Xander felt a hand on his most private area and he moaned a little in his sleep, shifting to get closer to the warmth of the fingers. He suddenly felt a stabbing pain and his eyes flew open wide.

He prayed that what he saw was only another scene from his dream, but with each electric current of pain that shot from his groin to his brain, he knew he was wide awake.

Willow was standing at the side of the bed, wielding a large knife, with what looked to be a dull, rusty blade. She had the knife plunged between his legs and Xander screamed like a girl.

“What are you doing?” he hollered in a high-pitched voice.

Willow smirked. “You want to fuck over the entire female population of Sunnydale? That’s fine. But you fuck *me* over and you won’t have anything to fuck with.” She flicked her wrist and the blade sliced deeper. Xander screamed in terror.

“I didn’t fuck you over, or if I did, I didn’t mean to,” he babbled.

Willow laughed. “What did you expect I’d do when you called me and told me about how you’d slept with Anya?” she asked. “Did you really think I wanted to hear that? I mean, come on, Xander. We have a history together. Just because I wasn’t actually *with* you doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to be.

Which means that when you started bragging about how you’d had sex with Anya, I was a little pissed.” She grinned and waved the knife at him. “But I’m finding a therapeutic way to deal with my anger.”

Xander howled in hysterical pain when she hacked at him with the knife. He could feel the blood oozing from his private area, but not much else down there.

Willow sat back a moment later and admired her handiwork. She picked up a short, skinny, limp object that had fallen between his legs and held it up, displaying it for Xander’s eyes. “I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore,” she said cheerfully.

Xander, upon seeing his most prized possession mutilated beyond recognition and definitely not attached to his body, passed out.