"Or maybe I shouldn't because there really aren't any women around. Do you see any women?"

The street was almost deserted, only a few people in the distance and Xander couldn't tell their gender.

"Okay, I put on the jacket, find a pretty girl and see what happens. Just for the sake of science. Right?"

Xander wasn't sure if he was trying to talk himself into this or out of this. The only person around was Spike. Okay, well he'd put on the jacket; they'd walk a while, and run across some women.

Xander looked at the jacket; he wasn't even sure it would fit. Briefly he wondered if it could adjust sizes like the clothes in Back to the Future II.

"It's our lives that are magic." He found himself saying. "Lance's and mine. He has my life and I guess I have his. Lance had everything in school, I thought when we went to his place he'd be successful, or rich or anything but living in Pizza Barn Loser Land. And me, I'm a foreman, I've got an apartment...sure it comes complete with insane souled vampire but that's a Sunnydale perk right?" Xander stopped walking, his voice softened. "It's just, our lives switched after high school. And I am the man with the plan." He looked at Spike "When did that happen?"

Xander looked at the jacket and thought of Cordelia. He'd seen her wearing a jacket like this, seen her from far away: smiling and swinging her hair, flirting in that special Cordelia way. In his mind's eye she turned and looked at him, and it was like all the times before they'd kissed. They would be standing close, bickering and arguing and the air would change, it would become denser, thicker, and the world would tilt. Xander had felt like he was on his tiptoes and off balance about to fall into a kiss. Then the air would clear and the world would right itself and reality would pull him back, mostly. After that first kiss, it was never like that again, but it wasn't scary, dancing on the edge of a kiss.

He hadn't felt like that with Willow. With Willow it had been like a car crash, where everything seems to be in slow motion, but in reality it's going so fast there's no time to stop. Except maybe with Willow it was the opposite, they went so slow that it felt like superspeed.

"So, I put on the jacket and..."

Xander knew what would happen, here and now; this wasn't some random girl, it was Spike. Xander couldn't deny it to himself anymore. Because with Spike he didn't have to stand close to feel the air get heavy or the world go askew; he could stand on the other side of the room, or he could look and---

Who here hasn't had sex? Nancy had asked and he'd caught Spike's gaze and the look was meant to be "god! not us." but it was more like "god, not us" and it wasn't like dancing on the edge of a kiss, it was better and it was one more time--of how many times?---that Xander looked at Spike. That was what this was about: his attraction, their attraction. Which was so wrong it could never be right.

Because Spike was a killer and Spike tried to rape Buffy and it didn't matter that he had a soul, or that he was insane. And Xander believed in karma, because all of his bad karma was being repaid with Spike in his apartment and the way they worked so well together tonight and none of that mattered. Because Xander didn't care, he didn't. If Buffy had let him, Xander would have gone after Spike, he would have tied him down and waited for sunrise to burn him. And how can he feel anything but hate? It wasn't love, it couldn't be. It was lust and Xander knew lust, it burned through him with Cordelia and nearly destroyed everything and Anya...that wasn't lust it was love but love can't always be enough. And this, now, was lust. And if he put on the jacket and something happened, if Xander let it, then he was a hypocrite and a liar. He could say "I don't remember" or he could say "I didn't know" but inside he'd know, just like he still had all the memories from the hyena inside him.

The night he'd found Buffy, scared and bruised in her bathroom, he'd dreamed. He was hunting, running in the night, following the scents and sounds, and then Buffy found him. She smelled of power and fear, and it made Xander's blood rush and his mouth water. He'd wanted Buffy; he wanted her power. They were in the classroom, fighting for dominance, just like it had been. Then Buffy was wearing her thin green robe and she was struggling against Xander, clawing at him, begging him to stop, reeking of fear. It was a rush and a pleasure. And then they were in Buffy's bathroom. Xander looked up, laughing, and caught his face in the mirror and he'd seen Spike.

He could put on the jacket and have his moment with Spike, just once, to get Spike out of his system. No one would know, and Spike wouldn't tell. Even if Spike told who would believe him? Spike was insane and everyone knows Xander hates vampires, especially Spike. It would be so easy to lie. Except he would know. Every time he looked at them, Xander would know: we kissed, we fucked, I lied. Xander knew better, he was one of the good guys. So if Xander fucked Spike then he was worse than Spike, because he had a choice between good and evil.

"There's no one around and we know what will happen: put on the jacket and there will be attraction. We just need to destroy it." Xander stared at the street sign, not looking at Spike; they were closer to Buffy's than he'd realized, almost to her street.

"Don't come with me." He told Spike, "Go...somewhere. Buffy has Dawn to worry about, she doesn't need you around as well."

After a moment he heard "Yeah, right".

Xander stood there and listened to Spike walk away. He turned the corner and walked down Revello Drive.

you wore your jacket like shield of honor

Quick beta, like 'a' shield.

He regretted not bringing the car, it was taking time to get back and he was stuck with Spike and he couldn't stop thinking. "We should get this back to Willow and Buffy right away."

Should the stuff in quotes be another paragraph?

Also, YAY!

I fucking love this fic!

Okay fixed.

LOVE it, Ali. I mean it. You are really defining Xander for me... Or, at least, his lust for Spike.

I just hate it when Xander gets rational and strong and walks away. Uncooperative beast.

I know, connie. It's hard.. t snickers uncontrollably

But what do you have Xander up to? Hmm?

Originally this was supposed to be a short pwp with alleyway sex, but Xander talked himself right out of that.

Originally this was supposed to be a short pwp with alleyway sex, but Xander talked himself right out of that.

This happens. Which is why so far I have:

He waited until the man was several blocks from the hotel before confronting him. That way, he couldn't call out for the others. Isolate them: the first rule of the hunt. The man moved differently than he had when afflicted; there was grace and confidence where before Connor had sensed unease and discomfort. He still sensed discomfort, but this time, it was of the mind, not the body.

There was no surprise in the opaque blue of the man's eyes when Connor landed in front of him, just a dull recognition a stranger should not have had. Yet he knew Cordelia, so perhaps he was no stranger after all. He hadn't seen him during the summer with Fred and Gunn, but that just meant he was free from their influence. Good. He could provide Connor with answers Fred and Gunn would withold, thanks to their foolish choice of loyalties.

"Make it quick. I haven't time for this." The voice held the promise of England, his father's land.

Connor smiled. "Did he hurt her?"

"Cordelia? No. Are we through?" The man turned his head in dismissal, and the glow of the streetlights caught the jagged mark at the side of his throat.

"Your wound, was it from an honorable battle?"

The eyes turned from ice to fire, like those of a cornered beast. "Honorable? What a funny word for it."

"Were you protecting something?"

Harsh laughter split the air. "Nothing," he spat, "of import."

"Yet you protected it still, like they do Angelus."

"Yes," the man said quietly. "Like they do Angelus."

The words held meanings tangled like ivy in underbrush. Nothing so simple as hatred in them. Resignation, anger, pain, loss, love.

"What are you to them?"

"A fall-back, nothing more. You have more standing with them than I, I fear, even with all that you've done."

"I did what was necessary. Someday, when the beast shows his true face, they'll understand."

"Will they, now?"

Wry tones, a challenge and chastisement in one. Connor bristled.

"They will." He hoped he sounded strong, certain.

"Do you really believe that?"

Connor said nothing.

"Smart boy. You must have gotten it from your mother."

"What do you know of my mother?" Connor spat.

"More than I care to, I'm afraid, but that's really none of your concern, now is it?"

Connor moved closer, until the man was backed against the alley wall, his eyes still watching Connor as though he were some sort of insect. It was a look Connor had seen on dozens of faces, but that didn't mean it was one he would accept without question.