Tossing aside the boy's broadsword – nothing special, but it'd done the job once Spike had taken it off him – Spike pulled out his smokes and contemplatively lit up. It's funny, really. Months, the boy must've survived just fine before last week. Just had to go waltzin' round chopping heads off afterwards, didn't he?

"There can be only one, you say?" he snorted, staring down his nose at the boy he'd just shortened by a head. "Well it ain't you, whelp."

Spike idly picked up Xander's head by the hair and ambled away.