When Xander was just a kid, he had a twin bed. It was plenty big enough for him, though, with “Back to the Future” bed sheets and a long blue bedspread that made a wonderful place for he and Willow to play with his pirate ship or his airplanes. Xander spent a lot of time in his room. It was peaceful and quiet there. He had his toys and his comics and no one bothered him. And at night, when his parents fought, he could crawl under his bed and let the long blue bedspread make the space into a cave. A cave where Xander was big strong lion and was never afraid of the sound of raised voices or arguing.

*

When Xander started High School, his twin bed was swapped for a double. Gone were the childish sheets and the blue bedspread, to be replaced with stripes and a serviceable brown comforter. It was comfortable, if not as fun. And if at times, he missed the bluish cave underneath his old bed, he never told anyone.

And with the new bed and new school, came new friends. Willow was still around, but now there was Buffy, Giles and Oz..and later, Cordelia. He gained knowledge of things that were far scarier than the arguments that drove him under the bed, but he also learned how to fight them and who he could depend on.

Giles, the battle-scarred alpha male, dependable and knowledgeable, guiding them. Willow, still his kitten, although she was gaining the claws of magic. Oz, wolf, giving this new Pride his cooperation. And Buffy… too quick and bright burning to be a lioness, she was a cheetah - fast and strong, but never meant to last.

And Cordelia, Queen C… No lioness there either. No. Cordelia Chase was a show quality Siamese; all seal points and soft fur. Proof to the world that you can’’t ever be too rich or too thin. She tempted him, provoked him, and alternately wanted him and pushed him away. And finally, she dumped him. His own fault, he knew… but her claws left deep scars.

*

After Xander‘s Kerouac summer that began and ended in Oxnard, he was moved into the basement. He didn’t like it much, especially the part where he had to pay rent to live there. But, heck, he wasn’t the only kid he knew who paid rent, nor the only one he knew that lived in a basement. Nick, the guy down the street that had been in his history class, lived in his parents garage…… which had no bathroom. So all in all, not as bad as it might be. He had a good sized bed, even if it was just an old convertible sofa bed and privacy for the most part. That made it easier for him to go out on patrol or to have company… or, of course, for him to get “temporary” custody of an effectively neutered vampire.

If Buffy was a cheetah, dashing through his life, Spike was a tiger, solitary and strong. Something you never wanted to turn your back on… but still, in some way more steady than Buffy. You could always count on Spike to be just what he was. Yeah, that was an evil soulless vampire - but Hell, at least you could count on that.

*

Xander’s next bed was queen-sized, chosen because Anya liked it, and he suspected, the name. It was big enough for peaceful slumber, small enough for a good cuddle, and it didn’t squeak when they had sex, although occasionally, it did bump against the wall. It had soft high-thread count sheets, firm non-allergenic pillows and a warm duvet. None of that really meant much to Xander, but if that was what Anya wanted, he’d give it to her. That’s what you did when you loved someone, right?

And he did love her. He wanted to make a life with her - his own Pride. He struggled against his fears. The fears that he… that they… were lacking that indefinable something that would keep them strong.

Eventually, he figured it out. Figured out what that something was. He needed a constant, a stability. That feeling that no matter what happened, Anya would back him up, right or wrong.

No lioness at his shoulder… Anya often felt more like the Jackal waiting to strip his bones - taking all he had and asking for more.

*

When they prepared to battle the First, Xander gave up his apartment and just moved into Buffy’s house. It was just…easier. Being male, he had a room to himself most of the time, when Giles was gone. Thank god, no one suggested that Andrew share with him. The bed was in the “guest room”, kind of old but comfortable enough for the few hours of sleep he managed to get every night. Then, after Caleb took his eye, he hid away there when he could, in pain…on drugs…and not wanting to see the looks of pity or hurt on his girls faces. The looks that said he was even less of a help now. The looks that said he should be put out to pasture, driven from the Pride and left to fend for himself… or die.

It was survival of the fittest, and he was no longer even fit.

It was in that bed that he made his decision to go to L.A. for help. He could do at least that much.

*

Wes swore that the thing Xander was currently using for a bed was a couch, but Xander knew better. The thing was a transformed demon. It had lumps in unlikely places, springs and sharp bits that grabbed tender flesh in unguarded moments, and was a color that would never be found in nature.

Wes also claimed that it came with the apartment. That was one more proof of it’s demonyness as far as Xander was concerned. Mr. Pak would never have chosen such a monstrosity. He’d been in the older man’s home. It was neat and clean and, if Xander was any judge of those things, artistic in a way that most homes were not. So the thought that he had purchased and installed that horrid assault to the eyes in one of the apartments was more than Xander could believe.

But somehow, in spite of his justifiable fears that the thing would take a bite out of him during the night, he slept better on it than he had on any bed he had slept in before - peaceful, his Pride around him.

Spike, lone tiger no longer now that he had found his mate. More mellowed, but somehow stronger with Wes at his side. They had found safety and comfort together, their Pride of two…which they willingly expanded to include Xander.

*

The bed he shared with Illyria…. Was home.

That was the only way he could think of it - full of passion and love and a warmth he had never truly felt before. Not that they never argued there (God, did they argue.. In bed and out.), but somehow, even with Illyria’s ramrod straight back turned toward him in anger, he always knew that the anger wouldn’t last… that they would, eventually, make up and get back to normal. Illyria turned her back… but she never turned away. She made his strengths be something they shared, and then redoubled them and gave them back to him in the warm glow of her love.

That bed always welcomed him, no matter what else was going on in the world. And he knew, somehow, that when the world got scary enough to make him want to crawl under the bed and hide… he was still safe. Illyria, his lioness, would see to it.