•••

He was walking slowly up the street when a vaguely familiar scent caught his attention. He followed it curiously, wondering what in Sunnydale other than Willow had managed to stay in his head. Once he saw what it was, though, he didn't wonder anymore.

Tara.

•••

"Hey, lady. Are you ok?"

Tara waved off the question as she walked past a mail carrier. No, she wasn't ok. Not even close. Her world was in pieces, shredded beyond recognition. Ok? She felt like she was dying, like someone was pulling her apart and feeding her to the vultures. Ok didn't even enter the picture.

She stumbled down the street, wiping at her tears with a quickly dampening handkerchief. What was she going to do? Where should she go? Why had Willow done that?

Why hadn't she seen it coming?

Tara sniffled miserably and sat down on a low wall in front of a nursing home. Maybe she had seen it coming, from the very beginning. Perhaps she'd just been desperately ignoring all the warning signs.

Willow's insatiable lust for magick.

The fact that the redhead had *never* been interested in other women before hooking up with Tara.

How convenient it was that they were so good at sharing energies and working together. For all their student-mentor relationship, Willow did have problems working with Giles. Tara was always an easier partner, a cleaner read. Maybe she was just convenient.

Tara would never wander, never stray. She knew she practically screamed fidelity.

And Willow never seemed to mind what they did in bed.

But what did they have in common? If the magick was factored out, what did they have? Tara was a pagan and had been from birth. Willow, though, was not. Oh, she practiced the magicks, and invoked the goddess and whatnot. But she wasn't pagan, didn't pretend to be. Around Tara's neck hung a tiny, five pointed star. Not so with Willow. They both carried the religious symbols of several faiths, all effective against vampires, but that wasn't the same as following those religions. Tara walked one path, Willow another. The blonde didn't think that that alone came between them—many people of mixed faiths had successful relationships.

Of course, few of those successful relationships involved one partner who grossly abused the gifts of the other partner's faith.

The longer she thought about it, sitting on her wall, the less upset Tara was with Doyle, or with that particular facet of the situation. The two figures on the bed hadn't been doing anything but sleeping—fully clothed, not really touching. The image was far more innocent than her mind first thought. But it had been enough to make her realize that she and Willow were not meant to be. The redhead needed something Tara just couldn't give. She wasn't sure what it was, but the blonde was certain she lacked it. It hurt to admit that she'd been wrong, that she and Willow didn't have what it took. They were rather definitely *not* Xander and Spike, two beings distinct in themselves yet so closely bound as to be one entity. She longed for that, even as the pain of this lost love overtook her.

Eventually Tara realized that it had been several hours since she'd fled campus, so she stood and started towards Buffy's house. She had a lot more thinking to do, most of it of a practical nature. Without Willow, her ties to this group were tenuous at best.

•••

Oz followed Tara as the blonde slowly made her way to the Slayer's house. He could smell her tears, although he didn't need such enhanced senses to see how upset she was. He couldn’t smell Willow on her either. Maybe they'd broken up.

The thought brought him no joy.

Instead, he worried that maybe something bad had happened to Willow. That particular fear drove him to move faster, to draw near Tara and catch her attention. "Hey," He murmured, waiting for her to notice who was beside her.

Tara glanced over at the stranger talking to her. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oz!" She stopped abruptly, backing away.

Oz also took a step back. "Not gonna wolf on you," He swore. "I swear. I was heading for Buffy's place and saw you."

Tara watched him nervously. "Oh. Um… when did you get into town?"

"A few minutes ago," He replied. "Is something wrong? With Willow?" He asked hurriedly. Tara flinched, which didn't inspire any confidence in the werewolf.

"She's fine now," Tara said despondently.

"What happened?" Oz asked, more than a little forcefully.

Tara took another step back. She wasn't sure that talking to Oz was a good thing. Then again, the one thing she did know about him was that he truly loved Willow, despite all that had happened. "She got addicted to magick."

Oz swore softly. "Did she… is she ok now?"

"Yeah," Tara murmured. "Well, she's recovering. People are helping her," She added brokenly.

"Is that why you're crying?" Oz inquired. A small part of his mind wondered why he cared about Tara at all. He ignored the thought.

Tara shook her head but said nothing. "I need to go," She murmured. "Sorry." She rushed off towards Buffy's house. After a brief moment, Oz followed her. When they arrived Oz was surprised to see that Tara had a key to the door.

"You live here now?" Oz asked as Tara stepped inside.

The blonde paused. "Yeah," She whispered. "Um…Willow's at the dorm," She continued. "But she's not alone." Tara might have been upset, but she didn't want anyone to get hurt—even Oz, and she knew he'd be horrified if he attacked Doyle.

"Not alone?" Oz repeated. He had a very bad feeling he knew exactly what Tara was talking about. He'd encountered Willow in a not-alone situation before. "Who's with her?"

"One of Angel's friends," Tara said. "He knows something about addictions."

Oz studied her carefully, hearing what she wasn't saying. "You're leaving town."

After a moment, Tara nodded. "Can't stay."

"I know the feeling," He replied. In fact, he wasn't staying in town either. He'd come back to make peace, but maybe now was the wrong time. If Willow was going through withdrawal, the rest of the gang would be stressed. Oz didn't want to burden them with yet another thing to worry about, and after his last experience with the Initiative, he knew they'd always be looking askance at him.

"So… I think Buffy will be back later," Tara offered the werewolf.

Oz stared at the ground. He couldn't believe he was going to offer this. It went against every single common sense rule he knew. "I can give you a ride," He murmured.

Tara obviously agreed with the cautionary voices in his head, if her expression was to be believed. "Ah, Oz? Are you…"

"Insane? No," Oz said quickly. "I just came here to…say goodbye and make peace. I'm thinking that now is not a good time for that, you know?" Tara nodded her agreement. "So I'm on my way out again. You need a ride."

Tara just stared at the werewolf. Get in a car with her now ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend? The one who wolfed out and came after her for smelling like Willow? Did he think she had a death wish? Then again, this was the Hellmouth and one of her favorite acquaintances, Xander, had a tendency to date violent non-humans. Another acquaintance killed said non-humans for a living. And Spike was a non-human himself. Vampire to be exact. And she was supposed to feel comfortable in a car with Oz? "Sure," She said eventually. "I need a few things, though."

•••

"Nice van."

Oz grinned. "I told you we could get everything in it."

Tara silently agreed. This made things so much easier, and a lot more comfortable. Now she wouldn't ever have to come back, wouldn't have to see the pity in Mrs. Summer's eyes or listen to Xander get all protective. No Spike cursing, no Buffy pouting and most especially no Willow apologizing over and over again about how damned sorry she was. She even had enough money to pay for gas and lodging for a long time. The fact that she was running away--and she freely admitted that she was running--with Oz didn't even faze her anymore. The werewolf had quickly proven himself a friendly, easygoing guy. She could see why Willow had fallen for him, and why the others liked him so much, despite what had happened. If she'd been around before… well, she'd have liked him then too.

"Ready?" Oz asked. Now that decisions had been made, he was eager to get away from the Hellmouth. Each passing minute increased their risk of running into someone, somebody who would ask what they were doing or simply start shouting. He saw that Tara was putting on a brave face, but he could tell that a breakdown was forthcoming. She needed to be elsewhere when that happened.

"Yeah," Tara murmured. She figured that between the note she'd left for Mrs. Summers and the phone call to Giles she was planning to make once they'd gotten out of town would appease most of Buffy's group. And maybe Willow would understand one day.

•••

Doyle watched Willow sleep, glad to see a little of her tension drain away. He was holding off waking her up; Giles had called a few minutes before to get them back to the shop. Apparently he and Wesley had found more information about the demon and desired their assistance. But Willow was so relaxed. She almost looked like a young woman again.

The half-demon realized after a while that he had to leave the room, even if only for a minute or two. He hadn’t seen the inside of a bathroom for hours. He checked Willow one last time and slid out the door on a hunt for a men’s room. It took a bit to find one, but he did eventually. Once he was inside he remembered why he was so happy that dorms hadn’t been part of his college experience. Doyle had never really had the urge to stand in pools of urine. Of course he’d done that a lot in bars, but dorm bathrooms were like the bathrooms in your own house. Who would piss on their own floor?

Willow woke up to the feel of bright sunlight streaming across her face. It was a lovely sensation, all warm and tingly. She reached out unthinkingly, wrapping the warm light around her fingers and letting it drip down her arm. The light hugged her, replenishing her energy. How had she ever thought she could give this up?

Doyle returned to the dorm room just in time to see Willow manipulate a beam of sunlight around her body, giving her an unearthly glow. He ran towards her, hoping to catch her attention before she did something stupid. “Willow! Stop, right now!” He yelled in his best elementary school teacher voice.

Willow heard the scream and turned towards Doyle. The man didn’t look the least bit happy. “What’s wrong? Isn’t it pretty?”

Doyle took a chance and reached through the light, grabbing her on the shoulder. “No, it’s not. You’re not supposed to be practicing, remember?” He shook her for emphasis, rattling her teeth.

“Huh?” Willow murmured. Not do magick? Why would she not do…”Oh.” The light slowly faded.

Doyle finally released her shoulder, but kept watchful eyes on her. “You were doing very well there, all day in fact.”

The redhead looked heartbroken. “I’m never going to be able to do this. It feels so *right* to practice magick!”

Doyle winced. “When you’re doing it, yeah. It’s the after that’s the problem. And failing once is ok. Most people don’t succeed the first time they try something. The thing is to keep trying, until you get it.”

“Are you gonna tell Giles?” Willow asked.

“Yeah,” Doyle murmured. He didn’t add that he didn’t have to say anything—the older man would know the instant he saw her. People didn’t regain their health that quickly, no matter what. The half-demon was more concerned that Giles would skin him alive for letting her backslide. “And we need to get going. Giles called earlier.”

Willow shivered. Still, she retrieved some clean clothes and went to take a shower. The sooner they got going, the sooner the ass-chewing would be over.

•••

“Are you sure you want to come to the meeting?” Buffy asked Austin. They were walking through campus after classes, enjoying the little bit of time they had together.

“I want to help you,” Austin said patiently. He’d missed being around the group, at least pretending to be of some help. It was better than trading sexcapade stories with the team.

Buffy sighed. “It’s just that there are gonna be a lot of others there, and Willow…”

“Is she doing better?” Austin asked cautiously. Buffy had said her friend had had a breakdown, but he didn’t know much beyond that.

“Some,” Buffy said vaguely. “It’s a wait-and-see kind of situation.”

“Ah,” Austin said. “Maybe we should go to the shop.” He really wanted one of those mocha frappes from the coffee shop next door. Xander always got them to put extra chocolate in his, although Austin was never sure why. He wasn’t stupid; he knew about Buffy and Xander’s brief relationship. He’d have gotten mad at Buffy, except that she didn’t mean that much to him. Oh, he liked her well enough, but she wasn’t ‘forever’ material. He’d known that before the whole Slayer thing came out. But he didn’t want to hurt her, so he played along as much as he could without making an actual commitment. Besides, he really did like helping out, even if her friends thought he was a real lug nut.

Buffy and Austin reached the shop a bit after sundown. Angel, Cordelia, Gunn and Wesley were already there, studying books and arguing. “Hey, Giles. Anything new?”

Giles looked up, scowling slightly when he saw Austin. “Perhaps. We might have a lead on the demon.”

“Where’s Willow?” Buffy inquired as she directed Austin to a chair. She handed him a picture book of demons and a pad of paper. He knew that that was his cue to be quiet and not actually do anything.

“Doyle is bringing her,” Wesley murmured.

“Spike and Xander will be by a bit later,” Giles informed the Slayer. “I asked them to visit a few places before coming here.”

Buffy digested the new information. “So, what’s the lead on the demon?”

“We’ve narrowed it down to a specific type of chaos-aligned demon,” Wesley said, handing the Slayer a sheaf of papers. “Fortunately they are all rather well-documented. The challenge will be in finding out which one it is.”

“So it’s another night o’ books, huh?”

Giles glared at his Slayer. “Yes. Does that conflict with your busy schedule?”

Buffy gulped. Giles seemed to have broken his ‘snark’ switch at ‘on.’ “Nope, no problems here. Me, I love books."

•••

“Nervous?” Spike asked as he and Xander stepped into the night air.

“No,” Xander snapped. He took another deep drag of his cigarette. Spike just smirked. The vampire knew all too well that Xander tended to smoke when he was nervous; fortunately that wasn’t a common enough occurrence for the boy to develop much of a habit.

Spike drove them out to Carey’s, where Giles had asked them to look around. The bar/dance club was packed, as usual. “You wanna go in?” Spike inquired as he parked.

“We *are* supposed to look around,” Xander murmured. “But it shouldn’t take too long. Ask a few demons if they’ve been running into weirdo humans...”

The bouncer, however, didn’t look to fond of either Spike or Xander. “What? You think *you* are welcome here?”

Spike slipped into gameface. “Yeah, we are. *We* aren’t responsible for the witch.”

The guy, who wasn’t entirely human, growled and took a step forward, brandishing nasty claws. Xander got mad. Nobody threatened Spike. He nudged the vampire out of the way. Then his eyes turned an ominous shade of green. The bouncer started edging back, but Xander moved faster. He slid *though* the larger man, grabbing the door behind him. Xander’s other hand wrapped around the man’s neck and dragged him through the door, until he was suspended halfway though it. Then Xander started to let go.

The screams almost brought tears to Spike’s eyes, they were so beautiful. Having a door stuck in your middle was painful. “Never touch him,” Xander growled, alternately relaxing and tightening his grip. As he did, the man became more and less solid. “Do not threaten him or insult him. He is *mine* and anyone who so much as makes William the Bloody sniffle will answer to me, got that?”

The entire club nodded.

Xander hit the door with his free hand, causing it to slam against the wall. When it was free of the bouncer, Xander dropped the man, who crawled away. The brunette held his hand out to Spike, who took it quickly. The next thing the blonde knew, they were standing next to the bar. Xander was getting much better at controlling his new abilities.

“Jack,” Xander told the bartender. A bottle and two glasses appeared with gratifying speed. “Wait,” Xander said when the man made to slink away.

“Yeah?” He asked cautiously.

“There’s a demon,” Xander began.

“Possessing humans,” Spike continued. “Chaos-type. But not a Chaos demon.”

The bartender frowned. “Possessing humans?”

“Controlling their minds,” Xander explained. “Makes them nuts. Talk funny, chase vampires around. They can see things, too. Not normal things.”

“I can ask around,” The bartender offered. “To be honest, most of us have been lying low.”

“So have we,” Xander said darkly. “And she’s being taken care of.”

“Is she?” The man challenged.

“You know Ripper?” Spike asked sharply. The guy paled.

“Yeah?”

“He’s dealing with it,” Spike said. The man nodded.

“Ready to go?” Xander asked Spike. The vampire finished off his drink, dug out a ten, and led Xander out of the bar.

That was agonizing,” Xander muttered as they headed for the car.

Spike glanced at Xander. He wanted rather desperately to throw the young man on the ground and shag him into next week. Violence still did it for Spike, even when no one died. Watching Xander get all dark and dirty was...exhilarating. The boy showed so much promise. “Not something I wanna do again tomorrow,” Spike conceded.

They had almost reached their car when a pudgy middle-aged woman carrying a huge, lime green vinyl purse stepped out of the shadows. “Beast! Mark of the Beast! You are damned! A fiend of Hell!” She ran forward, swinging her bag at Spike’s head. He ducked, but she caught him in the stomach with her three-inch chunk heels. “Fucking vampire! Child of Satan! Die! Corruptor of Youth! Killer of innocence! Despoiler of Virgins!” Spike went down under the surprise attack, feeling the shoe’s heel breaking skin and sinking into his abdomen.

Xander took the woman by the arm and flung her up the street, phase-shifting enough to move both of them about fifteen feet away. As soon as he let her go, she pulled a stake and a water balloon out of her purse. Xander reached for her, but she was surprisingly fast, throwing the water balloon directly at Spike. Xander managed to get a hold of the stake, but not before he heard Spike’s agonized wail. Xander pitched the stake aside and took the woman’s arm again. This time he shifted them both out of sight and when he returned, he was alone. The boy immediately ran to Spike’s side.

The vampire was almost unrecognizable; his entire upper body was eaten by the holy water. The liquid continued to hiss and bubble at the wounds; Xander knew if he didn’t do something fast, Spike was dust. “This might hurt, Spike, and I’m sorry,” Xander murmured as he grasped the most undamaged part he could find--Spike’s left ankle. Then he shifted again.

Xander felt an almost comfortable wisp of energy as he entered interdimensional space. He’d spent the morning practicing this, jumping between planes. It hadn’t been as difficult to learn as he’d feared. Once he got both of them into the void, He checked on Spike. As Xander had planned, Spike’s sodden clothes and the rest of the holy water had been left behind. Still, Spike looked horrible. The only thing that would help him now was blood. Great quantities of human blood. Without a second thought, Xander shifted them back into their home dimension, right into the blood bank. For the first time in his life, Xander was actually grateful he knew where the blood bank was.

“Just a sec, Spike. Hold on for me,” Xander murmured as he laid Spike in a donation chair. The boy ran into a back room, quickly locating a storage unit full of blood. He grabbed a rack of A positive, the first thing he ran across, and carried in to where Spike was. “Shit, it’s cold.” <This place has to have a break room,> Xander’s hyena voice reminded him.

<Thanks,> Xander replied as he took off again. <You guys gonna stick around more?> He managed to ask through his panic. The break room was on the left, right after the men’s bathroom.

<Demon thing’s taking some adjusting,> The soldier admitted. <More than we first thought.>

<Cool,> Xander said. <Ok, warm blood coming up.> He stuffed the microwave with bags of blood. Xander waited for eight to heat up before reloading the bin and returning to Spike.

“Fuck!” Xander swore. Spike wasn’t moving anymore, and clear liquid was oozing from his wounds. Xander grabbed one bag and ripped the top off. The first drops hit Spike’s mouth, but got no reaction. “Come on, come on, come *on*, Spike. Drink it. Fresh and human,” Xander pleaded.

Finally Spike’s mouth opened--as much as it could with the damage done to it. Xander poured in the blood as fast as he could, stopping only when Spike needed to swallow. He kept opening and pouring in blood, three and then four bags full. The fifth went in slower. The sixth took almost five minutes. By the time Xander opened the seventh, Spike was beginning to stir.

“Wait,” Spike tried to say when Xander held up the blood. It came out more of a “waaay”, but Xander knew what he meant, so he backed off.

Spike was very grateful that Xander had kept himself together and brought him to wherever they were that had so much human blood. The blood was already working, healing him from the inside out. He could *feel* his intestines moving back into place from where the lady had eviscerated him. His skin was crawling into shape, replacing itself where necessary. Fresh blood oozed out of his many wounds, forcing the last drops of holy water to the surface. Spike felt a cool, wet cloth on his face as Xander wiped away the mess, keeping the poison from hurting him more.

Xander wiped at the steaming holy water, wondering if simply pouring water over Spike wouldn’t work better. <Worth a shot.> He set the cloth aside and grabbed a basin next to the sink, filling it with cold water. He carefully tipped the basin over Spike’s chest, letting the water flow in a gentle stream. It seemed to work, carrying blood and gore away along with the holy water. Spike murmured in a positive manner, so Xander let the water wash his face off too.

<Never letting him go now,> Spike told himself sharply. The water was cold and soothing, taking away a lot of his pain.

“Spike?” Xander murmured. The vampire didn’t say a word, but somehow Xander knew he’d heard him. The Bhavca was having a hard time watching his lover heal; Spike’s skin was *moving* and that freaked Xander out. Instead of getting sick over it, Xander sat back, focused on Spike’s shoes, and thought.

One: A human attacked Spike. Two: He was unable to defend himself. Three: Spike almost died. Four: Xander sent Spike’s attacker into the interdimensional void and let go of her, thus killing her instantly.

Xander shuddered. He had to do something about this, now if not sooner. Spike couldn’t be left vulnerable, not when it was becoming quite obvious, at least to Xander, that this new demon was gunning for Spike and knew his weakness. Also, Xander didn’t want to get into the habit of killing people. Of course, he killed demons all the time. Now that he *was* a demon, Xander knew he was going to have to sit down and think through things a few times.

But for now, Xander knew what he had to do. At least it wouldn’t hurt Spike to have his chip taken out. Xander stood slowly, making his way to Spike’s head. The vampire sensed him and shifted slightly, whimpering. Xander gently stroked the crown of that blonde head, where Spike was least damaged. “I love you, Spike. You know that, don’t you? No matter what. I don’t care what Buffy or Willow think, or if Angel thinks you’re going to hurt me. I’m never letting you go.” As his voice died away, Xander let his hand slip into Spike’s skull. It took five passes, each with Spike’s brain more solid than the time before, for Xander to find the chip. He closed two fingers around it and slowly extracted the thing, making sure that every tiny thread of wire was removed as well. Spike just laid on the chair, body actively healing. He hadn’t even noticed Xander’s operation.

Once he was done and his hand was free of Spike’s skull, Xander dropped the chip into his other palm. It looked so...innocuous, like a paper clip or a gum wrapper. Something you wouldn’t think twice about if you saw it on someone’s desk. It was just this fleck of metal and plastic. Nothing, really. Still, it was the biggest thing in Spike’s life.

“What’s the biggest thing in my life?” Spike said groggily.

Xander’s head whipped around. “What? Oh, nothing,” He mumbled. “Do you feel any better?” The vampire was visibly improved, his skin nearing normal in most places.

“Yeah. Got any more blood?”

Xander picked up an open bag and placed it at Spike’s mouth. The vampire raised one shaky hand to hold it in place. Even slightly cooled, it was better than cow. “So, what’s this biggest thing?” Spike asked as he polished off his seventh pint of blood.

Xander fidgeted nervously. “This,” He said, pinching the chip between his thumb and forefinger so that Spike could see it.

“What’s that? Doesn’t look so big to me,” Spike muttered. Maybe the boy’d been hit by the bloody insane woman. That purse had been brutal, not to mention the shoes.

“Your chip,” Xander said baldly.

Spike stared. <What the bloody hell is he smoking?> Was the vampire’s first thought. <I thought it’d be bigger,> Was his second. “What?” Spike managed to say.

“It’s your chip,” Xander repeated.

“Right. And it got out how?” Spike demanded, not believing that scrap of whatever-it-was was his chip.

“I took it out,” Xander replied.

Spike’s face fell in shock and comprehension. Why hadn’t he thought of that? A Bhavca demon who could pull a can of Lysol out of a cabinet could remove a chip from his brain... But the vampire also knew why it hadn’t occurred to him. He’d always equated his chip with his relationship with Xander. Had he never been chipped, he would have never fallen in love with the boy, never taken him to bed. It was just part of his life; he had the chip and he had Xander. Only now he didn’t have the chip. Seemed as though he still had Xander, though. “Why?”

Xander dropped the chip back into his hand and sighed. “Because no *human*, demonically possessed or otherwise, is going to lay one greasy hand on you,” Xander said. “There’s a demon out there that wants you dead, Spike. *Dead.* He’s targeted you twice now. The first time was just to feel out the situation, see how you would react. He found out that you weren’t going to fight back. This time he sent someone who was prepared.”

“Where is she?” Spike inquired curiously.

“Elsewhere,” Xander hedged.

“Xander,” Spike warned.

“Gone. Permanently,” He admitted.

“Good,” Spike replied.

Xander looked up. “You’re whole now, you know.”

“So I am,” Spike murmured, sitting up. He was still a bit dizzy, woozy from all the healing. Xander handed him the eighth bag of blood, which Spike quickly drained. With that inside him, he’d soon be back at full strength, if not stronger than before. When Xander moved closer, Spike snagged him, dragging the boy up onto the donation chair to lie across Spike’s lap.

“Feeling better, are we?” Xander asked lightly.

“Mmm...” Spike hummed. Yeah, he was feeling better. A *lot* better. Not only were his wounds almost gone, he was chipless. And full of human blood. With a warm, tasty Xander in his lap. A warm, nummy Xander who had removed his chip for him. And killed for him. And hadn’t run away. And...

Xander moaned as Spike’s mouth descended upon his, tasting the coppery tang of blood on the blonde’s tongue. It was a striking reminder of just who his lover was. That didn’t cool Xander’s ardor one iota; on the contrary, he returned Spike’s kiss with an almost desperate ferocity, trying to find a way *inside* Spike. He needed inside his lover, deep within where Spike hid all the lovely things he was.

Spike let Xander take over, reversing their positions and shifting until the vampire was pressed against the chair. Xander pushed Spike’s hands away when the blonde tried to undress him, instead shifting himself, Spike and the chair until Xander’s clothes were in a heap on the floor. Spike immediately pulled Xander down on him, draping his legs over the young man’s hips. He wanted Xander inside him, wanted that hard cock splitting him open and tattooing into his skin that he was Xander’s and no one else’s; that Xander wasn’t ever going to make him go away even though he had no chip anymore.

“Lube,” Xander moaned. “No lube.”

“Don’t need it,” Spike growled. “Shag me.”

Xander shook his head. Spike was too tight to be entered without some sort of slick... An evil grin crossed Xander’s face as he moved down and licked across Spike’s exposed hole. The vampire hissed as Xander delved inside, stretching him open with his tongue.

“Please, Xander,” Spike begged, rocking back to get the boy deeper. “More. Please.”

Xander ignored Spike, focusing instead on getting the blonde just a little looser, just a bit more relaxed. Spike was so *tight*, so perfect, Xander didn’t want anything but perfection. Even if that meant waiting, his cock aching; he didn’t care.

Spike gave up on being patient and jerked Xander up by his shoulders. “Fuck me. Now.” He ordered, shifting into gameface. Xander ran his tongue over those prominent ridges even as he lined his cock up at Spike’s entrance. It was slow going, pushing inside Spike. The vampire wasn’t complaining about the invasion, which Xander was sure had to hurt. No, he was writhing on Xander’s cock, straining to get more in. The blonde reached for Xander’s hands, linking them with his own. Then he bucked up, taking Xander the rest of the way inside in one movement.

Xander’s head dropped to Spike’s shoulder. He let himself go, sinking further into Spike than ever before. Their bodies became indistinct as they both lost solidity. Xander turned his head, brushing his lips across Spike’s. They were there but not there, a ghost of a touch. Xander slowly pulled back, then moved forward, touching Spike inside and out.

Spike groaned and watched, wide eyed, as Xander began to shift them out of phase. His skin tingled, prickled. Spike felt Xander’s body go through his, so slowly, like he was being caressed all the way to his heart. Xander’s cock still bumped his prostate, then went *through* it briefly, making incredible sparks fly behind his eyelids. Xander was inside him, truly inside. Spike wasn’t sure they’d ever be separate again, not after this.

“Spike?” Xander whispered. “You alright with this?”

“Oh, yeah,” Spike hissed, rocking up to meet Xander. “More...Right there...Gods, Xander, we’re...” He didn’t have words for it; he could just feel. Spike was in awe; Xander was right there, filling holes Spike didn’t know he had. And the boy kept hitting that spot, stroking him against his belly. Spike was so close, just about to come.

“I’m inside you,” Xander said wondrously. “I can see your heart, you know,” He continued breathlessly. “All of you. And you’re perfect.” The young man thrust harder, making himself more solid as he brought them back to one dimension. “And mine. With me,” He chanted. “I love you, Spike.”

Spike’s opened wide. He clenched hard around Xander as he came, convulsing around his lover as his cold seed coated their stomachs.

Xander watched Spike climax. He catalogued every twitch, every tear. He was overwhelmed; this was his, for as long as Spike wanted it to last. And he got the impression Spike wasn’t going anywhere. That meant forever. Eternity with his lover. Xander pressed his mouth to Spike’s neck, biting down gently as he came, freezing in ecstasy.