"You want to what?" There was no way the boy could be serious.
"I mean it Spike," Xander said, rope in hand. "I'll never sleep if you're looming over me, ready to bite."
Spike rolled his eyes. "If I could bite you, would I really be wasting my time here?"
"There's the door. Leave. Actually now would be perfect."
"You know I can't," Spike replied. "Not with soldier boys dragging down any demons they get their hands on."
Xander pointed at an orange nightmare of a lounger. "Then down you go."
"At least pull it out so I can lay flat, well flatish."
Xander pulled a lever, raising the footrest.
Spike sprawled onto the uncomfortable monstrosity.
"Arms and legs against, um, the arms and legs of the chair," Xander said.
With a sigh, Spike scrunched up a mite so he could be tied down. As Xander bound his arm to the chair, Spike complained. "You don't have to make it so tight."
"And I'm thinking that would be the point, making it tight so you can't move."
Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Spike amused himself, spouting sexual innuendos, most of which Xander ignored. As Xander finished off the ropes, Spike added, "Like I'd bite you anyway."
"Oh, you would." Xander, crawling across the bed, did look surprisingly tasty.
"Not bloody likely."
"I happen to be very biteable, pal," Xander added as he pulled up the covers. "I'm moist and delicious."
"All right, yeah. Fine. You're a nummy treat." As Xander dozed off, Spike worked out plans for revenge – not that any seemed plausible, him having a chip and all – but no miserable excuse of a human messed with the Big Bad and got away with it.