Resting his head on Xander's shoulder, Spike pressed himself against Xander's back as he slid his arms around his waist, one hand sliding under this shirt. “What’re you doing, love?” he asked, smiling.

Xander turned to drop a kiss on his Sire’s temple. “Just looking at postcards. Thought I’d send one to Willow. I miss her, you know? We were friends for, like, so long. First day of kindergarten, actually.” He twisted in Spike’s arms, and presented a postcard. “What do you think?”

Spike plucked the card out of the brunet’s fingers, and inspected it. It had a rather trite picture of two fluffy kittens gazing at the camera. “Bit … fluffy, ain’t it?” he asked with a grimace.

“Yeah, but Willow likes that sort of stuff,” Xander shrugged. “You know kittens and puppies and all that kind of stuff. I just wanted to let her know I was okay, and sorry for leaving without saying goodbye.”

“Pet,” Spike growled, “you know why we couldn’t stay. Won’t have the Slayer trying to take you from me.”

Xander growled happily in response, and dropped his head to nuzzle the older vampire’s neck, mouthing the pale skin. “I understand, Spike. I totally get it. Don’t want to be dust; wouldn’t get to have any sex, and that would be no fun.” He hummed against Spike’s throat, letting his lust rise. “Speaking of sex,” he growled.

Spike smirked. Vampire constitution was one thing, but he had the feeling Xander would have been a right lust-bunny, even if he’d been left alive. As it was, they could barely spend more than a few hours without sex coming into it. He shoved the postcard into his pocket. “Right, let’s get out of here then, pet.”


Dear Will,

Sorry to leave so suddenly, but Spike said discretion was the better part of valour. Which is a nice way of saying ‘I don’t want to be dust, so we’re out of here.’ I wish you could know what it’s like: it’s nothing like what they said. I remember Jesse talking about it, about the power, how he wasn’t the weak one anymore. I have that now: I am powerful, and it’s great.

Have they told you about my parents yet? Spike said he wasn’t usually into that kind of thing, but they fully deserved it, so he let me have my fun. Did you know you can get drunk from drinking drunks? Well, tipsy, anyway. Of course, the amount those two could pack it away, I’m really not that surprised. Dru was a little upset that I didn’t play with them, but I was hungry!

Anyway, miss you: wish you were here.

Love, Xan


Xander whirled around, looking at all the buildings, laughing, before stepping right up to Spike. He pressed himself against the smaller vampire, and felt the familiar hand drop onto his hip and give a hard squeeze. “You bring me to the best places,” he purred.

Spike twisted a hand in the dark curls, and dragged Xander’s lush lips to his for a punishing kiss. Finally, he pulled back, and looked up into lust-drugged eyes. “Business before pleasure, pet,” he reminded him.

Xander rested his forehead against Spike’s, then they turned as one to watch Dru talking to a pretty little child. “Won’t it be the same thing? Getting revenge for Dru is going to be a lot of fun, won’t it?”

“True,” Spike admitted. “Still, it will be for a specific reason. These bastards will learn that they don’t do that to us.” He stopped, and considered for a moment. “Well, they will learn, then they’ll die pretty soon afterwards. But others will learn from them.”

“Education,” Xander smirked, “the gift that keeps on giving.”

Spike roared in laughter. “That it is, love. Now let’s get this done so I can get you home and fuck you raw.”

Xander growled again in anticipation. “Fuck, yeah.”


Dear Will,

We finally reached Prague last night – can I say: what a city! And old, like you wouldn’t believe. Of course, we’re more here for business than pleasure, what with what happened to Dru, and all that. Can’t let the peasants get away with that, can we?

Except you probably do want them to get away with it, don’t you? Still got your little white hat on? I could smudge it up for you, Will. Better yet, dye it a scarlet so it goes with your hair. I could come home, get Spike to make you part of the family. Think about it.

Miss you. Wish you were here.

Love, Xan


Angel hid in the shadows, and watched. They looked so good together, it was painful. In fact, there was nothing easy about the sight before him: his lost Childe, and the boy he’d once assumed would steal Buffy from him, who had instead fallen to the curse of undeath. They were light and shadow, the almost-iridescent blond and the night-dark brunet; Spike’s slight frame contrasted beautifully to Xander’s broader bulk. They were holding hands and laughing, looking for all the world like young lovers out on the town. Actually, Angel frowned, that was exactly what they were. Spike may have had a good six to eight years on Xander at point of turning, let alone the hundred and twenty years he’d been a vampire, but he had a vivacity to him that belied his years.

As Angel watched, Xander turned to face Spike, pressing his length against the smaller vampire, cradling the blond head in one large hand as Spike’s hand dropped to his hip, dragging him even closer. He could see words being whispered against soft lips before Xander tilted his head and opened his mouth to his Sire. Angel growled at the open and easy affection between Sire and Childe, knowing he’d never had anything like the relationship these two had, and likely never could have had it.

The dark-haired vampire finally lifted his head, panting softly, as Spike turned to look at his Sire. “Like what you see, then?” he smirked.

Angel growled softly before stepping forward. “Actually, no, I don’t.”

Xander jerked his head around to gape at the older vampire. “What do you mean, you don’t like it? I have it on good authority that we’re very hot.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “You’re a vampire, Harris: what’s good about that? And you need to lay off the postcards to Willow. They’re scaring her, and upsetting everyone.”

Xander scoffed. “How are they scary? They’re just ‘hi, how are you, wish you were here’ postcards. I just wanted to let her know I’m okay,” he pouted.

“Xander,” Angel growled, “you’re a vampire, and you’re stalking her. Of course she’s going to be terrified.” He sighed. “You can’t stay here. I won’t have you hunting in my city, William.”

Xander sniggered. “Ooh… ‘William’,” he teased, nuzzling behind Spike’s ear. “Someone’s pissed.”

“I was mildly annoyed. You don’t want to see me pissed, Alexander,” Angel growled.

“Fine,” Xander huffed, “I get it.” He then tilted his head in contemplation, and smirked. He sauntered forward, looking up at Angel through his eyelashes. “I know what it is,” he decided. “You need to get laid. And since it’s me you’d be doing, there’s no way you’d achieve perfect happiness. Just enough to get off, and loosen up a bit.”

Angel stilled. He could hear Spike growling, but knew he wouldn’t do anything to stop this. Xander was Spike’s, but Spike was his, which meant that Angel could do anything he liked with the young vampire. Could tie him down, and fuck him into submission. Could whip his back raw. Could do both, and neither of them would, could stop him. And he wanted it, wanted this dark fire under him, writhing and screaming, only coming when he said so. Wanted both of them under his hands, at his beck and call. Wanted Dru, also, under his control: to be Clan again.

He turned, and walked away. The boy was wrong: having him, having them would be the purest happiness of all.


Dear Will,

You’d never believe it, but we were just in LA. I really wanted to pop in to see you, but we just didn’t have the time, sorry. Spike had to pop in to see Angel, and we had a night of taunt the Sire: great fun! He had such a constipated look on his face every time he looked at me, and what is with that? I mean, Spike eats way more solid stuff than Angel does, which is to say, Spike actually
eats solid food. So why is Angel the constipated-looking one?

Anyway, just wanted to say sorry I missed you. I really,
really wanted to pop in and see you, maybe catch a bite, or something. (Heh, get it? Catch a bite? I kill me. Well, I kill others, anyway. I’m already dead, aren’t I?)

As always, miss you, wish you were here.

Love, Xan


Xander lounged back in his chair, and watched the passers-by, frowning: He’d seen something today that worried him. He’d seen a redhead who looked so much like Willow, or, rather, like Willow would in a decade or so, and it was horrifying. Actually, the woman was probably quite a bit older than Willow, but the women here were so French, and Spike had explained that they aged better than women in sunny places, like California. So, even though the woman he’d seen today might be middle-aged, Willow would probably look like that in only a few years.

Lines. Wrinkles. Grey hairs. It wasn’t fair: Willow couldn’t be old. He wouldn’t allow it. He turned to see Spike charming a beautiful brunette. Something he’d said caused both of them to glance at him, and the woman to wink at him. He smirked back at them, and thought of Willow, ageless.

He pushed up from his chair and walked over to where Spike was talking to the Montréalaise. He was hungry, and Spike was always a little frisky when they worked to seduce someone to their death.


Dear Will,

Does it bother you that you’re getting older? Have you started looking for grey hairs yet, or wrinkles? ‘Cause I know it bothers me. Here I am, caught at my peak, and there you are, aging by the day. I hate the thought of losing you, of watching you wrinkle and die. Well, not that I’m watching you. I’m in Montreal at the moment: did you know garlic is a lot nicer filtered by blood?

So, yeah: it worries me. I think about you a lot, all that power just humming under the skin, and yet it’s not going to save you. Nothing’s going to save you if you stay just a human. And it’s not like I’d get all obsessive: I’m fine with you sharing the love, just so long as I can watch [wink] hmm… Maybe I should add a leer to that wink. [wink leer] Ooh… You and Dru could be magnificent together. Oh, man I think I’m drooling.

Anyway, think about it. Miss you, wish you were here.

Love, Xan


Spike lay on his side, head propped up in his hand, and watched his boy dream. It was a good dream by the looks of it: soft moans combined with languid stretches to give the impression of someone in the throes of a nice, long fuck. Bloody enticing, he was. He leaned forward, and whispered in Xander’s ear, “Wake up, pet.”

Xander moaned softly, and his hard cock rose up from where it lay against his belly.

Spike tried again, this time with a growl in his voice. “Wake up, pet!”

Xander gasped softly, and arched off the bed. He turned his head, and opened golden eyes to his lover. “Spike,” he hissed, full of need.

“What’s in your mind, love,” Spike purred, “tell me your dreams.”

“Willow,” Xander moaned, stretching out as far as he could. “Here, laid out for us to play with.”

“Can see her, pet,” Spike murmured. “Scarlet and white against our black sheets. You going to fuck her, pet?”

“Yes,” Xander moaned. “We’ll fuck her, while you bring her over. Spike,” he whispered against soft lips, “show me how you’ll fuck her.”

Spike smirked, and laid his nails to Xander’s thigh before dragging them up to his hard cock, leaving bloody trails on the pale skin. Xander cried out, clutching the sheets, as he came, hard and unexpected. Spike gave a shout of laughter as he rolled onto his young lover, sliding between strong thighs to show him just how he’d welcome the witch into the family.

Drusilla floated into the room, and watched her boys sporting on the bed. She smiled beatifically: the family was one more step closer to completion. She drifted back to her closet, and pulled out the dress she’d bought for her granddaughter-to-be. The gold lacing on the black silk corset would look wonderful with her poppet’s hair. Lovely.


Dear Will,

I dreamt of you last night: hair like fire, spread all over the pillow, your perfect, white skin all marked with our bites, eyes half shut as you looked at us, smirking that wicked, little smirk that I know hides somewhere inside you. Spike barely had to touch me before I was coming, needing you, seeing you in my mind. I can’t wait much longer, Will. We need you: the family isn’t complete without you.

Dru was singing about you last night, about the wicked, dark fire that was coming. She’s got this dress picked out just for you, and you’re going to look amazing in it: black, and tight, and it’s going to show off everything just perfectly. No one will be able to resist you. Perfect.

Not long now, babe. We’ll be together, and it’ll be perfect.

Miss you. Wish you were here.

Love, Xan


Xander rocked back in his seat, roaring in laughter. Behind them, the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign lay tumbled in the dirt, stereotypical tyre marks marring it’s cheery surface. Spike’s raucous music blared from the speakers, and Dru was twisted in her seat, gazing fondly at her dark kitten.

Xander launched forward suddenly, and wrapped his arms around Spike’s shoulders, hampering his driving somewhat, not that he minded. “We’re finally doing it,” he whispered into the blond’s ear before nipping at it.

“That we are, pet,” Spike agreed, grinning. “Three years, and we’re back for your girl.”

Our girl,” Xander corrected. “I love Willow, but she’s ours.”

“That she is, dearie,” Dru agreed. “Our dark fire that will warm us, and never burn us.”

“Sure about that, love?” Spike asked, frowning slightly. “Fires do burn.”

Drusilla clucked, annoyed. “Do you not trust me to hear a-right?”

Spike shrugged. “Miss Edith has been quiet, lately, and I’m not sure I trust the stars not to lie to you about this.”

Drusilla huffed. “You may trust me,” she assured the men.

“Cool,” Xander cooed. “I can’t wait to see the two of you together,” he leered.

Drusilla turned her head, affecting the virginal Victorian she’d once been, but Xander could see the corner of her mouth quirk up, and knew she was looking forward to it as much as they were.


Giles absently collected the piled mail in the letter-box, and carried it into the house. He hadn’t heard from Willow in a couple of days, and that was unusual to the point of worrying. Xander’s postcards had scared her so much that the girl had insisted on daily check-ins to ensure she was still among the living, and yet she had failed.

He searched around the house, wondering why the girl had chosen to stay in her parents’ home instead of with Buffy or even himself. He looked around the house, finding it echoingly empty. Wherever he looked there was no sign of the inhabitants, at least until he reached the bedrooms. He smelled Willow’s parents before he saw them, but continued, resolute, into their bedroom. Ira and Sheila Rosenberg lay on their bed, bound, with throats torn open by an eager if inexperienced mouth.

Giles opened his eyes, barely aware that he’d closed them in his despair. He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat, and forced himself to walk over and open their mouths. Thankfully neither appeared to have ingested any blood, so it was unlikely either was turned. Still, there were two more funerals to be arranged, and probably a third person to mourn. And probably fear.

Giles trudged back to the front hall, and found a phone: he had phone calls to make. As he waited for the police to answer, he sifted through the collected mail on the table, almost dropping the phone when he found a postcard of the Golden Gate Bridge.


Dear Will,

Time’s up.

Love, Xan


Spike lay draped across Xander’s broad back, nipping idly at the strong throat, his cock still buried deep in his boy. He smirked at the thought of their version of a lazy Sunday afternoon. “What you thinking about, love,” he murmured.

“Giles,” Xander sighed. “Willow thinks he would be a good addition to the family.”

“She does, does she?” Spike asked, faintly annoyed at the thought. “Family ain’t big enough already?”

Xander shrugged. “You never met Ripper, did you?” he asked idly. “Rupert was a bad boy when he was young,” he smirked. “Raised demons, fucked anything that would stay still long enough.”

Spike pushed himself up to stare at the curly head in front of him. “You serious about this?”

Xander wriggled his hips, prompting Spike to pull out, and turned around as soon as he was free. Spike quickly settled back in his boy’s arms, and waited for the younger vampire to speak. “Yeah. Giles is … smart, and hot, and not a little bit wild, deep down inside.”

Spike scoffed. “Real deep down inside.”

“He’s a Watcher, and he used to raise hell,” Xander argued. “He could be a real asset. Besides,” he smirked, eyes darkening with lust, “wouldn’t you want to bend Buffy’s Watcher over and ride him hard?”

Spike frowned. “Slutty’s gone, he’s lost you and Red: ain’t much left to the man.”

Xander shook his head. “I think you’ll find there’s more than you think.”

Spike growled low in his throat. “I think I’ll let the two of you work a little more on persuading me.”

Xander smirked, and flipped them, straddling his beloved Sire. He leaned low, and began kissing his way down the blond’s body. It was going to be hard work, but someone had to do it.


Dear Giles,

Did we ever tell you how much we wanted you, all those years ago? Standing in the library, imparting your wisdom, just generally looking sexy in an amazingly academic way? No? Well, we did. We do.

So you’re old? That doesn’t mean anything to us. You’ll be so beautiful and dark: Dru gets such shudders when she talks about you, and even Spike’s looking forward to adding you to the family. Xander says that he just wants someone to Brit-curse with, but it’s more than that, I know.

Be there soon.

Love, Willow and Xander

The End