“No, no, please, no NO NO NO!” The screaming began as Xander jerked awake, jumping from the bed, eyes glassy as he felt the hands moving on his body, felt the kicks into his flesh, felt the tearing begin. He backed into the wall, slowly sliding down as his eyes lost focus.

Spike knelt next to him, hands ghosting across Xander’s body, careful not to actually touch him, merely seeking to let Xander feel his presence. His heart twisted as he watched Xander’s head jerk back as if being slapped, heard the begging spill from Xander’s lips, saw the absence in his eyes.

Xander slowly curled into a ball on the floor, shaking as he felt the penetration begin, heard his father’s voice echoing in his ears. **You disgrace, should have killed you a long time ago!** The words pounding into his mind as he saw the hand rise, saw the gleaming edge of the knife, felt the vicious pain as it slammed into his flesh. He rocked back and forth, trying to calm himself, hearing Spike’s voice in his ear.

“Just a dream, just a dream, I’m here, you’re safe, it’s fine, here, we’re home, he’s not here, just a dream,” the words dropped into his mind, cooling the heat there, rippling through the ocean of hate. “I’m here, don’t worry, safe now, safe now.”

Slowly, slowly the panting stopped and Xander felt cautious hands reach out to pull him into Spike’s lap, his head resting there while strong hands ran down his back, trying to loosen the tight muscles. Xander shuddered once, an automatic reaction to the feel of flesh touching his own. Spike stopped, leaving his hand there but not moving. Swallowing hard, Xander reached an arm around, draping it across Spike’s legs, forcing himself back to the present, realizing that the touch was his lover’s, that he was here with someone who would never, ever hurt him, would never allow him to feel pain again.

Spike resumed his stroking, beginning a low, comforting purr, trying to lull Xander back to sleep. The nightmares were getting worse and worse, and he was becoming increasingly frightened by Xander’s inability to sleep. The worst part was that Xander refused to tell him what the nightmares were, refused to speak of them. Spike didn’t know if that was good or not. All his studies were contradictory. Some texts recommended forcing the issue while others stated flatly that only harm could come of premature revelations. Spike had decided to strike a middle note, asking each time what the nightmare contained, letting Xander know he could say anything, but not forcing him to do so.

“Sounded bad, luv. What was it?” Spike’s voice low and calm, the stroking never stopping.

Xander swallowed again, then slowly turned over, moving so that he was lying face up in Spike’s lap, able to see those beautiful eyes.

“Just, stuff,” he shuddered, not willing to discuss how he could still feel his father’s hands.

“Sure, pet, you can tell me, you know. I want to know.” Again, quiet and calm, no trace of the rage that Spike felt growing in him at the fact that the bastard was still alive.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t want to talk about it.” Xander slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. Spike stood, reached down and helped Xander to his feet.

“How about some hot chocolate, then? Got marshmallows and everything.” Spike ran his hands along Xander’s arms, still feeling the faint trembling there.

Xander gave Spike a small smile, knowing full well that this was Spike’s ultimate comfort food, the taste of it somehow making Spike content. They headed down the hall to the kitchen, Xander yawning hugely. He was so tired. Over the last three months, his sleep had become more and more fragmented. It seemed the healthier his body became, the more his mind attacked him. He had almost completely recovered, spending his time training with Buffy and Spike. He had quickly gained strength and agility, focusing on learning how to protect himself. He had finally convinced Spike to return to patrol after about a month, knowing that Spike desperately needed the relief of violence. Spike had initially resisted, flatly refusing to leave Xander alone. Xander had pleaded over the space of a week, finally reaching a compromise. Spike would patrol with Xander accompanying him. However, Xander was not allowed to fight and Spike stayed within five feet of him at all times. Xander had readily agreed, and, slowly, Spike had given Xander freer rein, gradually allowing him to fight the smaller fledglings. He still refused to allow Xander out of his sight, however. Not that Xander minded. He didn’t feel secure unless they were in each other’s presence either.

Spike and Buffy still were furious, still tried to talk him out of his plan for revenge. They wanted immediate gratification, Spike, in particular, growing more and more frustrated with each day that passed that Xander held him back from simply ripping out his father’s throat, no matter what the chip did to him. Buffy was barely better, vowing that she would take his father, bring him back to Spike and Xander’s house, act as Spike’s hands as Spike told her exactly what to do. The only thing holding either of them back was Xander’s promise that soon, soon, they would act. No matter how frustrated either of them became, they both understood that it was Xander’s right to take revenge.

Xander had focused all his attention on training and learning the various arts of torture that Spike was only too happy to teach him. Their morning discussions were no longer theoretical. Now, Xander took an active part in discussing just how his father would suffer. His mother had managed to bail his father out of jail, how, Xander didn’t care. The trial was about four months away, and Xander had begun steeling himself for the testimony he would have to give. Giles, Willow and Tara were working on finding some better way to protect Spike from the sun so that he could accompany Xander to court without having to sneak in under a blanket through a side entrance.

They made their way into the kitchen, Spike continuing to purr softly, seeing that Xander was beginning to relax. He wished Xander would take the sleeping pills he had been prescribed. Xander flatly refused, however, stating that he didn’t like the loss of control. Spike knew that Xander needed control above all else, so he had relented.

Spike turned to the refrigerator and reached for the milk while Xander opened the cupboard and removed a small pan. As he turned to place it on the stove, he caught the side of his arm on the corner of the open door, scraping it along the rough edge of the open door. His eyes shot open as the old, familiar sting ripped through his body. **OH SHIT, so good, so good, more, want more.** He raised the arm to his mouth, twisting it so that he could lap up the blood. His hands began to shake as the taste ran through his body. He felt the desperate longing suddenly rise to the surface, no longer able to deny want he craved. The desire had been burning in him ever since he regained consciousness in the hospital and every day it was becoming harder and harder to resist that siren call. He stared at the knives on the counter, moving closer and reaching out, blocking out everything but that need.

Spike’s head shot around at the sudden scent of blood. **What the hell?** He saw Xander with an arm to his mouth, saw his eyes suddenly darken, saw the hands reaching for the knives. With a strangled cry, he wrapped his arms around Xander, yanking him away. This was what he had feared, what he had been waiting and watching for. Too much had happened for Xander not to fall back to this.

“Let go.” Xander growled out, unable to focus on anything other than the need.

“No, Xander, please, no, don’t…” Spike began, as Xander suddenly began to pull against him. Tightening his grip, he fought back the pain that hit as he frantically tried to restrain Xander.

“Fuck you, what do you know, let me go, bastard, fuck you, can’t help me, don’t understand,” the vicious words poured out as Xander fought those strong arms. Turning quickly, he threw Spike across the room.

Panting, he yanked the knife from the block and placed it against his wrist, feeling the cold, cold glint of steel. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, savoring this moment, knowing that peace was nigh.

Suddenly, he realized that the room was quiet, that he could hear no sound from the vampire. He looked down and went perfectly still. Spike lay on the floor, head at a peculiar angle, blood dripping from his mouth. The knife clattered to the floor as Xander’s ran over, kneeling at Spike’s side.

“Spike, Spike,” Xander desperately called out. “Oh shit, Spike,” he began to shake Spike, frantically trying to get any response. Nothing. Xander glanced around, realizing that Spike’s head had struck the edge of the counter.

“Spike, please, I’m sorry, oh fuck, please,” Xander keened, his hands roaming over Spike’s body. **His neck, I broke his neck!**

Spike suddenly let out a groan. “Bloody hell, why did I ever teach you that?” He opened his eyes to see Xander just staring down.

“Spike, can you move, please tell me you can move, can you feel this?” The relief at hearing Spike’s voice was fleeting as Xander began to press at Spike’s arms and legs.

“Ow, shit, Xander, what are you doing?” Spike yelped out, feeling the pinching all over his body. He pulled himself up, Xander closely following, then leaned against the counter, rubbing the side of his head. “Think you got your strength back there, luv.”

Spike shook his head, clearing his thoughts, then suddenly struck out, grabbing Xander’s wrists. He flipped Xander’s arms over, inspecting the flesh. Nothing, no lines. His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, inhaling deeply, scenting for the blood. Only the ragged edge from the accidental cut yielded any trace.

Xander stood still, allowing the inspection, head down, shame washing over him. He deserved this, he had broken Spike’s trust. He kept his head down, unwilling to meet Spike’s gaze.

Spike let out a shaky breath, then pulled Xander over to sit under the window. He had been expecting this, knew it was coming, didn’t blame Xander, though he knew Xander would blame himself. He sat down, then settled Xander onto his lap, gently pushing the table aside.

“Luv, I’m fine.” No response. He pulled Xander tighter. “Xander, I don’t blame you. You’ve been through a lot, it’s only natural that you would need that.” He tightened his grip as he felt Xander begin to shake. “Just because I understand doesn’t mean that I’m going to stand by and let you, but I won’t get mad at you for wanting it.” He heard the sudden inhale of breath then felt Xander begin to relax, just a little. He started purring again, knowing this would calm the man in his arms.

Xander stayed there for a few moments, then pulled back, reaching up to feel the rapidly healing bump on Spike’s head. “Sorry, just, hit me, you know.” He tilted his head, the realization suddenly striking him. He pulled back, looking deep into Spike’s eyes.

“Is this what you feel like, wanting to go after that bastard?” They had long since quit referring to that beast as his father.

Spike stared back, nodding slowly. That was why he couldn’t be angry with Xander, this was why he understood the bloodlust. It was all he could do to respect Xander’s wishes, all he could do to not just destroy that which had harmed what was his.

Xander’s eyes darkened. How could he have not realized the pain he was causing his lover, his friends. Enough, it was enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He licked his lips, leaned down and placed a light kiss on Spike’s lips. “No more. It’s time. I’ll call Buffy. Tomorrow night.”

Spike just stared back. “Are you sure?” He felt a cruel smile cross his lips. **About bloody time!**

“Fuck, yeah.” A matching smile on his mate’s mouth. They stared at each other, then Spike released Xander, allowing him to stand. He reached over, grabbing the phone from the table.

“Here you go, luv, you call, I’ll make the hot chocolate. Want to get to sleep soon,” his eyes narrowed, “It’ll be a busy night tomorrow.”

Xander nodded, hitting the speed dial. He looked at the clock. Just after midnight, Buffy should be home.

“Hello,” the quick reply.

“Buffy, it’s time.”

“When.” He heard the rage immediately slam into her voice.

“Tomorrow. Meet me here at noon so we can get set up.”

“Fine. About time.” Spike nodded, hearing her from over by the stove.

“Yeah, that’s what Spike thinks, too. See you at noon. Spike will get the stuff together while we’re gone.”

“‘K.”

With that he hung up and moved to sit by lover at the counter, the knife long forgotten as he thought of just how sweet the next night would be. Spike slid over a cup, marshmallows floating on top. They drank quickly, then headed off for bed. Spike was right, they would both need their rest. None of them would be sleeping for the next few days.

Willow shot another worried look down the street as Xander fit the key into the lock.

“Are you sure they aren’t home?” she asked for the fifth time since they had arrived. She was eager to get started, but, at the same time, a little concerned. What would happen if they were interrupted.

“Yeah, the car’s gone, besides, even if they were here, they’re too drunk to notice.” Xander quickly opened the door, smiling bitterly at the fact that they hadn’t even bothered to change the locks. He shrugged, if they were so stupid, they deserved whatever they got.

Buffy and Anya followed Xander, Willow and Tara into the basement, carrying a large trunk between them. Xander looked around, face tightening as the memories struck him. He took a deep breath, concentrating only on the good. **There, right there is where Spike first drank from me.** Pretty much every thing was the way he and Spike had left it, the couch still there, a thick layer of dust over everything.

“Where do you want this,” Anya called over. “It’s getting kind of heavy.” Buffy just rolled her eyes at that.

“Just put it down anywhere, doesn’t really matter.” Xander moved over, opened the trunk and began pulling out the heavy black drapery. Meanwhile, Willow began setting small bowls around the room while Tara took out a small mortar and pestle and began grinding herbs. Buffy and Anya quickly tacked the hangings over the windows, while Xander pulled the table into the center of the room. He pulled the bolt of black silk out, draped it on the table, habitually spreading a circle into the center of the fabric, the movements of the ritual coming automatically. He took out the candleholders, set the candles in place, then stepped back. Nodding, he looked around the room, satisfied that all was ready. He watched as Buffy pulled the couch and chair back, replacing the recliner with a tall, high backed chair. She coiled the rope by the legs of the chair, then she, too, stepped back, satisfied. They looked over at Willow and Tara.

“We can begin now, just take a few minutes,” Willow said as Tara began sprinkling the mixture into the various bowls. “Why don’t you just wait outside.”

Anya led the way out the door and they stood there, listening to the soft chanting. A few minutes passed, then Willow and Tara came out the door.

“All finished, no one will be able to hear a thing, he can scream all he wants.” Xander had never seen Willow like this, had never seen such a look of hatred curling across her features. He grabbed her in a quick hug, then they left, Anya going with Willow and Tara, Buffy accompanying him.

“What time are we leaving,” her hands were twitching, anticipating the blood that was soon to flow.

“The second the sun goes down, you would not believe what I had to do to convince Spike that he couldn’t just wait in the back until the bastard comes home.” Xander glanced over, feeling the anticipation build.

“I can imagine, no, wait, actually, I don’t want to imagine,” Buffy said with a small grin. She began to bounce up and down, the tension building. “Do you think Spike will let me help him pack up the stuff?” she asked hopefully.

“Doubt it, probably already done, he was up when I left.” Xander smiled at the thought. Spike had followed him to the door, reluctant to let him leave, they had only been apart for a few hours at a time since the attack. However, Xander had planned ahead and had accounted for the half-hour or so that it would take them to say goodbye.

“Ohh, she said disappointed. “Well, well, what are we going to do until we leave?” **Seven hours, only seven hours more.**

“Spike’s making lunch.”

Buffy just raised her eyebrows at that. “What’s he making, blood pudding?”

“No, lasagna.”

Buffy just shook her head at that. Spike, making lasagna for a Slayer. Her life just got odder by the day.

The pounding continued. “I said, just a minute. Fucking idiot.” Xander’s father bellowed out as he stumbled to the door. “What do you want?” he growled looking down at the small girl he vaguely recognized as one of his bastard son’s friends.

His only response was a sharp kick which caught him along the right side of his face, knocking him back into the hallway. Buffy strode in after him with Xander right behind.

“Spike, why don’t you come in?” Xander held out his hand as he extended the invitation.

“Happy to, luv.”

“What’s going on out here?” Xander’s mother called as she came around the corner, eyes opening wide when she saw her husband lying motionless on the floor, some woman staring down at him with hate, a white haired man next to her with ever more hate on his face. She looked up to see her son standing in the doorway.

“Hello, mom.” The words snapped out with contempt. “Came to pay dear old dad here a visit.”

Xander skulked over, grabbing her as she turned to run. “Oh, I don’t think so. Think you’re going to call the police? You would call the police for him, not for me. Just lovely. No, I don’t think so. Besides, I have the feeling that they wouldn’t be too quick to come to that thing’s rescue.” He pulled her over into a chair, Spike right behind him.

“Stupid bint, letting him do to that to your child, well, time to pay the piper, ducks.” The voice hissed in her ear as she felt cold, cold fingers press against her throat. “Much as I want to kill you, your precious child there won’t let me, so you’re just going to have to sleep for awhile.” With that, he stepped back, letting Buffy have her turn.

“You bitch.” With that, Buffy swung, knocking Xander’s mother out cold. They quickly tied her to the chair, then Buffy pressed the cloth over her face.

“Sure that will be enough?” Spike asked quietly.

“Yes, Giles said that would knock her out for at least three days.”

“Good,” Xander’s voice rang through the air. “Let’s get the bastard downstairs.”

“Same way as last time, pet?” Spike walked over, ready to help, eager to feel that flesh beneath his hands. The pain was bearable, there, but bearable.

“You bet.” With that, Xander grabbed his father’s feet and began dragging him down the basement stairs, once again making sure that he rammed his father’s head into any and every thing he could find.

Spike followed, ready to help should Xander show any signs of being tired. Buffy grabbed the small duffel bag Spike had dropped to the floor, closed the front door and followed them down the stairs.

Xander’s father’s eyes slowly opened, taking in the odd vision before him. He was tied to a chair, in some room. A low murmur reached his ears, some stupid song. The room was shrouded in black, a table in front of him covered in black silk, two candles on it, a lockbox in the center. He shook his head, confused. He looked up, only to find himself staring into three cruel, cruel faces.

“Oh, look, he’s finally awake.” The girl’s voice, mocking and cold.

“Finally, thought we were going to have to do something drastic,” the words in a British drawl, even crueler if possible.

“No, that’s for later.” His bastard son’s voice.

“What the fuck is this, what the hell do you think you’re doing, you fucking faggot.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath, then his head snapped back as the blonde viciously slapped him.

“You don’t get to speak. Not to Xander, not now, not ever again. You asshole, if I didn’t plan on hearing you scream I would just cut your tongue out right now.” Buffy stood there, fists clenched visibly trying to keep from lashing out.

Xander reached over, pulling her away. “Maybe later.”

Xander leaned down, staring his father in the eye. “Did you really think you would get away with it, did you really think that I wouldn’t get my revenge? You must be stupider than I ever thought. You know, you were right, one of us is a disgrace, one of us should have been killed a long time ago. Just not me.” He leaned back up, reaching out to take Spike’s hand.

“I don’t think you were ever properly introduced. This is William, my lover. My partner. My mate. He’s also known as Spike. Do you know how he got the name Spike?” Xander paused, wrapping his arms around Spike’s waist, leaning his head on Spike’s shoulder.

Xander’s father just glared back, disgust in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but never got to speak. Buffy reached out, hand moving quicker than he could see, grasping his tongue.

“I thought I told you not to speak.” Her voice was low and calm, but her fingers never let go. The bastard’s eyes began to water as the pain rolled through him. She tugged a little harder. “Please, Xan, it’ll be fun.”

“No, later, I said I wanted to hear him scream.”

Reluctantly, Buffy let go, running an edge of her fingernail across the top of his tongue, the blood beginning to drip down. “Hope you learned your lesson,” she whispered in his ear as she moved away.

“As I was saying,” Xander resumed, running a hand through Spike’s hair, “Do you know how Spike got his name? No, didn’t think so. You see, Spike is infamous for torturing people with railroad spikes, rusty railroad spikes at that, so, he started to go by Spike.”

Xander leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lover’s cheek, seeing those blue eyes burn into the bastard’s, holding him trapped in his gaze. “Oh, yes, one more thing, did I happen to mention, he’s also a vampire.”

At that, Spike morphed into gameface, relishing the fear that suddenly radiated from the sack of shit in the chair before him. He leaned down, grasping Xander’s hand as the pain began to build, snarling, fully exposing his fangs.

“Right, mate. A vampire. We are real, you know. And you touched what’s mine. The penalty for that is death.”

Xander’s father began to shake, squeezing his eyes shut. It was a nightmare, not real, not real. His eyes shot back open as he felt another kick, this one to his ribs, this one harder then before. He felt the snap as they broke, heard the sick, sick noise.

Xander caught Spike as he fell, dragging him behind his father. There was no way that he was going to let his father see just how much it hurt Spike to exact his revenge. Spike lay on the floor, shaking, then nodded slightly, biting down hard on the towel that Xander had placed in his mouth to muffle his cries.

Buffy had moved to take Spike’s place in front of Xander’s father, luxuriating in the whimpers now coming from the man. “Oh, you think that hurt, that’s nothing, nothing compared to what’s coming.” With that she again pulled his mouth open, pouring salt over the cut on his tongue. He began to scream as the agony hit. Louder and louder, knowing someone would come. Buffy just laughed, leaning in closer. “Scream all you want, no one will hear. You see, there’s so much that you never bothered to learn about Xander’s friends. Like the fact that his partner is a vampire. Like the fact that I’m a vampire slayer. Like the fact that Willow is a witch. We made sure that no one will hear you scream, you just go right ahead. Music to my ears.” With that, she hit him again, throwing all her strength behind it, hearing the snapping of his jaw.

Xander moved back around to face his father, seeing the blood drip down, hearing the moans and whimpers coming from the bastard.

“You’re probably wondering what all this is for,” Xander cast his hand around the room. “Well, when I told Buffy and Spike that they couldn’t just make you eat your heart, I had to give them a better idea. You see, I found a way to help ease the pain from all the times you raped me.” Xander never took his eyes from his father’s face, watching as his words beat into him. “I used to cut myself. Over and over and over again. Sometimes not for months. Sometimes several times a day. What you see now is how I used to best deal with the pain, the ritual I used to perform.” Xander leaned in closer, grabbing his father’s jaw, hearing the scream as he crushed the broken bones together. “The last time I did this was the night after you raped me a week after Anya left. I went a little too far, cut my left arm open. Almost died. Spike found me, saved my life. I want you to think about that, a demon without a soul cared for me more than you did. What does that make you?’

Spike slowed came around, moving to stand next to the table, reaching into the pocket of his duster and pulling out a key. He handed it to Xander, who nodded a quick thanks.

“So, after you tried to kill me, after you stabbed me then raped me, when all they wanted to do was kill you and let me drink your blood, I told them no. You see, that was too simple, the easy way out. Then, you would be dead and it would be over. You wouldn’t have to have nightmares almost every night, you wouldn’t have to flinch whenever someone touched you from behind, you wouldn’t try to hurt the person you love when they try to stop you from hurting yourself. No, you would be dead. And no one would know what you had done. This way is much better.”

Turning his back to the howling man before him, Xander walked to the table. He reached down, unlocking the lockbox, pulling out the box with his knife. Buffy moved over, joining Spike on either side as Xander slowly opened the box, slowly ran his finger across the blade, longing visible in his face. He slowly smiled, and the three of them turned back around.

“I’m going to do to you everything I did to myself. Then Buffy is going to have a chance to beat you like you beat me. Then Spike, well, Spike is going to teach you just how he got his name. But we aren’t going to kill you. No, you’re going to live. Then you’re going to trial. And I’m going to tell the world just what a sick fuck you are. Do you know what happens to rapists in jail, do you? Do you know what happens to rapists who rape their own sons, do you? It’s going to make this seem like heaven.”

With that, Xander reached down, looking straight into his father’s eyes. “And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, then I will let them do what they want. Nothing will be able to stop them.”

“You bastard,” the words spilled out from blood drenched lips.

Buffy slapped his father, making sure to hit on exactly the site of the break. “Scream all you want, but I told you, no speaking. You will never speak to him again.”

Spike merely leaned down, pulling off the bastard’s shoes, then removing his socks. He reached out, yellow flickering in his eyes, hands shaking from the pain shooting through his mind, but able to control it. He and Buffy had spent hours doing this, Buffy standing still while Spike hit her or tried to hit her, building up his tolerance for the pain. He pulled a knife from his boots, cutting the clothes off, until the bastard was sitting there, naked.

Xander turned, picking up the piece of glass that was lying on the table, reluctantly putting down the knife. “I was fourteen when I first learned how good it felt. You beat me, raped me, left me for dead. Crawled through broken glass, felt the sting. It was so pure. Let’s see what you think.” With that, he grabbed his father’s right forearm, dragging the sharp edge up the arm, mouth opening when he saw the blood begin to flow. His father began to squirm in the chair, muffled cries coming out from his rapidly swelling face. “Oh, you like that, do you?” Xander continued to carve, adding another line next to the first, careful to not press too deeply. He didn’t want to cause scarring, saving that for later.

“Glass is good, when you can get it, but sometimes you have to take what you can find.” Xander put the glass back on the table, this time reaching for the jagged piece of metal lying there. “Anything sharp will do in a pinch. Now arms are the best, feels the best, the greatest relief. But, if you don’t want anyone to see, then you have to be more careful.”

With that, Spike finished untying his father’s arms. Spike held them in a firm grip over the bastard’s head as Xander leaned over and began to run the edge along his father’s waist. “You see, this is good,” his voice faded as he moved around the body, feeling his father trying to squirm away. Buffy came over and held the struggling man still. “This way, you feel it all day long, whenever you move.” Slowly, slowly he moved, savoring every drop of blood that fell onto his hands, drinking in the hysterical note to his father’s cries. Finally, he finished, dropping the metal to the floor. Spike immediately tied his father’s arms down while Buffy moved to release his feet.

His father weakly kicked out, catching Buffy across the cheek. Xander immediately punched him in the ribs, aiming directly for the same spot Spike had kicked.

“You are stupider than I thought, fuck, you think you could really fight us all.” Xander just shook his head. He felt Spike’s hand on his shoulder, felt the weight of Spike’s knife pressed into his hand. Spike and Buffy moved back to their positions flanking Xander’s father, ready to stop him should he lash out again.

“A knife really is best though, cleaner edge, more control,” Xander bent down and picked up one of the feet. He began tracing lines down the sole of each foot, the involuntary gasps and moans filling the room. He moved onto the top of each foot, carving a circle there. “This, this is great because when you walk you can’t help but feel it. And speaking of walking…”

Buffy nodded, then untied the bastard’s legs while Spike again untied his arms. Buffy moved to hold onto the man, seeing how pale Spike was, knowing that the pain must be excruciating. Buffy turned him around so that his back was to Xander. Xander kneeled down and placed the tips of the knife behind the left knee. “If you want to feel it when you walk, do this.” With that, he yanked the blade down, delighting in the shrieking that began. He moved back and forth, one leg than the other, seeing the flesh part. Finally, he motioned for Buffy to sit him back down.

“Just tie his legs, make sure they are apart so I can get at his thighs.” he murmured to Spike, who dropped a quick kiss on Xander’s temple, pride filling him. Xander had learned well, knew that pain alone wasn’t the key. No, it was this cut by cut description of what Xander had suffered that would cause the most agony.

Xander leaned down, running his hands along his father’s thighs. “If you aren’t going to be getting naked around anyone anytime soon, the thighs are always good too.” He cut the lines, careful to keep them precise and even, each line exactly the same length. Finally satisfied, he leaned back up.

“Lift his arms in the air.” Buffy quickly complied and Xander moved to straddle his father. “If you don’t want to bother with blood, then you can just do this.” With that, he began to rub the knife along the man’s sides, rubbing the flesh raw. “Really hurts when you’re wearing cotton and it sticks.” He moved slowly, Spike forcing the head down so that Xander could see exactly how much agony he was causing.

When both sides were rubbed raw, Buffy let his arms down, tying them flat to the arms of the chair. With that, Xander moved back to pick up his knife, twirling the blade in his hands.

“I bought this for one purpose and one purpose only. To open my own flesh. Seem to have finally found a better use for it.”

Xander began running the blade slowly, so slowly along the flesh of his father’s right arm, his breath coming faster and faster. Each cut slightly deeper than the last until ten perfect lines appeared. “This is what I did that night, this is what you made me do, for no reason, I never did anything to you. I thought for years that I had caused it, that there was something about me. There wasn’t. It was you, always you, nothing about me.” The strangled cries were louder and Xander felt hot tears drop on his shoulder. “Oh, does that hurt. Really, you know what, think I know that.”

He moved to the left arm, began hacking away, feeling the rage begin to slip, listening to the screaming coming louder and louder. Finally, he cut the arm free, pulled it into the air.

“And this, this is how I almost died.”

He pulled the knife down his father’s arm, careful not to go as deeply as he had, wanting the blood to come out but not pour down. There was no way he was going to let the piece of shit die. No, he wanted him to live a nice, long, unhappy life as someone’s bitch. Done, he watched the blood drip down.

“One last thing, the most desperate of all. If you truly, truly need it and want to make sure no one knows, there’s always this.” With that he ran the very tip of the knife along the length of his father’s penis.

The screams cut off as his father passed out. Panting, Xander pulled away, drenched in blood.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up. Make you feel better.” Spike’s voice in his ear. “Looks like he will be out for a little before Slayer gets her chance. Don’t like to see the bastard’s blood on you.” Xander nodded and moved for the shower, grabbing a towel from the bag along with the spare set of clothes Spike had packed.

Spike and Buffy stood over the chair, gazing down. Finally, Buffy looked up, tears in her eyes.

“Is that what happened, he cut himself, almost died?” Buffy was shaking, she hadn’t known, Xander hadn’t told her just why he needed to use the knife.

Spike nodded. “Yes. If I hadn’t come over that night, he probably would have died.” His eyes closed as the sight of Xander’s still body came to him. **Over, it’s over, never again!** He couldn’t help it though, he moved back to check that Xander had left the knife. A sigh escaped him when he saw it there. He listened closely, hearing the sounds of the shower, the memories spilling into him. He turned back, eyes blazing yellow.

“Spike, gods, Spike,” Buffy stopped, unsure of how to continue. “No wonder you were so angry, how could we have never seen?” She stopped, turning her pain into the rage she felt growing.

“Because he didn’t want you to, Slayer.” Spike forced the words out. “He knew what he was doing.”

“Does he still do it?” Buffy asked, wincing as she saw the pain cross Spike’s face.

“It was a near thing last night. That’s why we’re here, why he finally decided it was time.”

Buffy just nodded, watching the face of that thing in the chair, seeing the head toss back and forth. It was coming back to consciousness. Good. Her turn.

Xander emerged from the bathroom, wearing one of Spike’s shirts, the scent of it helping to calm his shaking. He moved to stand next to Spike, reaching out for his hand. He did feel better, calmer, the rage dying down, replaying the scene in his mind. He supposed he should feel guilty, but he didn’t. No court could ever extract the proper kind of justice.

They watched as the bastard slowly opened his eyes, watching them widen in fear as he saw Buffy standing directly in front of him.

“Wish I could think of something witty to say. Can’t. Wish I had done this years ago. Wish he would let me kill you.” With that her fist lashed out, knocking his jaw the other way, hearing the snap. She laid into him with vicious cries, striking out again and again, first with her fists, then her feet, clawing red lines down his face, pulling out tufts of hair. She methodically moved up his body, driving the toe of her boots into his groin, making sure to connect with the cut there. Spike finally reached out, pulling her back, ignoring her cry of protest, ignoring the pain in his head.

“Slayer, he’s unconscious again. Don’t want to break too many bones, now, has to live remember.”

Buffy spun for one last kick, striking the ribs on the opposite side from Spike’s kick. She moved over, throwing herself into Xander’s arms, the tears falling on them both, the pain and rage pouring out. Xander just held her, knowing she was weeping for them both, for the pain that Xander had endured. Finally, she calmed, pushing away and leaning up to place a gentle kiss on Xander’s cheek.

“I am so sorry.” Nothing was enough, nothing would ever make up for their ignorance of his pain.

Xander kissed her forehead, then moved to stand next to Spike who was just staring down with a feral look in his eyes.

“You sure you want to try this?” Xander was concerned, the echoes of Spike’s head striking the floor when the seizure had overtaken him ringing in Xander’s ears. Being back in the basement was causing all the memories to surface, each of them clear and true.

“Bloody hell, yes.” There was no way that Spike could stop now.

Xander nodded, moving back to the bag. “Have the blood right here, just, remember, Buffy gets to pull you off if I think it’s gone too far.”

Spike just nodded, sensing consciousness returning to the body in front of him.

“Slayer. It is time. Untie him.” The tone of authority rang out. Buffy moved quickly, releasing the man, then bending him over the chair, tying his hand together then tying that rope to the couch. She spread his legs wide, tying each one to the bars that had been placed in the basement earlier in the day.

Spike knelt next to the chair, the pain from the chip serving only to fuel his fire. He saw those eyes open and stared straight into them, yellow eyes burning madly.

“Now you will know pain. I can do things that you have never imagined. I can make it last for days. You will beg to die and I will not allow it. I will never allow it. If my mate would let me, I would turn you and keep you alive in the torments of hell forever. But he is more compassionate than I. Pity, that.” The words rang out, Buffy and Xander taking an involuntary step backwards. Neither had ever seen this, never experienced Spike in the full power of his fury. He reached out, pulled the spike from his coat and moved to stand behind the man.

“It’s a pity you are so weak, there is so much I long to do.” With that, Spike began to slowly work the end of the spike underneath the skin at the base of the bastard’s skull. The screaming began in earnest as Spike dragged the spike down, so so slowly, tracing the line of the vertebrae.

“You see, done correctly, I can remove your spine, one vertebrae at a time and show it to you. But, no, I won’t. Want you to be able to move, to perform for whoever wants you as a toy when you get to prison.” Finally, he reached the base of the spine. Curving his hand, he began to trace lines into the skin, starting right below the mark on the man’s waist.

“My mate learned well, not that I had much to teach him. You made sure of that.” Spike’s hands were beginning to shake, his vision beginning to blur as the pain grew and grew. The cuts grew more ragged as he moved quickly. Stepping back, he took several deep breaths, allowing the pain to recede slightly. He sensed Xander beginning to move towards him and he held up a hand. Not yet. Just a little more. Reluctantly jettisoning the remainder of his plans, he proceeded directly to his ultimate goal.

“So, you like giving it. Let’s see how you like taking it.” Pressing down on the cuts on the back, he placed the tip of the spike against the bastard’s anus and began to shove it home. Howling erupted as the blood began to flow. Spike felt the seizure hit, felt Buffy’s hands yank him away, saw Xander run over, a cup in his hands, felt his head being lifted, the cup held to his mouth.

“Drink, you need it, drink,” Xander’s voice. He opened his mouth, prepared for the rich taste of Xander’s blood. He swallowed and his eyes shot open. Not Xander’s. Buffy’s. Slayer blood, the purest of all. He felt the power pour into him, the blood instantly stopping the pain.

He sat up, staring into Buffy’s eyes. “Slayer.” The word breathed out, shock in his voice.

Buffy just stared back. “It was the least I could do,” she said quietly. “The only apology I had.”

He just nodded, turning back to the body on the chair. Xander had pulled the spike out, knowing that going deeper would only cause a tear that could kill his father. He meant what he said. There was no way he was going to let him die. The torment of living would be much worse.

He was unconscious again. The blood slowly stopped pouring down. The trio just watched, unmoving, unblinking. Spike scented deeply.

“He’ll live,” disapproval clear in his voice.

“Good,” the flat response from Xander. “Let him suffer. They’ll kill him in prison.”

Buffy just nodded. She moved forward, untied him, let the body slump onto the floor. She went back upstairs and quickly returned carrying Xander’s mother in her arms. She placed her on the floor next to Xander’s father.

“She should get the message.” The flat tone of her voice betrayed nothing of her emotions.

Xander looked at his watch. 3:30 a.m. He quickly stripped the cloth from the window, Spike moving behind him, helping clear the room. Quickly, everything was packed back into the trunk. Buffy hauled the trunk up the back steps, carrying it out to the car.

Spike stood next to Xander, just leaning into his shoulder. Xander sighed, exhausted. He felt something press into his hand. He looked down, curious as to what it could be.

It was the knife. He looked over, stunned. Spike just stared back. Without a word, Xander walked to the table, lifted up the box, put the knife back in, closed it, walked back and handed it to Spike.

They headed out into the night, wanting nothing more but to go home and go to sleep.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

Spike could hear the crinkling of the paper as it was unfolded, as the judge read the verdict. He could hear the space in between each beat of Xander’s heart. The judge looked up.

“On the charge of attempted murder in the first degree - guilty.”

The court filled with the sudden sound of exhalation. Spike absently noted that Xander’s mother had begun to weep. He had paid her no mind the entire time of the trial. To him, she no longer existed.

“On the charge of assault with a deadly weapon - guilty.”

“On the charge of first degree sexual assault - guilty.”

Xander just leaned back into Spike, fighting back the tears. Over, it was over. The rest of the counts went by but neither of them heard. It was over.

“Defendant is remanded back into custody. Sentencing in two weeks.” Almost over.

Xander felt himself be engulfed by arms. Willow’s, Anya’s, Buffy’s, Tara’s, even Giles’s. Their support there, solid. They knew and they hadn’t left. They knew and they didn’t think he was evil. He basked in the glow until a cold voice knifed through his comfort.

“You happy, now, you ruined him, you lied and you ruined him, you freak, you sick freak, he’s your father, how could you,” the hysterical sound of his mother’s voice as she tore everyone away from him.

Buffy managed to grab Spike and slam his face against the wall as he instantly moved to protect Xander.

“Not here, can’t explain, hate her too, Xander can deal,” Buffy muttered as she held the struggling Spike. The only downside to their training was that Spike could now fight back, at least somewhat, before the pain overwhelmed him.

“Kill the bitch, blaming him, should have killed her when we had the chance,” the returning mutters as Spike struggled to get free. “Nothing will ever hurt him again.”

Xander just stared down at the furious woman with contempt. He reached out, taking Spike’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back, trying to calm the vampire.

“You know it wasn’t a lie. You know it was the truth. I did nothing to him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my mate and I are leaving. Don’t ever speak to me again. You are nothing to me. You are dead to me. Spike, we’re leaving.”

With that, they walked out the door. This time, Xander ran with Spike under the blanket.

Xander groaned as he slowly swam back awake. He and Spike had driven straight back from the courthouse and walked directly to bed. For the first time, it wasn’t for sex. It was to sleep. They were both exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. Spike, in particular, as not only had he been forced to be awake during the day, he had stayed up to calm Xander when the nightmares hit. Xander had surfaced a few times to use the bathroom, jealous of Spike the entire time he was awake, jealous that Spike didn’t have this petty problem. Spike had just slept like a log. Xander looked at the clock. 9:47. He couldn’t tell if it was morning or night due to the blackout curtains over the windows. Hell, he didn’t even know what day it was. He kicked Spike, hard. If he had to be awake, he sure wasn’t going to be alone. A return groan reached his ears.

“Shouldn’t feel this bad without drinking first.” The words were muffled by the pillow.

“Uh huh, not right.”

They groggily sat up, blinking slowly at each other. A warm smile crept over Spike’s face.

“Pet, you didn’t have any nightmares last night, did you?” He thought this might happen, that the finality of the verdict might calm Xander, start the healing process.

Xander opened his mouth to answer, then thought back. No. He hadn’t woken screaming, couldn’t remember any horrible images.

“Nope,” Xander grinned himself. “Maybe that wasn’t so bad after all. How long do you think we’ve been asleep?”

“No idea, luv. Hungry, though.” Spike was ravenous and was having trouble concentrating as he could see the artery on the base of Xander’s throat pulse. Hungry in all kinds of ways.

Spike pushed himself off the bed and staggered to the kitchen. He pulled out some blood, quickly heating it. He heard Xander behind him pouring out some cereal. They sat comfortably in silence for a moment before the phone started to ring.

“Harris’s house of horrors, how can we disembowel you?”

“Xander, hey, so you finally woke up.” Buffy’s way, way too cheerful voice boomed into the room.

“Yeah, just now. How long were we out, anyway?” Xander yawned, stretching out the kinks in his back. Spike just stared, entranced. He loved it when Xander stretched. Especially when his back was to Spike so he could stare all he wanted without being hit.

“Let’s see, last saw you on Tuesday around 2:30 in the afternoon. It’s now almost 10:00 on Thursday night. Please tell me you’ve been asleep this whole time. Lie if you need to.” Buffy really did not want to contemplate the other reasons they could have been holed up for the last two days.

Xander’s jaw dropped. They had been asleep for nearly 2 1⁄2 days. That had to be some kind of record. “No, just asleep. Not lying.” He gulped as he felt Spike’s mouth close on the back of his neck. “Of course, we’re awake now. Gotta go.” With that, he disconnected the line, turning the ringer off for good measure. They had long since gotten rid of the phone in the bedroom after Spike had forgotten to actually hang up one day and Willow, in a display of deviousness neither had known she possessed, had taped the ensuing events. Then played the tape at that night’s Scooby meeting.

“So, it’s Thursday, is it?” Spike muttered, his lips still tracing along Xander’s spine, searching for that spot, right there. He was rewarded with a tremor which ran through both their bodies.

“According to Buffy,” Xander managed to get out, trying to turn around. Spike held him fast, refusing to let him move.

“Hmm, don’t seem to remember having sex on Tuesday, don’t seem to remember Wednesday at all, and it’s very late on Thursday. That means three days without you, Xan. That’s just not acceptable.”

Spike continued his long, meandering journey down Xander’s back. He loved Xander’s back, loved to trace the muscles there, loved the way it both tickled and aroused Xander, loved to drive Xander insane while not allowing him to touch Spike, loved the frustration of it. He was hard already, but he wanted this to be long and slow. Needed this to be long and slow. Over. It was all over but the final details. They could put all this behind them and start their lives together without any cloud over them. Spike could feel the weight lifted from them and he felt like it was all new, that this was the mark of a new chapter in their life. And he would be damned if he was just going to take Xander quick and dirty on the kitchen floor. As wonderful as that sounded.

Xander just shuddered. “No argument here.” They never went this long without sex. Some days it was a miracle they made it out of bed at all. And some days they didn’t. And now that mouth, oh, the things that Spike was doing with that mouth, could do with that mouth, would do with that mouth. Xander pulled himself together. Not yet. It was over, it was all over. They could finally start anew. The old life was over and the new life was beginning. The house had been the start of it, he knew that, but now, now he was on his way to truly being free. His secrets were all gone. Everyone knew about his father, about his cutting, about Spike. And they all still cared for him, still wanted him around.

“Spike,” he started, then stopped. He meant it to be firm, not husky, not sounding like he was begging Spike for more.

“Yes, sweeting?”

Spike only ever called him that when they were making love and the sound of it drove him insane. **Think calming thoughts, calming thoughts. Willow. Willow. Willow and Tara. Not good. Not calming. Let’s see. Giles in a Speedo. Ok, that’s better.**

Xander pulled away with a yank, ignoring the growl of protest. “Spike, just, in a minute, need you too, but, want to talk to you, first.”

Spike just reached out, eyes glazing over. “Sure, pet, anything you say.”

Xander batted the hands away, cursing himself as he did so. “No, really. Talk first. Just a little. Look, just, wanted to tell you, you’ve been so good to me, helped so much, and well…” **Shit, you can tell him you love him from dusk to dawn, in front of Giles and everyone and can’t say THIS!** “Just, thanks. Means a lot.”

Spike just nodded, hearing what hadn’t been said. He reached out, taking Xander’s right hand in his.

“You know, we never even thought about this scarring.” He traced a finger along the short, pale line running just on the inside of Xander’s wrist. They both looked down as Xander’s fingers curled around Spike’s palm.

“I did.” Xander kept his eyes on Spike’s hand. “I wanted it to. Even before I knew anything else, I wanted it to scar. Wanted to remember what you did. How you saved me.”

Spike’s hand moved down and clasped Xander’s and they stood there for a moment, feeling the shift, standing on the edge of something new. Then Xander raised their hands to his mouth and began to suck on their fingers. Spike’s eyes rolled back as that clever tongue began running over, around and between their fingers, down their palms and back up again, very, very slowly.

“Done talking now. Race you to bed.” With that, Xander took off down the hall, knowing full well he wasn’t nearly a match for Spike’s speed. Spike caught him as they entered the living room and threw him on the couch.

“Too far away. Naked. Now.” With that Spike ripped off his shirt and yanked away his boxers and Xander did the same. Spike threw himself back on top of Xander and they began to thrust against one another, tongues licking everywhere they could find. Xander began to lick up the column of Spike’s throat while Spike traced the shape of his ear with his tongue. They knew each other so well now, knew exactly where to be gentle and where to be firm. Xander pulled Spike down on top of him, kissing him slowly, deeply, sucking that cold tongue far into his mouth, the coppery aftertaste of blood lingering there. Xander swallowed the moan that came from Spike, even as he felt their hips begin to rock in the familiar rhythm. He began to pull Spike up, moving his mouth lower and lower, lingering on those collarbones, nibbling from one end to the other and back again. Slowly, slowly, knowing he was taunting Spike but unable to care, he moved back up Spike’s throat, feeling the hands wrapped in his hair, thrilled at the purrs and growls he was causing. After all this time, it still aroused him to know that he aroused Spike, that he could do things that drove the vampire right up to and over to the edge. He leaned up to capture Spike’s mouth again, only to feel his arms grabbed and roughly yanked over his head.

“My turn, luv. Two can play at this game you know,” a rough voice panted into his ear. Xander simply arched his neck, letting Spike feast on the expanse. Spike took his turn in caressing every inch of Xander’s neck with his tongue, lingering over the bite marks. They both sighed deeply, both wishing Spike could bite Xander again. However, every time they tried it only hurt Spike more. Not even all the preparation for attacking the bastard had helped. Occasionally, Xander would purposefully knick himself while shaving and Spike would lap it clean, but, other than that, no other biting. Xander sighed, knowing they would come up with something. Spike turned his attention to Xander’s nipples and Xander arched up again, the tugging almost too good, almost too much. Forcing himself up, he grabbed Spike’s shoulders and managed to push Spike onto his back on the other end of the couch.

“My turn again,” Xander panted, flipping Spike over. As much as Spike loved to kiss Xander’s back, Xander loved to kiss Spike’s more. For some reason, it drove Spike insane, especially times like now, when he allowed Xander to pin his arms down, when he gave up all control and just let himself be ravaged. Maybe it was just that, the loss of control, however fleeting, that did it, but this, this drove Spike mad. Xander worked his way down each vertebrae, the bones so clearly outlined, so thin, so pale. Xander traced his way along each rib, feeling the shudders underneath him. He rubbed his cock just along Spike’s ass, not seeking entrance, just teasing, letting the heat burn into Spike, watching the white of the one eye he could see in Spike’s profile, basking in the inarticulate words. Spike began to thrust upwards, trying to impale himself on Xander. Xander simply pulled back, kneeling between Spike’s legs so that the only parts of him touching his lover were his hands on Spike’s wrists and the very tip of his tongue. He continued to travel down, ignoring the begging coming from Spike, enjoying his power, the way he could taken them higher and higher. Finally, he stopped, right at the base of Spike’s spine, just above his ass. He leaned down and bit. Hard. He began to suck, hating that the mark would fade so fast. He heard the sudden gasp, the uncontrollable buck as Spike jerked straight up. Luckily, he had been prepared and simply rose along with the movement. Spike yanked his arms up, turned and pushed Xander back down in one fluid motion.

“That’s not playing fair.” Spike was in gameface now, needing all his control simply to stop from coming then and there. Xander just laughed, leaned up and kissed him.

“Never said I played fair.”

Spike growled in response and shook his head, trying to pull back. He wanted Xander in his mouth and there was no way to do that with his fangs down. Xander pulled back slightly, rubbing a calming hand down Spike’s arm, breathing deeply himself. Spike’s human face finally dropped back into place and he immediately dived down, intent on tasting Xander. Xander, however, stopped him just before he could take the tip into his mouth.

“Me too, want to taste you too,” he managed to pant out, losing himself into the deep pools of blue staring up at him.

“Sure thing, pet, but, not sure,” Spike leaned up on one elbow, frantically looking at the couch. “Not enough room. Fuck.”

“Floor then.” With that Xander tumbled them both down, Spike falling on top of him. He quickly turned on his side, propping his back against the couch. Spike quickly maneuvered around and paused, their mouths both breathing down on the other. A quick nod and then their mouths descended in unison, fire and ice, hot and cold, all tangled together. Pumping together, moving as one. Xander’s eyes closed as he imagined the picture they must make, dark and light, an orubus twining onto itself, perfect unity, wrapped together. He began to pump into Spike’s mouth, the thought driving him mad. One. They were one. He felt his orgasm coming from far away, but couldn’t tell Spike. Not when he was taking that perfect length as far down his throat as he could. Not when he was trying to reach up to push a finger into that impossibly tight ass. Not when he could feel Spike’s prick twitching in his mouth. Not when he could taste that cold, salty taste pour down his throat. He swallowed hard, knowing that Spike was doing the same, that they were coming together, were one, truly one.

They slowly pulled apart, Spike turning to rest in Xander’s arms. They sighed, content.

“Food, now?” Spike twisted his head around to catch Xander’s lips.

“Well, don’t really want to eat. Something else?” Xander raised his head just enough to ask the question, feeling a familiar stirring in his groin. **Wow, so that’s the key, take a few days off, improve recovery time.**

Spike grinned, rocking his hips back into Xander, hearing the appreciative response. “So, you have other ideas.”

“Oh, hell, yes. But bed this time. Need the supplies.”

Spike laughed, stood, reached out a hand and pulled Xander to his feet.

“Race you.” With that, he took off down the hall.

Spike glared over at the people in their living room, trying to blot out the buzzing noise of their voices. Spike had assumed that once the guilty verdict had been rendered, that would be the end of their dealings with the prosecutor. He had been furious to learn that, no, his Xander would be forced to relive it all yet again for some ridiculous thing called a Victim Impact Statement. What the fucking hell impact did they think it would have on Xander to have not only been beaten and raped for over eleven years but then to have his own father try to kill him. Xander had been forced to tell about the nightmares and the difficulty sleeping, how he still started whenever anyone came up behind him, how sometimes just the smell of Jim Beam was enough to make his hands shake. Spike had merely paced furiously back and forth across the living room, smoking cigarette after cigarette, knowing that Xander would collapse once the stupid people left.

They had finally left after four hours, four hours during which Xander once again ripped open his soul. Xander remained sitting still on the couch, shaking, for hours after their departure, eyes dead, seeing nothing but the visions in his own mind. Spike had left him alone, knowing he needed to come to his own decisions. He had remained in the room, however, never more than a few steps away. Xander looked terrible, looked like he was at the end of his rope. Spike knew it was bad when Xander stole a cigarette, plucking it straight from Spike’s lips. Spike let him smoke it, then handed him another, then another, his worry over Xander’s quietness overwhelming his fear of Xander starting to smoke. Xander finally looked up at him, eyes burning bright with pain.

“It’ll never be over, will it? I’ll always be fucked up. Gods, no wonder you fell in love with me, must remind you of Drusilla, just as insane as her.” The bitterness of his voice destroyed Spike.

Spike immediately sat next to Xander, stifling his pain as Xander automatically flinched away for a moment. He pulled Xander to him, ignoring the tenseness of Xander’s body. He turned and grasped Xander’s face in his hands, forcing his love to meet his eyes.

“Listen to me and listen well. You are not fucked up, there is nothing wrong with you. You are strong and pure and brave and that’s why I love you. You are NOTHING like Drusilla.” Spike watched as Xander just shook his head, ignoring all that Spike said. He let out a low growl then moved his hands to Xander’s shoulders, unwittingly beginning to shake him.

“Do you remember how much I loved Dru, do you?” Spike paused until Xander realized that he was to answer, that it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“Yes,” came the quiet response, Xander’s voice still dead.

“Right, then. I never loved her like I love you.” Spike swallowed hard then let out a long breath. “You have no idea what you do for me. What you’ve done for me, what you will always do for me. You take the best of what I was when I was William and the best of what I am as Spike and you make them one, you make me whole. You let me feel what it must be like to stand in the sun again. You’ve given me back life. Not an eternal unlife of darkness and pain, but a life. You’ve given me a reason to continue. Bloody hell, I don’t even care about the chip anymore, do you realize that? I don’t care, I’m glad. It gave me you, it gave me you.” Spike let out another deep breath, trying desperately to pull Xander into him.

Xander finally locked eyes with Spike, feeling like he was coming back to himself, feeling the love and pain mingling in Spike’s embrace. He let out his own deep sigh and suddenly relaxed, trusting all his weight to Spike’s firm embrace, letting himself feel secure, feel loved, listening, truly listening to what Spike was saying.

“So, you don’t think I’m nuts?” The question was nearly indiscernible as muffled as Xander’s voice was with his head buried in Spike’s shirt.

Spike grinned at that, relief spreading through him. “Now, didn’t say that, did I? Just not nuts like that, you are sleeping with a vampire after all.” He let out a yelp as Xander suddenly bit him through his shirt. “Not fair, can’t bite back.”

“Poor baby, I feel so bad for you,” Xander murmured as he moved to rest his head on Spike’s shoulder. “So, think maybe I should talk to somebody about all this shit?” Spike had been mentioning that maybe Xander should find a counselor for months, but had grown more insistent recently.

“Yes, I do. Doesn’t mean you’re weak or anything, just, there’s some things I just can’t help you with, I mean, can’t really rip your dreams to shreds, can I?” Spike rubbed his hands soothingly over Xander’s back, hope growing in him. Xander had been flatly refusing all such suggestions. Spike hated going to anyone for help, but he was nothing if not realistic. This was beyond him. Xander’s nightmares were becoming more and more violent and something had to be done.

“Will you come with me?” Xander sighed as he leaned back, hating this, hating the drama, wishing it would all just end.

“Of course, pet, anything for you, remember?” Spike forced himself to remain calm, forced himself to sit still instead of rushing Xander out the door before he changed his mind.

“’K then, we’ll call Giles in the morning, sure he’ll know someone.” Xander felt a weight begin to lift, felt some light come back in the darkness. The ceaseless questioning from the various lawyers had battered at his defenses until he felt there was nothing left, nothing keeping him for falling straight into the darkness that had always surrounded him. After they left, he had merely sat there, falling deeper and deeper into himself, the familiar and hated pulling away. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep from the descent. He knew, however, that this time, this time, there would be someone to pick him up, a reason to come back. And when he heard Spike’s words, when he finally believed that Spike truly thought he was sane, thought he was pure, then, then he knew that he would come back. He let out another sigh, it would be hard, but it would be worth it.

“I’m tired, it’ll be a long day tomorrow, let’s go get some sleep.” Xander stood and then reached out a hand, pulling Spike after him down the hall.

The judge glared down from the bench, the distaste on his face plain. He listened as the prosecutor asked for the maximum penalty, citing the long history of abuse and the heinous nature of the crime, stressing that Xander was probably only alive due to his quick thinking in hitting the alarm. The defense attorney then responded, attempting to raise sympathy for his client by explaining his history of alcoholism and his own past of abuse, stating that Xander’s mother would probably now be forced to go on welfare, would lose her home as she had no marketable skills and wouldn’t be able to work. The judge had seemed unimpressed. He shuffled some papers in his hands and then looked back down.

“Well, Mr. Harris, do you have anything to say to this court?” The contempt was clear in the deep voice.

Spike watched as Xander’s father rose, feeling Xander’s fingers clenching deep into his hand. Xander was focused on the clock, watching the seconds tick past. Every second was one second closer to the end, to the time when it would finally, finally be over. Xander had slept soundly the night before, in no small part due to Xander finally agreeing to take a sleeping pill. They both knew it was the first step, the first acknowledgment that this was something beyond them both. Spike squeezed back as Xander’s father began to speak.

“Your Honor, I’m, well, I just want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ever did anything to hurt my son, I love him. It’s just, I was drinking so much, didn’t really know what I was doing and when I saw him with that, that man, the one who twisted him like that, I just snapped, couldn’t think straight, never really meant to hurt him.” His father sat down then, looking down at his hands, trying to appear repentant.

Xander just glared over. Even now, the bastard couldn’t even apologize, wouldn’t take any responsibility for what he had done. He glanced at his mother, sitting there, crying, trying to wring an ounce of pity out for the beast she chose to marry. He supposed he should feel sorry for her, but he didn’t. She made her choice. Now she would live with it.

The judge just looked down, staring at Xander’s father. “Over the last few weeks, I have had the chance to review the testimony and evidence in this case at length. Additionally, I have before me a copy of the Victim Impact Statement filed by the prosecutor that clearly outlines the continuing effects, both physical and mental, of the Defendant’s treatment of his son. Mr. Harris, it was only your son’s own actions that kept you from succeeding in killing him. Your apology here was remarkable for the lack of any admission of guilt or culpability. From what I’ve seen and heard, that man you referred to is the only one who has shown your son any kind of care or consideration. The fact that your child has managed to maintain any kind of normal life is a testimony to his own strength and clearly not due to anything his family has done for him. I must say that the evidence presented makes it clear that the only appropriate punishment is the maximum penalty available to me. I hereby sentence you to life in prison with no possibility of parole, with confinement in a maximum security prison, sentence to begin immediately. Defendant is remanded to state’s custody. Court dismissed.”

Xander looked up in a daze as the prosecutor came over to shake his hand. It was over. His father was going to be locked away forever. He was dimly aware that the rest of the gang had gathered around him, unsure of how to react. He glanced down and caught Willow’s eye, seeing the tears streaming down her face. He reached out and caught her in a firm embrace.

“Wills, please, don’t cry, it’s over, it’s all over, everything will be fine, I’ll be fine.” He vaguely heard Buffy squaring off with his mother, registered the sound of a slap, closed his eyes, hoping it wasn’t Buffy taking his mother’s head off, then heard the bailiff dragging his mother out the courtroom doors. He ignored it all, trying to comfort his oldest friend.

“Xander, I’m so sorry, I should have stopped it, I would have, you should have told me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you,” Willow hated herself for breaking down, hated forcing Xander to comfort someone else when they should be comforting him. She pulled away and turned into Tara’s waiting arms. “I’ll make it up to you, I’ll make it up to you.”

Xander just rubbed her back for a moment before Spike gently tugged Xander away, anxious to get out of this hated place. They walked into the hallway, not speaking, not touching, just walking side by side out the side entrance.

“That’s it, we are never coming back here,” Xander sighed as they finally pulled away, Spike carefully tucked under a blanket in the back seat.

“Don’t know about that, pet, did you look at the windshield?” Spike asked, a hint of a smile in his voice for the first time in days.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell,” Xander groaned out, seeing the parking ticket. “Fine, we’ll just mail it in, it’s only an extra twenty bucks.”

They both began to laugh as they turned onto the road for home.

“G-G-Giles,” Tara managed to stutter out as she walked over to him at the counter in the Magic Box.

“Yes, Tara,” Giles looked up, startled to hear Tara call his name. No matter how much they tried to reassure Tara that she was a part of their family, she was still horribly shy around them, preferring to let Willow be the bold one.

“Um, it’s just, well, there’s something wrong with Willow and, well, I don’t know what to do.” Tara stood there wringing her hands and biting her lower lip.

Giles eyes grew wide and he removed his glasses, automatically polishing them. Whatever it was, it must be quite serious for Tara to have approached him directly this way. “What is it, how, how is she acting?” He moved around from behind the counter, drawing closer to Tara.

“She’s just, she’s obsessed, she has been since Xander was in the hospital, but, since the sentencing last month, it’s gotten worse, she’s got all these really, really ancient spell books and she just keeps reading them. She’s been cutting classes and she hasn’t been sleeping and she hasn’t been eating and she won’t tell me what she’s looking for and I’m, I’m really, really scared.” Tara looked up at that, taking Giles’s breath away. The pure look of fear there was almost palpable.

“Where is she now?” He bustled about, gathering together his car keys, a few spell books, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“In, in our room, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but, well she hasn’t moved in two days. Just keeps reading and muttering,” Tara practically whispered as she followed Giles out the door. They headed straight for Giles’s car and he took off for the dorm, heart sinking. He had expected something like this, for one of them to snap. He honestly had expected it to be Spike, had expected a drunken vampire on his doorstep demanding some amateur brain surgery to remove the chip so that Spike could track the bastard down in prison and kill him then kill Xander’s mother. But Xander and Spike seemed to be doing better. He had arranged for them to meet with a particularly open minded therapist who had some experience with supernatural beings. They went religiously twice a week and Xander seemed to be doing well. Buffy had channeled her rage into patrol and Sunnydale was as safe as it had ever been. Willow, Willow had been strangely absent, but he had simply chalked it up to all her responsibilities as school. He cursed himself for not noticing something amiss sooner.

Tara led him into their room and Giles stopped, stunned. Tara had, if anything, downplayed the seriousness of the situation. The room was dark, the only light being the candles around the room. It was almost impossible to walk as practically ever surface was covered by books of all shapes and sizes. Paper was strewn everywhere and the only indication that there was anyone in the room was the sliver of red hair barely visible through the wall of books.

“Willow, Giles is here, came to visit you, you haven’t seen him in a few days, I, I thought it would be nice.” Tara gently made her way through the books and placed a hand on Willow’s cheek. Willow smiled slightly, turning her head to absently place a kiss on Tara’s palm.

“Hey, Giles,” Willow called out, still not looking up.

“Willow, Willow, what, what is all this?” Giles was unable to keep the shock from his voice as he reached out to move a stack of books out of the way so that he could sit and see Willow’s face. Her head started up as his hands settled on a stack and a hand clamped onto his forearm.

“Don’t move those, I haven’t gone back through those yet, you’ll ruin it, they’re in order.”

Giles just stared at Willow, the frantic tone to her voice frankly terrifying. Gently, he reached out and pulled the book she was reading from her hands. Willow tried to tug back, but Giles was persistent, finally succeeding in getting away from the witch. He turned it around, curious as to what it could be. He caught his breath. It was an ancient spellbook, over 300 years old, containing spells for petrifaction.

“Willow, what, what are you looking for, Tara is quite concerned, and I must admit, so am I.” He remained crouched down, trying to look in Willow’s face. She was pale and gaunt, unkempt and, frankly, smelled. Nothing like the sprite he knew.

“I have to find it, there has to be something, I have to find it,” Willow started as Tara sat behind her and pulled her close. “Have to do something, have to make it up to him.” With that, she burst into tears. “Just let me look, please, I have to find it.”

“Willow, calm down, we’ll help you look, you just have to tell us what it is and we’ll help.” Tara rocked them both back and forth as Willow’s sobbing increased. Giles just looked on, feeling completely helpless. The exhausted cries continued, Willow’s body shaking, her lack of food and sleep overpowering her.

“Have to find a way to make him immortal, have to give that to him, have to keep them together, have to, all I can do now,” the words were almost a chant, repeated over and over as they rocked. “All I can do, have to find it, has to be there.”

Giles reached out, wrapping his arms around the witches, his heart breaking. “Willow, who, who do you have to make immortal? Why is it all you can do?”

“Xander, have to make it up to him, keep them together,” the words trailed off as Willow finally collapsed, her body giving way. Tara pulled away as Giles carefully lifted Willow, stunned again by how light she was. He placed her on the bed where Tara immediately sat next to her and began to rub her hands along Willow’s arms.

“She’s trying to make Xander immortal, I should have known,” Tara felt tears welling up in her own eyes.

Giles just nodded, looking at the small frame, which was still twitching, even in sleep. “Do you know why?” He began to move around the room, carefully organizing Willow’s notes.

“She blames herself for not seeing what, what happened before, she thinks she should have stopped it. She keeps saying she has to keep them together. I think,” Tara looked up, catching Giles’s gaze. “I think she’s trying to find a way to make Xander immortal so that he can be with Spike forever.”

Giles sat down heavily. He had never expected this. Xander himself had shown a curious interest in research ever since he and Spike had been together. Giles, while thrilled, hadn’t really questioned why. It made sense, however. Spike couldn’t turn Xander and it was clear that the two were obsessed with one another. Giles took off his glasses yet again, routinely reaching to polish them. Not obsessed. Loved one another. It was still difficult for him to believe that a vampire could truly love anyone, especially a human. But, if he was honest, it was plain that Spike did love Xander. And Xander loved Spike. And it must be difficult, at best, to know that while Spike had at least the chance to love eternally, Xander did not.

Tara watched Willow as she slept, running a soothing hand along Willow’s forehead as her lover tossed and turned. At least she was sleeping, that was good. She just wished that Willow had told her what she was searching for sooner so that she could have helped. She may not have known Xander for very long, but he was Willow’s best friend and Willow loved him and that meant Tara loved him too. Besides, they had all accepted her after the incident with her family and that meant more to her than she had let them know.

“We have to help her,” Tara began.

“Of course, I’ll call the infirmary, she really should be looked over.” Giles reached out, searching for the phone.

“That’s not what I mean,” Tara leaned over, pulling the phone from Giles’s hand. “We have to help her look. There has to be some way, something we can do. Xander deserves this, deserves our help.”

Giles stared up at Tara, seeing the determination there. For as quiet as she was, when her mind was made up, she was as immovable as stone. He nodded, knowing it was true. Xander deserved this, deserved any chance for happiness he could have. Besides, maybe then the guilt would fade, at least enough to let him sleep without a large glass of Scotch each night, without going over all the signs that he had ignored, without dreaming of what could have happened if Spike hadn’t found Xander, if a soulless vampire hadn’t protected Xander, if a demon hadn’t seen what they all ignored. He nodded again, then turned back to the books.

“Right, should get started, this could take a long time. Do you have any idea what these piles mean?”

Tara just smiled and moved to join him on the floor. “No, for once she wasn’t babbling all about her grand plan. Maybe we should wait until she wakes up?”

“No, I would like to at least read her notes, see what she’s reviewed to this point, determine the best way to divide the research, see if there’s anything she may have missed.”

Their heads bent down and they started to work, moving the books far enough to make room for them both in the circle.

Several months later

“Coming, coming, hold onto your horses,” Xander yelled as he padded out to the front door, wondering which one of them it was. It could only be one of the gang as they were the only ones who had the code to the gate. He glanced up at the monitor next to the door, a little surprised to see that it was Giles, Willow and Tara, carrying large bags and some kind of basket.

“Hey guys, to what do we owe the honor, sorry for the mess, we’re going away tomorrow, just packing, you know.” Xander automatically leaned down to kiss Willow and Tara as they came in the door.

“Going away, where are you going?” Willow asked, eyes narrowing a bit.

“Not quite sure, Spike won’t say.” Xander grinned slightly. Their two year anniversary was the next day and Spike had turned into cryptic guy, refusing to give any hint as to where they were going. When Xander asked what he should pack, Spike handed him a list. Of course, it was a list of sex toys and Xander had hit him over the head with the paper.

“Where is the bleached wonder, need to talk to both of you,” Willow continued, voice firm.

“Asleep, it is noon, you did notice that, you know, sun high in the sky, yellow shiny thing, turns vampires into dust?” Xander followed them into the dining room, watching as Tara began setting out various small bowls and what looked like a gong.

“Xander, do you, do you think, perhaps, that you could, could wake him?” Giles asked, looking even more intent than usual.

“Um, guys, is everything fine, you’re, well, I’m getting this weird vibe, there’s not another apocalypse or something is there?” Xander was worried, whatever this was, it didn’t look good.

“No, goddess, no, nothing like that, just, have something I want to tell you, and I want to tell you both at the same time. Actually, it’s good news, well, I think it’s good news and I think you will think it’s good news, and I know Spike will think it’s good news, so,” Willow paused to suck down a breath, barely able to contain her excitement.

Xander jumped into the pause, recognizing the beginnings of full Willow babble coming on. “Wills, might want to consider decaf. If it’s that important, I’ll go get him.” He set off down the hall, shaking his head slightly in fond amusement. He and Willow were finally back to near normal, though Willow had been conspicuously absent the last few months, saying she was working on a big spell. Working on a big spell with Tara at that and Xander knew what that meant. He didn’t mind, he was just happy to see her happy.

“Yo, blondie, time to get up, visitors.” He belted Spike on the ass with a pillow, taking the chance to cop a feel since he was in the vicinity.

Spike reached back and yanked Xander down onto the bed with him, nuzzling Xander’s neck. “Hmm, those lads from Stud finally get here, bout time, service these days is slipping.”

Xander laughed and slapped Spike’s hands away from him. “No, they were here earlier, but you looked so tired I kept them all for myself. Seriously, though, Giles, Willow and Tara are here and Willow looks like she’s about to burst, she’s so excited and whatever it is they want to tell us both, so get your sexy undead ass out of bed and into some clothes.”

“No, wanna sleep,” Spike pouted, even while throwing on his jeans and black t-shirt.

“Tough shit, look once they’re gone I’ll come back to bed with you, deal?” Xander followed Spike down the hall, hands on Spike’s waist.

“Deal, do I get something special if I’m nice to the Watcher?”

“Hmm, yes, but I get to pick what it is. And I get to decide if you were nice.”

They entered the dining room and Spike plopped down next to Giles.

“So, what’s so important the whelp woke me up in the middle of the day, and not for a shag I might add, rude, that.” Spike just smirked as the blush moved its way up Giles’s neck.

“Why don’t I let Willow tell you,” Giles replied, eyeing the witch with a practiced eye. She was about to burst and it was best to simply stay out of the way.

“Well, I wanted to do something to apologize to Xander, to make up for him for all the, the stuff and, well, the only thing I could think of was to find a way to make him immortal so that you guys could be together forever, really. I looked and looked and couldn’t find anything, then Tara and Giles started to help and they were a lot of help and I should have asked sooner and Tara, I’m so sorry I scared you like that, I didn’t mean to, and I know you know I didn’t, but I’m still sorry. But we couldn’t find a way to make you immortal, I’m sorry, then Giles had an idea and we researched that, and, and we found something that will work pretty much the same way. It’s a binding spell and as long as one of you is alive the other is alive and it’ll stop Xander from aging so he’ll always be the way he is now, his body won’t age, but you can still get hurt, Alexander Lavelle Harris, and don’t think you can’t. And Spike can still get staked or go out in the sun or any of the other things that could kill him. But you would be together, for as long as you could keep each other alive and I know tomorrow is your anniversary and I want to do this for you, so happy anniversary.” Willow sucked in a huge breath and looked at them, pride shining out her eyes.

Spike and Xander just gaped at her, trying to make sense of all she said. Surprisingly, it was Xander who came to his senses first.

“Wait, you found a spell that will make me immortal, but not really, and you want to do it for our anniversary, as a present to say you’re sorry for all the other, the other stuff?” As best as he could make out, that was the gist of what Willow had said.

“Very succinct Xander, Willow you might want to consider phrasing things that way in the future,” came Giles’s dry response.

Spike turned to him, mouth still slightly open. “You know about this, Watcher, and you approve?” He stood quickly, beginning to pace. “A binding spell, should work that, should have thought of that myself, going bloody senile in my old age.” The pace quickened as Spike quickly reviewed all he had ever learned of binding spells. He whirled back and stalked quickly to lean over Giles.

“Are you sure there are no catches, nothing like, oh, I don’t know, a happiness clause, or us both growing antlers or the like?” Spike battled down the happiness growing in him. A binding spell. So simple, so elegant, so perfect. He knew the catch. The spell was simple. Bind the two beings together, then, when one died, the other instantly died as well. It didn’t mater to him, he would die the second Xander did anyway, just a matter of staking himself or waiting for the sun. This would save him the effort.

“Quite sure. We found the spell a month ago and have been checking ever since. Willow was quite right. The spell will, well, it will, bind you together so that your existences are permanently intertwined. When one dies, the other dies. Until then, however, you both remain as you are when the spell is cast. For Xander, that means that he will never age, never change from his appearance as it is now. His body can still get sick, but he won’t get any of the diseases associated with old age. However, that means, Spike, that you can never, never, well, the chip will never come out. It will be permanent.” Giles looked down at that. This was the sticking point. Willow had been ecstatic when she found the spell, sure it was the solution. They had checked every aspect of the spell, calling all of Giles’s contacts, making sure there were no hidden defects. There was nothing, nothing other than this. If they did this, Spike would have to agree to keep the chip.

“That’s it, mate, you sure. No problem, that, let’s get on with it.” Spike was bouncing on his feet, thrilled.

“Spike, seriously, are you sure, um, Spike, come on, let’s talk about this,” Xander dragged Spike into the kitchen, still in shock from the news. He could be with Spike forever, really forever. It was all he wanted and now he could do it. But not if Spike had to keep the chip. He knew how much Spike hated the chip and he would never, ever ask Spike to keep it forever.

“Xander, bloody hell, what’s there to talk about, this is perfect, can’t believe I didn’t think of it. Bugger.” Spike tugged at Xander’s hands, anxious to get started.

“Spike, no, stop it. Seriously, Spike, is this what you want, really, think about this, this is a big deal. You’ll always have the chip, and, I, I would never ask you to do that, okay? I wouldn’t want to make you have that forever, don’t want you hating it, hating me, three hundred years from now. We don’t have to do this, I won’t be mad,” Xander started, only to find himself pinned to the kitchen wall.

“What, don’t you want to, afraid you’ll get tired of me, is that it?” Spike tried to sound furious, but only came out sounding desperate. **He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want me, that was his out, he knew he would leave, leave me, doesn’t want me.**

Xander reached up and traced a finger along Spike’s lips, clearly seeing the insecurity in Spike’s eyes. “No, afraid you’ll get tired of me. Spike, if we do this, you’ll never feed off a human again, do you understand that? I would never ask you to give that up, not just for me.” He stared into Spike’s eyes, hardly daring to imagine Spike’s response. To have what he wanted more than anything in the world so close and not be able to take it was pure torture, but he would never force this on Spike. He closed his eyes slowly, waiting for the inevitable.

Spike just threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, pet, now I remember why I put up with you.” Spike tilted Xander’s head up and kissed him gently on the lips. “This was supposed to be a surprise for you for our anniversary, but, hell, now seems like the perfect time. My gift to us this year is simple. I’m going to give up trying to have the chip removed.” He watched as Xander’s eyes grew wide.

“You, you’re serious,” Xander whispered, leaning in close to smell along Spike’s neck. He had discovered that whenever Spike was serious about something, he gave off a particular scent that even Xander could recognize. He inhaled deeply, the pungent odor of truth crashing into him. “You are serious, when, when did you decide this?” His knees felt weak as the truth sank in. Spike wanted this, was going to give it up anyway, no sacrifice, nothing to taint their future. Just them, forever.

“Don’t know really, few months ago. I just, didn’t want to ever even be tempted again, didn’t want to do anything you would hate. Thought our anniversary would be the perfect time to tell you. Besides, got me out of shopping, didn’t it?” The familiar sarcasm, the beloved quirk of an eyebrow.

“So, you won’t hold it against me a millennium or so from now,” Xander knew he had an idiotic look on his face, but he couldn’t help it. This was too good, too right.

“Well, not that, might hold other things against you though,” Spike started, then pulled back to move to the entrance to the dining room.

“Oi, Watcher, when you saw we stay the way we are now, you do mean that we won’t age and all that shit, not that we can’t, you know, have physical reactions that allow us to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.” Spike smirked at the sudden blushes on the faces at the table, knowing full well that, in this instance, the euphemism was filthier than bluntness could ever be. He watched in delight as Giles began to furiously polish his glasses.

“No, no, that’s not it, you just won’t age. Your bodies will still react to, er, stimulus, as usual,” Giles managed to choke out as Xander wrapped his arms around Spike’s waist.

“Yeah, and you can still get hurt and you’ll heal like usual. That means no playing in traffic, Xander. You can still get sick and die like that. Or hit by a bus. Or a plane crash. Or choke to death, or–” Willow added helpfully, smiling up at Xander.

“Thanks there, Wills, those are all such happy thoughts.” Xander yanked Spike back into the kitchen. “So, we gonna do this thing?”

“We gonna do this thing,” Spike replied. They just stared at each other, then burst into laughter. It was too good to be true. This was it, forever. Always. Xander couldn’t imagine anything better. They stumbled back into the dining room, still laughing, still thrilled.

“You sure there aren’t any hidden secrets,” Xander managed to ask when he regained his breath.

“Positive,” Giles answered. “I take it you would like us to, to cast the spell.”

“Fuck, yeah!” came the practically shouted reply.

“Right. Then, all we need is some blood from each of you. Spike, you sit here, Xander you sit here,” Willow grabbed them and pushed them down into two chairs in the middle of the table. Unwrapping a slim package, she handed Xander a knife. She put a small silver chalice in front of each of them. “Not a lot, just a few tablespoons.”

Xander looked at Spike, then silently handed him the knife, turning his left arm over, baring the skin. Spike looked deep into his eyes, then slid the blade along the white line that only his vampire eyes could still see on Xander’s arm. The blood welled out and Xander let it run into the chalice. Spike, in turn handed the knife back to Xander, baring his left arm. Xander leaned down, gently placed a kiss on the inside of Spike’s wrist, then cut. Spike’s blood quickly poured into the chalice.

“That’s fine, enough from both of you,” Willow’s matter of fact voice called from next to them.

Spike reached over and licked Xander’s wound clean, savoring the taste of the blood. The cut quickly stopped bleeding and Spike turned to cleaning his own cut.

“What now, how do we know it worked,” Xander asked, fascinated by the preparations of the others.

“We cast the spell, if it works right, a brand will appear on the insides of your right wrists, now, be quiet, I have to concentrate,” Willow answered.

Xander watched, intrigued, as Tara ground some herbs, dumping them into a bowl. Other herbs were added, then some kind of liquid that made a small puff of smoke rise from the bowl. The room quickly filled with the smell of something burning and various scents began to compete in the air. Willow began chanting, soon joined by Tara. Finally, Giles’s voice joined them and the soft, lilting words began to grow stronger, more powerful. With one final call, Willow tossed the contents of the bowl over their heads. The potion drenched them and they started. They hissed as a burning began on their wrists, as the air in the room began to swirl. Suddenly, it was over, the pain ended and the room was clear.

Xander slowly placed his right arm on the table as Spike did the same. They turned them, palm up, then with a slight nod from Spike, looked down. There, right on the inside of each of their wrists, was the symbol for infinity, glowing gold in the light of the room. Xander let out a fierce cry of joy as Spike leapt up, swirling Willow off her feet and spinning her around the room.

“Always liked you, Red, always knew you were a right fine chit. Girlfriend’s cute, too.”

Xander leaned over and kissed Tara on the cheek, then threw his arms around Giles, enjoying the embarrassment of the other man.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no idea, this is, you just don’t know,” Xander babbled. Forever, he could promise Spike forever. He turned and grabbed Willow from Spike’s embrace.

“Wills, gods, Wills, thank you,” he felt the tears well up, could sense them in Willow as well. “You didn’t have to do this, you never had anything to make up to me, but thank you, just, it means everything,” the words fell into her hair as he held her tight.

“Had to, for me, had to give you something to make up for what you lost,” Willow sniffled out, thrilled it had worked. “Now you can’t say I never did anything for you.”

They both laughed at that, remaining locked in each other’s arms for a moment. Then, Spike grabbed Xander and kissed him, hard, slamming him back into the wall. They became lost in each other, not noticing the rest gather their things, not hearing the quiet good-byes, enraptured in the taste of each other. Forever, they had forever. They would always be one. They could taste it in the other’s mouth, more true even than the brands. Their tastes had altered, becoming richer, purer, more intense. They couldn’t get enough. Forever wouldn’t be enough.

“Spike, where are we going, please, tell me?” Xander tried yet again from the passenger’s seat. Spike had insisted on driving as he was the only one who knew where they were going. Xander had tried everything he could think of to get Spike to tell him, but Spike hadn’t cracked. Xander had briefly considered withholding sex, then realized that if Spike wasn’t having sex, then HE wasn’t having sex either and that was just not a good idea. So, he had fallen back on being annoying. He figured another five minutes and he would start with “are we there yet, are we there yet.” The classics never went out of style.

“Almost there, and don’t even think about asking are we there yet,” Spike growled out, shooting a glare over to Xander. Xander just stuck his tongue out, still thrilled. Everything looked different now. He had never realized just how much the fact that someday he was going to die and leave Spike had affected their lives. Now that it wasn’t an issue, everything seemed clearer, brighter, better. The sex the night before had been unbelievable and that was the real reason Xander wanted to get to wherever it was they were going. He couldn’t wait to see if it was a one-time experience or if this was how things were going to be from now on. He suspected it was the latter.

“Fine, spoil my fun.” Xander went back to looking out the window, watching for signs along the road. That was always good too, read all the signs out loud. Very annoying. He saw the sign looming ahead.

“Right lane, exit for Monterey…” his voice trailed off as he realized they were taking the exit. “Monterey, we’re going to Monterey, I’ve always wanted to come here.”

Spike just nodded, concentrating on remembering the directions he had so stupidly not written down, sure he could remember them. After all, he had just been here thirty years or so before, so surely he would remember. He sighed in relief as he saw the turn he wanted. He glanced over quickly. Xander’s eyes were wide, taking in the curving road and the spectacular views of the ocean. Spike followed the road for a few miles, Xander finally quiet, awed by the sights. He saw the sign he was looking for and pulled into the hotel, coming to a gentle stop. He leaned over, kissed Xander quickly, then hopped out. Xander followed him a few seconds later, eyes going wider as the hotel loomed over him.

“Spike, wow, this is, wow,” Xander breathed out, the majestic hotel looming over him.

“It’s something, I’ll give you that, even I think it’s impressive,” Spike answered, dragging Xander inside, then quickly retrieving their keys, checking to make sure they were in the suite he requested. The bellhop followed with their luggage while the valet parked the Jeep. Xander just blindly followed Spike who seemed perfectly at home in the opulent walls. The bellhop threw the doors open and Xander gasped again when he saw the suite. It looked like something out of a magazine. Spike walked in, cast a look around, seeing that the heavy curtains were in place, then tipped the bellhop. He grinned when he saw Xander’s face.

“So, I take it you like?”

Xander just nodded, “I like, I like a lot.” He turned and grabbed Spike’s hands, pulling him towards a door. “Think that’s the bedroom, want to see that, sure it’s nice too.”

“Of course, luv, unless you want to go out on the balcony,” Spike teased, stumbling after Xander.

“Balcony, later, bed now.” They tumbled into the room, barely managing to kick the door shut.

Xander followed Spike down the path running along the top of the bluffs. After they managed to untangle themselves on the bed, Spike had insisted that they go for a walk. Xander had just nodded, agreeing quickly. A walk would be nice, in fact, if they went near the ocean, it would be perfect for what he had in mind for Spike’s present. They had gotten dressed quickly, Spike insisting that Xander wear a thick sweater, “Can get really cold with the wind, luv, can’t have you catching anything.” Xander just rolled his eyes, realizing that this was something he would have to get used to, that Spike would now be his usual overpossessive self for a long, long time. Xander dressed quickly, then grabbed his messenger bag, checking to make sure the box with Spike’s present was still there.

Spike pulled Xander along behind him, carefully watching their footing. Rounding the corner, they came to the spot Spike had been heading for the entire time. Xander drew in a sharp breath as the vista unfolded in front of him. They stood on the edge of a huge cliff, a steep drop off directly in front of them. Below, sharp rocks jutted from the sea, rising steeply into the air. The waves crashed into them, tossing spray high into the air. Beyond that lay the ocean, stretching as far as the eye could see. The sky was clear and the moon shone, full and heavy, glistening in the waves, a silver path running across the water. The stars looked so close that Xander thought, for one second, they could reach up and touch them. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

Spike moved behind Xander, wrapping his arms around his waist. “This is what I wanted you to see. Found this a long time ago with Dru. She used to dance here and listen to the stars. I used to watch her and think there could never be anything better. Found out I was wrong. Wanted you to see it, wanted to see you here, wanted you to know that this, this is how beautiful you are to me.”

Xander nodded, drinking in the sight. Finally, he set his bag down and pulled Spike around, turning to face him. He leaned down and unzipped the bag, pulling the wooden box out, seeing the silver of the moonlight trace over the design.

“You gave me your present, now it’s my turn to give you mine. Here.” With that, he handed the box to Spike. Spike looked down, tilting his head slightly. He opened it slowly, seeing the knife resting in its bed of red velvet. He looked back up, waiting for Xander to continue.

“For all the pain the chip brought you, it gave you me. For all the pain the blade brought me, it gave me you. I never thought that anything good would ever happen in my life. I was wrong. Everything good has happened. You happened. I never thought I could have anything good. Now I have you, I have you forever. I don’t need the blade anymore. You’re willing to keep the chip forever. I’m willing to get rid of the blade forever. I don’t need it. I have you.” Xander stopped, looking deeply into Spike’s eyes. “I don’t need it, I will never need it again.”

Spike nodded, unable to speak. He knew exactly what the blade represented, knew what Xander meant. Wordlessly, he removed it from the box and handed it to Xander. He leaned up, kissed him deeply then set the box down. He turned and stepped back, moving to give Xander room.

“William Patrick Jonathan Bredon, I love you. Forever.”

“Alexander Lavelle Harris, I love you. Eternally.”

Xander nodded, then reached his arm back. He threw as hard as he could, putting all his strength behind it. He threw high and true, sending the knife sailing into the deep. They watched as the blade sailed far, finally sinking into the sea, swallowed down into the deep blackness, forever cast aside, leaving only the two of them, the moonlight shining down, casting its glow upon their faces, bathing all about them in its silver light.