“Oh yeah? How’s Boston? Is there snow? I love snow—in small quantities and when there’s a beach near by!” Her laughter tickled his ears and sent all of his blood rushing towards his nether regions. Gods above, she was beautiful, sitting there on their bed, golden hair cascading down her back and shining in the lamp light. Delectable, was what she was. And she was all his.

“So you’re gonna bring me back a gift, right? Like a Harvard t-shirt or something brainy.” He slipped in behind her and started laying small kisses on her neck, the water from his hair dripping on her with abandon.

“Um…yeah,” Buffy said, trying to ignore the sensations running through her body. She swatted him away, her attempts half-hearted at best.

“What? I’m, I mean I—“ He bit down on her ear and pulled it into his warm mouth, a smile sliding across his face when he heard her sharp gasp. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go!”

Buffy threw the phone on the bedside table and attacked him, pushing him back on the bed and straddling his lean hips.

“You interrupted my conversation,” she said with a pout.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Spike promised, his eyes completely unrepentant. He claimed her mouth in the most innocent, tantalizing kiss that left her gasping for more.

“Promise?” she asked a bit breathlessly, her eyes fixed on those luscious, full lips. Lips of Spike. Yummy.

“Strip,” Spike ordered, his eyes promising her the world, shucking his own pants. Buffy smiled and made a production of getting off of Spike, making sure to rub against the considerable hardness she could see tenting his soft pants. He growled at the saucy minx as she slowly unbuttoned every bloody little button that held her shirt to her body.

“I’d go faster if you want your clothes in one piece!” he snarled, his eyes following her fingers, soaking up every delicious bit of skin she revealed. She arched one eyebrow at him and pursed her lips in displeasure.

“Patience is a virtue. And destroying my clothes will not get you laid,” she informed him primly. Spike was just about to argue with her, when her voice turned husky. “It may get you spanked.” He let out a low, appreciative chuckle at that. Maybe later. For now, he was way too preoccupied with the gentle swell of her breasts. He really wanted a taste of those. She finished taking off the shirt, showing off her red lace bra.

“Fuck,” Spike whispered. Red. She was wearing red. Red lace. With exaggerated slowness, she slipped her pants down her legs, showing off the matching panties…also red lace. Buffy’s only response was a small smile and a slow twirl.

“Buffy.” Spike’s voice was strained with arousal. Buffy crawled onto the bed, facing Spike on her knees. She grinned, and the voice she used would have made the most devoted man come crawling to her.

“You want me?” She turned over, settling on her hands and knees. She looked around, her ass waving enticingly in the air, and fixed Spike with a challenging stare. “Come and get me.”

Spike growled and lunged for her, his brain screaming “take girl now!” His body crashed into hers, sending her surging forward before she could catch her balance. With a low, deadly chuckle, he ran his hands over the curves of her body, enjoying the way her muscles jumped at his touch.

“Oh, I want you, kitten. I want you in so many ways. I want you like this,” he murmured, running one hand over her ass and cupping her mound. He grinned at her gasp; that was his girl, always ready. “I want you under me, moaning an’ writhin’ and beggin’ me to fuck you raw. I wan’ you over me, ridin’ me into the mattress, squeezin’ me till I pop like warm champagne.” Buffy’s breathing was getting faster, her body responding to his touch and his words.

Spike gathered her golden hair in his hands and carefully pulled back, taking care not to hurt her…too much. Buffy’s head was as far back as it would go, her neck taught and bare. Spike licked a possessive path up her neck, struggling for control. Gods, she’d be the death of him! He reached down to tease her slit, but her hands were already there. He growled, pressing himself closer to her back.

“You were…taking…too long,” she gasped out, her tone teasing.

“I’ll show you long!” he threatened. He ripped her underwear away, a part of him mourning the lost scrap of lace. But even that wasn’t enough to distract him. With a growl, he thrust into her. Buffy gasped at feeling so completely filled and moved her hips back, urging him deeper. Spike gripped her hips, hard enough that he was bound to leave marks, and began thrusting into her.

Buffy clutched the sheets, trying to ride the waves of pleasure every stroke of Spike’s beautiful cock brought. He was brushing the most intimate parts of her, coaxing her body into a frenzy. She couldn’t move; Spike had an iron grip on her hips. She was at his mercy.

“Harder!” she commanded, her hips seeking the delicious friction that would send her spiraling into her orgasm. “More!” With a dark chuckle, Spike threw his entire body into her, forcing her flat on the bed with a muffled ‘umph!’

“You’re not in charge right now,” he whispered in his ear. His laugh turned into a moan when Buffy started wiggling underneath him, his throbbing cock still firmly nestled in her quim. “Naughty girl.” Her muffled giggled made her smile.

With exaggerated slowness, he began thrusting shallowly, torturing her as much as himself. It was just enough that Buffy could feel him, feel the friction, but not enough that it gave her any sort of satisfaction.

“Spike!” she gasped, her tone pleading.

“Yes?” he asked innocently. Without warning, he drove in all the way.

“Spike!” It was a shriek this time. He pulled back to do it again, but Buffy was too quick for him. Using those incredible muscles that drove him crazy, he found himself flat on his back, Buffy straddling his hips facing away from him.

“Now pet, thi-hi-hi-haaaaaaaa!” He lost his train of thought, completely lost his ability to think when Buffy impaled herself on him and squeezed. She set a blazing pace, bouncing on top of him, her breasts moving in hypnotic ways. With a sinister smile, Buffy reached down and fondled Spike’s balls. He jackknifed up, forcing himself further into Buffy’s sopping center, swallowing her cry with a brutal kiss. They were moving frantically now, their pants and gasps harsh and loud in the still room. Buffy gripped Spike’s shoulder, her nails biting into the flesh.

“Gonna come,” she gasped. Spike grinned ferally at her, and bent to suck on one stiff nipple. He pinched her clit, hard enough to send her skittering head-first into an orgasm. “FUCK SPIKE!” she screeched, chomping down on his ear. The pain shot through Spike, and he splintered under its onslaught. He yelled something unintelligible, before collapsing, Buffy on top of him.

“Jesus,” he murmured, and started laughing. “That much fun has to be sinful!” Buffy propped her head up and grinned at him.

“Yeah? Want a spanking?”

With a breathless chuckle, Spike rolled them over so her was leaning over Buffy’s satiated body and grabbed the forgotten phone off the bedside table.

“Hope you’re enjoyin’ Boston, tosser. Stay as long as y’like, I’ve a girl to ravish.” With that, he hung up the phone and turned his attention to the giggling girl beneath him.

“That wasn’t very nice Spikey,” she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

“Yeah, s‘pose I’ll have to pay for that…eventually. Now about that spanking…” Spike said with an anticipatory grin, before capturing Buffy’s kiss-swollen lips again.

888 888 888

Will stared at the phone in his hand, his brain short-circuiting and his dick still hard and angry. That was so unfair!

Spike trudged up to his room, a scowl etched on his face. Soddin’ business trip. He was stuck in the middle of fuck wit no where without Will OR Buffy to keep him company. Or keep him occupied. And he’d end up having to ignore the randy people propositioning him at the conference tomorrow night. And the mixer after? He groaned in pain. This trip was going to be AWESOME.

With a resigned sigh, he opened his bags. At least unpacking would take care of a few minutes. He froze and cocked his head to the side. There as a box. A plain, white box sitting on top of his clothes. He picked it up and turned it over. There, in Will’s neat, precise handwriting, was a message in red.

Open Me.

With a small smile, Spike opened the box. There was an envelope and a plastic package inside. He opened the note first.

Use Me.

Buffy’s slightly bubbly lettering brought a smile to his lips. He sniffed the note, catching a faint whiff of her smell. Interest piqued, Spike opened his package and pulled out a brand new webcam. A slow smile accompanied his dawning understanding, before he made a mad dash to his computer.

He had it booting and plugged in in under two minutes. The computer booted out of hibernation and Spike had to grip the desk to keep upright. There, sprawled across his desktop, was a picture of Buffy in the middle of had to be one hell of an orgasm. Spike whimpered.

A window popped up, and Spike found himself staring at more still images of Buffy, in various stages of arousal. He scrolled through the fames, his mind blank and mouth dry. The last frame was a photograph of a note, and it took Spike a good minute to calm down enough to read it.

Call Slayer for more.

Spike laughed at that, and double clicked on his brand new contact list.

“About time,” a cross voice said. A disgruntled, pouting Will appeared on screen. “Chits been making me WAIT for you.” Spike smiled and pressed his tongue behind his teeth.

“I’m worth waiting for,” he said with confidence. Will arched an eyebrow.

“Only a little bit,” a muffled voice said off screen. Spike was entirely unprepared for Buffy to come crawling up Will’s lap, her hair mussed and clad only in a familiar lacy red ensemble. His eye glazed over and what was left of his blood rushed to his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Buffy just grinned.

“Suppose we can get this started then, luv,” Will purred, his hands exploring Buffy’s curves, teasing the golden skin Spike so ached to touch himself. Buffy leaned back against Will, her body flush to his, grinning at Spike’s image on the computer screen. He looked so tortured. She gave him a perfect view of what he could have were he not miles and miles away.

Will ran his hands down Buffy’s body, teasing her, exploring her, relearning curves he knew as well as his own. He made her gasp and moan and writhe on his lap, feeling her wetness against his leg. His hands and lips worshiped her most sensitive areas, the places that were begging for his attention.

“Will!” she gasped out, grinding her lace-covered ass into him.

“Yes, kitten?” he purred innocently.

“Bastard.” The effect was a bit lacking because he chose that moment to brush against her needy clit. It came out as more of a gasped plea for more.

Will pushed her to the edge, but held back from anything more. He kept her hips still, preventing her from finding any more friction, and ignored her curses. He was waiting for her when she finally decided to take matters into her won hands. He pushed the large rolling computer chair back as she turned around.

Eyeing Will distrustfully, Buffy slipped out of her underwear, but kept the bra on at his request. He made sure he was in profile to the camera sending their fun, and then turned his attention back to Buffy and her beautiful, muscular build. His erection jerked towards her, a testament to what the sight of her could do to a man. She approached him slowly, and straddled him, sliding her legs through the arms of his chair.

He could feel her slick heat hovering above him. He looked into her eyes, the intensity he always felt sending a jolt through him. She took his throbbing member in his hand, stroking him to further—impossible—hardness. He moaned when she tightened her hold, twisting the rigid flesh in her grasp. With a smile, she used his velvet tip to stimulate her clit, gasping at the feeling. Will moaned, gripping her hips and watching Buffy use his dick to get herself off.

Will almost came when Buffy unexpectedly impaled herself on his thick member, the surprise of being enveloped by her heat a shock to his system. But he held on, barely, burying his face in the crook of her neck and thinking about whatever non-sexy things he could come up with. When he breathing had evened out a little, Buffy started moving, causing it to fluctuate erratically again.

Buffy gave a small sigh at having him in her. He stretched her, touched places within her that were sinful and sent her straight to heaven. She lowered her feet to the floor, and used the leverage to give her greater thrusting power. She pushed herself up until Will was almost completely out of her, before dropping her full weight onto him. It caused Will’s hard prick to brush against the opening of her womb.

“Fuckin’ell Buffy!” Will mumbled, clenching his eyes shut and trying to hold on for her.

“Look at me,” she commanded, and blue eyes clashed with emerald green. He watched her eyes grow cloudy as his cock stroked her innermost places, going deeper with each thrust. He watched her breath hitch as he fondled her clit, and savored the look of pleasure when one finger slid into her puckered hole. And he watched as she hovered on the precipice of orgasm, babbling for him to do whatever it took to push her over, to let her cum. He watched as his firm rub sent her flying.

She came for what seemed like for ever, her muscles spasming with release, the pleasure echoing through her body and building upon itself with every wave. Will kept up his relentless touching, forcing her to keep going.

“Stop! Can’t!” she gasped, her eyes unseeing.

“Won’t. Can!” he growled, thrusting sharply into her quim and tweaking her clit again. She shattered, her orgasm sharper and harder than the last, a silent scream on her perfect lips

Will held on for as long as he could, but his own orgasm claimed him in the end. He gasped Buffy’s name as he lost himself in her, her heat and clutching muscles the only thing in his world. He saw stars, delicious beautiful starts, before darkness claimed him.

When he came around, Buffy was slumped over him, his spent member still surrounded by her inviting warmth. A sound for the direction of the computer drew his attention. He was transfixed by stormy blue eyes that socked up the scene before them like a man lost in the wasteland. With a smile, Will rolled them closer to the desk, careful not to jar his female blanket.

“Have a nice wank, ponce!” he said with a cheery smile. He hit disconnect with glee. Payback was a bitch.

“’twasn’t nice,” Buffy mumbled, too relaxed to really care, and Will could feel her grin against his shoulder.

“I’ll have to make it up to him,” Will said insincerely.

“Like he made it up to you?” Buffy said with a laugh in her voice. Will mock scowled as her and swatted her bum. He drew her legs around him, his half-erect member still buried in her depths, and he carried his little limpet to their bedroom with a satisfied smile.

---

A/N: Instead of having these all spread out everywhere, I'm consolidating them into one 'story' because it's just easier that way. So any more one-shots in the Twinletsverse and the like will be making their way here.

Will didn’t know what hit him. He blinked his bleary, unfocused eyes a few times trying to get them to focus on something, anything, before giving up. Besides, the images that danced behind his eyes were much more fun.

***

Buffy had decided she wanted to take her Twinlets out on the town. She’d booked a table in a nice restaurant, and picked up flowers on her way home from the dojo. She’d laid out her favorite outfits for Will and Spike with a cryptic note and rustled up everything she’d need to make her self ‘tarted up’ as her English boyos liked to say.

“Buffy’s gonna get some, Buffy’s gonna get some,” a smirking voice sang out. Buffy rolled her eyes and continued curling her hair. Faith could be such a child. “Damn, B. You’re lookin’ good. I’d like me some of that!”

“Robin starting to bore you then?” Buffy asked with a smirk. She set the hot iron down and admired her hair. For the first time in her life, it was actually working with her.

“Nah, we’ve just been…inspired by your current situation.” Buffy found Faith’s eyes in the mirror.

“Well I’ve gotta say…Spike and Will do have great…situations.” Buffy fought back her laugh as Faith processed that statement. She put on a light pink lip gloss as Faith began to put the dots together. She did laugh when her friend’s mouth dropped open in shock, and her eyes widened.

“You…I…Damn B! What have those guys done with my blushing, innocent blonde Barbie?!” Buffy let out a throaty, husky chuckle and packed up her stuff. She smiled, enjoying the wary, assessing gaze Faith was directing at her. She felt confident, sexy, and drop dead gorgeous at the moment. Nothing could stand in her way.

***

“Oi, git! Help me with my tie.” Spike glared at the offending little bugger in the mirror. Slender fingers danced over the silk, deftly slipping it into a Windsor knot. The fingers trailed over Spike’s neck, teasing the short hairs there. Spike leaned back into the body behind him.

“Return the favor?” was whispered in his ear. With a sigh, Spike turned and stroked the deep blue cloth draped around Will’s neck. He took each side and let them play across the sensitive pads of his fingers. He gently pulled the tie, using them like reins, making Will step towards him.

Their lips met gently, caressing and exploring, subtly seductive. Spike savored the feel of the silk under his fingers, the rich material of the expensive, tailored suit. Will’s hand skimmed over Spike’s ass, settling on the smooth curve of his lower back.

“Mind a third?” a husky voice broke in. Spike smiled, pulling away from Will’s lips.

“Always,” he murmured and promptly forgot how to breathe when he saw her.

She was wearing a black evening gown. The dress dipped between her breasts, showing off enough tan skin that it was obvious Buffy had no tan lines. The material gathered at the center and spiraled out, creating pleats that guided the eye down ward. The dress brushed the floor, but a slit went up the front of the dress…way up if the leg peeping tantalizingly out of it was any indication.

“Cor, pet,” Will whispered. His eyes had melted into that deep cobalt that signaled intense arousal in her Twinlets. Buffy’s blood red lips stretched into a smile.

“Ready to go?”

“After you,” Spike said with a lascivious grin.

***

Will tried to pin point where it had all gone so terribly, terribly right.

Dinner had been amazing. They’d been wined and dined by their fiery beauty, and whisked to the dance floor by a laughing Buffy. Will hadn’t even noticed how Spike and Buffy kept feeding him wine; his glass was never empty and always full. He didn’t even remember the trip home.

They arrived back at the apartment, happy and content. Buffy put on some music and drew Will into a dance. They were dancing closely with each other when another hand settled on his hip, the other stretching to settle on Buffy’s. He turned and sought out his oldest lover’s full lips.

Buffy smiled as her men shared a moment, using Will’s distraction to loosen his tie, placing small kisses on his neck. She draped the tie over her own neck, enjoying the contrast between the brilliant blue and seductive black of her dress. Her nimble fingers unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Will moaned when Buffy’s fingers trailed over his chest, exploring every dip, the outline of every muscle. He gasped when her fingers found his nipple, feeling them harden under her skillful attentions. Spike’s hands pulled his shirt out of his pants, fingers caressing his stomach. The skin underneath flexed away from his touch, even as Will tried to get closer.

Spike released Will’s lips, turning his attention to the sensitive skin behind Will’s ear. He brushed a kiss behind it, and trailed down to where his shoulder started. With a wicked smile, Spike bit down.

“FUCK!” Will nearly screamed. The flair of pain cut through the warm cocoon of pleasure the two of them had been building within him. The mood shifted from gentle seduction to frantic need. Buffy’s dress fell of her body, leaving her clad in a pair of dainty panties and killer black fuck me pumps. Will took a moment to admire her, feeling Spike still behind him. It was the texture of Spike’s shirt and tie that finally spurned Will into action. He turned, and began divesting his twin of his clothing as fast as he could.

He was side tracked when Buffy wrapped her nearly naked body around him, her hands teasing the buckle of his belt. He let out a shuddering breath, ignoring Spike’s chuckle. Large hands ran through his hair, messing up the gel and pulling gently so he was arched backwards. Spike licked the side of Will’s neck, savoring the salty taste. Will shuddered, his hands clutching at Spike’s broad back. Spike didn’t loosen his grip, plundering the submissive mouth beneath him.

Buffy stepped away and retrieved her small clutch, smiling when she found what she was looking for. She pressed it into Spike’s waiting hand and stepped back to watch her embracing twinlets. Jesus Christ they were hot. Buffy stepped out of her shoes and went to rejoin the party.

Will gave himself over to the sensations his lovers were creating in him—not that he had much choice. He somehow ended up naked, on his back, writing under their ministrations. They found every one of his sensitive spots, and a few more to boot. His nerve endings were on fire, every touch ratcheting his arousal to new heights.

He writhed as he was stretched and open, as four hands made him forget his name, their names, everything but the pulsing need with in him. He whimpered when the slick fingers were removed, and there was no more touching or tasting. His body felt numb and over stimulated all at once. He could feel the coarse thread of the carpet tickling his back, teasing his nerves. He wriggled, trying to find the warm bodies that had been distracting him so wonderfully.

“Shhhhh,” a comforting voice whispered. “We’ve got you.” He was swallowed, covered with wet heat that made him gasp and buck his hips. Red lips gasped in pleasure when he stroked the spongy place inside of her. He felt her inner muscles clench around him, and he almost lost himself. He let them manipulate his body, pull and push him into the positions they wanted…he belonged to them, was completely in their thrall.

Will whimpered when Spike pressed into him, slower than Will could stand. Spike refused to give in to him, slowly pushing in and out until he had the usually eloquent blonde whimpering. When his own body demanded satisfaction, he thrust sharply, angling so that he stimulated Will’s prostate. Will’s body tightened, his body hovering at the edge of the precipice. They’d messed with is senses and his head to the point where any coherent thought was a major accomplishment. Then they both moved and just breathing became an effort.

Buffy locked eyes with Spike, keeping the rhythm steady; his eyes were intense and filled with emotion. They moved in and around Will, who’s ragged breathing and wordless grunts were the only sounds in the room. A hand snaked around and began rubbing the tight bundle of nerves right above the place where Will’s straining cock was causing such delicious friction. Her eyes widened, but she kept Spike’s gaze. They rode Will in tandem, staving off his release. Woill grabbed Buffy and pulled her to him, his moans begging her for release even if he couldn't find the words. Buffy arched into him when he roughly grabbed her ass, urging her to quicker movements; she was sure to have a few bruises in the morning.

Spike’s coaxing circles around her clit suddenly became a hard, demanding touch that made her gasp and her body go rigid. He smirked at her as he rushed her towards her release, simultaneously increasing his pace within Will. He had them both writhing and at his mercy, and he loved it. He bent down and licked up Will’s neck, and buried his teeth into the chorded muscle. It was all Will needed to send him careening into a tumultuous orgasm that left him completely incapacitated, limbs twitching as aftershocks

Buffy held on, fighting her orgasm. There was no way Spike was going to win. Buffy wrapped her arms around Will, who was still riding out his wave of pleasure, and slid one finger into him. She had just enough time to see Spike’s surprised amazement before he firmly ground his thumb into her clit and sent her self control out the window with a cry.

When Will finally came around, his brain was slow and muddled; he realized that the last couple of hours were a bit blurry, but if he was reading the signals his body was sending him correctly…it had been one hell of a night.

---

A/N: I feel like I dropped the ball on this one a little, but it wasn't going to get better/change, so here it is.

“I wanna hear how it started,” Buffy said, stretching across her lovers. The three of them were naked, lounging in the afterglow.

“Think you were there for that, kitten,” Spike rumbled playfully.

“Not US,” Buffy said huffily. “You two. How’d it start?” Buffy could feel the silent communication between her twins. She was a little jealous, because they always seemed to know what the other was thinking, even without looking at each other.

“Well…”

************************ ~~ ************************

Will lay on his bed, throwing a plush ball against the wall. He caught it easily, throwing it back. It hit the wall with a soft sound and sped back at his head. He caught it deftly and chucked it as hard as he could, not even wincing when it bounced back and swept a glass off the bedside table. He glanced over to the empty bed on the other side of the room, where his brother should have been.

Should have been, but he was out carousing with his psychotic bitch of a girlfriend, Drusilla. Will really hated her. Like, a lot a lot. She was evil and without a doubt off her nutter. She’d been prancing through the room the other say murmuring about the pixies and Miss Edith, who was actually a Malibu Barbie with no psychic capabilities at all. She’d changed Will’s ‘James’ into Drusilla’s ‘Spike.’ While Will was rather fond of the bleached-blonde, bad boy image Spike had cultivated, going so far as to bleach his own hair, Drusilla was changing him in other ways.

Spike came home piss-drunk almost every night. And sometimes he was high on some drug or the other. His grades were slipping, and he was more obnoxious than normal. He kept withdrawing into himself, dividing his time between Drusilla, recovering from his hangover so he could drink again, and more time with Drusilla. It was obvious to everyone that Drusilla was ruining Spike’s life…everyone but Spike.

But for Will, the worst part was that Spike didn’t talk to him anymore. Mono-syllables and curt answers. Drusilla was his world now; he didn’t have time for anyone else, least of all his brother.

Will sighed, and rolled over, fighting down the swirl of emotions flowing through him. That strange feeling that would be jealousy if Spike had been anyone else. And something that couldn’t be heartbreak. He was so confused, and the one person he could talk to about anything in the world didn’t want anything to do with him.

***

Will was pulled out of his sleep when his bed started shaking and a voice started cursing…loudly. Will was trying to ignore his obviously drunk brother’s less than graceful entrance when a body slid into bed next to him; he froze, uncertain and slightly confused.

“Will?” Spike’s tremulous voice drifted to him, a whisper filled with hope, and Will could smell alcohol. He slowly rolled over and faced his brother. Spike’s wide, blue eyes were filled with pain and betrayal. With a cold sense of dread, Will realized that Spike knew, and it was over. He’d found out that Dru had been cheating on him the entire time they’d been together; that his ‘dark princess’ and ‘savior’ had been playing him for the fool all along. Without hesitation, Will opened his arms to his distraught twin and let him cry himself to sleep. Spike talked a good game, but when he loved, he loved with everything. Once you were Spike Giles’ friend, Lord help the person who messed with you, because Spike protected his own. He didn’t hold back; and Drusilla had used that against him.

***

Tingling warmth spread through Will as he slowly woke from the sleep-induced haze that surrounded him. A warm hand ran along his abs, and his morning erection throbbed painfully. Someone nuzzled into him, and soft lips caressed his throat. He arched up when the hand accidentally brushed the top of his cock. God, he needed some release! He moaned, and his eyes fluttered open to see who was teasing him so unmercifully.

His confusion lasted for as long as it took him to register the shock of white hair nestled under his chin. His arms were wrapped around Spike, holding him close, and Spike’s hands were wreaking havoc with his sensitized body.

Pain and despair fought with his intense arousal as he realized Spike probably thought he was waking up next to Drusilla. He should stop this, before Spike did something he’d regret. Will’s nipple was suddenly clenched between hard teeth, and Will couldn’t help the moaning gasp that came out of his mouth.

Will glanced down, afraid he’d woken his brother, but Spike settled deeper into his embrace, his head resting on Will’s chest and hand caught in the elastic waistband of Will’s sleep shorts. With a tortured sigh, Will let his head fall on the pillow, a wave of tears making his eyes water. The confused emotions he’d been feeling towards the man curled in his arms weren’t going away, and to get this while Spike sleepily thought he was Drusilla was just…tragically unfair.

Will held his breath when Spike shifted, throwing one leg over Will’s. This was murderous. Will was about to start extracting himself from his twin’s embrace when he heard it.

“Mmmm, Will.”

His entire body froze, his mind replaying what he’d just heard. That…that couldn’t be. He—no. No, there was no way Spike—the outgoing, athletic, sexy, ladies-man twin—could have said his name.

“Fuck.”

Will’s gaze snapped to the wide, cerulean blue eyes that were fixed on his own.

***

Spike was having another one of those dreams. One of those dreams that he didn’t talk about; one of those dreams that he only allowed himself to acknowledge or remember when he was alone or in the shower. Normally, he’d share everything with Will, but that wasn’t an option now. Not when the dreams were about him.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but he knew that it wasn’t going to stop. He’d tried. He’d tried so hard; he knew it was dirty, and wrong, and if Will ever found out, he’d leave him. And Spike couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t imagine life without his brother, couldn’t imagine living without him…couldn’t imagine doing and lot of things without him. And that was one of the problems.

In his dream, he was exploring Will’s body, running his hands over the muscles well-toned by their years of martial arts training. Spike liked watching the play of muscles when Will took off his shirt; it was one of his favorite parts of sparring. Spike planted a soft kiss on the warm chest below him, while his hand drifting lower, teasing the elastic waist-line of the soft sleeping pants Will always wore to bed.

Playfully, Spike nipped a nipple, pinching it with his teeth and soothing the abused bud with his tongue. Dream-Will moaned, and Spike smiled. He let out a breathy, contented sigh. He’d tried so bloody hard with Drusilla. When they’d met, Will had been dating some quite, mousy girl named Winifred. Spike had been insanely jealous, but he couldn’t DO anything about them. So when he ran into Dru, he thought he’d found the answer to his problems. He’d tried to relieve his tension by fucking her, but that had only satiated him for a little while. He’d started drinking to forget, and when that didn’t work, drugs. But nothing had driven thoughts of his twin from his mind.

He nuzzled into the body beneath him, but it felt…wrong. Rigid, tense. Spike suddenly became aware of someone breathing raggedly, and of the fast tattoo of a racing heart. He cracked one eye open and realized he hadn’t been dreaming. All of that…all of that had been real. He looked up, and saw his brother’s shocked gaze staring off into the distance.

“Fuck,” he said miserably, waiting for the inevitable reaction. He could only pray Da wouldn’t be brought into this. Will’s gaze snapped to his…and Spike was lost.

The look in Will’s eyes was one of…confusion, desire, shock, and denial in one neat little package. But he couldn’t…that was just wishful thinking on Spike’s part. Spike fought back the dread and tried to get out of the bed before Will’s rejection. He couldn’t handle it, not right now. He was still dealing with Dru’s fallout, because despite his increasing desires for something he couldn’t have, he had loved Dru…and she’d torn out his heart and stomped on it without even thinking about it.

When Will met Spike’s gaze, he was stunned by what he saw reflected in his twin’s eyes. There was longing there, and desire, but it was almost hidden by the panic and resignation. With shock, Will realized that Spike just might feel the same way he did. By the time he was done absorbing the implications of that, Spike was almost up and off the bed. With a low growl, Will grabbed his twin and threw him to the soft mattress.

Will pinned Spike’s hands above his head. Lean hips and muscular legs locked Spike’s lower body in place, preventing any movement. Uncertain eyes looked up at their captor, begging silently for some small mercy.

“An’ jus’ where’d ya think you were going?” Will asked, his eyes blazing. His accent was thick, coarser than Spike had ever heard it before. Spike felt a rush of arousal flow through him, but he was still on guard, not trusting what his instincts were telling him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly, closing his eyes so he could block out the world. For a split second, Will thought that maybe—just maybe—he had misinterpreted the entire situation. But the moment passed, and he was sure of what he’d seen in Spike’s eyes; he had to be sure, because what he wasn’t sure about was whether or not he’d be able to go back to the hellish limbo he’d been living in.

“Why?” It came out less confidant than Will had been going for, but it got Spike’s attention.

“Be…because I…” he trailed off, utterly confused by Will’s soft smile. This was not the grossed-out reaction he’d expected. Will seemed almost coy.

“Did nothing I didn’t want.” The admission was like a ton of bricks lifted off of his shoulders; his big secret was out, Spike knew. He just needed to react, respond, do SOMEHTING that would—mphf!

Soft lips pressed insistently on Will’s. They were hard and soft and giving and demanding all at once. It was heaven and hell and so deliciously good. He moaned and sank further into the kiss. He’d never experienced anything like it. He broke away when the need to breath became over whelming.

Will rested his forehead against Spike’s, trying to ignore the intense throbbing between his legs.

“So long!” Spike panted. But for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

“I know.” They kissed again, reveling in their new-found feelings, finally letting them run free after being bottled up for so long.

“Shirt off!” Will commanded, yanking the black tee over Spike’s head. He growled and licked his way down the bare chest before him. He teased Spike’s bellybutton, flicking his tongue in it, before moving back up for more kisses…when he saw something that made him see red and caused his blood to boil.

There, on Spike’s flawless alabaster skin, was a hickey, a remnant of the hold Drusilla had had on him. He didn’t hear the soft growl that erupted from his chest at the thought of someone else marking what was his.

Will’s growl broke through Spike’s sex-haze. He opened unfocused eyes and wondered what Will was staring so balefully at. Abruptly, he remembered the little ‘present’ Dru had left on him the other night. Will was glaring at it like it held all of the world’s problems.

“Will…” he ventured uncertainly, wondering what was going through his brother’s head. 99.6% of the time, they knew exactly what the other was thinking…but this was one of those grey areas where anything was possible.

“Mine,” Will growled, fixing Spike with a possessive look. Spike was floored by what he saw: heat, desire, passion, and possessiveness. It was extremely arousing, to know that someone felt that strongly about him.

“Yours,” he murmured affirmatively. With blinding speed, Will struck, biting and sucking on the side of Spike’s neck. A warm, rough hand snaked its way into Spike’s pants. The pain/pleasure mixture had him careening towards the edge. He whimpered when Will pulled away, only to let out a hoarse shout when his pants disappeared and a hot, willing mouth wrapped around his aching cock.

“FUCK!” He wasn’t going to last long; not with the object of his every wet dream playing out one of his fantasies. He’d had blowjobs before, but this…this was amazing. It was life-altering.

“G-g-gonna—ah!” He tried to warn Will, but as soon as he got the first word out of his mouth, Will took him down as far as he could…and swallowed. Spike felt like he came for days. Wave after wave crashed over him, the pleasure sweeping away any conscious thought. A knock on the door startled him out of his sex-induced reverie.

“Boys? Are you alright?”

Will and Spike took a moment to share a deer-in-the-headlights look. With lightening speed, Will wrapped the sheet around Spike’s waist and began mock-punching him.

“’tha hell are you doin?” Spike demanded, his sluggish brain trying to catch up.

“Just go with it!” Will commanded, landing a blow to Spike’s ribs.

“HEY!” Spike started fighting back in earnest, toppling them on to the floor, his legs tangled in the sheets. The door opened, and they froze, fixing their Da with the most angelic looks they could muster.

“What ARE you two doing?” Giles asked suspiciously. Nothing good ever came from those twin looks of innocence.

“Nothing,” Will said with a grin, removing his fist from Spike’s stomach.

“What he said,” Spike confirmed with a smirk, releasing Will’s arm from his iron grip.

Giles gave his sons a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him, but he simply shut the door and went back downstairs. They really were good boys, just a little rowdy sometimes. But, boys would be boys. Still, it begged the question…why was Spike wrapped up in Will’s sheet?

“I owe you one,” Spike said with a relieved sigh, collapsing on the ground.

“Actually,” Will murmured, his eyes running up and down the bare torso left exposed by the sheet, “you owe me two.”

***

“Wow,” Buffy murmured, awe and arousal in her voice. “What happened next?”

Will and Spike exchanged amused, devilish smirks.

“Cecily,” they said in unison.

“You’ve already had your story, pet.” Will said, trying to hide his grin. Their girl was just way too cute when she was trying to finagle something out of them.

“Wiiiiiiilllllll,” she pouted. It took everything in him not to go for that pout. “Spiiiiike! Come on.” Spike just closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing to fall prey to her puppy-dog eyes. They’d given way too much ground to those things already.

“Come on.” Buffy’s voice suddenly took on that unbearably seductive tone that made their cocks stand at attention. “I’ll do that thing you like.” Two pairs of eyes flew open at that.

“Yeah?” Spike asked, his voice a bit choked.

“Oh yeah,” Buffy said with a grin, aware that she’d just gotten exactly what she wanted. She settled against the footboard of the bed, facing the twins, her expression expectant.

“Bugger,” Spike said with a sigh. “So Will’s getting ready to bone this skanky chick named Cecily—“

“Tell the truth, Spikey,” Will said with a superior grin. Spike fixed his twin with an evil glare, but Will just kept smiling at him.

“Fine.” Spike ground out. “So it’s a week after…”

***

It had been about a week or so since their truncated tryst. A week in which they had alternated between shy, awkward looks and burning, needy gazes directed at a turned back. They seemed to have reached some impasse; suddenly, their secret was out, and neither one of them knew how to act on it. It was driving Spike crazy.

He wanted to know exactly where they stood, what was legal and not. But he couldn’t just come out and ask. This was so much easier with a girl, because girls were supposed to be the ones who stopped everything. It was a game; they both knew the rules, but the guy tried to break them all and the girl enforced the ones she wanted. Easy, simple, a huge load of bollocks, but everyone seemed to accept it. But with Will…he had no idea what was going on. For a multitude of reasons.

Will was completely out of his element. He knew that Spike returned his feelings to some extent, but he had no idea how to proceed. This was uncharted territory, and the repercussions that could happen if something went wrong…he didn’t even want to think about it. But at least his brother was talking to him now, letting him back in. Will had missed that simple acceptance while Spike had been walking the loony path with Drusilla. But while that was nice, he really wanted more. Their one little dalliance wasn’t going to hold him over much longer.

“Why William Giles, did you do something new to your hair?” William stopped short when a pair of expensive high heels invaded his view. His eye traveled up the girl’s shapely legs, past the teasing mini-skirt, to rest on the face of one Cecily Adams. The Cecily Adams. The most popular girl of the school, for whom Will had harbored a not-so-secret crushing love for since the day they met. He just stared mutely at her, trying to process exactly what was going on.

Cecily Adams was talking to William Giles. Correction: Cecily Adams was talking AND smiling at William Giles. Her hand fluttered to his arm, softly caressing the muscle underneath. Was she…flirting with him?? Will stared at the spot, feeling…nothing.

After all these years of waiting for this exact moment, he felt distinctly bored at her inane prattling. She was going on about…well, he hadn’t been listening in the first place, so her really had no clue. But why was she flirting with him? Will saw a movement out of the corner of his eye; Spike was lurking in the shadows, glaring daggers at Cecily. Now that was quite interesting.

“So since Daniel is obviously off the market, would you like my extra ticket to see Scissor Sisters?” Cecily batted those lush eyelashes at him. He smothered his laugh; did she realize how utterly ridiculous she looked, her eyes blinking up and down faster than a butterfly on speed? She leaned into him, her lips puckered in a small pout. Will swore he heard a low growl filter through the room. So he smiled and did something totally out of character. He leaned into her, fixing her with his blue eyes, and channeling his inner Spike. A slow, seductive smile stretched across his face, totally at odds with his geeky reputation, and Will smirked when Cecily’s eyes darted towards his lips.

“Why exactly are you inviting me along, pet?” Will really didn’t care about her answer; he was concentrating on Spike. Spike who, judging by the thunderous look on his face and absolutely possessiveness Will could feel radiating off of him, was playing the territorial male. Cecily’s drooling was an added bonus.

“Wh-wh-what do you mean? I can talk to who ever I like—“

“Yeah, but you don’t. Especially not me. Well, I take that back. There was that fun little incident in eighth grade. What was that you said to me? I’m…beneath you?” He looked her up and down assessingly, a small smirk on his face. “Well, I certainly didn’t think you meant it in THAT way.” Cecily gasped, but her eyes darkened in an expression Will had only seen once, a week ago…

“That was eighth grade William, you can’t expect us all to be—“

“You were and are a bitch, Cecily Adams.” Will said frankly, his voice pitched low. None of the other students were aware of how firmly geeky William Giles was putting Queen-Bee Cecily in her place. And Cecily was having trouble dealing with her first rejection…by geeky William Giles, who’d been falling at her feet for ages!

“Your inane prattling would try the patience of a glacier, and I’d rather the company of a pet rock than the likes of you.” Will stepped in a whispered in her ear, the two of them looking quite intimate. “And it’s whom. I can talk to whom ever I like. You really shouldn’t take your education for granted…you aren’t THAT pretty.” Cecily was so stunned, she couldn’t react as Will calmly walked away from her, looking for all the world like the cat that got the canary.

Feeling a rush of adrenalin, Will sauntered off towards the men’s bathroom, unbearably proud of himself…and shaking like a leaf. He’d never done ANYTHING like that before. He was glad it was over. He collapsed against the wall, grateful that the bathroom was blessedly empty at the moment. He’d just pulled himself together enough to start recounting the experience when the door burst open. Will found himself pinned against the wall, demanding lips roughly claiming his own.

***

Spike was deep in thought coming from his lit class when he saw his brother talking to none other than Cecily Adams. The supposed love of Will’s life. That would be fine, because the bitch was usually busy being, well, a bitch and demeaning Will whenever she acknowledged his existence…but THIS time, she was flirting with him. His eyes narrowed when she touched Will’s arm, her giggle floating over to him. There was no doubt, Cecily was making moves on HIS brother. Spike felt something that felt suspiciously like a growl rumble through his chest.

Oh, he knew exactly why she was going for Will. One of her cousins or some such rot was in the same martial arts competition as they had been, and she’d gotten a look at the twins in all of their shirtless glory. Since Spike was still dating Drusilla when she’d tried to pick him up at the tournament—he’d really have to make a public announcement about their break up soon—and Spike wasn't interested in her anyway, she was going after Will. And that was completely unacceptable. He watched with growing ire as Will started to respond to her flirting. His fucking dream cum true.

Spike really wanted to kill her. Never in his life had he wanted to beat the crap out of anyone for just talking to someone, but the impulse was there now. He could feel his blood boiling, screaming at him to lunge at her and rip Will away. He should know better. Spike conveniently ignored the part of his brain that was whispering rational thoughts about his possessiveness. Will was his and he was NOT sharing his brother with the likes of Cecily Adams.

Will smiled and laughed at the curly-haired fucktard and Spike growled. What was he doing? When Will leaned in and began whispering something in Cecily’s ear—something very naughty by the look on her face—Spike almost snapped. Oh, as soon as they were away from prying eyes, Will was going to know EXACTLY who he belonged to. Spike was going to make sure of that.

When Will broke off and headed towards the men’s bathroom, Spike followed, everything else fading away. He and Will had a few things to ‘discuss.’

He burst through the door and grabbed Will by the shoulders. Slamming the startled boy against the wall, Spike roughly claimed his lips in a demanding kiss. It took a minute, but Will opened himself to the possessive overture.

They broke apart, but Spike wasn’t remotely satisfied. He trapped Will against the wall with his body, his eyes hard and hot.

Spike dove in for another searing kiss that made Will’s toes curl and his breath catch. Before he knew it, he was being dragged along behind Spike, who was storming through the halls of the high school, his eyes challenging anyone to get in his way. The students parted before them. They’d seen fights between the Giles Twins before; the first time, everyone had money on Spike wining. But Will had held his own, and neither had gotten the upper hand before the administrators had broken it up. They’d both sported some serious bruises and cuts for weeks afterwards. The fight was a Thing of Legend. And no one wanted to get between those two when shit was going down.

Spike dragged his brother all the way to their house, making the seven-minute walk in under five. Will simply trailed along after, keeping up and ignoring the swirling in his brain. Something profound was going to happen today, and he was eager/scared to see it happen. They burst through the door, and Spike dragged him up the stairs. Once the door to their room was closed, Spike attacked his lips again, forcing him up against the door.

“You’re mine,” Spike growled out, pressing his full body against Will’s. “Cecily can’t give you what I can.”

With a laugh, Will propelled them forward, toppling them to the nearest bed. He pinned Spike underneath him, feeling the hard planes of his body beneath him, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face.

“Neither could Dru,” he said, sucking Spike’s ear in his mouth. He felt Spike’s hips buck beneath him. He continued his seductive torture, nibbling down Spike’s neck, laying kisses along his jaw and avoiding his mouth. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his lips ghosting against the sensitive shell of Spike’s ear.

The floodgates were open, and neither one of them could stop it. The desire and passion flowered between them, igniting their every nerve ending. Will ripped Spike’s shirt open, surprising himself out of his lust-induced haze. Spike’s eyes darkened and he growled, Will’s show of dominating possessiveness turning him on in so many ways. Spike grabbed Will’s head and pressed their mouths together, hunger and desperation rampant in their kiss. They shed their clothes, their desperation making their movements jerky and undignified. But each inch of exposed, open flesh was explored and worshiped with rough tongues and sharp nips.

They were tangled together, pressed as closely as they could, their instincts guiding their actions. Will slipped and hand between them and stroked the velvet harness he found there, savoring every jerk and gasp he could wrench out of the hard body against him. He let out a hoarse shout when Will’s fingernail scoured his back, from his shoulders to his ass.

“Fuck,” Spike muttered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Will chuckled into his ear, and then proceeded to suck said ear into his warm, slightly evil mouth. Spike wrapped his legs around Will’s waist and pulled him closer, keeping up his ministrations. They were moving against one another, grinding and gasping and sweating. There was a delicious friction building between them, months of tension just waiting to find release. Spike squeezed Will’s cock and twisted, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the angry, sensitive head. He felt a tremor wrack Will’s tense body and knew he was close. With a firm hand, he pumped a couple of times, before biting down on Will’s shoulder, sending him careening into an orgasm.

“Mine!” he mumbled, half-aware of what he was saying and doing.

Will shuddered, feeling the after affects of one hell of an orgasm, trying to bring his scattered thoughts back. He was aware of Spike underneath him, his breathing rapid and his body tense…and his erection pressed between them. He glanced up, and felt a little guilty at the expression of concentration and almost-pain that creased his twin’s face.

Will moved his hands from where they rested, caressing Spike’s hipbone and laying a not-so-chaste kiss on his chest.

Spike was incredibly aroused; he felt like he was about to explode, but he needed Will. Will, who was currently pretty incoherent and completely unhelpful. He closed his eyes, trying to regain a little bit of control. Which flew out the window the second Will began caressing his hip and nipping at his chest. Fuck.

Will’s hands snuck lower, his fingers dancing over Spike’s inner thigh.

“Please!” It was a choked, pleading word. Spike was way beyond playing and torture. Several days past it, actually. He nearly cried when Will touched him, tentatively at first and then with more assurance. Nimble fingers rolled his aching balls, and then traveled the length of his throbbing shaft. This was torture.

Spike whimpered when Will’s warm hand wrapped around him. His thumbnail lightly touching the sensitive slit in his seeping head, and Spike’s hips jackknifed uncontrollably off the bed. Will tightened his hold and sent Spike rushing towards relief.

Everything is Spike’s world was concentrated in the feeling of his cock being stroked. He felt his orgasm getting closer with every movement, building and building. With a guttural moan, he let himself get carried away in the emotional and physical response Will was wringing from him.

Will swallowed Spike’s shout with his mouth, pinning the twitching body beneath him, running his hand soothingly over his lover’s body. Will smiled at that. Lover. There was a first time for everything.

***

Buffy stared at her Twinlets, her eyes glazed and her body alight. That story was definitely worth doing that thing they liked. And what better time to pay up than now?

---

A/N: Thanks for all of the support right now. Life is still rough, but it's better...I got into grad school! AND in one of the top 3 schools for Producing in the US. I'm super psyched...everything's falling into place for me. Perhaps one day soon you'll be watching my movie

A/N: No twins, singles, threesomes, sexsomes, or anything were harmed in the writing of this fic. Just my BRAIN. Oh man, there are no warnings that exist for this psychotic...monster.

---

Spike, Buffy, and Will stood in front of the door. Buffy glanced at her lovers, then back to the plain white door. It looked so...innocent. Not the kind of thing you'd expect to find on the bottom floor of a kinky sex club.

“So...explain this to me again,” Buffy said skeptically. No, that door was just way too normal looking. Spike rolled his neck from side to side, a picture of barely contained anxious energy, but Will tilted her head and regarded her seriously.

“We don't have to do this,” he told her. Buffy and Spike rolled their eyes at his over protectiveness. Where his brother was practically buzzing with anticipation, Will was withdrawing to the over-analytical and protective space that made him hover like an annoying gnat.

“I'm FINE. Really. It's just...weird, y'know? Hard to wrap my head around.” Spike grinned lazily at her.

“It's the last little bit of magic left in the world,” he drawled. Buffy had never seen Spike quite like this. He'd gone so far around anticipatory that he'd hit mellow and loose. Almost calm. But Buffy knew better; that outward appearance just hid how incredibly ready Spike was to just go for this. Will was just an interested, but was channeling everything into makeing sure Buffy was OK and still on board with their foray into...well, they'd know when they opened the door.

“So, once last time...how does this work?” Spike jumped in before Will could ascertain whether or not Buffy was REALLY REALLY sure.

“We walk in, and find something that will blow our minds and rock our world, and that we want. Badly,” he murmured against her ear. Buffy shuddered as the gentle threads of arousal that had coiled in her stomach during the ride over here blossomed into almost painful arousal.

“Through magic,” she murmured, her voice husky. Her eyes darted to Spike's red lips and his talented tongue trailed over them.

“Magic helps,” Spike agreed, getting lost in her green eyes. He was leaning towards her, captivated, when she suddenly moved away.

“Let's do this.” Spike and Buffy jerked away as Will's voice, hard with nerves and determination, broke their spell. He opened to door to reveal...

...a room.

“Huh,” Buffy muttered, looking around. The floor was carpeted with a cushy material, a little firmer than an ordinary mattress. There were pillows everywhere, and the walls were lined with long strips of luxurious-looking cloth, each with its own texture. The only 'furniture' of any sort were two chests against opposing walls; the ones that didn't have doors leading out of them. It was almost like something out of an erotic desert novel, stopping just short of being cliched. Nice, but not something that was going to quote “rock her world.” Though she could think of some VERY fun things to do with those long strips of cloth...

“Sooooooooooo...” Buffy started, looking around. Both Spike and Will were looking a bit perplexed, so she figured this wasn't normal. “What's up?”

“It wasn't like this last time,” Spike murmured. He seemed to have deflated a little, his eyes searching the open room.

“But it's different every time, and they're never wrong,” Will said, his eyes squinting in the way that meant he was deep in thought.

“I don't--” Spike stopped abruptly as the door on the other side of the room swung open.

“Oh, no way!” Buffy stared at the trio before her. Well this was...different. Unexpected. Two copies of herself stared back at her, mouths open. One...Spike/Will-type person stood between them looking very smug. She turned her stunned gaze to her Twinlets, who were practically salivating.

“Wicked!” a gravelly, husky voice said delightedly. Buffy's attention was drawn back to her...their...dopplegangers. There was one who looked almost exactly like her, down to the dye job in her hair, and another that she suspected would be her if she ever wanted to go brunette again (which was never). Though looking at the way her green eyes and golden skin were set off by the darker locks, she may consider giving it serious thought. The guy looked like Spike, with his bleached hair, but the way he was hovering protectively over the two girls spoke more of Will. The Blonde-Buffy-Clone-Person turned to her one Twinlet-looking-guy. “Why don't WE get two of you?”

Buffy, getting to see the full force of her pout in action, decided she needed to use it more.

The man sidled up to her and whispered something in BBCP's (man, they need to introduce each other) ear. Buffy had to bite back a growl at the lascivious leer that broke across dopplebitch's face as she looked at HER Twinlets as if they were an all you can eat buffet.

***

Buffy felt a familiar thrill race up her spine as Spike sidled up to her, strong arms wrapping around her waist, hardness pressing into her ass. But she simply couldn't take her eyes off of the stunning tableau before her—TWO SPIKES! TWO. WTF?! She felt Spike smile against her neck.

“Why have two when you could have three?” he whispered, his voice low. Buffy felt a slow, ridiculous leer stretch across her face. Three...dreamy. She was pulled from her increasingly XXX-rated fantasies as a growl reverberated through the room. She KNEW that growl. She WAS that growl. She saw her not-twin glaring at her from the other side of the room, heat and warning in her eyes. Silly girl who didn't know to share. Buffy threw back her head and laughed. She approached the new girl with intent, crossing some invisible line that divided their realities, and pulled her doppleganger into a deep, wet kiss.

***

Of all the things Buffy was expecting, THIS hadn't made the list. OK, well, it had maybe tried to appear somewhere on the list as a side note or special case, but still...the other Buffy-person was a really good kisser. Like, really good. And wow, was she getting turned on like a faucet or what?

Will almost came like a 16-year-old getting his first blow job. Christ, Buffy was being mouth-fucked by...Buffy. Will shifted back into Spike as he came up behind him, hissing when a large, warm hand snuck down the front of his incredibly tight pants. Spike squeezed, and Will thrust back in retaliation.

Liz's eyes jumped from the two couples on the other side of the room. Jesus, this wasn't a kink she'd have ever guessed she had. Her eyes were huge, pupils dilated with lust when Spike moved to her side. Seeing his lover's distraction, Spike did the one thing he knew would garner him Liz's absolute undivided attention: he nibbled the sweet spot on her neck, just beneath one dainty little ear. Liz spun towards him with a soft yelp. Spike arched a lazy eyebrow at Liz's frazzled appearance and lust-dumb look.

“Well?” he drawled with a smirk. Liz rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the blush that stained her face and traveled well beyond the line of her shirt. Spike knew about that blush; he'd caused enough of them, and he couldn't help but grin, totally smitten that he could still make her blush after all this time. It was charmingly innocent, whereas he had to work to get Buffy to even turn faintly pink. He could count on one hand the number of times that little vixen had ever truly blushed for him. But blushing didn't let Liz off the hook. “Hit a button have we?” he taunted.

Liz's answering giggle drew the attention of the other, previously occupied, people in the room, who got to spend several moments watching Spike and Liz try to devour one another. The scent of sex and lust was heavy on the air, and libidos were raging.

Buffy watched her lovers enjoying themselves until she started felling a little left out, and that for their own health, her lovers should probably come up for air sometime soon. She strode over to the duo and pulled them apart, wrenching Spike to her for a brutal, possessive kiss and then doing the same to Liz, marking them as hers, and action Will greatly appreciated and had quite a mind to imitate. But the other Buffy's return to her side left them segregated again, each trio eyeing the other speculatively.

“I ah...” Buffy started, but found the words caught in her throat. She took a moment to calm down a little before trying again. “I think we should introduce ourselves.” See, that wasn't so hard she congratulated herself.

“I'm Buffy,” the mirror-version of her answered, he voice a little more seductive than Buffy's normally was.

“Funny, so am I.” They stared at each other across the imaginary line that divided them. Something happened, and the one-of-two-Buffy grinned slowly, almost lazily.

“You can call me B,” she said with a shrug. B threw an arm around her sister. “And this is Liz.”

“I can introduce myself you know,” Liz primly informed her sister. Buffy just gave her that infuriating 'whatcha gonna do about it Big Sis?” look, which made Liz huff and cross her arms stubbornly. Fucking twin sisters. Who needed them. She unwound a little as Spike threaded a hand through her hair soothingly.

“Relax, luv” Spike mumbled, his attention focused on the deep scalp massage he was giving Liz. He'd found it was the easiest way to calm Liz down when Buffy was being antagonizing or bitchy...or God forbid, both. He glanced up at the Buffy across from him. “'M Spike, nice to meet you, luv.” He grinned as Buffy gave him a small smile a little wave. Adorable. And good to know his twin counterparts had found her.

Buffy nudged her closest twinlet in the ribs.

“What?” Spike asked irritably, rubbing his side melodramatically. Buffy rolled her eyes at his obstinacy.

“Be polite and introduce yourselves!” Will and Spike exchanged one of those Twin looks Buffy hadn't decoded yet and shared a secret grin, which then expanded to include and amused-looking other!Spike. “What? What?!”

“We already know each other pet,” other!Spike informed her, his eyes traveling over the twin versions of himself in a most intimate and knowing way.

“REALLY?” Liz and B said in tandem.

“This is not my first rodeo cowboy,” Spike drawled sarcastically in an admittedly passable John Wayne impression. B slugged him on the arm for his troubles.

“You three KNOW each other?” Buffy asked, her eyes asking a whole host of other questions. Will and Spike exchanged another look and shrugged.

“We were in a place,” Will said, as if that explained everything.

“A place?” Buffy repeated dubiously.

“A place...that requires three of you?” B questioned sardonically.

“I TOLD you he was full of himself,” Liz said with a huge grin. The three women in the room shared a moment, while the three men suffered in silence together.

“Wait...THREE of you?” The men all glanced at each other before their eyes skittered around the room like bugs on acid. The women gaped, their mind short circuiting at the image of three....three...

---

A/N (2): Yes, there's more. Yes, I'm writing it. Yes, this is what happens when you're in grad school and you have NO LIFE in the middle of freaking LOS ANGELES and your brain just goes what the fuck, stranger shit's happened. And that's my only excuse.

“Holy shit,” Liz breathed out. “Talk about the ultimate expression of narcissistic machismo!” Will and Spike stared. Buffy's jaw dropped. B started laughing uncontrollably, which set Liz—who had been holding herself together rather admirably—off, and the two female twins had tears running down their faces. And after she got over her amazement, (and so as not to be odd woman out) Buffy started laughing too.

Non-twin Spike was pretty used to being ganged up on, so he simple sighed and resigned himself to waiting for the girls to get the hell on with it. Whatever 'It' was. Seemed to him that they were all dancing around what they'd come here for. He eyed the non-laughing set of twins across the room, who were looking a little disgruntled at being out numbered. He couldn't hide his smirk at that; it was nice to know they were getting a taste of their own medicine. Then Will met his gaze and the heat flared between them. His feet started moving of their own accord.

Will nudged his glowering brother, who was busy glaring ineffectively at the three giggling Buffies. (Buffys? Buffi? Buffants? Now that was just silly.) There was one way to shut them up. When the other Spike was close enough, Will grabbed him, both hands fisted in the other man's shirt, and bent him backwards with the force of his kiss. He devoured him, no finesse or gentleness, demanding and unyielding. It was fucking HOT. He thrust his hips against the hardness he could feel through the worn, threadbare jeans.

“Jesus.” Will's eyes flashed on his brother, who was watching them avidly and stroking the growing bulge in his pants, the blue of his eyes rapidly disappearing into black.

“Three,” an awed female voice whispered.

Will smirked against other Spike's lips, pressing on last hard closed-mouthed kiss against him before letting go and facing the no longer giggling girls.

“Jesus, don't stop!” B growled at them. Spike laughed at his girl, and then pulled twin-Spike into an embrace just as heated as the last. If the girls wanted a show, he'd be happy to oblige. All thoughts of retribution or showing off fled as his brain overloaded when a sneaky pair of hands snuck down the back of his jeans and caressed his ass. The sound of his fly unzipping sent a shiver racing down his spine. The dark chuckle and warm breath against his ear didn't help either.

Will felt his dick leap when single-Spike moaned as his cock was freed from his jeans. The sound resonated through his chest, stirred something primal within him. That primal thing growled when small hands slipped underneath his shirt, stroking across his nipples and pinching his skin. Hands danced over heated flesh, too many hands to keep track of, too much sensation. Will felt himself disappearing under the onslaught.

Spike was completely absorbed by the tongue that was doing insidious things to his mouth, so he could be excused for what happened next. It's just not FAIR to sneak up on a guy like that. I mean, really, if you're going to grab a guy's hand, use it like a really convenient dildo, and COME all over it, it would be nice to give a little warning. Because while it's acceptable (and even flattering ) to send a woman careening over the edge time and time again, it's quite embarrassing for a fully grown man to come in his pants like he's a horny teenager with no self control.

His limbs were leaden. And he was...laying on the ground? When had he made it here? Summoning the last of his strength, Spike lifted his head to take stock of the situation. His recently spent cock twitched at the dirtiest, most erotic scene imaginable played out before him. His Buffy and Their Buffy were half dressed and stretched on the ground. His Buffy was on top, her hands pinning her counterpart's to the floor above her head. They were kissing, exploring, testing out the waters, B's hips seeking friction against the whimpering body beneath her. Spike's body was making a valiant attempt to sit up and take notice while Liz was pinned between the Twinlets, the three of them making a production of getting out of their clothes and watching the women on the floor. Fuck.

Liz was surrounded by hard masculinity. Hard chests, hard cocks, hard to ignore. She arched back into chest behind her and tilted her head to one side, encouraging the hot, hungry mouth on her neck. Spike took a moment to ease Liz's jeans over her hips and down to the ground. Christ she was gorgeous. He started kissing and nibbling his way up her leg. He stopped to admire her silk-covered sex, inhaling the musky scent that was so like their Buffy but somehow not. A hand brushed through his hair. Spike met his twin's stormy blue eyes and then the hand pressed him towards the last scrap of clothing on Liz's body. With a tortured moan, he rubbed his lips against her. Her entire body seemed to clench. So responsive. Liz clutched at Will for support as Spike teased her. She swiveled her hips, thrusting into Spike and then grinding against Will's erection. It was torturous heaven.

“FUCK!” Buffy's face was frozen in an expression of pleasure-pain, her entire body strung taut as an orgasm ripped through her, sharp and unrelenting. B rubbed her dopleganger's clit and sucked on her breast to prolong the sensation. Everything went still for a blissful minute and then Buffy came back to herself, sobbing and gasping for breath. Her body jerked with aftershocks, every nerve rubbed raw.

B disengaged her hand and left Buffy staring sightless at the ceiling. Fuck, she was horny. Her Spike was still conked out on the floor, but the Twinlets were getting down and dirty with her twin. From the looks of things, Will was getting pretty desperate rubbing against Liz's perfect ass. That just would not do. B ambled towards one of the chests in the room and peered in side. Holy shit. Everything her heart desired was in that chest. An entire collection of different lubes, dildos, paddles, vibrators, plugs, feathers, silk ties, blindfolds...life was about to get very interesting.

First things first. B left the chest open and headed towards the three people still standing. One look at Liz and B knew her sister's mind had taken a hike, gone of the holidays. Well what would you know, the other her had them well trained. She walked up behind Will and ran her hands down his chest, down down down. She popped the top button of his jeans, savoring his anticipatory moan, and slowly drew his zip down. His cock sprang free; commando, nice. She wrapped her hand around his cock. Will gasped and arched back, every muscle in his straining toward release. B smirked and pinched him right behind the head of his penis, staving off his orgasm. Will whimpered, the ache of arousal almost painful. He needed to come.

“Not yet gorgeous,” B purred. Will jerked when something cool and tight was placed around his dick. “Haven't had my fun yet.” She pulled him away from Liz's back, who was too wrapped up in Twin-Spike's lips to notice. Spike, however, flashed her a heated look, before he turned Liz around and they stumbled towards the firmness of the wall. Spike jacked her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Spike sent a silent, reverent thanks for skirts to whoever was listening. He unzipped his pants and, pushing Liz's panties aside (he was kind of amazed at his dexterity, but he was motivated), and thrust into Liz's wet heat. They both cried out. Finally.

“Look at them,” B growled in Will's ear, her hand moving rhythmically over Will's hardness. His dilated eyes were pinned to the couple against the wall as their movements grew frantic and out of control. “God, they're hot.” Will could only whimper, caught between the hand caressing his swollen prick and the sight in front of him.

The room seemed to swim and Will found himself on the ground, B straddling his hips. He brought his arms up to guide her hips, but his hands were slammed against the floor. B growled at him, then fused their mouths together. The kiss was hot and dirty, and Will wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside of her quim. He went to grab her when his arms jerked still, something holding them back. Will craned his neck and saw he was handcuffed to the floor.

“What the huunghh.” He arched up as B impaled herself on his cock, driving out any questions or thought. She braced her hands on his chest, digging into the straining muscle. She angled her hips so that the blunt tip of Will's cock rubbed against her G-spot and her clit hit the raised nub of the cock ring. She felt her orgasm knot low in her stomach, swirling around and around upon itself, waiting to be released. She bore down and clenched her vaginal muscles around Will's member. His pleading whimper was music to her ears, and she started moving faster, looking for more friction. Will was thrashing and writhing beneath her, desperate for relief but completely unable to find it. He howled in frustration when B arched back above him, body drawn bowstring-taut, and her body shuddered around him, pulsing around him and he couldn't even fucking come.

B collapsed upon the body beneath her, struggling for breath and thought. Will was making desperate little noises, trusting into her as much as his position allowed. B found the energy to push herself up a little, grinning down at his pain filled face.

“Poor baby,” she murmured soothingly. She rand her hand from his lush lips, down his chest, marveling at the goosebumps that rose in their wake; he was so deliciously responsive. Her hand slipped down, and B slowly tightened her inner muscles, enjoying the way Will strained against his bonds, so desperate so needy...and she released the ring, watching as Will rode out his long-delayed orgasm, his face exquisite, every one of his beautifully sculpted muscles bulging with effort. And then he collapsed fluidly into the ground, the extreme opposition of mere moments before. This is what she loved, polar opposition showcased in one being, changing so completely from one instant to the next. Gods it was fantastic. She reached up and freed his wrists, rubbing the reddened skin soothingly even though right now, Will was feeling nothing close to pain.

B would have been happy laying there for the rest of her life. But certain conspiring factions decreed it was not to be. Spike had been merrily on his way to making the precious Liz come her brains out when he'd realized her attention was straying. The sight that greeted him when he turned around was enough to distract him. B and her malicious teasing of his twin; he twin who he could read as easily as breath, who had his every want a desire written on him for anyone to read. He was beautiful in his powerlessness, usually so dominant and commanding. He'd have to think up something particularly delightful in order to thank her for such a delicious display. He switched positions with Liz, his back against the silken draperies, pressing his hardness against her as they watched the display before them. He sucked Liz's ear into his mouth, reveling in her soft sounds of pleasure.

They watched as Liz teased Will, playing his body like the fine instrument he was. Spike's hand slipped down her body, toying with her tight, hard nipples, slipping through her coarse curls, and finally to the wet heat between her legs. Spike kept Liz on her feet as he teased her, lightly rubbing against her clit and delving into her folds. He bit down on the junction of her neck, growling hungrily as Liz's body arched with relief while Will remained unsatisfied beneath her. Liz's small, strong hand gripped has ass, forcing his hips into hers even as she tried to urge his fingers even deeper. But Spike held off, watching the other couple, waiting for the moment when Will was allowed his completion. In that moment, Spike ground down on Liz's clit and drove his fingers into her open body. She came all over his hand, her orgasm a silent scream caught in her throat. Spike slid his own hand, slick with her, over his hard prick. Three pulls and he spiraled after her.

***

“We are something else,” Buffy muttered, taking in the various couples strewn about the room.

“Hhhhhmmmmm?” her pillow mumbled, drowsing happily. He was still feeling so very nice from his orgasm, could feel the silly half-smile pasted on his face.

“Look,” Buffy instructed with a sweeping gesture. Spike craned his head around and grinned. There were sets of them passed out around the room, looking wildly satiated.

“I can't tell the twins apart,” he muttered, and Buffy smacked him. “Oi! I'm not yours to abuse!” Buffy mock glared at him, before her look became calculating. Oh, he was completely familiar with that look.

“What's your name?”

“Come again, pet? Did I literally fuck your brains out?” She smacked him again, but Spike caught her hand and rolled her underneath him. “What're you on about then?”

“Well. We have Liz and William. Two Buffys, but we're calling yours B. And Two Spikes. But we're NOT calling mine James, so...what's your real name? We can call you that.” Spike smirked.

“Won' help, since it's William.” Buffy closed her eyes and groaned.

“You're SUCH a help.”

“I told you it wouldn't help!” Buffy cracked one eye open.

“We could always call you B-Squared,” Buffy suggested innocently. Spike knew THAT look too.

“Alright. I'll bite. What would this B-Squared stand for?” Buffy's grin got impossibly wider, which was never a good sign.

“Blondie Bear.” Spike was pretty sure his jaw was hanging open. They'd had a Harmony too? Of all the...he would have thought two of him would have had more sense than that. Buffy was shaking with the effort to control her laughter.

“You...I...ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Buffy screamed as Spike began to tickle her. She was effectively pinned by his body, and her effort to squirm away were affecting Spike in unproductive (from a trying to get away perspective) ways.

“Oi! Some people are trying to SLEEP here,” a disgruntled voice called out.

“You're gonna sleep while I have a wigglin', tick'lish bird underneath me?” Spike called up, keeping up his attack. Buffy's hand snuck down and caressed his member, which was dirty pool, but that was the only kind Spike ever played so....

“Ah, continue,” Will offered with a wave of his hand. A moment later his head came up. “Want help?”

“Will!” Buffy gasped. “Don't....you...DARE-Spike!” B lifted her head and raised a sardonic eyebrow at the twisty pair.

“Jesus, you people do Yoga?” Will grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows and pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“You could always find out...” B laughed at him and stuck out her tongue. “Oh, gonna get it.” He pulled her in for a searing kiss.

“I have an idea,” she declared, ignoring Will's growl of disapproval as she pulled away. She walked over to the fighting couple and smacked Spike on his ass. “Come on, I need you.” Spike ignored her and continued tickling Buffy.

“Spike! She—stoppit!”

“Small of his back and right at his hip,” B informed her counterpart. Spike yelped as he was suddenly at a disadvantage.

“OK, OK! We'll do what Bu-B wants!”

“Bubby?” B asked sarcastically. Spike threw her a pleading look. She rolled her eyes and clapped her hands. “Alright, up!” They broke apart and stood up, eager and full of bouncy energy.

“Whassap?” Buffy asked.

“Well, like you said...I'm B, you're Buffy, we need to differentiate our Spikes.” Two beats and they were both giggling like naughty schoolgirls. Spike and Will rolled their eyes and shared a mutual look of masculinity.

“And how do you propose to do that?” Will asked to interrupt the gigglefest.

“We have a race!” B announced gleefully.

“A..race?” Spike queried skeptically. “What kind of a...race?”

“Well, we need their Spike for this, so...let's go!” The four of them trooped over to the last member of their weird sextuplet.

“I don't wanna,” Spike mumbled, burrowing into Liz's neck.

“Now come on Spikey-wikey,” Buffy said in her best perky voice. “We need to name you.”

“I have a name. 'n fact, I've got two.” Buffy stomped her foot in annoyance.

“I'm not yelling out “Fuck, James, I'm going to come!” in the heat of passion,” she declared.

“Neither am I.” Spike's head literally flew up, and the others sensed something underneath those words. “James.” A shudder ran through Spike's body at that, and Buffy filed that away for later discussion. There was a story there and she wanted it. Both B and her Spike were captivated by the attraction that flared between the two men.

“So hot,” B whispered. Her Spike cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

“So how're we gonna do this? This race thing?” Liz chose that moment to enter the conversation.

“Oh God, really Buffy?” B glared at her twin and then waved her off. “Fine.” The two Spikes were casting worried glances and one another.

“Well, first off, seeing as the two Spikes are competing, I think the two Buffies should be the other participants.” Buffy nodded her agreement, intrigued. “Good! So we're going to have a race...or, more accurately, and anti-race. To see which one of you has the most control.”

The two Spikes glanced at each other and came to an agreement. Why not? It wasn't like anyone could really loose.

“We're in.” B grinned and started arranging the boys where she wanted them, both propped up on pillows facing each other.

“We should switch,” Buffy suggested, and B nodded energetically.

Pillows were placed, spectators were seated, and the Challenge began.

Buffy decided to go the teasing rout. She stroked his thighs, ran her hands through the cropped, corse curls, landing a few 'accidental' bushes against his twitching member.

B was a little more direct. She completely swallowed the rigid shaft twining her tongue around the tip. The body beneath her bucked up with a hoarse shout, straining at the unexpected action. B smirked. This was going to be so easy.

Buffy heard her opponent's grunt and felt a wave of competitiveness rise with in her. She sucked the tip into her mouth, suctioning around it and teasing the slit. She wrapped her hand around the shaft and began to ripple up it, moving up the shaft and tightening her fingers one at a time in rapid succession, as if she were caressing a piano's keys or drumming her fingers on a desk. She was rewarded with shout and bucking hips.

B abruptly released her prize and blew a thin stream of air across it, amused as the cock twitched with the cooling air. She sharply nipped his thigh, eliciting a sound that could only be described as a squeak. Smiling, B ran her finger down the length of him, over his balls, and expertly rubbed against his perineum.

“Holy fuck!” She smirked.

Buffy heard the expletive and thought, If you were doing your job right, he wouldn't be able to use words. It was time to end this. She bobbed down over his cock, taking in as much as was comfortable and wrapped the rest of him in a vice-like grip. Situated, she relaxed her muscles, slid down a little further, swallowed, and caressed the small nub inside him that she unerringly knew how to find. He went off like a rocket, and she kept swallowing, drawing out his orgasm.

B heard the blissful shout and growled around the cock in her mouth. The vibrations and her hand gently caressing his balls set him off.

B and Buffy switched places with their respective Spike. B gazed at hers in mock disappointment.

“That would make you Spike-2,” she informed him.

“What? But I was first!” he protested.

“And that makes you last,” she informed him primly. Buffy giggled in the warm embrace of Spike.

“So what do I win?” Spike asked.

“You get to stay Spike,” she said with a grin.

“I can line with that,” he decided.

“Yeah yeah,” Spike-2 grumbled.

“Fuck, Will!” Four pairs of eyes snapped to the side.

A/N: First-I've decided that Tinwlets, Twinnings, and/or the crack!fic needs art. It's not that I'm so much requesting it as saying that the world NEEDS smutty triplicate art. So anyone have suggestions? Talent? Inclination?

And if you haven't seen the newest Torchwood, GET ON THAT. James guest stars and does a phenomenal job and it's amazing. (For those of you who don't get the UK feed, you can find the ep here http://www.surfthechannel.com/info/television/Torchwood/47028/S2E1.html )

Liz had started feeling a little...left out. Why should the clones have all the fun? Will chuckled and ran a hand over her hip, and she realized she'd said it out loud.

“Why indeed?” Will whispered seductively. Liz glanced away from the contest in front of them and flushed at the devious look Will was throwing her.

“What did you have in mind?” Will grinned and kissed her tenderly, in complete opposition to what he had planned. He guided her hand down to her soft cleft.

“Hold that for me,” he whispered. Liz's slightly theatric moan made him hurry over to the chest. He rummaged around and found what he wanted. Beautiful. He turned around and took in the view for a couple of moments. God, this was so incredibly indulgent. Liz tossed her head back and fixed him with a 'get your cock over here NOW' look that made his blood boil. He made his way over, his cock bobbing as he walked. He knelt between Liz's thighs.

“Allow me.” Her hand pulled away, leaving him with acres of flesh to play with. He gazed his fill, ignoring her squirming and encouraging little sounds.

“Wi-ill!” She was adorable when she whined, her nose scrunched and her cheeks flushed. He laughed and kissed her navel, rubbing his face against her smooth skin. He palmed one of his gifts and touched the small vibrator to her clit. He hips clipped him underneath the chin, but he didn't care. He surged up and captured her lips, moving the small massager in gentle circles. She came alarmingly fast, gasping into Will's mouth, shuddering all over. She collapsed onto the pillows. Will smirked. And she thought they were done.

He picked up the other vibrator and turned it on; it had a large, blunt phallus and a moving attachment on the top. While Liz was still shuddering from her first orgasm, he slid the toy into her and turned it on. Liz shouted his name as a second orgasm crashed in over the first. God it was hot. He worked the toy in and out, coaxing her body into a longer, more intense pleasure, until she was gasping at the ceiling, eyes wrenched close and body jerking.

“Bored?” Spike wondered. Will glanced over at the collapsed foursome, who were lounging.

“That's on hell of a chest,” Will said flippantly.

“Yeah, abut that chest...” Spike dragged himself up and padded over to check it out. Wow. Now that was a collection. And idea formed in his head, a way that he could thank B for her...services. He rifled through to find what he...ah.

Perfection.

With a wide grin, Spike chose the instruments of his desire, eager to get on with his 'thanking' of the wickedly sinful version of Buffy. He looked around the room for the perfect place to set up and found it...right in front of him.

A Little bit of magic, he thought with a grin. His cock took a moment to twitch, and he wondered if instant recovery time was also a part of the magic. He finished his set up and turned around to find two very curious pairs of eyes focused on him.

“Wanna help?” he offered magnanimously. Buffy and the weird version of him—right, it was Spike-2 now—were up in an instant, looking all the world like eager puppies. His tilted his head towards the entwined couple lounging on the floor and his dopplegaanger grinned in agreement. Spike smirked; if he were trying to keep up with twin Buffi, he'd want to get one over on them too.

B was drowsing happily when she was bodily picked up and dragged across the room.

“Wassat?” she mumbled. She jerked, and found she was bound in the corner, her arms pointing to two different walls. Her lassitude dissipated as she craned her neck around and found that, yes, someone could fairly comfortably stand behind her if they squeezed through the chains that bound her hands and the ones that had suddenly appeared on her ankles. She blinked mutely at the two visions of Spike grinning smugly at her.

“Lo, pet,” one of them purred seductively. B groaned as her body tried to rouse itself again. She was pretty sure that a light touch in the general vicinity of her clit would set her off again.

“Spike and I were talking, and we decided to stage a little test,” one of them whispered, his warm breath caressing her ear. She shivered delicately, loving and hating her defenseless position. She was the aggressor, not normally given to being the one tied down.

“Relax, luv. You'll like this.” She momentarily tensed as a silk blindfolds settled over her eyes, but relaxed as soothing, strong hands kneaded her shoulders. She rubbed her head against his hand, smiling at his chuckle.

“We're going to play 'Guess the Touch.' It's a fun game, no losers.” She chuffed a laugh at that and jerked against her restraints impatiently. Her body was very interested in this new development. There must be some kind of aphrodisiac in the air.

“I think the rules are self explanatory,” Spike-2 murmured. A thumb circled one nipple, pinching and teasing.

“Well?”

“Liz,” she breathed. She smirked at the surprised noise of agreement. As if they could fool her that easily. A hand carded through her hair, massaging the roots and pulling gently. She moaned as her head was tilted back and kisses laid against her throat.

“Mmmmm. Spike. My Spike,” she moaned, her arms instinctively trying to move towards him. One small kiss on her lips as affirmation and he drifted away. Her back arched as a slender finger raced the length of her spine. Too small to be a man's finger, but not Liz.

“Buffy,” she gasped, brushing off the odd sensation of calling out her own name. Next, a hot mouth sucking intently at her breast, tongue flicking rapidly over the tip. She jerked into the sensation. Not her Spike, but one of the twins. Her brain misfired, and her thought circle that. Twin, twin, twin.

“T-twin!” she managed to eek out.

“Mmmmm, good.”

“FUCK!” The stroke from a suede flogger caressed her skin, the unexpected sensation sending full body shivers through her. Jesus, something like that could kill a person.

“Wrong,” a voice whispered silkily in her ear. The next strike was a bit harsher, but no less arousing. She tried to spread her legs, but ended up pulling against the padded cuffs. A tongue licked a stripe of wetness up her leg to the juncture of the thigh and someone blew a cooling stream of air against it. She shuddered under the onslaught and someone else used the light flogger against her sensitized breasts, and another nipped down her back.

Sensations were coming from everywhere, from every one. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't think, couldn't distinguish different touches and sensations from one another. Her world was sensation, her mind was focused entirely on her body, on the scrape of nails against her skin, the harsh touch of unyielding leather against her sensitive places, teeth and tongues and caresses and...everything melded together into one glorious bright pulse of feeling. It wasn't like anything she'd ever felt, when her entire world coalesced into one single sensation that blotted out everything else.

A clear chime echoed through the room and Spike-2's head popped up.

“Wazzat?” Buffy muttered sleepily, rubbing her face into the soft stomach underneath her. She inhaled the musky scent and drew back for a moment, her hazy brain rousing just enough to tell her that something wasn't quite right. But she soon gave up trying to puzzle it out; she was way too content and sexed out to really care. The body beneath her chuffed a laugh, her resting place jiggling beneath her. “Uuuuuuunggghhh,” she grumbled in protest. There was real laugher this time, the sound reverberating through the body beneath her.

“Means time's almost up, pet.” Buffy tucked her head into the belly and wrapped her arm around the person's waist. From the softness of it she thought it might be Liz, but she couldn't be convinced to care. She smiled when Will draped himself against her back pressing small kisses into her shoulder. “You wouldn't want to waist a golden opportunity, would you love? No tellin' when this'll happen again.” Buffy sighed contentedly and wiggled her butt a little, enjoying the sharp intake of breath from her lover.

When. When this might happen again. Spike-2 rather liked the promise inherent in that sentence. He felt renewed stirring in his groin as Will began gently thrusting against Buffy's ass, his cock nestled between her cheeks. Liz, still pinned beneath her double's supine form, raised her fingers to his face and grinned when he sucked them into his mouth. Not to be left out, the Spikes and B crawled over to the impromptu puppy pile.

B, straddling Spike, claimed her twin's mouth in a searing hot kiss, felt Spike grow and lengthen beneath her. Shooting the man beneath her a wicked smirk, she ground into him, her hips making seductive figure eights. Her laugh was cut short when Spike-2 plastered himself against her back and cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. He sucked a hickey into her neck and Spike bucked beneath her, the underside of his cock rubbing against her cleft. When, exactly, had she lost control of the situation? Spike-2's hands roamed down, wrapping around Spike's cock and using it to tease B's clit. They both moaned in unison at the feelings.

“Fucking hot,” Buffy moaned, her sex-glazed eyes riveted to the trio.

“Could get hotter,” Liz whispered beneath her. Deft hands pulled Buffy's attention back to her own threesome, and soft lips distracted her. Will kissed his way down her spine, his hands slipping between the two women. Buffy jerked when Will's teeth sunk into her butt, his laughter muffled by the delicate flesh. She'd just started to relax into their rhythm when Will's tongue roamed into previously unexplored territory.

“William!” Buffy twisted around to shoot her lover and incredulous look. He smirked unrepentantly at her.

“What, pet?”

“You...you can't just DO that!” Will rolled his eyes; he was pretty sure he could convince Buffy this was a great idea, but tonight was probably not the time. He nipped her delicious bum again and rolled off. “Wi-il,” Buffy whined, her back cold.

“Na-ah, pet. You said no.” Will shifted over to his other lover, pinned beneath two writhing bodies. He held Spike's hands above his head and swallowed Spike's desperate whine, sweeping his tongue through the familiar cavern of his lover's mouth. He drank in Spike's strangled “Fuck!” when Spike-2 guided B onto Spike's weeping cock.

It officially tuned into 'torture Spike day' when Buffy and Liz got into the game, their sinful mouths suctioned to his nipples and not letting go anytime soon. They reduced him to a whimpering mess in record time, torturing bundles of nerves and sensitized flesh splayed out at the mercy of five very devious people. Spike moans—he's buried balls-deep in B's quim, two beautiful mouths sucking marks on his skin, his oldest lover kissing him with expert precision, playing his body like no one else.

He was completely in the moment, all semblance of higher brain functioning gone gone gone, driven out by the succubi on top of him. A murmur of voices and B's rhythm changed. Spike couldn't help the shudder when he realized it's because the other Spike is in her too, controlling their pace, controlling Spike's pleasure. If he concentrated, he could almost feel his counterpart through the thin membrance that separates them.

Spike's so distracted that he doesn't felt the cold slide of metal against his wrists. He tugged up instinctively, only to find himself chained to the floor, his arms above his head.

“Stay put, luv,” Will instructed Spike mockingly. Spike growled and tried to sit up, but his hands were well-bound above his head and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Ponce,” he muttered darkly. Twin feminine giggles floated up to him and two beautiful women popped into view.

“Aw, Spikey-poo! Don't be mad.” Buffy bent over and almost-kisses him, her breath hot against his lips. He leaned up, chasing her kiss, but she just barely managed to avoid him. B's muscles clamp around his cock and he strained against his bonds, his muscles clenching and his breath catching in his throat.

“Damn he's gorgeous,” Liz murmurs, totally transfixed.

“Yeah.” Buffy can empathize; she feels that way a lot and she had TWO of them.

Spike kept trying to tack the conversation, but there was too much going on. B's riding him like a prize bull, Liz and Buffy are stroking his chest, and fucking Will is somewhere planning something insidious he's sure of it.

Buffy and Liz giggled as Spike twisted beneath them, porn noises and invectives spilling from his beautiful lips as Buffy showed Liz all the best ways to drive Spike mad, mapped his body with gasps and moans as landmarks. They tortured his nipples with teeth and tongues and evil little fingers. Before he can come, Will's back. Stilling B and Spike-2's movements, Spike wants to murder his brother when a cock ring slid on his cock and around his balls.

“Now now, can't have you coming too soon pat,” Will said cheerily.

“Fuck. You.” Spike managed to say, but it's quite possibly the hardest things he's ever done.

“That can be arranged.” Will's words were a naughty promise. “You up for some fun, ladies?”

Will brandished his other toy for the girls, a double-sided dildo; they'd ignored their fantastic box of toys so far, and that was a damn shame. He positioned the girls over Spike's chest, sliding one end of the toy into each of them, reveling in his position as conductor of this fuckistra. B wrapped her arms around her twin, pulling Liz flush against her and Spike-2 thrust in. Will slowly slid the toy into Liz's quim, fucking her with it while Spike watched.

“Will! I want...” Buffy practically vibrated with need, her eyes wide and hungry as the toy disappeared into Liz.

“C'mon luv. Hop on.” Spike cursed again when Buffy straddled his chest, her pert ass shimmying tauntingly in his face. There were four people on his body, all of them driving him crazy, and if Will's busting out the toys there's no telling what the future has in store.

Will helped guide the dildo into Buffy's eager body, attached a few bracing straps around the girls, and then they started fucking each other, the two women moving together, some innate rhythm they just know. They both gasped at the same moment, knowing instinctively when to move and what to do.

“Watch this,” Will whispered in Spikes ear before leaning down to touch something on the dildo. The response was instantaneous: Buffy and Liz approved of Will's choice. Very vocally.

Before long, all four of them were moving in tandem. Spike-2 thrust into B, who moved Liz on the dildo and into Buffy, Spike trapped beneath them, feeling the slickness of the two women's arousal on his chest, his cock surrounded by heat, another body rubbing against his legs; they were generating enough heat to power the entire city.

Spike was lost in the haze of sensation when freezing cold seared through the cocoon of heat.

“FUCKIN'ELL you bastard!” Will's mouth was fastened to Spike's nipples, the ice cube in his mouth wreaking havoc with his lover's nerve endings. Spike cursed vehemently when a wet, frozen hand reached down and slipped beneath B to fondle his balls. The clashing sensations were driving him around the bend, and all he could do was hold on for dear sanity.

Buffy and Liz leaned in for a kiss as they fucked each other, the slick surface of the dildo sliding between them. Liz gasped when a cold hand tweaked her clit, Buffy echoing the sound moments later when Will's evil, wonderful fingers played her so knowingly.

“Will,” Spike groaned out, struggling to find his voice. His thoughts were sluggish and sex-glazed, but one desire, one need made itself known. “Will!” The torturous ice feeling left, only to move to the side of his neck and ear.

“Yeah luv?” Will's voice was strained and hoarse. Spike pulled his vision in to focus on Will's face. He smiled and tucked his tongue behind his teeth in an utterly seductive, undeniably magnetic come-hither look. “Yeah?” Will breathed, his voice hitching with arousal.

“Oh yeah.” Just as Will moved away, Spike stopped him. “I want some ice.”

“Holy fuck,” Will moaned before scrambling for the ice chips. He slipped a few into Spike's mouth, waiting for the go ahead. Spike grinned his permission, and Will carefully straddle Will's head, his cock and angry red and so very ready for this. Spike looked up through his lashes and licked the leaking head, his tongue cooled by the ice. Will's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hips surged forward when Spike abruptly swallowed him whole, but Spike was ready for that. Will fell on his hands, his body arched above Spike, who took his lover's distraction to work his tongue against Will's shaft. Spike's mouth was cold, the places where the ice touched his cock trying to jerk away while the rest of him longed for more.

Will came first, Spike's talented tongue hitting every one of Will's buttons. B was next, her orgasm rolling over as Spike-2 continued to work her, pushing her onto Spike's cock and the pulling her onto his own. Will recovered enough to reach over and finger Liz's clit, sending her over the edge with a sharp cry and short, stuttering jerks of her hips. B, her talented fingers buried in Buffy's snatch, played her double into a sharp, mind-blowing release. That taken care of, Will reached over and cradled Spike-2's balls. Simultaneously, he released Spike's cock ring and pressed against Spike-2's perineum, sending them both into simultaneous orgasms, much to B's continuing pleasure.

***

That same, clarion toll sounded through the room. Spike groaned beneath the press of bodies strewn across him. They were getting a little heavy, but he was still chained to the floor and his shoulders were getting a little stiff. He jiggled his leg a little, rolling his eyes at the groans and sniffs he got.

“Oi!” he hissed, jiggling more. He yelped when sharp little teeth bit into his thigh. “Gerroff! Lemme go.”

Spike-2 rolled B off of him, and he encouraged the lesbionic Buffi to continue the trend by lifting up his pelvis. Will released his hands and massaged the stiffened muscles. When Spike could move his arms again, he curled on his side and pillowed his head in Will's lap, who chuckled with amusement and rand dexterous fingers through his brother's head.

“Aaaaaawwwww,” B teased sleepily.

The bell rang again.

“Think they're kickin' us out,” Buffy muttered from somewhere near Liz's neck.

“Mmmmhhhhmmmm,” Liz agreed.

Slowly, they broke apart, each person drifting back towards their respective trios. Sorting out clothing was a cerebral exercise they just weren't up to, and Will highly suspected he wasn't wearing the same shirt out as he'd worn coming in.

They stood awkwardly, two groups on either side of a dividing line.

“Ssssooooo,” B drawled, though without her normal defensiveness. She was way too well fucked for that.

“Till next time?” Spike asked, his voice a little scratchy. He got three blinding smiles in return.

“Oh yeah.”

FINI

“Not there! Put it against the wall.”

“Sod off!! You want it there so badly, come move it yourself. Stupid git.” Spike ducked as a wad of newspaper sailed towards him. He glared at Will over stacks of brown packing boxes.

“If you mess it up, we'll just have to do it again later,” Will primly informed him. Spike scowled at his twin's upper crust accent.

“Why thank ya, Ma. I just wasn't thinking with mah head, darn tootin'.” Will goggled at Spike's horrendous version of a Southern accent. It was...really kind of terrifying, those crawling vowels creeping from Spike's snarky mouth.

“Please...never do that again,” Will said archly, shuddering delicately. Spike sighed and pushed aside his annoyance to reposition the couch...again. Will was being anal about their new apartment, and Spike was very, very happy that he hadn't actually bought him that feng shui book as a joke.

“Does that meet his highness' standards?” he asked sarcastically. Spike turned around and was promptly toppled onto the newly positioned couch.

“It'll do,” Will laughed with a cheeky grin.

***

“Spike! We're going to be LATE. Move your arse!” Spike popped his head out of the bathroom to glare at Will.

“It wasn't MY arse that made us late!” he yelled around his toothbrush. Will smirked, a dangerous and flirty look that most of the world never got to see but that never failed to make Spike's pulse race.

“Actually...”

“Don't. Say it.” Spike ducked back into the bathroom before his dopy grin could give him away. He rinsed his mouth and looked at the mirror. He was wearing a crisp tailored suit, a green tie that set off his eyes, and a smart button-up shirt. He looked like a perfectly respectable business man until you got to his shock of platinum hair, which was slicked back. He looked professionally dangerous, which was the exact look he was going for.

“Vanity will not get us to work on time,” Will griped from the doorway. Spike met his eyes in the mirror and scowled at him, though he couldn't help but notice that Will appreciated his ensemble. Spike spun on his heel and pushed past Will, grabbing up his wallet and briefcase and heading out the door. He paused, turned back to Will and arched an eyebrow.

“Are you coming? We don't want to be late.” Will seriously considered chucking the briefcase at his brother's head.

***

Will was emphatically not fidgeting. He was totally cool, calm, and collected. He was all the relevant Cs.

“Calm down,” Spike growled tersely. Will shot him a nasty look.

“I am calm. And cool. And collected.” Spike shot him a disbelieving look.

“If you get anymore worked up, you'll need a new shirt!” Will kept his gaze fixed straight ahead and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. He almost jumped out of his skin when Spike's hand gripped the back of his neck, one thumb rubbing against his flushed skin. “You'll be fine. Just...pretend you're talking to me. You don't have a problem ordering ME around.” Will flushed slightly at Spike's lascivious grin.

“Yes, well. Different circumstances.” Spike snorted and squeezed Will's neck before reclaiming his hand.

“You could always consider it extended foreplay.” Will rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No one would ever believe you top.” Will smirked at Spike, but the doors chimed and opened and the nervousness (calm, cool, collected) was back full force.

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Spike grabbed Will's arm and hauled him forward. He stopped at the receptionist's kiosk. The receptionist held up an imperious finger.

“Yes, I understand that sir, but unless you have the name of an exec or someone who works here, you're not getting through. No? Goodbye.” She turned back to her computer and pressed the receiver on her bluetooth phone. “Lira publishing, how may I direct your call? Molly! Hey, girl! I haven't seen Chris today, but I know Sara's in. Though you might not get through, there are some new big wigs starting today, nepa-tee-asam at work. Yeah, I'll transfer you. Bye!” Spike waited with growing impatience as the girl scanned through the list at her side, transferred the call, and made some sort of notation on her computer. When she was done, she finally deigned to look at him. She seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “How can I help you?”

Spike leaned over and graced her with his laziest smirk.

“Nepotism.” Her brow furrowed and she frowned.

“I'm sorry?”

“The word you were looking for? Nepotism. You said nepa-tee-asam.”

“Um, OK, whatever. What do you want?” the receptionist asked crossly. Will made an impatient noise in the back of his throat.

“Well, we'd be the nepotistic big wigs starting today.” Spike grinned as the receptionist's life flashed before her eye. He felt Will shaking with silent laughter behind him. “Care to tell us where we're goin', pet?”

“Y-yes sir. Of course. The, uh, corporate boardroom is up one floor. Your fa...boss is there with all of the execs. Is there...um...is there anything else I can do for you, sir? Sirs?” Spike glanced down at the name tag on the desk.

“Not at all, Kennedy. You've already done quite enough. Ta, pet.”

***

Will and Spike settled in to the Lira family with ease and aplomb. Well, ease and aplomb on Spike's part. Will tended to hole himself up in his office and read manuscripts all day. Spike had to drag his resisting brother out of his office every once in a while to prove that, yes, he did exist. Most the people working for Lyra thought Will was an office urban legend.

So it was a shock to Spike, the marketing department, and the hapless artists who were present at a their quarterly meeting, when Will burst in like a whirling dervish.

“The people who work here are idiots, utter fools who wouldn't know a decent work of literature if the Complete Works of Shakespeare beaned 'em in the head!” Will snarled, grabbing Spike's arm. He hauled his bemused brother out of his chair towards the door, shocked faces looking on. Halfway down the hall, Will paused, let go of Spike's arm, and ran back to the room. “Sorry about that, need him, carry on, don't destroy the company.” Everyone jumped when the door slammed shut behind him.

The various employees of Lyra Publishing glanced at one another in the sudden silence.

“I thought he was a mute?” one of the junior execs offered weakly.

***

“Will?” Spike asked, trying to make sense of his brother's nattering. Not that he minded being manhandled out of his office by Will—or really manhandled in any way by Will—but it would be nice to know why there were, apparently, making their way to Da's office before they actually got there. Will didn't give him a chance.

Rupert Giles was about to imbibe in a completely deserved, wholly necessary scotch when his door burst open and he spilled his drink down his front.

“Bugger.” Giles extracted his pocket handkerchief and dabbed at the dark stains on his shirt, and Spike deftly relieved Giles of what was left of his drink and propped himself by his Da's desk to watch the fireworks. He took a sip of the scotch—the good stuff that Da saved for his best hiding places.

“Careful there, Rupes,” his son said with a smirk. Giles shot him a withering stare that got colder when he saw Spike drinking his $200 scotch.

“Yes, well, far be it for me not to expect a herd of savages to barge in unannounced.” Will blushed in consternation, but Spike just shook his head.

“Da. We hardly qualify as a HERD.”

“You'd be surprised, James.” It was Giles' turn to smirk as his son's eyes narrowed into a glare. No matter how many times they had this fight, Rupert Giles would NEVER call one of his sons...Spike. Though if he'd known how much trouble James was going to be, he would have named him Randy. “So to what do I owe this...pleasure?”

Spike turned to look at Will, since he was as in the dark as his Da. Will suddenly found himself at the center of his family's attention.

“Ah, w-well, yes, I was just...reading...and, ah--”

“Will thinks you've hired a bunch of idiots,” Spike volunteered helpfully.

“Ponce,” Will growled, inventing creative ways to get back at Spike. Wipe that smirk off that's for sure. Spike's grin deepened and his eyes challenged Will to do his worst.

“I hired you,” Giles pointed out smugly.

“Er, right, but *I* can tell the difference between shite and brilliance. Your readers...cannot.” Will tossed a manuscript at Giles' chest, which the older man barely caught.

“I don't suppose I could have the Cliff's Notes version?” Giles asked wearily. He was holding a thick tome of at least 400 pages. Will made a strangled, impatient sound.

“This work is...brilliant. Revolutionary. It absorbs and subverts the major symbols of Western culture. The themes, the story, the message...this is master storytelling. And your readers, whose only job is to read manuscripts and pick out the good ones, wanted to PASS.” Will looked truly affronted. Giles glanced at Spike, who shrugged and motioned for the manuscript. Giles handed it over without protest.

“So, you think--”

“We need to sign the writer immediately. Yesterday. We need to find the contact info for this--” Spike blinked as the manuscript was ripped out of his hands--“Jasmine”--the thick sheaf of paper was dropped back into place--“and sign her. NOW.”

“Uh...”

“Da! Bloody hell! This book is gonna be HUGE. It's going to sell millions of copies in hardback alone, you cannot let this pass us--”

“Will!” Will ground to a halt, chest heaving, eyes bright, and Spike thought he'd never looked hotter. “You can sign her.”

“...What?”

“I didn't hire you because you're my sons. I hired you because you're both damned good at what you do and you understand the literary world. Even you,” he said pointedly, fixing James with a look, “who did NOT pop out of your dear mother's womb with a head full of shock white hair and that horrendous accent.” Spike cheekily stuck his tongue out at his father.

“Oh. Right. Er. Thanks?” Will ventured. Giles rolled his eyes and started herding the savages towards the door.

“You're welcome, good, yes, right, I'll see you for dinner tomorrow good bye.” When the door to his office closed, Giles let out a huge sign of relief. About that scotch...

***

“Stop. Fidgeting.” Spike growled.

“I'm not fidgeting,” Will whispered back. Spike cocked one eyebrow and looked pointedly at the tie Will was continuously smoothing. His brother blushed and shoved his hands under the table. Spike used the table cloth as cover, putting his hand on Will's knee and squeezing it reassuringly.

“You'll be fine, luv, just to remember to breathe. Bint's gonna sign us, no worries,” Spike soothed; he slipped his hand underneath Will's suit and rubbed his brother's lower back. Will shot his brother a disbelieving look.

“Are you insane? Her work...she could sign anyone! Any publisher at all!”

“Shut it! No one else has picked up on her yet, she's still unknown, and as long as we don't undermine our bargaining position we'll be fine.” Will blinked. “What?”

“You sounded almost smart just then.”

“Ponce,” Spike growled, squeezing the pressure points in Will's leg. Will jumped, banging his knee on the underside of the table, and let out an unmanly yelp.

“Are you...Lira?” Will blushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. Spike slouched in his seat and grinned lazily at the attractive black woman hovering over their table. Will elbowed him and stood, extending his hand.

“I'm Will Giles, this is my brother Spike. You must be Jasmine.” Jasmine looked down at the hand and hesitated. Her handshake was reticent and perfunctory, and when she was done her quiet personal assistant was there with a wipe.

“Spike?” she queried, her gaze assessing the still-seated man.

“Ta, pet,” Spike said with a sardonic smirk and a half-assed salute with his drink. Will stifled the flair of irritation (and bit of jealousy) that coursed through him. How Spike could be so...Spike and get away with it? Spike shifted his attention to the woman hovering at Jasmine's side. “And you are?” Spike asked, finally deigning to stand. He gathered the assistant's hand and laid a delicate kiss on the back. She blushed prettily and ducked her head.

“T-t-tara. I-I'm Tara.”

“Well, I'm Tara, shall we be seated?” Spike pulled out her chair and ushered her into it. Will did the same for Jasmine, his stomach in his throat. This was their first client, who they discovered and—hopefully after tonight—signed. First chance to prove to the publishing world that they were more than just daddy's sons, but executives in their own right.

The dinner was...amazingly productive. Spike managed to coax Tara out of her shell and get the gentle woman talking. She was more than just Jasmine's assistant; they were dating, going on three years. She had a stutter whenever she got nervous, but Spike was suave and managed to keep most of the chatter light. By the end of the night, they had a three-book agreement signed and ready to file with their lawyers.

***

They'd barely crossed the threshold before Spike pounced on Will. Will was pressed against the wall, smiling widely at Spike's scattered assault. His hands were everywhere, his mouth attacking any naked flesh he could get to. Somehow, Spike got coordinated enough to strip most of Will's clothes off.

“Y'could help,” Spike grumbled as he pushed and pulled Will into an appropriate panting position.

“But you're doing so well on your own.” Spike glared at his lover, pulling the dress slacks down without care. “Oi! These are expensive!” Spike smirked. He could make Will forget his concern with his expensive trousers.

Will forgot how to breath. Spike's mouth was suctioned around his cock, the wet warmth exquisite torture...and no one was as experienced in torturing him as Spike. Will scrambled for something, anything, that might ground him, keep him from flying off in a million different directions. The smooth drywall didn't give him anything to hold on to, and all he could feel was Spike's mouth, the rough buds on his lover's tongue, the slick wetness of saliva. God, he was intoxicating.

Spike worked Will, pulled out all the stops and used all his tricks. He wanted Will panting and begging for it, pants be damned. He pulled back and concentrated on the head, tracing its contours and playing along the seams. He hummed a little tune, power rushing through him when Will whimpered and smacked his head against the wall. He was moments away from coming when Spike pulled off and pinched the base of Will's dick.

“Not yet Willy m'boy!” Spike said gleefully. Will hit his head against the wall a couple of times, trying to talk himself down. He tried to form some kind of coherent thought between sharp gasps of air.

“You're...a...*nurgh* ponce!”

Spike laughed evilly and stood up. He licked the shell of Will's ear and whispered, “You won't be saying that when you find out what I've got planned!”

***

Jasmine's book hit the Bestseller list a week after its release. People were raving about it; there was even talk of Pulitzer prizes and Nobel consideration. Will and Spike were the toast of the town, and all eyes were on Lira's newest Twin Executives of Terror. Things had gotten so crazy they'd had to hire a personal assistant, something they'd both balked at and refused to do when they were just starting. However, the deluge of phone calls and social invitations had become overwhelming, and they couldn't keep tying up the executive secretary.

Which was how they met Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins. She was a divorced Swedish-American (who held dual citizenship with Sweden and the US), a keen business sense (which helped her filter out the frauds), and an amusingly blunt manner of speech. THAT particular 'gift' kept all but the most serious vultures away. She was perfect.

Plus, Spike got to watch Will blush on a regular basis. It had lead to more than one office fantasy on Spike's part. He was startled out of his current daydream when Anya dropped a stack of manuscripts on his desk.

“Read them, make money,” she instructed.

“Yes, thank you Anya, I was wondering what they pay me to do.” She just looked at him, completely missing the sarcasm.

“I could write it on a piece of paper for you if you forget.” Spike narrowed his eyes. There were times when he was pretty sure Anya was fucking with him, but he was never *quite* sure.

“I'll keep that in mind,” he said dryly. Anya handed him a piece of paper and turned to leave. “Wait wait wait, what the bloody hell is this?!”

“The Jasmine premiere party. It's tonight at 9:30. The company rented out SkyBar.” Spike paled.

“Shit.” Anya looked on with her slightly-curious expression. “Pet, I need you to save m'life. And Will's. We need two tuxes, you have our sizes, a car and driver to get us there. I'll need a fairly expensive gift for Jasmine, somethin' feminine and from Rodeo drive. Get Tara something too, I like her. I need to know if Da's going, an updated guest list, and a flask of Jack. Oh, and tell Will?”

Anya didn't move. They stared at one another for a long moment.

“Wot?”

“I want a raise.” Spike's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

“You've been here for three months!” Anya crossed her arms and got that look that meant she was dealing with money and therefore deadly serious. And honestly, she was a far better assistant than either he or his brother had ever imagined. “Fine. Ten percent.”

“Twenty-three point six percent,” she countered.

“What? How do you figure?”

“I'm planning a trip to Hawaii. At a twenty-three point six percent raise, I can take a full two weeks off in four months, which is when my vacations days officially start. Therefore, I can fund my travels without straining my living budget and get paid to sit on a beach where there are no rabbits. I am also worth well more than the extra cost, but I predict it will take another two months and one week to prove that to you, so in the interim...twenty-three point six.” Spike grinned in spite of himself.

“Ta, pet.” Anya beamed. “Now, if you could--”

“I had your tuxedos delivered to your house, they're hanging in the foyer, please don't mess them up BEFORE the party; I've been told that it is more appropriate to play after such events, and that alcohol makes the process much more fun if sloppier. Howard will be outside of your house at eight forty-five sharp. There are two packages sitting on my desk from Gucci, gift tags attached, in each women's respective sizes, I got a very good deal on them. Your father plans to spend exactly one hour and fifteen minutes at the party before escaping the 'ungodly charade of the rich and tasteless, bugger American New Money.' Check your e-mail, and I stashed a handle in your bottom left drawer.” She swept out of the room.

“Twenty-three point six,” Spike muttered, shaking his head. He was pretty sure it wouldn't take Anya that long to get her next raise. “Wait...play?”

***

“Cor, pet,” Spike breathed. Will ducked his head, looking up coyly from beneath his lashes.

“Like it?” Spike reached out and fingered the expensive material. Will was wearing an Armani tux, perfectly tailored. His platinum hair was slicked back, but there was one ringlet that refused to stay tucked in framing the corner of Will's left eye.

“Wish we had time to show you how much,” Spike said silkily, curling his tongue behind his teeth. Will's blue eyes turned dark and possessive, and he stepped into Spike's space.

“Don't look so bad y'self,” Will said thickly. The air between them was thick and getting thicker.

“We gotta go,” Spike said breathily.

“Uh huh.” Will refused to let him go, his gaze commanding Spike's acquiescence. Spike could only watch as Will pushed him against the wall, his hands stroking Spike's Alexander McQueen tux. Will ducked down, his lips millimeters from Spike's, when someone started pounding on their door.

“Gotta go!” Spike squeaked, eyes still firmly affixed to Will's lips.

“Bugger,” Will groaned. Spike ducked in for a quick, lips-only kiss before darting away. He grabbed the presents and opened the door to find Howard the chauffeur on the other side. Will wore a stony, slightly pained expression the entire trip to SkyBar.

When they got there, reporters and photographers were snapping pictures of the rich and famous. Right before their limo slid into the red carpet line, Spike leaned over and said, “If you're very, very good, I'll blow you when we get home.” Will stumbled out of the limo, leading to some gossip-rag speculation as to whether or not one of the Giles-twins had a drinking problem

***

Will was ready to go the second they got inside. He hated these things, and all he wanted to do was get home and get to know Spike's tux very, very intimately. He huffed and threw back his Jack in one gulp, savoring the burn of the alcohol. It was something real against the background of fake smiles and perfectly crafted faces.

“Wow, that's impressive,” an amused voice said. Will whipped around and found himself facing a short, young-looking woman with light eyes and a pretty smile. He flushed a bit and glanced self consciously at his empty glass. The woman giggled and lifted her full champagne flute in mock salute before throwing her head back and draining it. A bit spilled out of the corner of her mouth, and they laughed as she tried to avoid getting any on her dress.

“Now THAT is impressive, pet. I'm Will.” The woman, she couldn't be much out of her mid-20s, took his hand in a firm grip.

“Eve.” Her smile was open and fresh, and it didn't look like a surgeon's scalpel had ever touched her flesh. It was refreshing.

“So, Eve. What is it that you do?” She blushed demurely and Will was taken with her candidness.

“It's going to sound silly, but I'm doing the whole LA actress thing. I mean, I'm from Wyoming, and I did the whole get a job after college thing for a while but...I figured, I'm young, why not give it a shot? So...here I am.” She peeked up though her lashes as if to gauge Will's reaction. He snagged them two flutes of champagne. He proffered the glass with a bow and then raised his to a toast.

“Well pet, that's an admirable vocation, chasin' your dreams. To your dreams.”

“To my dreams.” They clinked their glasses and downed them in one go, giggling like schoolchildren afterwards.

Will made it his personal crusade to shepherd Eve around. He introduced her to everyone, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm when she started getting a little glassy-eyed with all the glitz and glamour and celebrity. She was cute and charming, and the photographers couldn't seem to get enough pictures of the two of them. All in all, Will was quite impressed with the way Eve handled herself.

“Who do you keep looking for?” she asked, when they'd snuck into a secluded corner to escape for a little while.

“M'brother. Spike. He's probably pissed that I haven't found him.” Will flashed a brilliant smile at her. “You'll like him.” Eve smiled back and took a sip of her drink as she scanned the crowd of faces, acutely aware of the man beside her. She spied the mirroring shock of white-blond hair off to the left and subtly maneuvered Will in the opposite direction. She wanted a little more time with Mr. William Giles before she had to share him with anyone.

Just as Will turned towards his left, Eve swayed unsteadily on her feet. Will was there in an instant, arm on her elbow, watching her with concern in his eyes.

“Are you alright pet?” Eve smiled weakly at him and fanned herself.

“I think so. Must be the heat, it's sweltering in here. Is there a balcony or something?”

“Of course, luv, follow me.”

They climbed up a winding staircase to a secluded outdoor bar area. It was a much more quite and intimate setting, small knots of people talking low amongst themselves. Perfect. Eve chose a small love seat to encourage closeness. They couldn't help brushing against one another as they talked.

Ever regaled Will with tales of her childhood on a small farm. Her family had money, not a lot but enough to live comfortably on and keep a few horses. Will reminisced about his childhood in England, riding horses with the various Noble children of London and the surrounding areas. Eve was well versed in various poets, and they had a heated—albeit friendly—argument about the merits of Chaucer, Kertzer's study of modern poetry, and the themes of Eliot's The Hollow Men. Eve was well read and well reasoned, though her discourse lacked a certain amount of academic depth. While they talked, hours slipped away.

***

Spike was Not Pleased. Capital letters. He and Will had split up to try and divide and conquer the party—most people couldn't tell them apart and there were the refreshing few who didn't realize they were identical twins—but Will had never found him again, and he couldn't find Will for the life of him. He'd done his pleasantries with Jasmine, who was a brilliant writer but kind of creepy, and started circulating but still...no Will. It seemed like his brother had deserted him, but Will wouldn't do that. Plus, they'd shared a car.

It also didn't help that giggling sycophants kept trying to corner him and gush about the color of paper or some equivalent nonsense. All they wanted was a roll in the hay and some of his family's money. That's all these type of people wanted. So Spike snagged a befuddled-looking Tara and sat them down in the furthest booth he could find. Tara looked so grateful he had to smile.

“Looking a bit piqued there, pet.” His words only slurred a little. Tara blushed and ducked her head.

“I'm n-not good a-a-at these things.”

“Psssstttt.” Spike waved his hand to encompass the whole room. “Only pe'ple good at these things's people lookin' fer money. Any way they c'n get it.” Tara looked a little shocked at his cynical view of her girlfriend's premiere party. Spike shot her a wry smile and drank the shot of Jack in front of him.

“Sorry, pet. 'm blunt when 'm drunk.” She giggled a little and boldly drained the rest of her vodka-cranberry. They laughed, Spike toasting her with his own mix drink. “Ta to tha' luv.”

Tara was hiccuping, and Spike was pretty sure she was the most adorable drunk he'd ever met. She treated every drink like it was a naughty prize she was hiding from her teachers. Spike couldn't remember when he'd been that...well, whatever Tara was at the moment; his words were kind of escaping him. He propped his head on his hand and gazed at his friend.

“What?” she asked, sipping her sugary cocktail.

“Nothin. 'S just...why're you with her?” Tara flushed and looked down, her demeanor closing down.

“We...I mean...I love her.” Spike wasn't convinced. He'd seen people in love, been in love himself; this wasn't love.

“Love or loved, pet?” Tara blushed furiously, and Spike felt like an ass for making her feel bad. “Least you know where your date is, though. Mine left me out t'dry.”

“Y-you had a date?” Tara asked in surprise. Spike caught his mistake and tried to backpedal.

“I mean, you know, not like, that, was just Will and he...we're...it's just a...bugger.” His head hit the table with a dull thump. Tara's giggle floated to him, so at least he'd made her laugh. “Just pretend that I didn't speak.”

“To waste the spoken word is the work of an unstructured mind.” Spike bolted upright, just barely keeping the scowl off his face. The more he got to know Jasmine, the more she rubbed him the wrong way. Her eyes burned with something more than life, and she was fast entering cultish territory if he was reading her rhetoric correctly. But he liked Tara. She was an amazing human being with a huge heart and Jasmine treated her more like a minion than her girlfriend of many years. But Jasmine was a brilliant writer, no way around it.

“Fair enough,” Spike agreed with false cheer.

“Thank you for the party, Mr. Giles. It was lovely. I enjoyed meeting so many people. It's good to know my Word is being read. But it's time for me to retire. Good night.”

“Jasmine. Tara.” The two women left, Tara shooting him one last friendly wave. The crowd had thinned considerably, and Spike was pretty sure he could see real light coming in from the front of the club. He was seriously considering taking the car and letting Will do...whatever when he heard a very familiar laugh.

Spike spun around in time to see his brother walk out of the back rooms with a woman hanging off his arm. They were laughing like old chums, their body language intimate and close. Anger flooded through Spike. Will had blown him off to talk with some gold digging wanna-be actress type. Spike chugged the rest of his drink and slammed it on the table. He was ready to get out of her. He stalked towards the pair, ignoring the pleased smile Will shot him.

“Spike, hey, I—“ Spike grabbed Will and started hauling him towards the door. “Spike! What are you doing?” Will wrenched his arm away, pissed and embarrassed by his brother's actions, especially in front of Eve.

“I'm ready to go. I've been ready to go, but YOU were no where to be found. The. Whole. NIGHT.” Will looked at his watch in surprise. He'd been talking to Eve for hours.

“Sorry, I lost track of time—”

“For seven hours?!” Will blushed but refused to be cowed by Spike.

“I'm sorry for forgetting, but Eve wasn't feeling well so we went outside. It wasn't intentional, you're drunk and we're not having this conversation now.” Spike's gaze flicked to the woman in question. His eyes travelled the length of her body, blatantly assessing her and finding her wanting. When he got to her eyes, he scowled. She was assessing him as frankly as he had assessed her, and her eyes spoke volumes. They were cold and calculating, but as soon as Will glanced her way, they were warm and inviting. Spike snorted at how she was trying to play his brother, who wouldn't fall for such an absurd act.

“Fine, whatever, I'll have Howard pull the car around.” He strode off, one ear attuned to the couple behind him. Luckily, Howard was an efficient man and had the car ready in five minutes. Spike had never been more grateful to see a sleek black limo to save his life. He climbed halfway in before he realized Will wasn't following him. He turned around questioningly, waiting not-so-patiently.

“Are you good to get home?” Will asked Eve with concern. Her eyes flicked deliberately to the steaming Spike.

“Yeah, I'll just grab a cab, it's fine.”

“No, please, let us give you a ride home.” Eve smiled and let her gaze slide to Spike again, who looked thunderous.

“I...that's really OK. I wouldn't want to put you...or your brother...through any inconvenience. I can get home, it's not a big deal—“

“Will!” Will turned and glared at Spike before turning back to Eve.

“It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone.”

“But I can't—“

“What if I ride with you? To your place?”

“But Spi—“

“Spike can go on in the car, I have cash on me, it'll be fine. Yeah?” Eve smiled timorously at him.

“I'd...I'd like that. Thank you.”

“No problem, pet. Give me a mo.” Will jogged over to the limo, frowning at his obviously agitated brother. “Hey.”

“Can we go?” Will sighed deeply; sometimes Spike could be a huge pain in the ass.

“Look, I'm going to ride with Eve to her place, just to make sure she's—“

“Oh LOVELY. Are you serious?” Will sighed; he could feel the fight brewing in his bones, and he really didn't want to ruin what had, to this point, been a pretty good evening.

“Look, she lives alone and I wouldn't feel right—”

“Whatever,” Spike growled, throwing himself in the car. “I'll see you in the morning.” He closed the door on Will's “I'm coming home!” and ordered Howard to get them the hell out of there.

Will watched the limo pull away with growing anger. Spike was being ridiculous and petty and childish and any other number of words and Will REALLY didn't feel like dealing with him tonight. He turned to find Eve waiting for him by a taxi looking unsure. He smiled soothingly and climbed in with her.

“Sorry about that, he can be...difficult when he's drunk.” Eve grinned.

“Yeah, I get that. Two older brothers.”

The rest of the ride was made in friendly silence, and when the cab pulled up to her apartment building, Eve invited Will up.

“Oh, I don't...um...”

“Oh! Oh no! I just thought, with the fight and the drunkenness...in my spare room! Not with, um...” She ducked her head and blushed. Will thought about it. If he went home in the morning, Spike would be sober and Will would be calmer.

“Yeah, that could work.”

***

Spike went to bed pissed and woke up angry. Will hadn't come home. Will had gone off with that, that...trollop and apparently... Spike turned over and yelled into his pillow, letting all the frustration of last night leech out of him. Fine. Will would come home, they'd talk about it, and hopefully this Eve character would be over and done with.

But Will didn't come back.

Spike puttered around the house, made brunch, watched some TV, even read a manuscript. The sun started setting and Will was still out and about with...he couldn't even think the bint's name anymore. Had she really managed to snow his brother? The calm, centered one of them? Spike growled and slammed his dishes down a little more forcefully than he needed to.

Will didn't get in until pushing five o'clock, and Spike had worked himself into a right snit.

“Spike?” He kept his silence, wiping down the countertop, trying to control the irrational surge of anger he felt. “Spike, are you here?” He sighed and resigned himself to talking to Will when the cadence of a feminine voice floated to him and set his teeth on edge. He wouldn't.

Will and Eve were standing in the living room, smiling at each other like lovesick fools. Spike glared at the happy picture of gold diggery.

“Spike! There you are! I—” Spike pushed past Will and headed towards the bedroom. HIS bedroom, not...the other one. “Spike! Spike! What are you—“ Will grabbed his brother and spun him around. “What's your problem?”

“My problem? My problem is you ditched me last night to hang with a gold digging bint and t'add insult to injury, she's IN MY LIVING ROOM.” Spike stepped up to Will, his blue eyes blazing. “Get. Her. Out.” Will snorted and folded his arms.

“You can stop being jealous, nothing happened, and even if it did we have an agreement—“

“I'm not jealous you wanker. I'm pissed that you DITCHED ME at the party last night! I'm pissed that you're apparently thinking with your cock when it comes to that twat trap, who's gonna fuck you stupid and leave with all yer money.” Will growled and slammed Spike up against the wall.

“Don't talk about her like that.” Spike shoved back, sending Will stumbling several steps away.

“Just callin' it like I see it,” Spike said with an angry, antagonistic smirk. It was guaranteed to piss Will the fuck off, and it worked like a charm. “'snot my fault you're blinded by a little bit of T'n'A.”

“I want you out of here, Spike,” Will growled, sweeping his arms out in a grand gesture that encompassed their shared room, though they told everyone it was Will's. He saw the flash of hurt that passed through Spike's eyes, but it was soon replaced by intense anger.

“There is nothing you could say to me that would make me want to stay.” Will glared at his brother and stepped forward to give Spike a piece of his mind, but Spike was ready for him. They wrestled with each other, each man trying to get the upper hand. Their anger didn't dissipate with the physical combat, it grew with every angry touch. Eventually, they wore themselves out, and Will pulled away panting heavily. Spike reached out to grab Will's hand, something in him crying out not to let Will leave this way, when he found himself on the ground, dazed and in pain. He opened tear-filled eyes, focusing blearily on the figure standing over him. He felt his heart break a little when Will shot him a disgusted look and stormed out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.

***

“Are you OK?” Eve shot a look at her silent companion. She'd snuck back and overheard the fight between the brothers, heard Will's ultimatum and the dull sound of fists on flesh. Inside, she was positively gleeful; the brother's closeness had been her biggest hurdle, one she seemed to have jumped without even trying. Will was already eating out of her hand, and halfway in her pocket already; she'd have to be stupid or an amateur to mess this up now, and she was neither.

“Fine.” Will's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the whites of his knuckles showing.

“I...I'm sorry for causing you trouble,” she said in a small voice, trying to sound and sincere as she could, drawing in on herself. A warm hand settled on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles.

“It's not your fault, luv. We're...it's complicated.” Eve shot him a watery smile. “How about some dinner?” Will offered with cheer he didn't feel. Luckily, Eve didn't seem inclined to call him on it, and that in-and-of itself proved to him that Spike was just acting out of jealousy.

***

Will returned to a silent, oppressive apartment. He and Eve had spent a lovely time together. They'd had lunch at Will's favorite Indian place before migrating to Santa Monica. They spent the day wandering around the Santa Monica pier, then walked down to the Venice Beach Pier a few miles away when they got bored. It was a lovely walk with the sun setting in the background, and when they were done they impulsively stopped in for a movie, the mindless comedy lifting Will's spirits somewhat. Will found Eve easy company, their conversation flowing effortlessly. He'd invited Eve to dinner and realized half way through that they were on a date. And he kind of liked it.

The somber mood in the apartment chased away his improved mood.

A quick survey of his room proved that Spike had done exactly what Will had asked; he'd moved out. To the other room a few paces away, but...it felt like farther. They'd been sharing a room since birth, and while they occasionally maintained separate spaces when one or the both of them had a 'special someone,' it never lasted long. Somewhere along the way they'd both come to believe that they'd eventually end up with someone who wanted both of them. Together.

Will sighed and sunk down on the bed. They'd had fights before. Bad fights. Fights where Spike disappeared for weeks at a time, but always came back so they could fight some more and then get over it. But this...this felt different. It felt...final. Irreparable. And for the first time, Will had no idea how to make this right. Spike's vicious attack of Eve was unfounded and harsh, but Will should have handled the situation better and he definitely shouldn't have hit Spike. But he knew his brother, and he knew himself; neither of them were going to step up and apologize. Not for a long time, and not without a clear indication of who was in the wrong.

2.

Spike spent the next few months miserable. He lived in the same apartment as Will, worked in the same office, rode the same elevator and said maybe twenty words to each other in that whole time, mostly at corporate meetings where the rules were clear and there was no chance for things to disintegrate. Things had gotten so tense that even Anya had noticed, though not even she could break through the stoney wall of silence.

Spike split his time between his room, the office, and the bar a couple of streets away. He was seriously considering moving out because things were getting unbearable. Eve spent almost every night at their apartment, and he could hear her voice and Will's laughter through his closed door. It hurt every damn time.

They started out 'just friends.' Will had gone out of his way to drop that information into their non-existent conversations. Spike snorted every time, because Eve wasn't gunning for 'just friends.' She had her claws in Will and she was in it for the long haul. Spike tried to spend the least amount of time in her company, because when they were together the temperature of the air around them could give someone frost bite.

Eve continued to worm her way into Will's good graces. She brought him his favorite foods, cooked for him, debated the great works of literature. Spike couldn't figure out how Will missed the practiced air of her speeches, the lack of passion, the fact that she'd read some essay or book and was regurgitating the information without really feeling the artistry of the works. Will was blinded by something, and fuck if Spike could figure out what or why.

So they drifted apart, day by day, hour by hour, until Will was a ghost in their apartment and Spike hadn't seen the sunshine in months. This rift between them was killing him, and he had no idea how to fix it. A growing pessimistic part of him was positive there was no coming back from this place for them. What they'd had, what they'd been, was no more and would never be again.

Since they hadn't spoken more than twenty words to one another over the past month, Spike was understandably surprised when Will knocked on his door one night. Spike watched with inscrutable eyes as his brother hovered nervously on the threshold, shifting his weight from side to side. Spike's heart broke a little, because not too long ago Will would have never felt uncomfortable around him, when he'd have known his lover's secrets almost the moment they happened. Had been his lover's secret keeper for longer than either of them could remember. This farce they'd been living, this distance...it was killing him, one day at a time. He realized he was tired of this bullshit, tired of the anger and the recrimination. He wanted to make things right, to get back what they'd lost. Spike took a deep breath when Will blurted out, “I'm getting married.”

Spike felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut, all the air whooshing out of his lungs. He felt...numb. He stared at his brother unflinchingly.

“I, ah, asked Eve. Last week.” That hurt more than Spike wanted to admit. “And I'd...I thought you should hear it. From me. Before you heard it around the office.” Will tried to open his mouth, to get the words out, to tell Spike how much this separation sucked, but they just wouldn't come out. He'd been holding them back so long he'd forgotten how to say them. There was a flurry of movement and Spike pushed past him, heading for the front door.

“Spike! Wait!” Will cringed as the front door slammed closed. That had gone as well as expected.

Spike started walking without any destination in mind because this was LA and when he'd walked himself out, he was pretty sure he could find a bar within two feet of where he stopped. He wanted forget the last five minutes of his life had ever happened, because he'd been so fucking naive to think his life couldn't get any more pathetic.

Where the hell did Will get off marrying that trollop?!

Spike walked for what felt like hours, hands shoved into his pocket, people giving him a wide berth as he stalked down the streets. He only stopped when the pain of what had to be the mother of all blisters demanded he stop walking. He found a bar and ordered himself a bottomless Jack Daniels on the rocks.

They kicked him out around half a bottle. Spike stumbled around a bit, his balance precarious. Despite his best efforts, Spike ended up tumbling ass-over-ankles, sprawled out on the sidewalk under a garish neon light. 'Tattoo' flashed brightly over his head.

The tattoo artist looked nothing like what he'd imagined. He was a she for starters, and her tattoos bore an unusual elegance. They ghosted along her skin, coming alive as her muscles moved and flexed as if each image was alive. Then again, he was pretty drunk, so it could all be in his head.

“What can I do for you handsome?” Spike leaned forward, beckoning her closer.

“I've had a bit of a heartbreak,” he told her with the intense seriousness of the drunk. “And I'd like to commiserate it.”

“You mean commemorate there, gorgeous?” Spike considered it and shrugged; he didn't really see the difference. “Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that? You'd be better off movin' on.” She gave him an appreciative once over. Spike snorted and reached for a nonexistent drink. “What'd she do sugar?”

“'s gettin' married, right? T'this absolute fuck of a human bein'. Ponce.”

“Aw, sugar, love's a bitch some time.” Spike started laughing, drunken giggles that still conveyed the pain he was in.

“That's me. Love's bitch. Should get that tattooed on m'ass.” The tattoo artist chuckled and stroked her hands through the shock of bleach-bottle hair. Poor boy was hurtin' bad. She grabbed a water from underneath the counter and handed it to him. He stared at the water for a moment before he shrugged and tilted his head back, chugging it in large gulps. Claire admired the arc of his long neck, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he drank. He was a handsome lad, she couldn't imagine who gave all that up.

“Now sugar, let's hear the whole sordid tale.” She set another bottle of water in front of the handsome stranger. “Tell me about the woman that broke your heart.” He snorted.

“The bitch's name's Eve. Eve. Downfall of man, she is.”

“Eve huh? Broke your heart, fed you the poisoned apple?” She grabbed her pen and started sketching.

“Nah. Feedin' Will the poison. I just got caught in the crossfire.”

“So she's a he?” Spike giggled again.

“Schwat I thought 'bout you!” Claire smiled benevolently, shaking her head at the drunken man. His humor was short lived, and she winced at the curtain of pain in his eyes. “Yeah, Will. Love of m'fuckin' life and he's off marrying some piece of ass with nice tits and an eye fer his bank account. Gold digging whore.” Claire chuckled and shook her head, her hands skating along the paper in front of her.

“See, Will 'n me...we go way way way far back...” Claire listened to the man spin his tale of woe, words of love and lust and intense hurt. His wore his lover's defection as clearly as any physical wound she'd ever seen. Her heart went out to the two of them. To have found such love and then just thrown it away... She popped open Spike's pants and eased them down around his hips; boy was well put together, had muscles his wry frame hid well. She picked out the perfect spot for her creation and shaved the fine hairs away.

The more she heard about this Will, the more her heart hurt for the broken man in her chair. His love was palpable, as much as his despair. She paused to switch needles, the red flowing from her thicker tool and staining the pale skin, a visual representation of the bleeding heart before her. This man, who hadn't even told her his name, spun the most delicate story of love and loss she'd heard in many a year of being a tattoo artist, and she'd heard quite a few. He wound down just as she put the final touches on her work of art, both a symbol of the present and her hope for the future.

A single red heart stood out vividly from the pale, fine skin, outlined in black with an angular 'W' racing thought the center, breaking the heart and holding the pieces together.

“All done, sugar,” she said kindly, taping a bandage on. The bottle blond raised his head blinking owlishly at her.

“Wazzat?” She laughed and buttoned his pants.

“You're all tatted up. Need me to call someone for you?” Spike shook his head.

“Naaaaaah. How much?” He fumbled with his wallet, but Claire stopped him.

“Not interested in your money, sweets. Consider it a present. You sure I can't call you a cab or somethin'?” Spike smiled a little at her and pocketed his wallet. The water and the chair time had sobered him up a bit, and he wasn't quite ready for that.

“Ta, luv. Appreciate it.” Claire sighed as the man slipped out of her studio, murmuring a prayer for his lost soul and broken heart.

***

“He was really upset,” Will said for the umpteenth time. Eve suppressed the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. She was so tired of hearing about Spike. Will carried on about his mopey brother incessantly. Coupled with the way Spike was acting about the engagement and their relationship...well, if they hadn't been brothers, she'd have suspected something.

“He's so stubborn, what if he gets himself hurt? Spike can be really stupid when he drinks and—“

“Honey,” Eve interrupted saccharine-sweet, “Spike's a big boy, I'm sure he can take care of himself. How about we go to bed, and if he's not back in the morning, we'll go look for him.” Will smiled at her and drew her into his arms.

“What would I do without you?” Will breathed in her scent, letting it calm him, ignoring the little voice that accused him of driving Spike to this, of neglecting his brother and ignoring him. Eve rolled her eyes again, but played the part of the dutiful fiancée. She was counting down the days until they were married and she had everything she wanted.

She was half asleep when she heard the phone ring. Will stirred beneath her, but she soothed him back to sleep. Slipping out of the room, she picked up the phone in the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Cabo's Cantina. Dude's drunk, he gave us this number to call. You know a...James Giles?” Eve let a small, vicious grin settle on her face.

“He's my fiancee's brother. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

***

“Hey. Buddy. Your ride's here.” Spike grumbled and pulled his head up, forcing his eyes to focus. He gritted his teeth when Eve's scowling face came into view.

“Wassatere?” he slurred. Stupid bitch, what the hell was she doing here, interrupting his drunk. She should be holed up with Will having socially appropriate, disgustingly heterosexual sex.

Eve wrinkled her nose at the smell and sight of Spike. God, he was disgusting. She'd picked the right brother without a doubt. The bartender helped her get Spike into her car.

“You sure you're alright?” Eve sent the guy a flirty smile; he was kind of hot and had been VERY helpful.

“I think I've got this all sewn up,” Eve said with a grin. The bartender nodded, looked her over one more time, and gave Spike a disgusted glance. Eve concurred completely. She climbed into the car and started heading back to Will's apartment. She pulled out her cell phone after making sure Spike was well and truly passed out.

“Hello vixen.”

“Kyle, darling, I need your help.”

“Anything. What kind of help do you need?”

“Can I get a witness?”

“Ah, would this be related to your current...conquest and his annoying twin?”

“You know me so well.”

“I'll be there.”

“I know.”

Spike was still passed out when they pulled up to the apartment complex. Smirking, Eve thwaped Spike on the side of the head.

“Oi! Th' fuck...”

“Get up. We're home.”

“Bitch,” he growled under his breath, opening the door and stumbling out of the car. He wove unsteadily on his feet. He tried to walk forward and almost crashed into Eve. He shook his head and tried to get away from the brother-stealing whore, but they only ended up more tangled. Spike tried to clear his head and disentangle himself, but Eve was like a limpet and everything he did only made things worse.

“Geroff me you blimey bint!”

“Spike!” Eve yelled, struggling against him while pulling him closer. Spike frowned and started moving against her, his drunken clumsiness making it easy to keep him off balance. “Spike, get off me! Help! HELP!”

“What're you on about?” Spike growled. He tried to stand up, but Eve pulled him down on her. He fell forward with a grunt and a curse.

“Someone, please--”

Spike was roughly hauled up and off of Eve. A blinding pain radiated from Spike's jaw, and he stumbled back into the car so hard the alarm went off.

“You fuckin' pervert!” Spike's head snapped backwards as his assailant popped him in the nose. His head was still swimming with alcohol. Someone jacked him against the car door, bending Spike's arm so that it was pinned uncomfortably behind him. He turned his head and saw Eve crying in someone's arms. His last conscious memory was of the car door coming towards his face really really fast.

***

Spike came too with a violent headache. Even moving his eyes beneath his lids caused spikes of pain to course through him. Nausea roiled through him when he tensed his jaw, the extra spike of pain too much bear. God, he hurt. Everywhere. He tried to remember what had happened last night, but came up with flashes of some heavily tattooed woman and alcohol. Lots of alcohol. He groaned in pain and finally managed to open his eyes.

“Will?” Only it came out slurred and unintelligible, but it got his brother's attention. Will's eyes were red and troubled. He looked like he'd been crying, and there was stubble on his face; wow, whatever had happened must have been as bad as he felt.

“Will...” Spike trailed off into a moan, fighting the urge to vomit.

“Spike.” The word hits Spike like a physical blow, cold and formal and dark. Even at their lowest low, Will's never said his name like that. Spike forces his head to the side so he can face his brother head-on, despite the way the world swam and went fuzzy. Will looked...wrecked. Spike tried to reach out to his brother, but his ribs protested and he didn't seem to be in control of his body. Regardless, Will pulled away, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and watching Spike with fathomless blue eyes.

“Do you hate me that much?” Spike opened his mouth, but no words came out because he didn't understand. He loves Will; he's in love with Will. How can he want anything less than Will's complete and utter happiness?

“I...I...what?” Will dropped his head in his hands and laughed hysterically.

“You attacked Eve! You ATTACKED her, Spike! I mean...I know you don't like her, and I know you can be a complete twat when you're drunk but...I never would have thought you capable of...” Will shook his head and Spike felt himself die a little inside. Because Will actually thought...was actually accusing him of...

Spike felt nausea welling up in him, completely different from the pain-inspired queasiness. He closed his eyes and tried to let go, to forget the look in Will's eyes, to just forget.

“I can't be around you anymore,” Will said, voice pitched low with contained anger. “You're...I don't know what's happened to you, Spike. Just...I'm moving in with Eve. She can't be alone right now, not after...” what you did. The silence stretched between them. “Get yourself help, Spike. Please.”

Spike refused to open his eyes, refused to let the moisture gathered behind his eyelids escape.

***

“Come to bed, sweetie, brooding doesn't suit you.” Will smiled wanly up at Eve, who looked so fragile wearing his overly large clothes. A dark bruise peeked out from under her collar and he looked away, pain welling up in him.

“I know. I just...I'll be in in a minute.” Eve studied him for a moment before nodding and kissing him gently on the lips.

“Don't be too long.”

Will admired her long, beautiful legs as she left the room. He sighed and downed his glass of whisky in one long gulp.

Before he knew it, he was staring at the remnants of the glass littering the floor, ice and whisky-water trailing down the wall.

FUCK. What had Spike been thinking? They'd been at odds for months now, but he hadn't honestly thought that Spike was in such bad shape to have...attacked Eve like he had. Like she said he had. Will shook off the cynical voice in the back of his mind. He liked Eve. He was happy with Eve. She talked about Chaucer and Vonnegut and intertextuality. She was (too) perfect.

And yeah, there was that part of him that longed for Spike, that felt listless and unfulfilled without his brother but... Will fisted his hands in his hair.

He should not be this wrapped up in his brother. They shouldn't even be...have ever been...

Jesus, was he fucking Eve, was he getting down on bended knee and proposing forever just because he had some latent issues about fucking his brother for the past decade plus? He winced, because Spike was the crude one. He was startled out of his moroseness by a knock on the door.

Will felt like he was 80 years-old as he made his way to the door. He was surprised to find his father on the other said.

“Da. What—“

Giles brushed past his son with nary a word. He glanced at the decimated tumbler and poured himself a double. Everyone always commented on how stubborn Spike was, how impossible it was to get him to waver from what he'd decided to do once he got it into his thick skull. Spike had nothing on Will.

“Da?” Giles slammed his glass down and turned towards his son, eyes hard. He was satisfied to see Will swallow and take a step back. At least the boy had some sense in his bleached head. He pulled a business card out of his breast pocket and laid it on the table.

“You—” Giles couldn't even get the words out he was so angry. “For the first time in my life, I'm ashamed of you.” Will's jaw dropped and he reeled as if slapped. His father's voice was colder than he'd ever heard it. “I raised you boys. And I know I wasn't the best father all the time, but you both turned out well. I watched you two grow up, I watched you two grow into...the men you are today. Together. You love each other and you have a bond that I can't begin to fathom, so for you to...say such things about Spike, about you brother...” Giles shook his head and looked away, jaw clenched as he fought the anger down. He hadn't meant to attack Will, but he was just so ANGRY. He tapped the business card imperiously and, still not looking at Will, continued, “When you first started dating this Eve woman, I was pleased. When I saw your relationship with Spike start to deteriorate, I grew suspicious. I hired a private investigator to look in to Eve.”

Will opened his mouth to protest, but Giles cut him off.

“I haven't read the report. I know nothing about the girl other than what you've told me and what I've observed. However, should you ever have suspicions about your wife-to-be”—Giles' piercing gaze told Will in no uncertain terms that Giles had plenty of his own suspicions—“call that number. He'll tell you everything you need to know.”

Will was still staring at the scrap of paper long after Giles had left. It looked so innocuous sitting there, taunting him.

***

Will wiped his sweaty hands against his pants. He hated waiting. He glanced around the diner and shredded the paper napkin in his hands.

“Mr. Giles?” Will started and found himself looking up at bald black man with aviator sunglasses. He half rose out of his seat, trying to decide whether or not to shake the PI's hand. The man smiled easily and slid into the booth opposite. “Charles Gunn.”

“William Giles.” They shook hands and Will fidgeted in his seat. Gunn watched him with thinly veiled amusement and waved their waitress over.

“Can I have a Shirley Temple?” The waitress grinned at the tough-looking black man.

“A Shirley Temple?” Will asked incredulously. Gunn flashed him a smile.

“Puts people at ease. And they're great.” Will let out a strangled chuckle, working his way through his second napkin.

“So, uh, my Dad hired you and...I think...I mean, I want...”

“Do you want to know?” Gunn asked seriously.

“What?” Gunn sighed and leaned forward.

“I'm a cop. I do this stuff to pad my paycheck, but it's not my career. So if you don't want to know—really want to know—what I've found out, I'm not going to tell you. You have to be sure that you want to know whatever I've found out...for good or for bad.” Will stared at his hands, twisted around the ragged remains of his napkin. He sighed and put it carefully on the table top.

“My fiancée is accusing my brother of assault, battery, and attempted rape. He...I—“ Will choked off, his eyes brimming. “He wouldn't.” It was whispered, forced out. It was giving voice to something Will had been denying and repressing since this whole debacle started. “I need to know. I need...I love him and...” He glanced up and Gunn and saw understanding tempered by slight suspicion in the other man's eyes.

“Eve Lassiter was born Karen Adelle. She's been accumulating a nice nest egg from her various divorces over the past ten years...”

***

Spike stared morosely out the window of his hospital room, trying to keep his heart rate down. The nurses had already chided him four times about his blood pressure today.

That matched the four times the cops had been by, once to Mirandize him and take his statement—which mostly consisted of 'I didn't do it. I was drunk and don't remember anything but I didn't do it'—take his statement again, question him, and advise him that as soon as he was released, he was under arrest. Life was swell.

He heard a knock on his door and sighed.

“Nothing's changed, I'm not gonna run, can we do this later?”

“If you'd like.” Spike started at the sound of his father's voice. He shifted over and met his father's eyes, gritting his teeth at the ridiculous tears that wanted to fall.

“Da.” He was wrapped in his father's arms before he knew it, all his defenses shattered. He cried for the first time in years, tears of bitter frustration, heartache, betrayal and forgiveness. He let the build up of the past months leech into his father's shirt.

Giles held on to his son, his heart breaking all over again. Things were so broken in his family. His boys had been his one constant, the one thing in this world that had remained constant, even after his wife died. They were...special, his boys. He knew that. But to see them hurting so badly was killing him in side. All he could do was lay the groundwork for them to reconcile, but that would take time.

For now, he would take care of James.

Spike pulled away and looked at his father with wild eyes.

“Da. I didn't...I didn't do what she says I did, I was drunk but I couldn't, would never—”

“James.”

“—do something like that. I hate the bloody bitch, there's something about her, but I would never, NEVER—“

“James.”

“—do anything to hurt Will, or anyone he l-loves. It's—“

“SPIKE.” The boy ground to a halt, looking at his father in overwhelmed shock. “I know.” Spike's eyes watered all over again, and he let his father gather him up in a crushing, comforting hug.

***

Spike signed his release papers and shrugged into his jacket. Giles squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“It'll be fine, son. The lawyer will have you out before they're done processing you, I promise.” Spike tried to smile at his father, but he couldn't muster up anything but resignation. Will hadn't returned to see him after their ill-fated conversation three days ago. His father and lawyer had been in and out discussing legal strategy, and Spike was done. He just wanted to go home and sleep and never wake up. But he had to go to jail first.

“Let's get this over with,” he said solemnly.

“Spike, I want to make sure you understand—“

“I get it, Lindsey. No talking to them, no answering questions, no doing anything to make them mad.” They marched up to the waiting detective, currently on his phone. Spike grew increasingly agitated the longer the detective stayed on his phone, making affirmative noises and generally ignoring them.

“Right, I understand. Thanks.” The hulk of a man flipped his phone shut and turned to Spike. “Charges have been dropped. You're free to go.” The detective walked away, leaving the three men gaping after him.

“I don't...understand,” Spike managed. Lindsey and Giles held a silent conversation over Spike's head and Lindsey headed off to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Let's get you home, son.”

***

Home. Spike snorted and looked around the musty apartment. It was obvious no one had been in it for quite some time. It felt empty and abandoned, and emphatically not like home.

He looked into his room. The guest room. The guest room that had become his room. It all felt so wrong. He needed to find another place to live, and place without all the memories.

The doorbell rang, and Spike seriously considered not answering it. When it rand again, he figured that if it was Da, he might start worrying and either wouldn't go away or would work himself into a tizzy and call the police. So Spike dragged himself to the door and was completely floored to see Will standing outside, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

“Hi.” Spike stared at him mutely. “I, uh. Can I come in?” Spike stepped back on autopilot, closing the door and walking into the living room without actually remembering any of it. Will was hovering uncertainly around the entertainment station, looking everywhere but at Spike.

“I didn't—“

“I wanted—“

They looked at each other awkwardly, but Spike couldn't bear to keep his brother's gaze.

“Go ahead.”

“No, please, I...you go.” Spike shrugged and decided to hell with it, he might as well get this whole debacle over with.

“I'm sorry for whatever happened with Eve. I didn't do...anything, I swear, but....”

“I know,” Will said softly. Spike's head snapped up, and Will winced as he got a good look at his brother's bruised and battered face. “I, Dad, she...fuck, Spike.” All the fight seemed to drain out of Will. “I fucked up. So badly. She set you up. Eve, she was...only in it for the money. She saw you as a threat so she, uh, set out to eliminate you. As a threat.”

Spike stared at Will for a moment before he very calmly stood up, picked up a picture frame, and threw it against the far wall.

Spike was shaking.

“Spike—“ Spike cut him off with a violent slashing motion. When he turned back around, his blue eyes were stony.

“You chose her.”

“I know.”

“You chose her.”

“I...”

“You chose her.”

“I made her drop the charges. Threatened to swear out a warrant for her arrest and sue her for fraud if she didn't. I took out a restraining order and contacted a few of Dad's friends so they could keep an eye on her.” Will glanced up at his brother. “I wanted...I needed to make her gone. Because I love you.” Spike snorted contemptuously and turned away. Will reached out towards his brother, who twisted Will's wrist in his hand.

They started tussling, Spike reacting out of blind fury and Will trying to wear Spike down so they could actually talk. It was a short rumble; Spike was far too worn down from the roller coaster of the past week to put up a good fight. He ended up pinned on his back, Will hovering over him. He closed his eyes, trying to beat back the world.

“Spike,” Will whispered coaxingly. Spike's eyes remained firmly shut. “Spike.” He shook his head a little. Will bent closer, his lips hovering a millimeter above Spike's. “Spike.” It was a whispered benediction, a promise.

Spike whimpered and Will closed the gap between them, pressing against lips he knew so well. He flicked his tongue against the seam of Spike's lips, asking for entrance, asking for the chance to say 'I'm sorry' with a kiss. But Spike's mouth stayed closed and firm, and Will felt his world stutter to a halt. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Spike's, breathing in the spicy scent of his oldest lover, the love of his life, one last time. Just as he moved to pull away, Spike whimpered again and jerked Will down into him. His mouth was hungry and desperate, and Will's heart ached that he'd put that there, he'd exposed Spike's weaknesses.

Spike tried to wrap himself around Will, to get as close and humanly possible through the layers of clothes between them. Because as much as they'd been though, as betrayed as he felt, he needed Will like nothing else in this world.

“I'm sorry,” Will breathed between kisses. “I love you. Never...again.” Spike pulled back at that, his hands framing Will's face, blue eyes piercing. “I mean it. I was...struggling with some things. But I've made my choice. I don't...I missed you. She couldn't...no one can ever compare to what you do to me, how you make me feel. I don't want anyone who doesn't want you too.” It all came out in a huge, jumbled rush, Will trying to put everything into one space so Spike couldn't get away or cut him off. “You're the most import—mphf!”

Spike cut him of with a chaste kiss, just enough pressure to stop Will from talking.

“I—“ his voice cracked. “I'm not ready to forgive you.” Will tensed, and the misery-guilt crashed back over him. He tried to jerk away but Spike held on, held him close. “But I will be. In time. I just...need time.”

“Anything you want,” Will promised. They laid there on the hard floor, more content than they'd been in ages.

“Anything?” Spike finally asked, his voice resonating in his chest, the vibrations crawling over Will's skin and he shivered. How the hell had he ever given this up? Will stroked along Spike's chest.

“Anything at all.”

“We're getting a new apartment.”


3.

“Seriously? You want the Sony?” Spike shot Will an annoyed glance that had Will immediately backpedaling. “Sure, if that's what you want, we can go with the Sony.” Spike tamped down the flash of irritation at Will's meekness. They'd both been walking on eggshells around each other the past month, and it was starting to wear at Spike. Will never argued with him anymore, was rarely ever assertive; he seemed trapped in apology-mode, always pandering to what he thought Spike wanted to hear. It was almost as bad as when he'd been dating Eve.

Spike shook his head and turned on his heel, needing to get the hell out of the claustrophobic store.

“Spike—“ Spike shook his brother's hand off his arm.

“Jus'...give me a mo, yeah?” Will slumped forward and sighed as he watched his brother leave. He was trying, but nothing ever seemed to work. Spike's temper was short and frayed, and Will was doing everything in his power not to make things worse. If he could fast forward time to the point where they were whole and complete again, life would be good.

“Sir?” the bored-looking salesperson called.

“Yeah, we'll get back to you on the television.” Will wandered towards the front of the store in search for his brother.

***

They made the trip back to the new apartment in silence. A new home for new memories, or that had been the plan. So far, nothing much had changed. They still kept separate rooms, and the house felt as empty as when they'd first bought it. It was barren and impersonal; their knick knacks and pictures were still sitting in boxes, neither one of them motivated enough to fish them out and really decorate their apartment.

Spike made a bee-line for his room the moment they were in the door, the soft click of the door more damning than a slam.

Will grit his teeth in frustration. Any amount of emotion from Spike, even something as trivial as getting pissed enough to slam the fucking door, would've been preferable to the emotional limbo they'd been living in. Will picked up closest lamp and hurled it against the wall, suddenly irrationally angry. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, and every fiber in his being wanted to cause massive, widespread destruction to everything in his path. It was a futile, impotent anger that was eating away at his soul.

Spike heard the muffled thump and crash outside and winced. This was all so fucked up. Things were supposed to be better. Will had apologized, Spike had sort of forgiven him. So why couldn't he move on? Why couldn't he just...get over it? He pulled his pillow over his face and screamed into it.

This was all so fucked up.

***

Giles watched his sons dance around their broken relationship and his heart broke. His boys were hurting, and there was nothing he could do. He let out a long suffering sigh as Spike walked away from Will, missing the longing look thrown after him.

“You raised them too British,” a voice pipped up behind him. Giles turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at Anya.

“I assure you, while Will may have a scoche of British gentleman in his bones, Spike has not even a drop in him.” Anya huffed and slapped two heavy tomes in his arms. She was amazingly disrespectful for a secretary.

“I am an administrative assistant. And they need to yell.”

“Yell?”

“At one another. Yell and scream and maybe flex their very impressive muscles and beat each other up. It's all very masculine and cathartic. A little hot. But it helps and is a good segue into reestablishing se—”

“*AHEM* Yes, Anya, I think I get the, uh, picture.” Giles fought the urge to remove his glasses and clean them off. He glanced over to catch Anya's sharp, assessing look and wondered if he was being tested in some capacity. She seemed inordinately pleased with him at the moment. He turned his gaze back to Will, who was watching his brother disappear down the hall with an intense look of longing.

“Is there anything I can do to, ah, facilitate their reconciliation?” Anya frowned.

“With anyone else, I might be able to do something. But your twins are something else.”

***

Spike growled and paced the length of his room. Another tense night spent in his tense apartment with Will mere feet away and...he growled and spun around, pacing to the other side. He couldn't take much more of this. Couldn't do this anymore.

Feeling wild and unpredictable, Spike threw his door open and strode out, intent and focused.

“Spike?” He spared a fleeting glance for Will but didn't answer. “What are you—”

“Out,” Spike growled, wrenching open the door and disappearing into the night.

He walked to the closest bar, a small hole-in-the wall with dark corners and low lighting. They served strong drinks and you could find anything you wanted there, and right now Spike wanted to fuck.

He walked in like he owned the place, eyes darting around and surveying the scene. No one quite fit what he wanted, but the night was still young. Spike ordered a double shot and tossed it back, enjoying the vicious burn and how it settled in his stomach. The waitress brought him a double Jack without him even asking and he smirked at her in thanks. He wandered over to a side booth and settled in to wait. For what, he wasn't sure, but he'd know it when he saw it.

He'd been there for about an hour, nursing his second drink, when what he wanted walked in. The man was tall and dark, his black hair gelled up, his eyes hooded and intense. He was about as far away from Will as anyone could get. And Spike wanted him. The man surveyed the room, his dark eyes zeroing in on Spike in moments. Spike smirked at him and raised his glass in greeting. The other man let his eyes wander over Spike, undressing him one article of clothing at a time.

“Hello.” Spike smirked up at his chosen target, nodding his head lazily.

“'allo.” The man slid into the booth beside Spike, his thigh brushing against Spike's. Spike tilted his head back and drained his glass. Mr. Dark and Handsome smirked at him. “Wanna get out of here?” The man tilted his own glass back and drained the contents, turning a blinding smile on the smaller man.

“Absolutely.”

***

Will heard the door open and scrambled out of bed. He and Spike needed to talk, needed to clear the air before this thing destroyed them both, ate away at what they had until there was nothing left to salvage. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Spike plastered against some hulking brute, devouring the taller man's mouth. He swallowed hard and backed down the hall when Spike's aroused moan reached his ears, bile rising in Will's mouth.

Spike reached for the man's belt, unbuckling it and pulling the worn leather out in one quick motion. The man chuckled against Spike's mouth, breath hot and unfamiliar. They stumbled down the hall, hands roving, shirts being pulled out, rucked up so their hands could feel taught skin. Spike kicked open his door and steered the nameless man into his room.

Before he quite knows how it happened, Spike is shirtless and sprawled on his bed, watching his random hookup strip out of his shirt.

“What's your name?” Tall dark and handsome dropped his shirt on the floor and teasingly popped open the top button of his jeans.

“What?” TD&H chuckled and crawled on the bed, straddling Spike's supine form. One big hand dipped into Spike's jeans, knuckles rubbing against his semi-hard cock.

“Your name, boy.”

“S-Spike. God, it's Spike!” The dark laugh crept up Spike's spine, making him shiver in pleasure and guilt; this felt dirty and illicit in a way sex never had before.

“I'm Angel.” Spike keened high in his throat as the man wrapped his hand around his cock. God, after so long it felt so good. Angel stripped his pants the rest of the way off, pressed wet kisses down the length of his conquest's chest. He paused over the boy's hip and traced the tattoo he found there. “What's this?”

“Naguhr?” Spike mumbled incoherently. He felt the brush of Angel's fingertips along his hipbone, the sensitive skin sending shivers of sensation along his flesh.

“This. Your tattoo.” Angel pressed a kiss over it, biting into the delicate flesh, and Spike bucked him off. Angel scowled from his new position on the floor. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, sorry, I...” Spike trailed off, his attention caught by his reflection. He hadn't really looked at it, the impulsive tattoo a sympathetic artist had given him for free. The think black outline, the dark red of the heart, the wide gash that lanced through its center. The gash that broke the heart in two, a stylized W that divided each side. He winced when Angel walked up behind him and pressed against his back, feeling dwarfed and smothered by his bulk so different...so different...

“It's alright. I like a little rough and tumble.” Spike spun away from his wandering hand, casting around for something to cover himself.

“Yeah, about that, I don't think—” Angel growled darkly and stepped threateningly towards the blonde.

“You don't get to back out now, boy, get back over here and—” Angel never got to finish the sentence because the urge to enact mindless violence reared up and Spike decked Angel. While Angel was groaning on the floor, Spike pulled on his sweat pants and gathered up Angel's shirts. He threw them at the other man with a sneer.

“Think it's time you leave, ponce.” He was spoiling for a fight, and something in Angel seemed to sense that.

“You fucking fag,” the darker man growled. Spike rolled his eyes.

“Creative and effective, mate. You come up with that yourself?” Angel glared daggers at Spike, swearing vengeance on the other man. He turned and wrenched open the door, stalking out of the apartment, Spike hot on his heels to make sure Angel didn't get 'lost.' He barely noticed Will poke his head out at the commotion. At the door, Angel turned around and narrowed his eyes.

“You'll be sorry you did this,” he growled angrily. Spike laughed in his face.

“Already am.” He slammed the door closed and punched the wall in fury.

“Spike?” Will took a step back at the wildness in his brother's eyes.

“William.” Will swallowed at the heat in his brother's eyes, the dangerous glint of them.

“Are you OK?” Spike started laughing, the sound harsh and bordering on hysterical.

“OK? Am I OK?! No. No, I'm not OK! I am so far from OK I can't see the shoreline!” Will hunched in on himself.

“I'm sorry—”

“STOP. Stop being fucking sorry. I don't want you to be sorry. I'm fucking tired of you being sorry all the goddamned time!”

“Well what do you want, Spike? Because we may be twins, but I can't actually read your mind!” Will yelled, his own feelings bubbling to the surface.

“This! I want you angry and pissed and real and not treating me like I'm made of glass! I want to get mad at you without you backing down, I want...fuck!” Spike turned around and sent his fist through the dry wall, reveling in the brilliant flash of pain that travelled up his arm. He was spun around, Will pushing him up against the wall, pinning him there with his hips and a thigh between Spike's legs. “Get off.”

“No.” Will pressed a firm kiss to Spike's lips. He pulled back and Spike opened his mouth. “Shut up.” Will growled at Spike's mutinous expression and shook his brother, slamming him back against the wall.

“Seriously, shut up. I'm sorry.” He moved his thigh up when Spike's expression hardened and turned mulish. “I'm sorry I caused you so much pain. I'm sorry you were so hurt, and I'm sorry I couldn't find the words to make this better. But Eve showed me somethin' important, somethin' I needed to know.” Spike rolled his eyes, but Will ignored it. This was too important. He ducked down, forcing Spike to look him in the eye.

“You're it.” Spike's breath caught in his throat as Will laid his soul bare. “I don't want to live my life without you in it, by my side, in our bed. I had, ah, some lingering issues involving our...particular situation...that I let influence that whole situation. I never loved her. I never came close. I missed you every moment of every day, and every time you pulled away, I...” Will choked off and laid his forehead against Spike's.

“You have to talk to me,” Spike murmured, his hands flexing on Will's hips. “You can't, you can't keep that stuff bottled up. You have to tell me—”

“I know. I know, luv. And I'm so—” Spike stopped the apology with a gentle finger to Will's lips, the tension finally bleeding out of him. For the first time in too long, Spike felt some semblance of peace.

“I think I get it. Finally.” And Spike smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a year and four months. He pressed a kiss to Will's lips, a vow and forgiveness wrapped in one sacred act. “I accept.”

“Life has taught us that love does not
consist in gazing at each other, but in
looking outward together in the same
direction.”
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery


They're due at a party in thirty minutes. It's for one of Spike's clients, who thinks he's dreamy and wants to give him babies. Thing is, they'd make beautiful children. She's model-tall with perfect hair and perfect teeth. Athletic. Half a brain. Annoying laugh, though.

Sometimes, William gets really insecure about how the people around him feel. OK, that's a lie; he gets insecure about Spike. Because Spike is popular, and hot, and out going. He can walk into a room, smile, and be best friends with everyone in it. Will is none of these things.

Will has always worn labels like 'mousey' and 'geek.' Even after his high school makeover, when Spike dyed their hair and inked kohl on his eyes, it was still Spike they saw. Spike's magnetic energy and his easy smile. People are drawn to him, and sometimes Will can't help but be jealous and prepare for the worst. Spike's going to get tired of this thing they have, realize they're brothers and nothing good can come of that, and move on. Meet someone special.

Like this one time, when Spike met this really hot girl and flirted with her (what else is new?) Will had planned out their entire life, from the wedding he was forced to be best man at, to their beautiful bouncing 5 kids. He hated her. Even after Spike took one look at him, rolled his eyes, dragged him into the bathroom for a blow job and promised he wasn't remotely interested in her without Will. That usually works. (And Will's the most conscientious bastard Spike knows, so he usually gets a reciprocal blow job out of it at the very least.)

But sometimes, Will needs something more. He needs to know Spike's his. His for the night, if not forever. And he's got something big to prove tonight.

Spike's on his back, laying across their bed, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Every breath sends a frisson of sharp pleasure through Spike's body. Will's stroked and petted and touched him for the past hour, so much that even the sheets beneath him and the air flowing around him raises goosebumps on Spike's flesh, makes him shudder with need.

Will's lips map every millimeter of Spike's skin, from the scar on his knee (tricycle accident, age 5), to the constellation of moles along his right side, to the tiny white knot of tissue on his collarbone (Trish Eggleston stabbed him with a pencil). Will has a memory for every mark. He knows Spike's story as etched into his skin by nails and concrete and too much exuberance for life. Remembers every tear, every drop of blood, every bravely set face and choked back sob.

The point is, Will knows things that no one else does. Things about Spike that you had to be there to see: like the expression on his face when he first stood up on a pair of water skis, or how his lips pressed together when he scraped his thigh against a protruding nail and had to get stitches, but never once let the pain show. He's been there for all those things, and no one else will ever have that. Not the chick who invited them to this party or the dozens of models who populate this city.

“Will,” Spike whispers, trembling with the effort to keep still. God, the way his brother says his name, in a reverent whisper because to speak it loud would be blasphemy. It's fragile and rare to hear Spike like this, stripped of his weapons and walls. Vulnerable. Will bends down to kiss him and pulls out his toy. He rolls it down Spike's cock, slick from his pre-come, with practiced ease and jacks Spike a couple of times as a twisted kind of thank you. Will rips his lips away and pushes him off, glaring down at his cock.

“WILL!” The dark black ring wrapped snugly around the base of Spike's penis makes Will's heart race and his mouth dry.

Spike grits his teeth and shifts his glare to Will because he's been hard for hours now, laying still under Will's slow torture. Yeah, he gets his brother needs this sometimes, gains some sort of reassurance from Spike's acquiescence. And there's nothing he needs that Spike won't give to him. But this? Is pushing it a little far.

“We have to go to a party,” Will tells him casually, shrugging back into his shirt. Spike goggles at him, because what? “Meila's party. You were specially invited, remember?”

Spike narrows his eyes. So this is one of those times, where Will's feeling jealous and possessive and he reminds them both where they stand. With each other and everyone else. He resigns himself to wearing the cock ring for the whole party, though 'resigns' may be a stretch; Will always makes it worth his while.

“I don't like her,” Spike vows through gritted teeth. Will shrugs, but Spike's not fooled but that. “Seriously, she's completely off her rocker. Thinks bloomin' onions are the devil.”

Will pauses. His head comes up, and it slowly turns towards Spike, who's reviewing the last thing he said to try and figure out what's made Will turn deadly on him.

“When did you discuss your gustatory habits?” Will asks, voice smooth and controlled. Spike gulps. Fuck.

“I, uh. Had lunch? With...her? A business lunch. On Da.” The look Will's giving him is dangerous, and does not bode well for his night.

----

“Oh, James! I'm so glad you could make it!” Spike grins nervously, kissing Meila on both cheeks. He can feel Will hovering at his back, and he's careful to keep his ring-bound erection as far away from Meila as humanly possible. When he pulls back, she's grinning at him, speculation and desire swimming in her eyes. Will makes a low sound in the back of his throat that has Spike thinking of growling dogs and murderous wolves.

“It's, uh, thank you? For, for inviting us.” He hears Will (the bastard) choke back a laugh behind him. Meila's smile dims just a little, but before he feels like a complete prat, Will sweeps in with an expensive bottle of wine and a possessive hand hidden at his lower back. Meila lets them in, and Spike stumbles when Will grabs his ass right before walking over the threshold. Meila catches him, and gives him a concerned look.

“He started early,” Will says with an angelic smile, and Spike's going to kill him. Meila simpers and offers Spike his choice of juices. No. Death is too good for William Giles.

The party is a nightmare. Meila makes play after play for Spike's attention. Will makes sure Spike's attention is emphatically not on Meila by starting a slowly escalating assault. It starts with little touches. Will brushes against Spike, or skim his hand along the curve of Spike's ass. Spike can't imagine this getting any more torturous, but Will's a devious fucker and proves him wrong wrong wrong, so very wrong that Spike's dick is gonna break if he doesn't come soon. Because the touches grow bolder.

Will wraps his hand around the back of Spike's neck in good humor, thumb rubbing knowingly against the knobs of his spine. Will corners him in the kitchen and presses him against the counter tops, rubbing lewdly against the erection Spike can't ignore or get rid of. Spike gasps and his eyes flutter close, and then Will's gone, on the other side of the room talking happily to someone else.

Then, Spike bends over to grab some hour d'oeuvres and Will spanks him in front of everyone. And fuck if that didn't send a bolt of lust to his already-hard cock and make it strain. Spike's had it, at that point. While everyone's laughing at their antics, talking about how awesome it must be to have a twin, Spike and Will have a silent conversation in which Spike threatens to cut Will off for the rest of his fucking life if he's not in the bathroom in 30 seconds. Will nods his understanding, biting back a smirk, and Spike turns on his heel...

...only to find his way block by Meila.

“Are you alright, Jamey? You look a little flushed.” Spike bristles. If there's one thing he hates more than his name, it's variations on his name. If Will had any lingering doubts, they're gone now, because that's a deal breaker.

“Jamey isn't feeling very well,” Will steps in smoothly, his hand on Spike's back. “Where's your restroom?”

“Oh you poor thing. It's right this way.” Spike can barely walk he's so aroused (Meila not withstanding), so he takes the opportunity to lean heavily on Will.

“You better get down on your knees and pray I don't murder you,” Spike hisses in Will's ear. Will shudders and his grip on Spike's waist tightens.

“Do you need anything?” Meila asks, dripping with concern. “Ice cubes, a cold tolwlette—”

“We're good!” Will says perfunctorily, and shuts the door in her face. Spike's already struggling with his pants when Will falls to his knees.

“Fuck, yes, you gotta, I need...I need...”

“I know,” Will whispers, pulling Spike's cock free. It's red and angry, weeping at the tip. Will bets there's a wet spot in Spike's boxers and his own dick jerks. He presses the heel of his hand against his crotch to ease the pressure.

He slowly rubs his thumb against the crown of Spike's cock, gathering the fluid there and spreading it around. Will groans and sags, knees struggling to hold him up. If it weren't for the cock ring, this would have all been over already. Will pushes up, and together they manage to get him seated on the edge, cock waving in the breeze.

Will decides he's been evil enough and swallows Spike down to the root, a trick he perfected years ago. Something garbled and indecipherable slips from Spike's lips, and Will swallows. Spike's entire body tenses, knuckles white where he's gripping the side of the sink, and his mouth is open wide, but there's no sound coming out.

It's ridiculously hot.

Will fondles Spike's balls, rolls them between his fingers the way he knows will drive Spike wild. He sucks, hollowing his cheeks, enjoying every truncated gasp and stifled moan. It's heady, watching Spike try and keep the noise down while Will's sucking his brains out by way of his dick. Which makes Will suck harder.

Spike thrusts up shallowly, hips totally out of his control. Will moans, knowing he's driven Spike so far out of his mind he can't stop himself, and the vibrations snake up Spike's nerve endings and send shocks of pleasure through him. Spike has to bite down on his knuckles to keep from yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Will,” Spike gasps, arching into Will's evil, wonderful mouth. “Fughhh WILL!” There's desperation and panic in Spike's voice, because if he doesn't come in three seconds heads are going to roll and--

Will pulls back enough to slide the cock ring off, and Spike sees stars. The world's mottled and gray and Spike's in heaven. His body twitches and jerks happily, muscles going lax and boneless. He slides down off the sink, guided by steady hands.

When his eyes start to cooperate, Will's cleaning himself up. There's a small smear of come at the corner of his mouth. Spike has to close his eyes and remember how to breathe when Will's tongue darts out and licks it away. He can't get hard again. Not this fast.

“You alright?” Will's voice is low and gravelly, strained around the edges. It's unbelievably hot.

“Iahmarugh.” Spike pauses, blinks, and tries to figure out what just came out of his mouth. Will stares at him for a second, then starts laughing—side splitting gales that make his eyes water. Soon, Spike's joining him, his grin made goofier by the leftover endorphins and general goodwill. He bets Meira won't even annoy him right now.

“Guys? Are you alright? How's Spike feeling?” He was wrong.

“Spike's...better. Had to get somethin' out of his system,” Will says, voice laden with innuendo. Spike smirks and rubs his thigh against Will's still very noticeable erection.

“How about we get something out of your system at home?”