, and he realized he'd never really heard that from any man other than Giles. Xander's eyes roamed over Spike's face, taking in the way his lips moved, smiled, smirked, or when they just moved from normal talking. They looked soft. *Kissable.*

Xander bit his lip, wondering what it had been like to have that mouth on him. He swallowed, hard, trying to get his thoughts away from *that*, but his body disobeyed. He could feel his heart rate speed, and there was a warmth deep down inside him, different from affection. He recognized it as want, and he cleared his throat.

"Was I happy?" Xander asked, interrupting Spike's monologue of memories.

Spike seemed to take a deep breath. "Yeah." He opened his mouth to say more. His eyes burned with knowing, with hope, but the sound of a cell phone stopped whatever he'd been about to say.

The ring tone made Xander smile. *It's the end of the world as we know it ...* cut off when Spike fished the phone out of his pocket. "It's Willow," Spike explained, looking disappointed. Xander was glad for the interruption. He wasn't ready for whatever was happening between the two of them.

Xander waved for Spike to answer the phone. He watched as Spike's demeanor changed, turning a little protective and affectionate as he talked to Willow. It was nice, Xander realized, to see Spike's attitude toward his friend. Spike's friend. Xander felt happy that Willow had someone else who loved and cared about her as much as he did. And he was also happy for Spike, because now he understood that Spike needed this. A family. Friends. And Xander was a big part of it all. He tested that thought out, and found he didn't mind it at all. Not when he could see this side of Spike, this caring, thoughtful person who was so much more than a demon, so much more than a man.

"Alright, see you birds in a few, then," Spike was saying. He pushed a button on the phone and put it down, looking over at Xander. "Now, where were we?"

Xander shook his head. "No more right now, okay?" he said. The look of disappointment in Spike's eyes was almost painful. "But later. I know we need to talk. I just ... I think I've had enough for now."

Spike nodded. His hand reached out to Xander, slowly, as if he was afraid of a bad reaction. Xander gave him a small, hesitant smile, and that's when Spike's hand rested on his arm.

"Later," Spike agreed, his thumb brushing over Xander's skin gently. Xander felt almost lightheaded.

*

The "someone" Buffy had called from LA was none other than Wesley, Ex-Nerdy Uptight Watcher Wesley. He wasn't anything like Xander remembered, and he instantly recognized him as the man in the photo with Buffy that hung in the hallway.

If the complete change in looks and demeanor weren't enough to shock him, the obvious mutual affection and love between the former Watcher and Buffy certainly was.

"Don't you think it's weird ..." Xander whispered to Willow.

"Not as weird as you and Spike," she whispered back.

Xander glanced over at a much-improved, sexily sprawling Spike and blushed. He dropped the subject and listened to what Wesley was saying.

"From what you've found out, and from the description of the protection spells Willow has given me, I have managed to narrow our demon search down to these possible culprits." He gestured to a stack of books on the coffee table that looked like they were going to topple over any second. Xander groaned.

What followed was so painfully familiar to Xander that he felt he was back in high school during one of Giles's marathon research sessions. The hours droned on and on, and everyone seemed to be blinking themselves awake every few minutes. Where was the sudden epiphany? Where was the Big Clue that would help the Scooby gang finally solve the big case? And where the hell was the onion dip?

After a while, Xander was just turning pages without even looking at what was on them. What good would any of this do, anyway? They knew nothing, except that whatever Baddie terrorizing the town was smart, mean, and insidious.

From the book Xander held, and image seemed to jump out at him, it was so intense. For a minute there, he thought he'd fallen asleep and was having that same nightmare again. He blinked his eyes, looked around, and no, he wasn't sleeping. It was real.

"I found it," he said quietly. Then, as his excitement grew, "I found it!"

"What, love?" Spike asked.

"The demon?" Wesley asked. "You've discovered the ..."

They were all hovering around him now, and Xander pointed to the illustration he'd found. "This is it!"

"How can you be sure?" Wesley inquired.

"I know." Xander didn't want to explain about his dream. It was bad enough he was now Amnesia Boy, he didn't need any more labels like Amnesiac Prophetic Dreamer Kid With Possible Brain Damage.

"If Xander says he knows," Spike said meaningfully, "then I think we should listen to him."

Xander blinked at the blind faith in his voice.

"Let me take a look at that," Wesley said. He went over the text, turned a few pages. "Well, if this is indeed our demon, there's a simple solution to our problem. But I'd like Willow to cast this," he pointed to a spell, "to be absolutely sure."

Willow looked over his shoulder and nodded. "We'll need one of his cronies."

"That'll be easy enough," Buffy said. "The whole town's crawling with them." She made a face. "And when I say crawling, I'm not exaggerating. There's some icky little things in the sewers that just ..." She completed her thought with a disgusted shiver.

"Right then." Spike was already up and headed to the weapons chest.

"Whoa, there, guy," Xander said, jumping up and taking Spike by the arm. "Not you. You're still not ..."

Spike gave Xander a gentle look. "It's okay, love," he reassured. "I'm well enough to pick up a little lizard demon from the sewer."

Xander shook his head, remembering Spike's wounds, his pain, the days and nights of feeling absolutely helpless in the face of it all. "Please. Don't. Not yet."

Coming a little closer, Spike looked into Xander's eyes and slowly nodded. "I'm not fragile, you know," he said. "But I bloody well understand the sentiment, and I'm willing to sit this one out. For you. But not for much longer, alright?"

Xander averted his eyes but he squeezed Spike's bicep, then ran his thumb under the edge of Spike's tee-shirt there. The skin felt cool, and whole, and the muscle underneath was strong and tight. "I'm sorry I ..."

"Shh, love," Spike whispered, for Xander's ears alone. "I know."

***

Although it couldn't possibly take the rest of them just to pick up one little lizard-like Garro demon, Spike and Xander were left alone in the house for what seemed like the first time in way too long. Xander wondered how he'd gone from 'wanting to avoid Spike at all costs' to 'needing some alone time with the vampire sorta-boyfriend' in such a short period. It wasn't just one thing, Xander mused, but a compilation of events, feelings, and almost-memories. Speaking of ...

"Spike?" Xander said as they sat on the couch. "I remembered something, when you were .. hurt."

Spike's eyes widened and Xander could read him now, could see all the hope behind his smile. "Yeah?"

"I was sick and you were ... taking care of me. I mean, it was just a flash, but ..."

He was wrapped up in Spike's arms in no time at all. "I figured, after you started acting different," Spike murmured against his hair. "Thank bloody Christ. You're comin' back to me, Xan."

It felt good and right to be held by Spike, familiar and yet not, comforting and uncomfortable at the same time.

Xander was the one to finally pull away. "I want to come back," he said softly, averting his eyes. "I want to, but it's still scary, and most of the time I don't know what I'm feeling or thinking or ..."

"All twisted up inside, aren't you, love?" Spike sounded pretty conflicted himself.

Xander shrugged and stared at the still-standing Christmas tree, at the brown needles sprinkling the carpet and the unopened presents. "We gonna have Christmas any time soon?"

Spike smiled. "Guess we should."

Hopping off the couch, Xander turned the tree lights on and started sorting presents. "Hmm. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the ones to you are wrapped a little funky. But I wouldn't have thought you'd wrap so nice and neat."

"Hey!" Spike had an offended look on his face, but his eyes were sparkling like the lights on the tree.

Xander grinned at him and handed him a gift. "I know these should come in some kind of order, but since I don't remember ..."

"Doesn't matter," Spike said, but then contradicted himself immediately by saying, "You open the red one first."

Xander was more interested in the things he would give Spike, but he didn't mention that. He opened his own gift – the red-wrapped one – and grinned. "A level?" He tipped it up and down, watching the perfect measured green liquid and round little bubbles.

Spike looked sheepish. "Broke your last one over some demon's head. Sorry 'bout that."

"And what did I get you?" Xander asked between snickers.

"Pens," Spike said simply, but his eyes were on the box he now held in his lap.

"Pens?" Xander hopped off the floor and back over to the sofa to investigate. "Ooh, a calligraphy set. This something you ... like?" It was obvious from the way Spike's hands ran over the box that it was.

"Yeah, love, It's ... bloody wonderful."

Xander smirked and teased him. "Was that sarcasm or genuine sentiment there?"

Spike smiled and gave Xander a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Bloody wonderful."

In the next half hour, Spike received:

3 CDs by bands Xander had never heard of
2 leather-bound journals
1 fancy-looking sword in a fancy-looking case
1 gift certificate to a custom leather shop that had Spike blushing and glancing over at a present still unopened under the tree
1 silver ring engraved with 'To My Big Bad'
1 pair of bad-ass looking Doc Martens

Xander received:

2 CDs by bands/artists he recognized and liked
2 CDs by bands Spike assured him he liked, or would like, once he listened to them
1 wallet with a cozy picture of Spike and Xander inside
1 gift certificate to Xander's favorite hardware store
1 black leather tool belt that Xander was pretty sure was not meant to be worn outside of the house

Xander also received two very sweet kisses and one lingering one that left him breathless and panting and wanting, which from the look on Spike's face was exactly the correct response.

Spike took a candy cane off the tree, unwrapped it, and slipped it between Xander's swollen lips. That was like a kiss, too. "Happy Christmas, love."

Even though he was sure their belated holiday would have been ten times better – and a lot more naked – if he'd had his memories back, Xander smiled. "Merry Christmas, Spike."