Andrew leaned up against cave wall.  “So, after you burned up into a firey ball of redemptive fire, you went to heaven?”

Spike didn’t bother glaring.  It hadn’t worked the whole time his sorry ass had been dragged into the cave, so he didn’t think it’d work now.  Andrew looked older, maybe a couple years, but he still had that damnable puppy enthusiasm.  He hadn’t shut up yet.

“Don’t know where I went.  It was. . . timeless.”  Unfathomable, indescribable, pure being, wrapped in cotton and stardust.  If he listened, he could still vaguely hear the melody. . . but the words were lost forever.

Spike was aware he was still insane.

“. . .prophecy.  I begged and begged Mr. Wyndam-Pryce to let me come find you.  He wasn’t going to let me but then Allison got sick and there was some kind of rising in Santa Cruz, so he said I could.”  Andrew beamed happily at the chance to earn more authoritative approval.

“So I’m a prophecy, is it?  What’s eating the world now?”

“Oh, we don’t know.  Just that you were supposed to come back when you, um, did.  Back there.  And I found you.  I’m sorry about the clothes thing.  I didn’t think you’d be, you know. . . naked.”

Spike bit off the appropriate comment.  “So now what do we do?”

“There’s a car coming tonight to pick us up.”

“Tonight?”  The sky was full of vampire-saving clouds, but the shadows said maybe three o’clock.  “That’s a while away.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure when you’d—it’d happen.”

Except Spike distinctly remembered Andrew’s whiny voice breaking in surprise and pleasure, complimenting his on-time arrival.

Spike smelled a rat.  Or more accurately. . .

“All this for just li’l ole me?” he dissembled.

Andrew flushed bright red and Spike decided that there’d be no problems at all.  He should’ve felt uncomfortable, or horrified.  Or maybe frozen, trying to remember all the things he knew he’d forgotten.

But he just felt like Spike.

And Spike could do this anytime, anywhere.

Andrew’s kisses tasted like rain and candy.  His touches were hesitant, unsure, but greedy.  Desperate.  He spoke the entire time, begging and narration mixing into a whispered prayer.  He bled a little as Spike eased inside, but he said that it was all right.  It always bled a little the first time.