Title: Missing Time
He’s not sure how he ended up here. It seems hours since he walked into the Bronze. His skin crawled with claustrophobia, desperate to get out of Xander’s apartment. Spacious as it may have seemed to the boy, Spike was used to a lot more space of his own. A linen closet turned bedroom could hardly suffice.
He remembers a blonde girl, a drink that was for some reason very blue, but he in no way remembers any chain of events that would lead him back to Harris’ apartment, let alone the much larger master suite. There were times, a few years during King George’s reign that events might have culminated in another man’s bed, but this, he stared at the sleeping man beside him, this was too much.
“Where are you going?” Xander mumbled as Spike slid to the side of the bed, trying to be quiet but unable to stop the little curses that escaped his lips.
“Back to my room,” Spike answered, looking around for his clothes, to no avail. “Where are my underpants?”
“You said you didn’t wear them when you went out to get laid,” Xander said, slowly sitting up in the bed. “You said it was just a waste of time and laundry detergent to bother.”
“I never said that,” Spike said, completely unsure of whether he’d said it or not.
“Um, yeah, I was there.” Xander wiped the sleepy sand from his eyes and tried to focus on the issue at hand, “Between the dancing and the tequila, or maybe that was the other way around,” Xander said, waving his index finger in the air like he was winding the hands of a clock.
“I don’t remember the dancing, or the tequila,” Spike said, suddenly a little frantic.
“How about the sex?” Xander said, a look that might have been hurt covering his face.
“What sex?” Spike asked, quite certain he didn’t want the answer.
“The sex you said was unforgettable,” Xander said, suddenly looking less hurt and more pissed. “As in, ‘god it’s been years since I did this, you’re so’…”
“What?” Spike ran fingers through his hair, painfully aware that no gel impeded his fingers, meaning that at some point during the night he had got wet.
“After the shower,” Xander glared at him, “You really don’t remember?”
“No, I would remember if you and I had, oh god.”
“Exactly,” Xander said, throwing the covers off, “Oh god, Xander you’re so tight, stunning cock on you really.”
“Oh god,” Spike repeated.
“That’s it, I’m staking you.”
Xander slowly crept to the side of the bed, which only seemed to fuel his anger, but as Spike watched, he knew the boy couldn’t be lying. He recognized that morning after being buggered walk. He’d marched it many a time himself in his early years with Angelus.
“Wait,” Spike said, throwing his hands up, unable to stand the sloth-like movements of the boy, “How about we just, I mean, you just forget what happened last night, since I already have,” Spike said, tilting his head to the side like maybe the movement could restore his memory, “and we’ll just pretend it never happened.”
“We could do that,” Xander growled, finally finding the strength to stand. “Or you could get on your knees and we’ll just have a little reenactment, see if we can’t jog something loose in that head of yours?”
“Um,” Spike’s jaw dropped open and closed a few times. He was quite sure no amount of blackout juice could have got him on his knees for Xander.
“I mean in reverse,” Xander said, taking a few steps towards the confused vampire. “We’ll call it atonement.”
“God, I hate it when Angel’s right,” Spike muttered.
“What’s that,” Xander said, eyes widening as Spike slowly dropped to his knees.
“Atonement’s a bitch.”