Part One.

Connections are made, stories are told, and it is proven once again that love hurts.

"It's a good plan."

The crew was sitting around the table in the kitchen, watching Mal as he outlined the new job he'd been offered. Everyone looked around, at the table and each other, as they all processed what he'd told them.

It was Jayne who spoke first. "It's suicide. You're talking about hitting an Alliance stronghold with nothing more than three guns and the word of a kid who's twenty-five at the outside. Are you gorram insane?"

"Put that way, sir," Zoë said, "it does sound fair foolish."

"What I'm talking about," Mal corrected, "is hitting a barely guarded Alliance stronghold, with four guns plus two mercs, on the word of a man who's older than he looks and has a fair number of hits under his belt. Nothin' to sneeze at, neither- remember the heist on Clearwater that the Alliance was kicking up pì huà about for months afterward? That was Harris."

"So he says," Jayne said.

"So he says, and I see no reason to disbelieve him. He's got some experience, he knows the security system, and he's our fourth gun."

"What's this about the mercs?" Wash wanted to know. "If the stronghold is barely guarded, then why bother with the mercs at all?"

"Especially with a fourth gun," Kaylee put in.

"Because even a barely-guarded Alliance stronghold is still an Alliance stronghold, and we need trained guns for that. Any more questions?"

"Yeah," Jayne said. "Are you insane? I can't believe you're even thinking about it."

"I think it's a good plan," Kaylee said. "What about you, Wash?"

"Payoff looks good," the pilot said. "I could go for it."

"Inara?"

"I'm staying out of it until something goes wrong," the Companion said, getting up from the table. "So it's not my decision. Tell me when you've reached a consensus." She left the room in a sweep of rustling silk and perfume, and everyone noticed and ignored the way Mal's eyes followed her as she left.

"Simon?" Kaylee asked. The doctor was the only other one left at the table; River had been sent to bed after dinner with a sedative to help her sleep and Shepherd Book had left at the first talk of business, saying honestly that he didn't want to know.

"I'm with Inara," he replied. "I only get involved when someone gets shot, stabbed, tortured, or otherwise in need of my services. It's not my decision."

"That leaves you, Zoë," Mal said. "Good plan?"

"I believe so, sir," she replied. "If Harris can deliver as promised."

"I believe he can," Mal said. "I'll contact him and the mercs I've lined up, set things in motion. Shouldn't be more'n a few days before we leave this rock."

"Wait, aren't y'all going to ask me what I think?" Jayne demanded.

"No," Mal said, and left the room. Simon tried, and failed, to hide a snicker behind his hand.

"What're you laughin' about?" Jayne snarled. Simon shrugged, and, with an effort, managed to produce a fairly straight face.

"Oh, nothing."

"Gorram keep it that way." Jayne stood up, shoving his chair back violently, and strode out of the room. Simon and Kaylee made eye contact, and a split second later both burst out laughing.

Angel and Spike had been partners for a long time. Two hundred years or so by now, and informal partners for a hell of a lot longer than that. They hadn't yet found a job they couldn't do. Plenty they wouldn't, with the souls and all, but none that they weren't capable of. Security systems these days weren't much use against vampires, if the vampires weren't worried about being discreet. Spike wasn't, as a rule, overly concerned about discretion, an over time, the attitude had rubbed off some on Angel.

Generally speaking, they had a solid partnership. There was a lot of history between them to tie them together, and they'd had a lot of time to learn how to work together. They also trusted each other absolutely, always had each other's back, and both knew that the other would die for them.

The only glitch in the system came form their on-again, off-again sexual relationship. The off phases always came from some pretty boy or girl that caught Spike's eye, and Angel always gritted his teeth and endured it. He'd never said anything to Spike, and their relationship was the very definition of casual, so he had no claim on the other vampire. Besides, Spike's bedmates were always young and, more importantly, mortal, and Spike never took them seriously. Angel was able to console himself with the fact that they'd soon be gone, and Spike would always come back to him. They were the only constants in each other's lives, and Angel knew that this was far more important than a brief affair that Spike had with some brainless but pretty twenty-something.

This made no difference to Angel's heart, however, and, not for the first time, Angel wondered just when he'd fallen in love with the younger vampire that he'd once hated.

He was brooding about Nathaniel, Spike's current toy, who at that very moment was probably being fucked brainless- more brainless- by Spike in the boy's apartment across town when he heard the com signaling him. Deciding that distraction was more than welcome, he reached out and flipped the receiver to "vid."

"Angel."

"It's Malcolm Reynolds. We're taking the job that we discussed earlier. You still in?"

"Shì de"

"How fast can you get here?"

"Depends. Where are you?"

"Three days, then, give or take a few hours. Good enough?"

"Could cut that short some if we picked you up."

"We like to make our own way. We'll see you there in three days."

"Three days it is. Cí"

"Cí"

Angel cut the transmission, feeling better. If they were on a job then Spike wouldn't be with his boytoy, which meant that he'd be with Angel instead.

Reaching out, he entered a code from memory bred out of long familiarity, and waited. A few seconds later, Spike's angry face popped onto the screen, his lips swollen and his hair mussed from impatient hands.

"Angel," Spike growled. "This better be bù hán hū important. I was in the middle of something."

"Yeah, me," he heard a youthful male voice say in the background, and Spike shifted to smack some part of the boy's anatomy. From the pleasurable moan that resulted, Angel guessed that it was his ass.

Angel tamped down his jealous anger and said evenly, "We got the job."

Instantly Spike's face smoothed out and went serious. "Start making the arrangements, and I'll be there in half an hour."

"Done." Angel heard Nathaniel protesting before Spike cut the transmission, and it gave Angel a fierce sense of satisfaction. No matter how good they were in bed, Spike always came back to him.

No mortal could change that.

Three days later, Mal was in the cargo bay, sitting on a crate and waiting Harris and the mercs to show up so he could get this show on the road. He was also resolutely ignoring Inara, who was standing on the catwalk above him.

"You can't ignore me forever, Mal."

Sure he could. "Ah, but there you're wrong," Mal said, without looking up. "Should I choose to ignore you, which I'm not, I surely could ignore you forever. But I'm not."

"Evidence shows otherwise," she said, sounding amused. "You haven't spoken to me or even looked at me for the last three days."

"I'm speakin' to you right now."

"But you won't look at me."

He glanced up at her briefly, his expression forced into something resembling calm. "There. Satisfied?"

"Maybe when you tell me just what your grief with me is."

This time his look was not brief, and it was anything but calm. "My grief? My grief is the way you talked at the meetin' three days ago. Like you're goin' t' be around at the end of the job."

"I am going to be around at the end of the job, Mal."

"So you're not leaving in Alliance airspace. Fine. So when are you leavin'? And when in the seven hells are you plannin' on tellin' the rest of the crew? They've got no notion that you're gonna do a runner, and that is my grief with you. Are you even going to tell them, or are you goin' to just leave without sayin' goodbye?"

"Mal, you know it's not like that. It's just so hard to-"

"What? Say goodbye? Or leave at all?"

"Both!" she snapped.

"Then either stay, or get over it," he said harshly. "You've got till the end of this job, and then I'm tellin' them myself. You'd best come up with somethin' good- you'll be breaking poor Kaylee's heart, for one."

"And what of your heart, Malcolm Reynolds?" she asked softly. "Will it be broken as well?"

It was that moment that he noticed the two mend heading towards the ship, which was just as well, as he had no reply for her.

The smaller man, who was wearing a calf-length back duster made of what looked like high-quality leather, bounded up the ramp ahead of his partner, hand extended. Mal stood up, took it and shook, inwardly marveling at the man's hair, which were bright yellow-white windblown curls with black tips. Not every day you met a merc who didn't give a good gorram about keeping a low profile.

"Spike," the man introduced himself. "You'd be Mal?"

"That I am," he said, and turned to the other man. "Angel. Good to meet you in person."

"The same," Angel said, and they shook hands. Angel, Mal was relieved to see, was dressed normally, with a hip-length brown leather coat that looked much less valuable than Spike's, and wore his ordinary brown hair loosely slicked back. Both of them wore pistols strapped to both thighs, and Mal suspected from the cut of their coats and knee-high boots that they carried at least three more weapons each.

Definitely mercs.

"We're waiting for the client still, but as soon as he's aboard we're lifting off."

Angel nodded, but Spike was already halfway across the bay, a smile of greeting on his face for someone standing behind him. Mal turned to see that the crew had gathered, most likely brought by Inara, including- ta ma de - Simon Tam. At least his sister was still in her bunk, and not for the first time, Mal worried about the logistics of keeping a girl who wasn't all there away from the two mercs who'd prob'ly be more than happy to collect the bounty on her head. It was a gorram mess, is what it was.

"That's Zoë, my first mate," Mal said, moving to Spike's side and beginning the introductions. "Was, her husband and our pilot. Kaylee, our mechanic. That there's Dr. Tam, our medic, and the one with the scowl on his ugly mug is Jayne, our hired gun."

Spike gave a nod of greeting to all of them, a different expression for each- a measuring look for Zoë, a grin for Wash, a flirting look for Kaylee, an appraising look for Simon and a sneer for Jayne. He was, Mal would think later when he reviewed the scene in his head, an excellent judge of character.

Mal, being no bad judge of character himself, could see instantly how the partnership worked. Spike was in the forefront, all energy and volatility, while Angel hung back, darkly threatening. Anyone who saw them would focus on Angel as the danger and dismiss Spike, ignoring the guns he carried and the perfectly balanced walk that said that he knew how to use them, and his fists besides. It would be a mistake, Mal knew, both from their reputation and the look in Spike's eyes that said that he could be a stone cold killer if the circumstances called for it. Mal could only hope that the circumstances did not call for it on this job, but he was reassured, nonetheless, from having someone on board who could handle it if it were needed.

The introductions were over and Mal was about to lead the pair to their bunks when he heard footsteps on the ramp behind him. "Harris," he said aloud, recognizing the cocky step, and turned to greet his client.

As he turned, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Spike stiffen at the name. And then he was facing Alexander Harris, who was grinning past him at the mercs.

"Well, son of a bitch," Harris said. "Lingren jingyi. Spike and Angel, in the flesh."

"Ta me de," Spike said, and he was moving past Mal while the captain was still realizing that somehow, his client and his hired guns knew each other. He had a split second to worry that it might not be a friendly sort of knowing, and then the blonde merc was grabbing Harris by the shoulders and pulling him into a bear hug.

Simon was the only one who was watching Angel during the reunion, and so Simon was the only one to see the dismay on his face.

Spike couldn't gorram believe his eyes. Xander Harris, alive and running a hit on an Alliance depository. But more importantly, alive. Five hundred years after he'd disappeared into the depths of Africa.

"Son of a bitch," Spike said, clapping him on the back and then stepping away. "Thought you were dead, mate."

Xander grinned at him, his brown eyes lighting up. "Long story," he said. "How the hell are you?"

"Doin' alright, Angel 'n me. What about you? Id' heard some pretty wild tales about a Lex Harris, but I'd never soddin' figured it'd be you. You're a thief now?"

"Time change," Xander said with a shrug. "Got a talent for it."

"Gorram right you got a talent for it, if even half the stories are true."

"Tell you what. How about we get off this ramp, get settled in our bunks, let the captain get this boat off the ground. Then I'll tell you all about it over a bottle of the good stuff."

"Sounds great." And it did. Spike had mourned Xander with the rest of the Scoobies when they boy had vanished, presumed dead. It was bù hán hū lingren jingyi to see him again, after five centuries.

Xander slung one arm over Spike's shoulders and his duffle onto his back, then gestured for the captain to show them the way. He paused to glance at Angel when they passed by him- almost missed him, since the git was doing his Grim Brooder thing in the corner.

"Hey, Angel. Long time no see. Wanna join us, get really drunk, share war stories?"

"Nah," Angel said. "I'm gonna get settled in my bunk. I'll get the story off Spike later."

"Your loss," Xander said with a shrug, and headed off after Mal.

Ten minutes later, Spike's stuff was in his room and he was in Xander's, watching as the man poured a shot of alcohol with a steady and reverent hand. At least he'd learned to appreciate alcohol sometime in the last five hundred years.

"So," Spike said, raising his glass in a brief toast to the man in front of him before draining it. "Tell me all about it."

Angel lay stretched out on his bunk, one arm thrown across his eyes, trying resolutely not to relive the moment that Spike had hugged Xander like he was never going to let him go. Angel knew it was stupid- it was just Xander- but of course it wasn't. These days Xander wasn't just some stupid boy who hated vampires, he was a five-hundred year old mystery who was also a familiar face from the time that Angel knew Spike missed. Worse, he was obviously more than competent, a danger junkie like Spike if he was the same Lex Harris they'd both heard stories about, and he obviously wasn't mortal. He could fill Angel's shoes easily- maybe better than Angel himself could. And that was what burned. Xander was fucking up the system, and Angel was the one who'd get screwed.

This was stupid. He didn't even know if Xander liked guys, or if Spike was interested in the man. Although Xander was just Spike's type, and he bore no small resemblance to Angel himself…

He growled, trying to get his brain out of the loop it was stuck in. Things would be easier for him if Spike was bunking with him, but he wasn't, not for this job. They often shared a bunk, since who the hell did they have to worry about offending? No one was going to make trouble about something so minor as two men sharing a bed when those two men had a reputation like they did.

Only this time they weren't, because they'd been separate when they took the job. That was just the way the system worked- they didn't share a bunk unless they were fucking at the time, and that was that. Only now Angel wished that he'd broken the system just this once, since it was much harder to bring Spike back to him when they were sleeping in separate rooms.

He heard footsteps stop at the top of his ladder- he and Spike were in the crew quarters, while Xander was in with the passengers- and before whoever it was had a chance to knock he called out, "Come in." Might as well have some distraction, to keep him from worrying about things he couldn't change.

A few seconds later the person- man, Angel could tell from the smell- was down the ladder and Angel glanced over to see Dr. Tam. Angel recognized him from wanted notices all over the Cortex, but had already decided not to do anything about it. He and Spike had heard enough about the Alliance doctors that the sister had been taken away from to know that the girl was better off. He knew that Spike had recognized the man and felt the same way- he could usually read Spike's face and body language better than most could read English, and he'd seen Spike's reaction to being introduced to the doctor- and besides, neither of them had any love for the Alliance.

"Dr. Tam."

"You recognized me."

No hello, no nothing. Angel tried to cover his surprise by saying, "No, the captain introduced you-"

"You recognized me from the wanted notices on the Cortex."

Well, that was enough of a surprise that Angel sat up fast, staring at the man. "How the hell did you-"

"Body language. A bit of facial expression, but mostly body language." Seeing Angel's chagrin- no one was able to read Angel like that, not even Spike- he added, "I'm trained to observe the smallest details. I used to be a trauma surgeon, and missing one thing could have mean the death of my patient. Being a fugitive has only amplified that."

Which meant that the good doctor had been watching him. Angel wondered why, but set it aside for later thought.

"Yeah, I recognized you. Spike did too."

"Are you planning on doing anything about it?"

"What, like turning you in for the bounty?" Fun to see Tam's expression tighten, and a tiny bit of revenge for the shock he'd given Angel.

"Just like that," he said evenly.

"No, we're not going to turn you in," Angel said. "We're not bounty hunters, and we don't need the extra money from the reward. Besides, we've heard of the facility that your sister was in, and I wouldn't send the worst lowlife there, much less a girl they've already had their hands on. She deserves better."

"Yes," he replied simply, "she does."

They sat in silence for a while, Simon staring at the wall as if it held the secrets of the universe and Angel watching the doctor with new interest. He found himself wanting- and he could hardly believe it himself- a conversation. Spike would split his gut laughing if he knew.

"How did you get her out?"

"Money. I was contacted by an underground resistance, and with enough cash they got her away. She was kept in cryo, and I picked her up at the designated drop point. I paid for passage on Serenity, only along the way I was found out. The captain, for reasons that I still don't understand, offered me a place as the medic, and we've been… relatively safe since."

"Relatively?" Angel said, just to keep him talking. He had an interesting way of speech, especially way out here near the Rim. Smooth vowels, proper grammar, and it was almost a relief after years upon years of Rim speech and Spike's stubbornly Cockney voice.

"There've been a few incidents. Just last week a bounty hunter tracked us down, tried to take River. Fortunately, she'd known he was coming, and while he was terrorizing the rest of us, she'd gotten into a space suit and went up to his ship, where she managed to coordinate the crew into getting him off the ship. I wasn't privy to her plan, unfortunately, and when she made the bounty hunter- his name was Early- think that she was voluntarily going back with him, I tried to stop him and got myself shot for my trouble. And she's been making sure that I know it's my own fault ever since."

Angel had noticed a slight limp. "You said she knew he was coming. How?"

And now Simon hesitated. "River… well, the doctors, they did something to her mind. She had always been gifted, gifted beyond measurability, but ever since she was with them… well, she knows things. Sometimes before they happen, sometimes things that people are thinking, and I don't know how. Something the doctor's did to her brain, I'm sure, only I don't know what."

"Oh, she's a seer." Not the first time since Earth-that-was that Angel had heard of one, not even the first time that he'd run into one. First time it wasn't natural gift, though. He wondered how the doctor's had done it.

"You believe me? Just like that?" Simon's disbelief was obvious.

"I've been around a while, Dr. Tam. Some of the things I've seen can't really be explained by science or reason. A seer is almost tame by comparison. I suppose you call them readers, though."

"Generally, we don't call them anything at all, since no one believes in them," Simon said. "Well, we didn't used to. She's convinced me thoroughly, and I'm fairly certain that she's convinced the rest of the crew by now."

"She seems like an extraordinary girl," Angel said. For the first time in… years, probably, he found himself completely at ease with someone not Spike.

"She is. She's also… damaged. They stripped her amygdala, and she feels every emotion that goes through her. She has no filter at all. Her behavior is very odd, and frequently worries the crew. She's been better the past week, but I'm worried what happens the next time she has a relapse. I can barely keep track of her sometimes, even on a spaceship this size."

"It's a smuggling ship," Angel said with a shrug. "Only the people who built it know where all the hiding places are. And River, probably, if she is a reader. Don't blame yourself for not being able to find her. No one person should have to be totally responsible for another."

Simon shrugged that off. "She's my sister. I have to take care of her."

Angel frowned. That had to be… exhausting, both physically and mentally. If River was everything that her brother said, then there was no way that a human, however determined, could keep up with her. Simon must be running himself ragged to even try.

"We could help," he said, the offer out of his mouth before his brain had enough time to realize that he was going to make it. From the suddenly closed expression on Simon's face, he realized that it wasn't a good thing to have said.

"Thank you for offering, but we-"

And Angel saw what Simon was worried about. "I'm not trying to get her away from you," he said. "I was serious about not wanting the bounty. It's just that Spike and I have had some experience with girls who are… damaged."

Simon's expression got even more suspicious. "You're saying that you're a doctor?"

"No," Angel said patiently. "Not a doctor. Nor do I work for one. You do not have a trusting nature, Dr. Tam."

"I have good reason for that," Simon said. "So if you're not a doctor, then what did you mean by…"

"She was the love of Spike's life." Or one of them, anyway. "And she was… like a little sister to me." If you were into incest as well as S&M.

"Oh."

Yeah, oh. "Think it over, at least. We're going to be on this ship for at least another week before we reach the stronghold, and another week on the way back, if we make it. You look like you could use two weeks of rest."

"I could." Pause. "If you make it?"

Angel shrugged. "I always think we might not make it. Makes it a nice surprise when we do. Spike tends to think that we're invincible and can do anything, but I know better." They couldn't do anything. Just close to it.

Simon regarded him for a while in silence, then abruptly got to his feet. "I'll think about your offer," he said. "And if you need me for anything, I'm usually either in the infirmary or my quarters."

Angel just nodded, not so clueless that he couldn't recognize an end to a conversation when he was hit over the head with it. Simon watched him for a minute longer, then nodded to himself, as if making some internal decision, and turned to climb back up the ladder. Angel watched his ass as he went, then realized what he was doing and shook it away.

He lay back down on his bunk, arm thrown over his eyes, and it didn't occur to him till later that he hadn't spent a moment thinking about Spike while he was with Simon.

"Okay," Spike said. "Let me get this straight. You were in Africa."

"Yes."

"With your Slayer."

"She wasn't my Slayer. I wasn't a Watcher. I was just rounding them up for training."

"So sorry. With a Slayer, and you were attacked. By a Mohra demon."

"Gee, your powers of comprehension astound me."

"Shurrup. So you were attacked by a Mohra demon, which happen to be powerful warriors for the dark-"

"I never would have noticed."

"-and instead of running like a rabbit, you fought back. Which was daft."

"Gee, Spike, I think I might blush."

"And your Slayer-"

"She was not my Slayer."

"-the magic bint, whatever, got killed. But she wounded the Mohra."

"Keep trucking along, you may actually get to the point sometime this century."

"And when you fought it, it wounded you, but you killed it."

"I knew you'd get to my heroism eventually."

"And the damn thing fell on top of you, which is typical of you, Harris-"

"Hey!"

"And its blood got into your wounds."

"A lot of its blood got into my wounds, of which there were many."

"And you passed out."

"So would you, had you been cut up and squashed beneath a really big demon."

"Mohra are human-sized, stop whining. So you passed out, and when you woke up, you weren't human anymore."

"Nope."

"So what the hell are you?"

"Well, actually, technically I am human. Just my blood is about half-Mohra now. Their blood has regenerative properties- there was this one time with Angel-"

"Yeah, I heard, a while back. A few drops turned the bastard human. For a day, and then the big lug turned time back so he could go back to being Batvamp."

"I think it's a bit more complicated than that, but yeah. I had more than a few drops get into my wounds. I'm not sure how much exactly, but it was… a lot."

"And it keeps you from aging?"

"Or dying, as far as I can tell. A bullet to the brain keeps me down for maybe half an hour. I could probably spacewalk without a suit, though I haven't tried it. I think decapitation would kill me, though if you ever intend to do so, bury my head separately, just in case."

"Wode tìan! You heal better than a Mohra itself."

"Yeah. Makes it easy to be a good thief- bullets don't slow me down much."

"Yeah, I can guess. That what you've been doing for the past five hundred years?"

"Nah. Different things, different times. Did the lone demon-hunter thing for a while, then got tired of it and got off-planet once space travel opened up. Ran my own ship for a while, then got tired of being with the same people, day in day out, and finally got out of that. I started working freelance, got hired to steal stuff one time, found out I was good at it. I've been at that for about a century, under one name or another. Went back to my roots this go-round, with my actual name."

"Or close enough," Spike said. "Lex."

"It's been too long for me to go by Xander," he said. "Sometimes it's easier to forget the past."

"So you want me to call you Lex?" Spike wasn't sure he even could. Xander was… Xander. Even when he wasn't anymore.

"I didn't say that."

Silence reigned between them for a while, until Spike finally said, "Willow couldn't find you, you know. After you… whatever it was you did. After the Mohra. Your magical signature or whatever the hell must have changed, and it really freaked her out when she couldn't even find your body. She thought you'd gotten into an alternate dimension. Why didn't you ever contact them?" Or me. It was unspoken, but he knew that Xander read him perfectly well.

"I don't know. I could say that I was afraid I wasn't welcome anymore, but that would be a lie. If we can handle Willow almost ending the world, they could handle the new me. Mostly because it was a new me. It's probably similar to becoming a vampire, though I kept my soul. My whole world was different because I was different. I wasn't sure that I would fit in with the Scoobies anymore, and, looking back, I was probably right." Xander glanced over at him. "I'd heard that you were with Wolfram and Hart. How'd you end up back with the gang?"

"Angel led us into a miniature apocalypse," Spike said. "We tried to take down the Circle of the Black Thorn, which was all of the really evil people than ran most of the evil in this dimension. We mostly succeeded, and the Senior Partners struck back, sent in a whole horde of big bad demons. There was even a dragon. We lost Wes, almost lost Gunn, and even Illyria was about to go under."

Xander was silent, listening respectfully to Spike's tale. Spike appreciated it. "Fortunately, Wes had had the foresight to call Giles, and just before we were slaughtered he and Buffy showed up with a whole squadron of Slayers. Beat back the horde, and finally the portal that had been used to call them from whatever Hell dimension they were from was closed. Game over. Afterwards, Angel went his own way, Gunn went back to the streets, and me and Illyria joined the Council. Big Blue imploded a few years later- her godlike self wasn't meant to be in this world, in that body- but I'm still around. Hooked up with Angel a few hundred years back, and we've been together ever since."

"Together, huh?" Xander said with a grin. "I started keeping loose tabs on you two a hundred and fifty years ago, you know. I know you're fucking him."

Spike just shrugged. "Sometimes, sometimes not," he said. "It's hard to find a decent lasting relationship when you're immortal."

"Is now one of those times?" Xander asked, like it was just a casual question, though Spike could see the hungry gleam in his eyes, and he knew that the question wasn't casual at all.

"Nah," he said, trying to sound equally casual, like if his heart beat it wouldn't be going double-time.

"Good," Xander said, and with no more warning than that, he grabbed twin fistfuls of Spike's shirt and hauled him into a kiss that was anything but casual.

Spike, who'd been hoping for something like this since the moment he saw Xander framed by daylight in the open mouth of the cargo bay, happily kissed him back.

Even across the ship and one level down, Angel could hear them. He closed his eyes and tried to block them, tried to pretend that his dead heart wasn't breaking.

Translations:

pì huà- shit, nonsense
Shì de- yes
Cí- farewell, goodbye
bù hán hū- unambiguous, unequivocal, really
lingren jingyi- stunning, amazing
wode tìan- Oh God! (lit. Oh sky!)