::I don’t like tomato soup.::

Xander glanced at Spike. The former vampire was scowling and smiling at the same time. He wasn’t sure that was really possible, but he was. The young man knew that behind the cheap sunglasses that Spike had produced from his duster, his eyes were huge and shining. The reason? The sun was bright and glowing in a cloudless sky. “I’ve got cream of mushroom too,” Xander replied.

::I know, pillock,:: Spike shot back. ::And minestrone, and vegetable..:

::And nacho cheese, although why anyone would either make or consume nacho cheese soup is beyond my comprehension,:: Wesley added. ::However I am sure there is something that Spike will lower himself to consume.::

“Sorry,” Spike murmured, contrite. He hadn’t meant to be difficult.

::Forget about it,:: Xander thought gruffly. He couldn’t be mad at Spike, which made him angry. He wanted to be frustrated at the older man. It was a comfortable sensation he was well used to.

::How do you make grilled cheese sandwiches?:: Spike asked Xander. It was a diversionary tactic; he could feel Xander’s unease. Besides that, he had no idea of how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Images of melted cheese dripping into a fire didn’t inspire confidence. Yes, he could see Xander’s memories of what grilled cheese sandwiches were, but he hadn’t experienced them himself. It was odd, knowing but not knowing.

Xander laughed at the picture, almost tripping over a manhole cover as they crossed the street. “They’re really fried sandwiches,” He told Spike. “You let the cheese melt inside the sandwich, not on a grill.”

“Cheddar?” Wesley asked hopefully. “Or swiss?”

“I’ve got both,” Xander said. “And provolone, and American, and muenster.”

::Muenster and cream of celery soup,:: Wesley moaned. ::You have a can left.::

Xander shuddered. ::And it’s all yours. I never could stand it.::

Spike and Wesley just nodded. They knew it was something Anya preferred. That name, however, wasn’t going to get mentioned—verbally, at least. ::How much farther is it?:: Wesley inquired.

::About a block,:: Xander reassured him. They were tired, achy and more than ready to relax and get some sleep. The added stress of the new additions to their minds wasn’t helping any. Xander kept getting these weird flashes from Spike…the man was afraid of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. It was more of a general fear reaction. ::Spike?::

“What?” The former vampire asked.

::Something bothering you?:: Xander inquired.

::Dunno. Look again later,:: Spike replied.

By that time they’d reached Xander’s apartment building. He let them inside, locking the door afterwards. “Bathroom’s that way,” He said, pointing. “I’ll start food.”

“Xander,” Wesley murmured. “We can’t go that far without you. Not yet, anyway.”

“Ergh. Fine, come on,” Xander muttered walking towards the bathroom. The two men trailed just behind him. “I’m sure we can stand—“

“Yes, we can,” Wesley replied quickly. He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door. Spike and Xander stared at each other for a minute before leaning against the wall just to the side of the door. They pointedly flooded their minds with images of food and television, hoping to not notice the mental details of Wesley’s ablutions. It worked fairly well, although Wesley complained that it wasn’t easy to piss with visions of chocolate ice cream and basketball running through his head.

“Xander?” Wesley murmured as he left the bathroom. Xander turned and took the other man’s place in the small room. Once he was finished, the three men stood there, looking at each other while they wondered what to do.

“Don’t you need to, er, go?” Xander asked Spike.

::Why? I’ve only been alive for a few hours,:: Spike reminded him. ::Nothing to get rid of yet.::

::Oh, yeah,:: Xander thought. ::I knew that. Let me get you something to sleep in.::

::I want the blue pair with the drawstring,:: Spike thought as they moved into the bedroom. ::You’re too big; the others will fall off me.::

“Got a point there, blondie,” Xander agreed as he dug through his dresser. Soon all three of them were possessed of faded sweatpants and t-shirts. “Er…” The three men simultaneously turned around to give themselves a modicum of privacy while they changed. When they turned back around, they couldn’t help but laugh at themselves.

Xander looked normal—after all, these were his clothes. Wesley, and to a greater extent Spike, were swimming in his larger attire. Spike frowned momentarily, until he saw in his mind what Xander saw in his own eyes—a slender, shorter man drowning in baggy britches and a shirt. ::Oh, like Wesley’s any better. Disneyland?::

Wesley looked down at his shirt and shook his head. ::I cannot believe you bought this, Xander,:: He thought. ::The blue one was much more appropriate.::

“How was I supposed to know the red one would fade to pink?” Xander defended. ::But it’s very…::

“Do not finish that thought,” Wesley warned. “You promised sandwiches, soup and sleep, in that order, I believe.”

Xander nodded and turned to go to the kitchen. The others followed him like his own personal honor guard. When Xander thought about that, Spike reached forward and thwapped him gently on the head. ::Not your bleeding honor guard, mate. More like the peanut gallery.::

Soon the stove was on and covered in pots of canned soup and frying sandwiches. Xander forced Spike to eat his soup first, in the hopes that the relatively bland substance wouldn’t bother the man’s…unpracticed stomach. The first word he’d thought was virgin, which nearly got his head thwapped again. As it was, Spike glared and Wesley suppressed a giggle.

“Thanks, mate,” Spike said as he carried his dishes back into the kitchen. “Wish they’d had grilled cheese and Campbell’s back then,” He added, thinking about Victorian London. He actually liked American cheese. It didn’t taste moldy, unlike most cheeses. Yeah, he liked fine foods, but mold wasn’t his idea of haute cuisine.

::Mine either,:: Xander said. ::I mean, I like food as much as the next guy, but Limburger? Ugh!::

::I quite like it,:: Wesley countered. ::With garlic, pickled herring, and capers.::

Spike and Xander looked nauseous. ::That was so not nice,:: Xander shot back to Wesley. ::Because you know I can taste the memory. How could you have eaten that?::

“And liked it?” Spike continued. “I’ve had demon’s blood better than that!”

“Fyarl?” Wesley inquired. “I believe you would describe it as—“

::Liquid armpit stench, blended with toe cheese,:: Xander finished. ::But maybe we’d better stop before we throw up.::

“Right,” Spike stated. “Bed, then. We’re all about to pass out.”

“Yes, Xander, I’ll sleep in the middle,” Wesley said tiredly. The boy was rather obviously leery of sleeping next to Spike, and they’d already figured out that in order to get any rest, they’d be sharing one bed.

::Sorry,:: Spike thought.

Xander sighed. ::Don’t be. It’s…::

::I understand,:: Spike answered. It didn’t make him feel any better to do so, but he comprehended the boy’s anxiety. Funny, though; Wesley didn’t feel the same way, and he had held similarly negative views of the vampiric Spike. Hmm.

The bed was big, true, but they were three full-sized adult males. By the time they got arranged under the covers, they were packed like kippers, side by side. ::I’m warm,:: Spike thought after a few minutes.

::Living things get that way,:: Xander replied. Wesley reached over to Spike’s side of the bed and pulled the top blanket back.

“Those of us who’ve been living with an internal body temperature—“ The ex-Watcher began, only to be cut off by Spike.

::Have learned to layer,:: Spike finished. ::Sorry.::

“Stop saying that,” Xander said out loud. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry,” Spike said again, this time for annoying Xander.

::Grr,:: Xander growled mentally. ::Sleep. Don’t apologize. Sleep.::

::Alright,:: Spike murmured. ::Sorry.::

Wesley caught Xander’s hand before it could actually descend onto Spike’s head. The blonde was already rolling out of the way—their mental bond betrayed Xander’s intentions. Xander wrested his hand loose from Wesley’s and rolled onto his side, facing away from the others. Spike calmed down and relaxed, once again trying to fall asleep.

“Sorry,” Xander whispered a few minutes later.

::Me too,:: Spike replied quietly.

“Ahem,” Wesley muttered. “Sleep?”

“Yes, sir,” Xander and Spike spoke simultaneously.

::Brats.::

•••

Wesley woke up feeling warmer and more secure than he’d ever felt before. Something soothing yet firm was pressed against his back, and a similar source of comfort lay against his chest, pressing him gently. He knew that it was Spike and Xander, curled around him. They’d wrapped themselves into quite a knot in their sleep.

::Stop thinking,:: Xander ordered. ::Might be able to go back to sleep.::

::Too late,:: Spike admitted. ::I’m awake now.:: And he needed to go to the bathroom.

::Even if you don’t remember how, we do,:: Xander told the older man. Spike groaned and prodded Xander to get him to get out of bed. He had to have both of them near the bathroom or the pain of separation would make the entire operation pointless. Wesley stumbled after Xander, followed by Spike, as they made their way to the toilet.

“When you’re done, wipe with the—“

A very sharp mental image of Xander, knives, and housecats shut the youngest man up rather quickly. Spike retreated into the bathroom to relieve himself.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Wesley told the young man. “He’s doing remarkably well for someone who’s been dead for a century.”

::Thank you, Dr. Wyndham-Price,:: Spike thought dryly.

“Hey, I’m humor-guy. If there’s an opening, I’m gonna take it,” Xander told the others.

::So I noticed, buttmonkey,:: Wesley retorted. ::You set yourself up with that one.::

“Did you have to bring that up?” Xander whined. “I mean…”

“He could’ve done much worse, Nighthawk,” Spike said as he returned from the lavatory.

“Bloody awful poet,” Xander said snidely. “Ok, do you want frozen waffles or—“

::Eggs, bacon and toast,:: Wesley interjected. ::Perhaps an omelet.::

“Only if you cook it,” Xander said.

::Please?:: Spike asked the ex-Watcher. ::I can help.::

::As you wish,:: Wesley said amiably. ::You did ask politely.::

“I’ll help too,” Xander mumbled.

“Oh, I can find everything,” Wesley assured him.

Xander glared. Yeah, they could find everything in his apartment, including the sex toys under the bed. Then again, he knew where Wesley kept his skin mags. And where Spike hid his “Stuffed frog? You have a plush frog?”

Spike’s head whipped around. “Yeah, so what? Dru gave it to me.”

::But Dru treated you like shit,:: Xander said, confused. ::But you liked the frog anyway. Oh.::

::It’s a cute frog,:: Wesley commented. ::And stop thinking about my pornography collection, or I will be forced to think about how to embarrass you with your sex toys. Anal beads? Really, Xander. How depraved.::

Xander destroyed the egg he was holding, broken yolk running through his fingers. ::Have I mentioned how much this sucks?::

“A time or two, yes,” Spike answered. “If that bothers you, I’d recommend you not—“

“You fucked Angel?” Xander screamed. “A lot! You fucked Angel! Ewwwwwwww! I’m gonna have to spend eternity knowing you did Angel?”

Wesley shuddered under the images he was recalling. Apparently Xander had managed to stop them once he realized who was involved. Otherwise he wouldn’t be shouting at Spike, but rather at Angelus. What Wesley saw wasn’t sex, or even mere fucking. No, the memories were of Angelus brutalizing Spike, again and again. The Englishman couldn’t find a memory in which Spike seemed to be enjoying the act at all. “Shut up, Xander. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“He fucked Angel!” Xander repeated. Spike was shrinking away from Xander, as much as he could and still retain all his sense. The revulsion he felt from Xander was debilitating enough on its own.

::Xander, stop!:: Wesley ordered. He pushed the memories he’d seen into Xander’s mind. The boy stilled, his eyes wide. Oh. He hadn’t looked very closely at all. “He…”

Spike knew what Xander was seeing and hated it. For one, nobody should’ve had to suffer through that. He also didn’t want the boy’s pity, and he knew it was coming.

::I’ll try not to,:: Xander swore shakily. ::Pity you, that is. And I’m sorry for yelling. Seeing Angel like that is traumatic.::

::No kidding,:: Spike replied flatly. ::And not to change the subject, but are we ever going to finish breakfast?::

Wesley and Xander obediently resumed their cooking. They’d spent enough time on the painful subject of Spike’s past. There was no reason to torture any of them with more of it right away.

•••

“Damn, that was one fine omelet,” Xander declared, pushing away his plate. “Wes, you can just have the apron and oven mitts. I officially resign from the food preparation job.”

::I think not,:: Wesley argued. ::I am not cooking all of our food.::

“I’ll cook,” Spike offered. ::If you watch the first few times.::

“We’ll see,” Wesley murmured. “As much as I would like to spend the rest of the day alternating between sleeping, eating and painful realizations about our now-shared memories, I think it would be prudent to bathe, dress and go explain this situation to the others.”

“Before they hunt us down, you mean?” Xander asked. “You’re right.”

Spike just nodded and stood up. “Maybe we should try to stretch the distance we can be separated. Just a little.”

::Good idea,:: Wesley thought. ::Although I don’t think we’ll be able to manage washing the dishes while Xander showers.:: Spike frowned but agreed. He’d wanted to get that task out of the way, but it would have to wait.

Xander paused in their trek to the bedroom to get a couple of chairs and place them next to the bathroom. There was no reason for the others to stand around while he got clean. In the bedroom he rifled through his clothes, looking for something for the others to wear.

::I know you’ve got a plain, dark t-shirt in there somewhere,:: Spike thought, peering into a drawer. Xander reached in and retrieve a navy cotton shirt.

“It’ll have to do; the black one’s dirty,” He said. “Wes? You want…”

::Yes, that one,:: Wesley confirmed, taking an amazingly unadorned maroon shirt out of Xander’s hands. The younger man provided the others with additional clothes, then herded them into the main room so he could take his shower. They stood next to their chairs, waiting for him to actually get into the shower stall. Once he was relatively stationary, they began to edge the chairs away.

::Stop,:: Xander thought loudly. ::Uh, could you get a bit closer? I can’t hear a damned thing.:: The two men obediently shifted back. ::Thanks. Wow, we must be a good six feet apart.::

“It’s because Spike and I are together,” Wesley replied loudly.

“And we’re not so tired,” Spike added. ::Don’t slip on the soap,:: He reminded the young man as he sensed Xander dropping a bar of Zest.

::Stop knowing I’m bathing!:: Xander insisted, joking a little. It unnerved him to know the others could tell exactly what he was doing, but at the same time it was damned funny hearing Spike warn him against shower mishaps.

::Yes, sir,:: Spike replied meekly. ::I’ll just sit here and think about something else.::

Both Wesley and Spike winced when Xander mentally shouted out his displeasure at suddenly hearing ‘God Save the Queen’ a la the Sex Pistols.

::Spike!::

::Yeah?:: Spike asked, rubbing his head. The kid had one hell of a loud mind.

::Sorry.::

::Yeah, me too,:: Spike returned.

Wesley groaned. It was going to be a very, very long day.