I'd never thought I'd be relieved to hear that crude, inappropriate comment about not dying until he'd had me.

Not shock, or anger, or the indignation I used to feel before. Just pure, overwhelming relief, cause i knew he was well.

Because if he was saying things like that, with that smirk and that rough voice, then he was fine. He was okay. He was still Xander, arrogant and impossible and alive.

"You're smiling," he said, not letting go of his grip.

"I'm not."

"You are. Your mouth does ...