"He's...we're...It's complicated." Xander's hands twist in his lap, and he can't manage to look up from them. This was so not the way he wanted to tell Willow about his...thing with Spike. So not. He was thinking, maybe on the phone. From some distant, location. With some sort of shield that keeps you from being incinerated by your uber-magic best friend's fiery wrath at not telling her you were...having...things...with a guy. A vampire guy. A vampire guy who used to stalk your other friend. And who tried to kill you. A lot. Yeah, phone.

Not this. Not sitting at the Espresso Pump, where he's been dragged, almost. After a quick stop for shoes. And pants. And it's daytime, and Spike is stuck in his apartment, and it's not like that blowjob is gonna finish itself, right? And Spike's probably pissed. Or worried. Or pissed and worried, like Gandalf, when he bitched out Pippin for messing with that glowy ball thingie and annoying Sauron, but when he did it you could still tell that he loved Pippin, because of the way he looked at him during the pissed part. Spike might be like that. With the pissed, yet affectionate, worried, concern...thing.

Would Spike have the affectionate part? Along with the pissed part, 'cause that's a given. He...does things. Things that aren't evil. He says things that aren't...well, OK, they're evil, but in a good way. The good way that makes Xander all shivery, the way that makes Xander do stuff he'd never do with anyone else. Like trust. And admit that sometimes he's afraid, and that sometimes he's really sorry for things he's done in the past, and sometimes... not. And Spike gets it. He gets Xander.

Who looks up and meets Willow's worried eyes, smiling. "I'm in love with him."