Written for fall_for_sx

Dogs of War

by
Tabaqui

Part One

Xander had never been this scared. Even the night Buffy had died fighting the Master he'd had an idea in the back of his mind that everything was going to be okay. And it had been. But this - this was all wrong - this was all horrible. He crouched in the far corner of Spike's crypt, listening to helicopters chatter overhead and trucks rumble up and down the roads; to gunfire, and screams, and shouted orders. The Initiative - had made its move. And Sunnydale was now under Martial law.

Fourteen days of hiding out and Xander knew it wasn't going to get better. He'd had to flee the crypt when soldiers had rampaged through the cemetery, looking for demons and vampires. He'd fled underground and had discovered an amazing labyrinth of tunnels and crawl-spaces and bolt holes. Fighting was still going on; the demons weren't lying down and taking it, and neither were some humans. Xander hadn't ever known anybody who'd owned a gun before - now he had three. He'd also managed to steal some supplies left behind when a couple of soldiers had to make a run for it, and from a truck left unattended for too long. Now he had a canvas backpack full of MRE's and more cached here and there Below. He also had a radio that he could listen to. It was all code - jargon - and his long-dormant soldier was waking up and taking charge. He'd listen to the communications for hours; puzzling out what they were saying, monitoring what troop movement he could from various hidey-holes until he had a rough idea of schedules and routes - watch-lengths, detail sizes, that sort of thing. He hadn't seen Buffy - he hadn't seen Willow. He'd seen Tara, and she'd looked terrified. Being led into the hospital with a half-dozen other people, in scrubs with her hair pinned up. Working, that much was obvious, but doing what he had no idea. He hadn't seen Oz or Spike, either. He'd seen plenty of vamps and demons being dragged away in chains or unconscious, though. He hadn't seen any of them coming back out of anywhere.

He thanked god that Giles had got out - was gone to England. The Council had called him home two days before the siege - some emergency, some prophecy - and he'd reluctantly packed a bag and gone. Now, Xander was sure the Council had had some advance warning and had pulled Giles out. He had no idea why they hadn't done the same for Buffy, but he was bitterly sure that they hadn't cared for the 'rogue' Slayer who'd defied them at every turn. Dawn and Joyce had been on a buying trip to Carmel for Joyce's gallery, and he hoped and prayed that the Council - that Giles - had got them to safety. That the Slayer's mother hadn't been taken. And Dawn - she wasn't even fourteen yet. At night, curled up in a stolen sleeping-bag, his stolen M-16 clutched tight to his chest, he dreamed about them all.

Twenty-two days and he was going to try to talk to Tara. He knew where she lived; in the school dorms, but a different floor, a new room. He knew her schedule. He hoped she would listen - wouldn't tell anyone. He was so, so afraid. And so lonely. He hid at the Cross, where four tunnels met under an old church and listened to the muffled bells chiming the hours - ten and eleven and midnight and one, and then he moved out.

Almost two a.m., and Tara stumbled into her dorm, obviously exhausted. Xander waited until she was at her door to say anything. She had a room on the end and the fire door to the stairwell and alcove for the vending machine made a shadowy corner he could hide in. The vending machine was dark - unplugged. He waited until she had her key in the lock before he spoke.

"Tara? Don't look. Just pretend you're having trouble with your key." Tara started and then froze, looking frantically around from under lowered lashes. After a moment she started moving her key again.

"Z-zz... Xander? Is that you/"

"Fuck - yeah, it's me. God, Tara -" Xander stopped, holding his breath. He was close to crying - close to losing it. Tara took a deep breath, her hand shaking.

"Are you ah-all right? Are you hurt? Xander, you have t-t-to get in here."

"There's a camera. It'll turn in a minute - scan the other side of the hall. Just - go in and leave your door open a little, I'll get in."

"Okay," Tara breathed, and she unlocked her door - moved smoothly inside and pushed the cheap fiberboard almost closed. Xander watched the camera - when it turned away he moved silently and smoothly, around the corner and through her door. He shut it behind him and dropped into a crouch in case someone could see through the windows. Tara stood unmoving at her desk and after a moment, glancing at him, she walked across the room and shut her curtains. The only light was a small desk-lamp and Xander was sure no one could see a silhouette but he stayed low, just in case - crawled over to the foot of her bed and leaned there, shivering.

Tara turned around and stared at him and then she dropped down as well and sat opposite him, just looking. Xander couldn't help it - he reached out and hugged her, desperate for some sort of physical contact after so many days of being completely alone. She hugged him back hard, and they both started shaking - crying a little. It took them a few minutes to get themselves under control, and then they told their stories. Xander told her about hiding out in the cemetery - in Sunnydale Below. About stealing and sneaking and watching. Tara told him about being tested - making sure she was completely human and then - since she had been taking some biology and some chemistry - they'd decided she was pre-med and sent her to work in the hospital. She did little more than clean and help the nurses with meds and food, but she knew things Xander didn't.

She knew, for instance, that the world outside of Sunnydale thought there had been some sort of biological attack - terrorists. That the town was being evacuated and then sealed off, like Love Canal or that Time's Beach place in the mid-west. She knew that the experiments that Dr. Walsh had started were still going on - were common knowledge, now, among the soldiers and support staff. And she knew they had Buffy and Willow.

"What? How? Are - are they okay?" Xander asked, his heart pounding double-time and Tara shook her head, near tears again.

"I hear them talking. The s-soldiers on guard get bored at night - they pu-play cards, try to - to talk to me. One of th-them told me he liked being in m-my wing of the hospital better because the R-restricted wing gave him the c-c-creeps. Witches and f-freaky super-girls in th-there he said. And m-monsters."

"Fuck..." Xander put his elbows to his knees and his head down on his crossed forearms, just thinking. "Do you think - could you work over there? In that Restricted place?" Tara looked at him, and Xander realized what he was saying; all at once, realized what he was doing. Or thinking of doing. "We have to get them out, Tara. We have to try. There has to be - some way -" Tara put her hand out, touching his arm.

"Okay, Xander. Okay. Listen, I can get away pretty easily. You need to find the t-tunnel that goes under the hospital." Tara scrambled to her desk and got a notebook - sketched a quick map, explaining as she drew. The hospital basement was a maze, but if you followed the hallways left, always left and down, you'd come to the incinerator and the boiler rooms. People who smoked took their breaks there on rainy days, and Tara had interrupted people shooting up, drinking, or having sex. At that she blushed painfully red and looked away, her hand shaking.

"It's getting bad, Xander. There are... People are disappearing. And - some strange stuff is turning up in the biohazard trash. Those experiments Professor Walsh was d-doing, they're...they're still happening. I'm afraid... Xander, I think B-buffy is in there. I think -"

"Fuck." Xander gripped her hand tightly, not wanting to hear it but knowing, knowing what she was saying. Buffy, somehow held captive - experimented on. Being hurt, being...killed, maybe. And that would mean Willow, too. "Okay - Tara, okay... I'll be around. I know your schedule. We'll figure something out." Tara looked up at him, her eyes vast and wounded and exhausted, and Xander hugged her close, ruthlessly forcing his own tears back. When he got back to his bolt-hole sometime near dawn, he buried his face under his stolen pillow and screamed until his throat was raw.

He spent the next two weeks watching, and he saw - many things. He saw regular Sunnydale citizens being herded aboard trucks like cattle. He saw fights go down between Initiative soldiers and demons and humans, and sometimes the Initiative won, and sometimes the others did. He longed to try and contact someone - join up - but his inner soldier had come to full life now, and cautioned him against it. The Slayer was too big a target - too infamous. Anyone they joined with would either be too skittish to deal with it, or would want to work it to their own advantage. Best to stay alone, the soldier advised. And Xander, his heart aching, his soul withering from loneliness, did.

Part Two

Sixty-eight days, and that was the day they found Spike, and Xander didn't think he would ever, ever forget it. It was near dawn and they were hiding in the abandoned office building across from the hospital. Tara and he had both heard rumors about something big going down - a mixed bunch of demons and humans were planning on storming the hospital, breaking prisoners out. Xander wasn't sure how it would work, who would win. But he wanted to be there just in case, with stolen guns and flares and some spells Tara had remembered: confusion and temporary blindness. Anything to even the odds, and to maybe get a chance at seeing Buffy or Willow, or grabbing them. There was sewer access in the building they were hiding in and Xander had told Tara that if it got ugly, or too crazy, they'd just run. They wouldn't risk getting caught, not for any reason.

Tara had agreed; solemn and thin-looking, dressed in jeans and a too-large sweat-shirt, her pale hair caught back in a ponytail. Xander had on his bits of scrounged and stolen Army uniform, with his too-long hair held back by a strip of leather and his hands so tight on the stock of his M-16 that they ached. As they waited a truck pulled up - some sort of military transport - and a couple of soldiers hopped down, long cattle-prods in their hands. They could see the truck was empty.

"Fuck - they're going to load people up in that," Xander whispered, his stomach churning. If the attack would only start, maybe they could get whoever was being taken away into the Below - save them. The ER room doors opened - more soldiers coming out - and then a line of...scarecrows. Skeletons. Xander felt the urge to vomit surge up in him and he clenched his teeth down tight. A straggling line of ten or more - humans, from what he could see, dressed in ragged prison overalls. Pale, too thin, manacled like they were on death row - shackles from ankle to ankle, chain from that to the shackles on the wrists, chain around the waist to keep the hands down and out of play.

Then Xander blinked and looked closer and realization dawned. Half the stumbling line was in game-face, and they all had bands of metal around their necks, like collars. Vampires, oh fuck, and suddenly Tara made a tiny noise.

"Xander, it's Spike, oh god, it's Spike -" And it was. Near the end of the line, his finely-boned face smeared with dried blood and shadowed with bruises, shaven-headed and thin as a rail. But still Spike, who stumbled from a rough shove and whipped around, snarling, game-faced. The soldier lifted his gun and slammed the butt into Spike's temple and he went down in a graceless heap.

"Aw, man, now we gotta touch it -" a soldier started to say, and then everything exploded. Or, at least that was how it seemed when Xander thought about it later. Fire was raining down from the roof-tops - sentient fire that leaped from soldier to soldier, curling around faces and throats. Demons that were some sort of cross between flying monkey and flying nightmare swooped hard after, dropping what looked like vials of glowing swamp-gas. The vials burst and a sickly greenish fog began to rise, sending the soldiers reeling and choking. Other figures began pouring in; more soldiers, responding to the panicked shouts going out over the radios, and more demons; lumbering hulks that reminded Xander of whatever Ethan had turned Giles into, a few months ago. Sudden, ear-splitting chatter from automatic weapons and Xander saw humans - dressed in ragged clothes, all wearing ski-masks - descend on the ER, pushing through the doors.

"This is too hot for us. We can't get in the middle of this...but - Tara..." Xander turned and saw steel in Tara's look.. "Do that confusion spell, okay? I’m gonna get Spike." Tara bit her lip - reached into her backpack and pulled out something and nodded once. She duck-walked with Xander to the door way - touched a pendent of amber and copper around her neck, eyes shut.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, then she lifted a tiny wooden tube to her mouth and blew, hard. Dust went over Xander, fine as silt. He blinked - stifled a cough. "They'll see an ally - it won't l-last long. Be c-careful and go fast."

Xander touched her shoulder and then he was running, dodging, working his way towards the last place he'd seen Spike. The other vampires had run - a couple had been caught by the fire - and he stumbled over an Initiative soldier and then over one of the flying demons, cooling corpses on the asphalt.

'Where are you, where are you, where ARE you, damnit!' Xander was getting frantic and then he saw him - orange cover-all shiny with dirt and old blood, torn over the knees and the chest. Spike's face, bleeding and slack in unconsciousness. Xander slung his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed Spike's hands - yanked him up and got him over his shoulder, the chain digging into his collar-bone and hurting. He looked around once and then ran as fast as he could back to the office building and back to Tara, Spike too light and awkward over his shoulder, smelling of chemicals and iron.

He dodged through the doorway and Tara was chanting something - blowing more of that dust, and Xander stumbled and almost fell. Tara snatched her backpack up from the floor and followed him as he made his way rapidly to the back of the building and down to the basement and then the access that was a grate in the floor. He climbed carefully, shakily down, easing Spike to the floor at the bottom of the ladder and getting a match out - lighting a candle in a glass jar as Tara all but slid down the ladder, pulling the grate closed behind her. The candle was another spell, reset by the simple action of lighting it. It would keep anyone who came looking from looking twice, and Xander carefully put the candle under a little overhang where it burned dimly, a strange sort of reddish flame. They were doing something to the Hellmouth, Tara had said. Trying to open it, or seal it or just look at it, and magic was everywhere - was going wild. She was doing spells that she'd never even thought to try before because the power was there for the taking. But she was careful - anchoring each spell to a physical thing that could be destroyed or changed if need be. No free-floating magic that relied on spirits or demons, just solid kitchen magic that packed an impressive, hell-born punch.

Xander got Spike up again, fireman's lift, and they moved rapidly through the tunnels, going as fast and as far as possible in case the Initiative had some new weapon or way of detecting them. In case the fight spilled into the Below. Spike was unmoving - unconscious - until they were about a minute from the place Xander and Tara called the Hall. Then he began to thrash weakly, making an inarticulate sound down in his throat; a sort of rasping noise that might have been no and might have been a growl. Xander was tiring fast and he knew if Spike jerked around much more he might fall, or he might drop the vampire. Tara sprinted ahead, leaving Xander to follow the faint glow of the will-o-the-wisp she had conjured.

"Almost there - it's okay - almost there," Xander chanted, feeling the spring-steel tension in the legs he held under his forearms, hands tightly gripping Spike's calves. Xander could see light blooming ahead as Tara lit their two Coleman lanterns. Just as he staggered into the Hall Spike twisted violently, making Xander lose his grip. One bare foot kicked out, cracking hard into Xander's ribs and he winced - and Spike screamed, arching like a bow, the force of his reaction tumbling him from Xander's shoulder to the stone floor, sending Xander to his knees. The chains clanked wildly as Spike flailed. Then he was out again, blood trickling from his nose and his eyes, his skin gone a ghastly sort of greyish white.

'Fuck! Fucking chip, it's stronger than it was, DAMNIT...' Xander pushed himself to his feet and then Tara was there, taking Spike's calves. Xander got him under the arms and they carried him to the table Xander had made out of an old door and two saw-horses. It was where he ate and cleaned his guns and sorted through his stolen supplies and Tara had hastily cleared it and laid a blanket over the surface. They stretched Spike out gently and Xander sank down onto two milk crates that were stacked to make a chair, panting.

"He l-looks terrible," Tara whispered, staring at the vampire, and Xander had to agree.

"Yeah, he looks like shit. Do you think - can you get blood, Tara?" Tara looked at him, biting her lip, then she nodded.

"Yeah, I can. Gimmie - gimmie about an hour, okay? There's always stuff in the incinerator r-room that they're getting rid of."

"Okay. Wait!" Tara had taken three long strides away and now she turned back. "Help me get these fucking chains off first, okay? I mean -" Xander gestured, and they both looked closely at Spike. . The cover-alls were filthy, looking like they hadn't been changed or washed in months. Dirt and old blood streaked them, and other things he couldn't readily identify. Where the shackles were around wrist and ankle were scars and livid, abraded flesh. They had obviously been in place as long as the coveralls. The waist-chain that kept his hands at his waist had rubbed holes in the dirty cloth and the skin Xander could glimpse underneath looked as raw as Spike's wrists. And the collar. Metal, snug-fitting, no obvious closure or lock.

"We've got to get this shit off of him, Tara." Xander still felt ill. His initial reaction to the straggling line of prisoners - the urge to vomit - was still twisting down in his gut and getting worse every minute he had to look at Spike and imagine... Xander felt Tara's hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard, and he looked at her. She was pale, but her mouth was compressed into a hard line, and there was fury in her eyes.

"Yeah. I can - there's a s-spell. Unlocking. Put your g-gun and stuff over there 'cause it might make it come apart or something, I'm not sure."

"Okay." Xander unburdened himself of the M-16 and side-arm that had become second nature and took his jacket off as well, feeling sweat down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades, shivery in the cool damp of Below. He stood next to Tara, watching as she put her fingers around the pendent she wore, humming something under her breath. She took an old-fashioned skeleton key out of her backpack and mimed unlocking, holding the key over the locks on the chains. There was a series of clicking noises and then the shackles sprang open with little metallic clinks. They made short work of them, getting them off of Spike and tossing them aside. The collar had come open as well, springing apart at the closure over his spine, the hinge over Spike's Adam's apple. Xander curled his fingers around the softly bristled skull and lifted Spike's head so Tara could remove the steel band. He felt something under his palm but waited, wanting the collar off first. Tara took it into her hand and then frowned. "What is it?"

"It's like it's - s-stuck. Hang on." Tara looked closely at the collar and then blanched. "Hold him still, Xander," she said, her voice shaking. She took the end of the metal that lay flush against Spike's spine and pulled straight out. The collar resisted and then pulled away from Spike's neck and four needle-tipped prongs, half an inch long, slid out of his flesh. Xander swallowed and swallowed again and eased Spike's head back down onto the blanket, staring at the blood oozing out of the puncture marks. Tara made a face of anguished disgust and threw the collar away from them, sending it clanging and skittering into a stack of boxes.

"Jesus Christ. Tara, I - just..." Xander grabbed her hand and held on and she squeezed back, breathing in hitching gasps. After a moment she took a deep breath and straightened - let go of Xander's hand and wiped her face.

"Okay, b-blood -"

"Tara - there's..." Xander touched her shoulder and then he carefully reached over and turned Spike's head so they could see - whatever it was - that was on his skull. They both stared. It was metal - dully silver - about the size of a quarter. Smooth edges and a little depression in the flat top with a half ring of metal lying smoothly inside of it. Like - a little ring, to pull up so...

"Fuck. You know what that is? That's like - like some kind of d-door. Like on a remote so you can change the batteries. The chip is under there, Tara. What the fuck -" Xander felt the nausea surge up in him again - surge and almost break and he turned away, gagging.

"Xander, it has - those are..." Tara's voice chocked off and he spun around.

"What? What is it?"

"Those are h-holy symbols. They're - it's... It's like having a c-cross there or holy w-water. To keep his s-sskull from - healing..." Tara looked as sick as Xander felt and he punched, blindly, into the wall, splitting his knuckles open but welcoming the pain as a distraction to his horror.

"God damnit. Okay - okay. We have to get it out. It's hurting him, isn't it? That's why - why their hands were shackled to their waists; so they couldn't reach up and -" Tara was nodding, the steel back in her gaze and Xander took a harsh breath and looked at the thing - reached out and picked up the little half-ring. It came up easily, like a handle, and he pulled gently. The metal disk slipped out - half an inch thick, dragging a little skin and blood with it. He threw it to one side, hearing it clatter away, and looked in revolted fascination at the hole 'fucking HOLE, Jesus Christ' in Spike's skull. At something - bruised and bloody looking, and the glint of more metal.

"Xander? I think - that's the chip." Tara was staring as well and she reached a shaky hand up and lifted down a lantern from its hook - held it close to Spike. It was the chip, and the brain matter around it was dark and too rough-looking.

"What's the matter with him? Why does it look like that?" Xander whispered.

"I think - it's scar tissue. Xander - take it out. Please take it out." Xander turned to stare at Tara - at her set, furious features and the please in her eyes. Xander closed his eyes, remembering Spike. Remembering Spike helping them. Spike brain-storming with them about the Initiative and its growing presence - its repeated attempts to disrupt Buffy's duties - even kill her. Spike enduring torture at the hands of a Hellgod. Spike almost dying because he'd tackled Glory's minion Doc and rode him three stories down to the ground, enduring half a dozen knife wounds and nearly bleeding out while Buffy got Dawn free of her ropes and got her down off the tower. Just in time to see Glory wither and die, her time over as surely as the time for the spell was over. They'd all given him blood that day - straight from the tap, Xander had said, laughing shakily as Spike had stared at him, blue eyes darkened to plum, blood and dirt smeared over his face and his mouth cool and wet on Xander's arm, drinking. Spike, who still patrolled with them, Spike who'd anonymously gotten money and presents and nurses to the Summers house when Joyce was so sick. Spike, who just wanted a family - who had said so once, drunk on whiskey and pain the day after his fall, half out of his head and crying, dreaming he'd failed and that Dawn was dead.

'Yeah. We have to. But...what if we hurt him more? What if... Oh god.' Xander nodded and crouched down so he could really see. The chip was small - about the size of a fingernail - and there was a thin, rigid length of wire that extended up from it, looking like a miniature antenna. Xander reached tentatively for it and grasped it between thumb and forefinger. His fingers were slippery with blood from his bashed knuckles and he watched as a drop hung and then fell onto the exposed bit of brain. Watched the blood sink away as if into a sponge. He pinched the wire hard and tugged, and it slipped free easily. He stared at it for a moment and the looked at the wound again. There was something -

"It's like - a socket," Tara said quietly, somewhere over his shoulder, and Xander nodded.

"Do you think - do we need to get that out, too?" he asked.

"I think - it's probably l-like a plug in a wall. I think that - unless something goes in there, it's j-just empty." Xander glanced at her and then motioned her nearer- tilted the lantern a little, looking closely.

"Tara, what if we're wrong? We'll never - have a chance to fix it..." Xander stared for a moment longer and then he dragged the big first aide kit out from under the table - rooted through it for a moment and pulled out the pair of forceps that Tara had brought him. They were small and slender, pointed on the end. He'd needed them to get glass and wood splinters out of his hand. He stared at them for a moment - looked silently at Tara, who finally nodded and held the lantern just so. Very carefully, Xander reached into the wound and slid one side of the forceps down into the 'socket' part, and the other side between the smooth metal and brain-matter. He slowly closed the jaws and then slowly, slowly pulled back. Almost as easily, the second bit slid out, bloody and almost an inch long. Tara was right; it was like a socket, with a matching 'antenna' at the bottom end. He dropped it on the table next to the chip and stared hard into the wound, which was filling sluggishly with blood.

"I don't see - anything else. I think that's all there is."

"I think you're right," Tara said. Suddenly her hand was coming over Xander's shoulder, to hover over Spike and Xander saw that she had slit her thumb open. The blood dripped down thickly over the wound and Xander watched Spike's body drink it down. "I saw - what hap-happened. I think he'll heal better if we d-do this," she said quietly. After a minute the blood flow from her thumb started to dry up and Xander followed her lead, cutting shallowly into the ball of his thumb and watching the wound in Spike's brain fill with blood that was slowly absorbed away. The brain matter already looked less bruised, and the skin around the edges of the hole was looking better. Spike's head was smeared with blood over old dirt - a nasty mess. The cut Xander had made stopped bleeding a minute later and Tara helped him to put a gauze patch on Spike's wound and tape it down tight. Then he got a blanket and covered Spike up, and sat wearily down on the milk crates.

"I'm going to go get blood, and then I'll have to go back to my room. I'll try to come back tonight, okay?" Tara's voice was rough from emotion and exhaustion, and Xander felt rough, too. Felt raw.

"Okay. Thanks, Tara. I couldn't have... Thanks." He smiled shakily at her and she leaned over and hugged him, tight embrace.

"Yeah... I'll hurry," she whispered. She reached into her pocket for the pebble that held the light-spell and breathed over it and it lit up, blue-white glow that would get her safely through the Below. Xander watched her go and then got himself settled, monitoring Spike. The vampire hadn't moved - still looked ashen - and Xander heaved himself to his feet and got a bottle of water and a roll of paper towels from his kitchen area. He washed his own hands and then started to gently wash Spike's face, wincing when Spike's cheek bone moved under his fingers, obviously broken. As he cleared the dirt and blood away he studied the vampire's face. Still elegant, even in its gaunt state. The old scar on his eyebrow looked raw, as if someone had re-opened it, and there were nicks on his scalp where the barber hadn't been careful shaving his hair. The stubble was maybe an eighth of an inch thick and looked to be a medium brown, but it was hard to tell. As Xander wet another towel and began to wipe Spike's neck, the vampire's eyes suddenly snapped open and he took a hard, wheezing breath, flinching away from Xander and staring wildly around him.

"Hey! Hey, it's okay - it's okay! Spike? Spike, it's Xander. It's - you remember? Xander." Spike heaved himself upright, scrabbling back until he hit the wall behind him and then he froze, eyes wide and blank - lost. "Spike! It's me- It's Xander Harris. You're safe now - I got you away from the Initiative. Well, me and Tara did. We saw you up there -" Xander gestured upwards and Spike followed the gesture, and then looked back at him, his expression puzzled.

"You were - up there. Outside of the hospital. And then - all hell broke loose. A bunch of demons and humans attacked and - Tara and I saw you and we grabbed you. Got you down here. You're in Sunnydale Below, you know? The tunnels? We're pretty close to the clock tower where the Gentlemen were, remember? I - this is where I've been hiding out." Spike just stared at him - looked down at himself finally, pushing the blanket away and rubbing tentatively at his wrists. Then his hands flew to his head and he ripped at the bandage.

"It's okay! Don't do that, Spike! We took it out! Look -" Xander looked around frantically and saw the metal plug - snatched it up and held it out to Spike. "See? We got it out. It's gone." Spike's hands relaxed - moved slowly away from his head to his throat, brushing over the raw skin that had been under the collar.

"Yeah, that's gone, it's all gone. We even... Here, look." Xander picked up the pieces of the chip and held them out, his hand shaking just a little. "We took the chip out, Spike." Spike just stared at him - stared at the chip and the plug that rested in Xander's palm. His face twisted and the demon was there, eyes glowing and lips curling back in a snarl. And he slapped Xander's hand, hard. Slapped the Initiative hardware out of his hand and then his fingers were closing down on Xander's and he jerked him forward. He looked at Xander's hand - at the red place where he'd slapped. He put his fingers on Xander's forearm and deliberately scratched - deep and hard with nails that had grown out long. Xander winced and hissed and jerked away and Spike's face went abruptly back to human. He opened his mouth and tipped his head up - silently screamed to the rough stone ceiling, air scraping out of his throat in a shivery hiss. Then he looked back at Xander - reached out and scratched him again and stared in fascination at the welling blood. Xander twitched, frowning.

"It's out, Spike! I'm not lying to you. It's out, okay? Wanna stop scratching me, please? It fucking hurts. And I'll probably get a fucking infection from your nasty claws." Xander couldn't help grinning, and Spike was grinning back. He jerked Xander close again and bent his head - licked the welling blood from Xander's forearm and for the first time Xander noticed how hard Spike was shaking. He pushed his arm a little closer.

"Go ahead, then. Tara's coming with blood - she'll be back soon. Just - be careful." Spike looked up at him, the same look in his navy-dark eyes as that day at the tower and Xander did the same thing he'd done then - reached out and cupped Spike's cheek, very gently. And then they waited.

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