Xander came down the steps after he got off work--and damn he hated that stupid job--to find utter chaos. Things were strewn all over his basement, covering furniture, soggy and dripping and--was that ironing board bent? How did Spike manage to cause such destruction in only half a day? "Oh no," Xander moaned, surveying the place, and yes, the ironing board was bent. "Spike the place looks worse than when I left! You didn't even fix the drip."

"Don't turn around."

Xander ground his teeth at the voice. The least the idiotic little vampire could have done was start with an apology for the mess he'd created.

"Spike? What is it? What happened?" Tell me or I am going to tear your heart out and feed it to you.

"Don't look at me!" Spike snapped, not answering any of Xander's questions. Xander turned around despite the threats, and couldn't help laughing at what he saw. Spike was dressed in one of Xander's own Hawaiian shirts, and an old pair of khaki shorts. It was hilarious, especially with the punk nail polish and hair. "I shrunk them," Spike whined, holding up his old black t-shirt. "Bleeding shirt, trousers." Xander advanced on Spike, getting close enough to take Spike's shirt away from him. "I hate this place," Spike moaned.

"You know, I'm not any happier about you wearing my stuff than you are," Xander murmured, crowding Spike and letting his fingers find the top button of the shirt and undo it. Spike slapped his hands away, not hard enough to set off the chip, but enough that Xander backed off a little.

"Go out, get me some decent stuff," Spike ordered, pushing at Xander, who was still a little in Spike's space. "And I want more blood."

"No," Xander shook his head, pressing up against Spike and forcing him backward toward the wall. "You're not a guest."

Spike shuddered, and Xander smiled. "You want me to tear this place apart, you bloody poof?" Spike threatened, but the threat lacked any real weight, Spike's chip and Xander's sudden confidence making any threats pretty much moot.

"That's it," Xander hissed, anger finally simmering up to a boil. "I am way past through with this. I hate to break it to you, oh impotent one, but you're not the big bad anymore," Xander snapped, his mouth next to Spike's ear. Spike's back hit the wall and Xander moved in even closer, their bodies brushing together when one of them moved. "You're not even 'kinda naughty,'" Xander continued, one hand going to Spike's throat, the other toying with the waistband of the borrowed khakis. "You are nothing but a waste of space," Xander breathed, hot and human and horrifying in Spike's ear. "My space. And as much as I always got a big laugh watching Buffy kick your shiny, white ass, and as much as I know I can give you a little ass-kicking myself right now--" Xander broke off to slide his hand inside Spike's pants and grab a handful of the vampire's butt, squeezing hard enough to leave half-circle shaped gouges that oozed blood-- "I'm here to tell you something." Xander leaned in even closer, until his body and Spike's were pressed against each other, his lips resting right on Spike's ear. "You're not even worth it."

Spike sucked in a breath. His heart had that heavy feel that he'd associated once-upon-a-time with pounding, his throat was tight and for some strange reason, he was incredibly turned on. Xander's hand slid over Spike's hip and grabbed a handful of Spike's erection, making the vampire whimper and pant. Xander squeezed, knowing it was cruel, knowing he was causing more than physical pain.

With a smooth push away from the wall, Xander shed the Pizza 'Spress shirt and hat, grabbing a jacket from the couch and eying Spike as he pulled it on over his white undershirt. "I'm outta here," he told Spike, his voice cold. "When I get back, this will be cleaned up. Everything will be in it's place, the ironing board will be in it's original shape, and you will be out of my clothes."

Xander let the door thud shut behind him, and Spike tried to stop himself gulping in air.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Spike whispered, sinking down the wall and burying his face in his hands. "This isn't how it's supposed to be."

A/N: I am totally identifying with Spike and the wretchedness of life right now. Fortunately for me, there is fanfic, to cheer me up. And further adventures with Spike and the basement of doom to amuse and entertain.