Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their. They. He kept thinking 'they.'

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

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

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

No response. Silence.

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

Spike hated silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're joking, right?"

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

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

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

"Oh bloody hell."

"So what do you remember?"

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

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

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

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

"Ander Harris?"

"No, you pillock. Xander Harris."

"It sounded like you said..."

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

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

"Why was it empty?"

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

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

"Uh ... voyage of discovery?"

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

"What business in the dark?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Could you just please shut the fuck up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spike looked away. "No."

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What were we doing in a closet?"

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

"Yep."

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

Spike only raised an eyebrow.

"Tickled each other's Elmo?"

Spike was rolling his eyes now.

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

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

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

Spike smirked again. "Be glad to demonstrate."

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

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

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

"Shame."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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