DISCLAIMERS: So, the other day I'm at work, serving tables, when I look up and see that stalker, Joss, sitting in my section. I sigh, and go over, asking him what I can get him. "Can I have anything on the menu?" he asks coyly. I nod. Joss drops the menu on the floor and says, "Can you stand on this?" I roll my eyes and walk away, ignoring his shouts of, "Buffy may have gone downhill, but it's still mine! Mine!!!" Loser.

THANKS: Hey. Thanks for reading.

THE STORY: Remember that episode where Spike was all laying on the cross and getting crispy? And then the next episode where Buffy brings Spike to stay with Xander? Well, this is a conversation that happens after she leaves. Poor Souly Spike.

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"Now...go to your closet."

Buffy turned away from Spike and vanished out the door without a backwards glance, leaving him alone with Xander. Alone with the guy who really, really disliked him. Wonderful. Thanks a bunch, Slayer.

The two stared at each other silently, not moving.

"I can't believe this is happening again." Xander said finally, disgusted. "Why do I have to baby-sit the crazy guy?"

Spike shrugged.

"Here." Xander walked over to the linen closet. Pulling out a ragged, well-worn towel he twirled it at Spike. "This is yours. You may use this towel and this towel only. Anything else is hands-off. Got it?"

Spike glanced at the rag and stayed silent.

Xander nodded and pointed to the fluffy towels that Anya had picked out for him. "That's right. These are for me only."

"Like I'd want to touch the love-towels anyways," Spike said under his breath. Xander shot him a look but didn't say anything, simply watching as Spike wandered into his new room, giving it a once over. "Hmm. Small."

"It's better than the basement," Xander said, behind him. "Unless you want to go back to the place with the crazy people and dank mildew-y walls. Fine by me."

"Which basement are you talking about? Your old house or the school?" Spike muttered, barely having the gumption to insult.

"Leave my parents out of this." Xander pointed to the door. "And by all means, feel free to use that at any time. It operates like so..." He went over and swung it open with a flourish, hand motioning in a swoop.

Spike didn't say anything, just sent him another look and turned back to his tiny, cramped room.

"What?" Xander frowned and peered in over his shoulder. "It's got a bed. And a window. Kinda." He watched as Spike pushed the curtain aside to expose the lovely view of the apartment parking lot, carefully avoiding the sunlight that streamed in.

"Very nice." Spike let the curtain drop back into place, cutting of the light. Great. A southern exposure. "The depression is lifting even as I speak."

"Ooooh, soul guy feels sad. Remind me why I should care," Xander said, throwing his arms wide. "Look. I have to go to work, alright? So, don't touch anything. Or do anything. Or sniff anything. Or steal anything. Or use anything. Or eat anything. You know what? Just don't anything."

Spike flopped down on the small bed and threw an arm over his eyes, blatantly ignoring Xander until he finally left the doorway. Spike was feeling rather sorry for himself. No, wait. Not supposed to feel sorry for yourself. Not for yourself, but for the people, just for all the horrid, terrible killings and maiming he'd performed on thousands of hapless victims. Never to forget the victims. Never to forget or be happy. Only death and regret and misery for years and years. Death and misery and damned spirits yammering at you for days on end till you don't know who's what anymore.

It was worse than Harm's constant prattle.

God, was this how Angel lived? Spike pulled his arm away and frowned. No, at least Angel had a posh place to squat out the remaining years of his redemption. Ole Spike, on the other hand, had this to look forward to. Plus, as far as he knew, Angel wasn't crazy, just stupid. Getting his soul had made him dumb. Spike getting his soul had made him insane. But only for a little while. And granted it probably wasn't the soul so much as the excessive evil thing living under his previous abode.

The slam of the door signaled Xander's departure and Spike sat up hopefully. Now that he had the place to himself maybe he'd grab a snack and see what was on the telly, like any other 'newly-souled-kinda-crazy-but-feeling-better-now-that-he-was-out-of-Haunted Basement Land' kinda guy would. Going into the kitchen, he was startled to find Xander there, leaning against the fridge like a harpy wife waiting for her husband to even try to sneak a snack.

"I knew you'd come and raid my fridge." Xander looked smug, arms and ankles crossed as he leaned. "Still a liar, even with a so-called soul."

Spike tilted his head back slightly and sighed at the headache that was his life. "And what have I lied about, Harris? Do tell, I'm all ears."

Xander stood up straight, eyes narrowed. "Loving Buffy," he said, voice low as if saying the words were a crime. "Biggest lie of them all."

"You think I lied about that? I went and got my soul for her, for God's sake. What else would I have to do to prove it?" Spike stepped closer, angry now. Angry, and it felt good. It felt good to feel something besides sadness and agony and confusion and terror. He embraced the anger and glowered more.

Xander looked him up and down, face almost a sneer now. "Not raping her would have proved it."

Spike felt the anger leave with a thump. Anger packed it's bags and caught the first plane back to Guilt-land, drawers left hanging open with nary a sock hanging out, leaving the room open for Sorrow and Regret to move back in...and they were a bitch of a couple to landlord to. Damn.

"Nothing to say?" Xander peered closer, taking in the drawn look around Spike's mouth, the downcast eyes. "Come on Spike, tell me again how you 'love' Buffy."

"...love her..." Spike muttered weakly, trying to regroup.

"What?" Xander asked, moving in for the kill.

Spike met his eyes. "She told you I raped her?" he asked, feeling sick. God, that night, that night that changed him forever. Did she tell people about it, about how he'd forced himself on her, ripped at her robe, bruised her skin, babbled his love for her in a moment of twisted, desperation? How he'd made her cry? He made her cry, dammit. Sure, he'd seen her cry before, that night, the first night he'd tried to kiss her. Kiss her and then kill her. He'd seen her cry over her Mum, over Dawn, over Angel...hell even over Riley. But he...he'd made her beg and he'd made her crawl. His stomach turned.

Xander stared back, face cold. "She said you tried," he relented, finally. "I saw the mark you left on her..." he trailed off, finding it hard to say it suddenly. "...thigh."

Spike swallowed, Adam's apple working nervously. Xander took a deep breath and continued.

"It was big and purple and black, about the size of a man's knee. No, not a man. An animal. It was something an animal would do to a woman, and it wasn't what someone does when they're in love."

What to say to that? Spike looked away, the shame washing down on him again, flooding his senses, making him unsteady. The soul was making him feel it, feel it in a way he'd never felt it as a normal vampire. It hurt.

"But Buffy beat you off, beat you off till you couldn't hurt her anymore," Xander finished, looking sad now too. "And now the two of you are finished. And you're living with me. Again."

Spike looked up, frowning. "I..." he paused suddenly, wanting to explain, wanting to say he'd stopped after she'd thrown him off, stopped when he would have finished the job when he wasn't chipped, when he didn't have her so deeply in his blood, in his brain. But the words were cheap What did it matter if he hadn't actually done it? It was the same, practically. He'd still betrayed her, ruined the last year he'd spent with her. "I didn't rape her. I hurt her and I tried to hurt her more. But I didn't..." He stopped again. What was the point? Xander was staring knives at him, and really, it was no more than he deserved for what he did.

It was silent for a few minutes, Xander glaring and Spike looking away, hiding his face.

"I'm going to work now, only this time for real," Xander said, finally. He brushed past Spike, making him cringe a bit at the contact, skin still sore from the cross. Draping himself on it was a really crazy thing to do, all things considered. Probably shouldn't try that again.

Xander walked towards the door and turned. Spike still stood there, looking for all the world like his dog had just died. "I'll bring you some blood when I'm done work," he relented, feeling slightly less angry.

Spike perked up a bit. "And some raspberry J-ello?"

"Oh god..." Xander looked ill. "Please tell me you aren't going to mix the two together."

"All right...I won't mix them together."

Xander blinked. "You're just saying that, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Sigh. "Fine, I'll bring you some J-ello."

Spike tilted his head. "Raspberry?" he reminded as Xander walked out the door.

Xander popped his head back, frowning. "If you don't shut up I'm going to stake you, soul or no soul," he threatened mildly. Spike's face fell and he sighed again, loudly. "Fine. Raspberry J-ello for the big baby. Yes. Okay?"

The door slammed and Spike turned back to the fridge, a rueful grin on his face, rubbing at the ache in his belly.