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By Jackson
Something was shredding him.
It was doing it very quietly because there wasn't a sound in this room but he could feel it inside. He was being ripped apart.
Rip.
Giles stood, he offered them some tea, as though he couldn't see what was happening to him. Of course he couldn't. Spike shook his head in a wordless answer. Xander's eyes kept passing over him, concerned looks he could feel lingering on his bent head. He couldn't look up. Couldn't stomach the pity that he knew must be lurking in the depths of Xander's eyes. Poor, pathetic, loves bitch Spike who just kept coming back for more. Refusing to accept what was painfully obvious, clinging on to false hope until Xander had finally been driven to disillusion him.
Rip.
He had barely spoken since it had happened. He couldn't fight his way past the shredding to form words. He had just kept quietly sitting opposite Xander as though he hadn't reached in his chest and torn his heart in two, listening to Giles translate the terrifying words within the texts and Xander's muted responses. Xander was being so quiet, like speaking too loud would hurt him somehow.
/Bit late for that luv,/ he thought dully. /No point handling the body gently once you've killed it./
He bit his lip to fight off the crazy urge to giggle hysterically. Not out of any urge to make it easier on Xander or Giles, he just didn't want to hear himself laugh like that; making a sound that he knew would be dreadful. He tried to keep his mind fixed on ways to help Dawn, but like self mutilation, he couldn't stop himself from returning, over and over, back to the moment where it had all ended.
~ "I mean you do still love me a little ... don't you?" He'd sounded so lost, so pleading, but he hadn't cared. The whole world had gone away, all that was left was this. A dark street, a dark haired lad and himself. Suspended in this endless moment, waiting for his answer, for his future.
There was a long, long silence, and Xander's eyes suddenly looked flat and empty, his voice, when it finally emerged, was cracked. "No. No. I don't."~
*Rip.*
Everytime the knowledge spiked him again was as fresh and horrifying as when they'd been standing on that dark deserted street. It was just too much to take in, his mind kept trying to dole it out a bearable fraction at a time but every time -*whump*- it was like running into a brick wall. His emotions had him by the scruff of the neck, shaking him like a dog with a toy. He swung from denial, to fury, to humiliation within seconds and all the time he was shredding, shredding, shredding inside.
He missed Dawn.
She wouldn't say much, but her small hand would take his and he'd feel, maybe not better, but not totally alone in this. She was the only reason he was still here, keeping his jaw clamped shut, bearing the humiliation, the pain, otherwise he would have let the whole world swirl into hell, taking himself with it.
Xander and Giles jumped slightly as the bell rang out, slicing through the silence as the door to the shop flew open.
"Buffy?" Giles said, indescribable relief in his voice. "She's back."
Spike looked up indifferently as the Slayer strode in, followed by Willow and Tara. Back in the game, totally in charge. In a faint way he was impressed. Well done to Red, if nothing else could go right at least now that Buffy was back they had a chance at saving Dawn.
"You're okay?" Xander was asking Buffy anxiously.
Rip.
"Yeah I'm okay," Buffy said briskly. "I hear you found the ritual text."
"Something like that yes." Giles agreed warily.
"Did you know ... Ben is Glory?" Xander said cautiously.
"So I'm told," Buffy nodded without a flicker of regret for her romance that wasn't. He remembered once - long ago, when he'd been in the throes of his crush on Buffy how the news that Ben was now unequivocally out of the running would have delighted him. So strange to think a violent, yet shallow crush on this girl had led him down such a bizarre, twisting path. What a long way he'd come to end up here.
Rip.
"What do we know?" Buffy asked Giles. She was fired up and ready to go. He could barely stand to watch, but was unable to look away. God alone knew how she was going react when Giles told her what he'd found out from the texts.
Giles obviously had the same worry, even by his standards he was circling the issue. "Um ... well ... according to these scrolls, it's possible for Glory to be stopped. I-I'm afraid it's, ... well, Buffy, I've read these things very carefully and there's not much margin for error. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Might help if you actually said it." Buffy said patiently. Giles gave her a small smile, he sat down, removing his glasses.
"Um ... Glory ... plans to open a ... dimensional portal ... by way of a ritual bloodletting."
"Dawn's blood." Buffy said quietly.
"Yes. Once the blood is shed at a certain time and place the fabric which separates all realities will be ripped apart. Dimensions will pour into one another with no barriers to stop them. Reality as we know it will be destroyed, and chaos will reign on earth."
"So how do we stop it?" Buffy questioned, refusing to be daunted.
"The portal will only close once the blood is stopped ... and the only way for that to happen is, um ... " Giles took a deep breath and looked up at Buffy as he dropped the bomb. "Buffy, the only way is to kill Dawn."
Silence. Buffy stared at Giles with horrified eyes as the realisation of what he had said exploded. In that moment Spike could read her thoughts effortlessly, because they were his own. If thinking logically and keeping cool wasn't going to help Dawn, then they were no longer interested in thinking logically and keeping cool.
It seemed odd that he was watching Buffy so intently. It was only later he realised; it was just too painful to look at Xander.
***
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
The chant went on and on in Xander's head, even as they talked and time moved relentlessly on. Nothing, not even the possibility of end of the world or Dawn's death seemed able to stop it, even momentarily. Not that he wasn't agonising with worry about Dawn or terrified about the impending battle, he was. The horror of the situation kept walloping him like a sandbag, but throughout it all, the chant went on and on. Was this what happened to people driven mad by their actions? Did they just have this mantra in their head that couldn't be blotted out no matter what, until eventually every defence was eroded? Spike was being so quiet, not once looking at him and each non-glance, each unspoken word played his screeching guilt like a bow on a violin. But hey, it was just great to know that when the pressure was on he'd lie his ass off to stay safe. A fresh wave of self-loathing choked him.
Liar.
Liar.
Li ...
/WHAT ELSE COULD I HAVE DONE?/ he screamed in his head, trying to get the chant to shut up - just *shut up*. Yes, he'd been a shit, but if he'd told the truth Spike would have talked him into giving in, and being with Spike equalled *pain*. He had to think of himself for once, he'd done the *right* thing! In the long run he would be grateful for this.
But right now it felt like someone with a cleaver was slicing his heart in two.
He looked around at the others. Spike had moved and now sat behind him on the ladder leading up to the loft, chain smoking. Willow was next to him sneaking looks over at Tara, who was slumped in a chair. Looks that made your heart break. Looks of longing and loss. The way Spike had been looking at him back at the gas station. Now though Spike wasn't looking at him at all. Giles, on the other side of the table was explaining the ritual again to Buffy.
"The key was living energy," Giles was saying. "It needed to be channelled, poured into a specific place at a specific time. The energy would flow into that spot, the walls between the dimensions break down. It stops, the energy's used up, the walls come back up. Glory uses that time to get back into her own dimension, not caring that all manner of hell will be unleashed on earth in the meantime."
Giles sounded so calm, Xander had to remind himself that this was Dawn that Giles was talking so emotionlessly about. Buffy looked grimmer than ever.
"Um, but only for a little while, right?" Xander said nervously, attempting to break the impasse. "The walls come back up, and no more hell?"
"That's only if the energy is stopped," Willow said reluctantly. "And now the key is human..." she looked nervously over at Buffy "...is Dawn."
Giles read aloud from the book he held. "The blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more." He sighed unhappily as he wearily pulled off his glasses. "When Dawn is dead."
There was a long pause.
"I have places to be!" Tara shouted suddenly, making them all start. After a moment she settled down again.
"Why blood?" Xander said with frustration. "Why Dawn's blood? I mean, why couldn't it be like a lymph ritual?"
"'Cause it's always got to be blood," Spike said quietly. Xander's heart started violently in his chest at the sound of his voice.
"We're not actually discussing dinner right now," Xander said - a shade more edgily than he would have if the guilt hadn't been driving him crazy. Besides he had to keep Spike talking - anything was better than the unbroken silence. Spike's obvious misery was even more unbearable than his own. He looked over at Spike, whose blue eyes suddenly seemed fathoms deep. For the first time in a very long while Xander felt a prickle of realisation of how truly far from human Spike was.
"Blood is *life*, lackbrain," Spike said, but the insult had no sting. There was a rough, almost seductive tone to Spike's voice made him feel edgy, fidgety. It was so ... hot. God, what was *wrong* with him?
"Why do you think we eat it?" Spike continued almost to himself. "It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm, makes you hard ..."
Xander shivered slightly as Spike's tone slid over him, warming him in the very pit of his belly. For a moment a picture flashed in his imagination. Him and Spike wrapped in each others arms, skin to skin, limbs entangled and Spike was biting him, his fangs penetrating his neck, swallowing his life blood, not to kill him, but feeding off him, marking him. *He* was making Spike warm, hard. He pulled his eyes away from Spike, his cheeks flooding with colour as his insides squirmed with hot, strange, guilty desire.
" ...makes you other than dead." Spike's eyes flickered, as he seemed to recall *whose* blood they were talking about, finishing quietly, "Course it's her blood."
"Pretty simple math here," Buffy was saying anxiously, her voice filtering into Xander's head as though from a long way off. "We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"
"If my calculations are right," Giles agreed, "but Buffy ..."
"I don't wanna hear it," Buffy interrupted turning away.
"I understand that ..." Giles began.
Buffy whirled back to face him, "No! No, you don't understand. We are *not* talking about this."
"Yes, we bloody well are!" Giles roared, leaping up from the table.
For a moment Xander was so shocked he forgot to breathe. He had *never* seen Giles yell like that before. He could go a good long while without seeing it again. The tension between Buffy and Giles as they stared at each other was so electric all the hairs on the nape of his neck were standing on end. Giles said more quietly; "If Glory begins the ritual ... if we can't stop her..."
Buffy glared at him, "Come on. Say it," she said furiously. "We're 'bloody well' talking about this. Tell me to kill my sister."
On the ladder Spike sat up, his eyes fixed on Watcher and Slayer. Despite his detachment, despite his shredding inside and his indifference to whether the world survived or not there was still a flame of passion, of protectiveness burning within him, all the brighter because he had so little left. He was with Buffy a hundred percent on this. *No one* was going to hurt Dawn, not while he was around.
"She's not your sister," Giles said sadly.
"No. She's not," Buffy suddenly looked close to tears. "She's more than that. She's me. The monks made her out of me. I hold her and I feel closer to her than ... It's not just the memories they built. It's physical. Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I ..." She stopped, choking on the threatening tears.
Spike looked down. It was different for him, yet in a way it was the same. Her the Slayer, him a vampire, yet in Dawn both of them had a little sister, someone pure, full of the innocence that their lives had knocked out of them. In Dawn they saw a future they would never have, but she could, and she was damn well going to have it.
"We'll solve this," Willow said hurriedly. "We will. Don't have another coma, okay?"
Buffy gave her a weak smile.
Giles tried again, in a way Spike had to admire his determination, it was bordering on suicidal at this rate. "If the ritual starts, then every living creature in this and every other dimension imaginable will suffer unbearable torment and death including Dawn."
"Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her." Steel ran in an implacable thread through Buffy's voice.
"You'll fail. You'll die. We all will." Giles said quietly as he turned away.
"I'm sorry." Buffy said helplessly, "I love you all ... but I'm sorry."
There was a long tense silence.
"Okay!" Xander said loudly, as if he could wipe the tension by sheer effort of will. "All in favour of stopping Glory *before* the ritual. Suggestions, ideas? Time's a-wastin'." The room remained silent, but to his credit Xander ploughed on. "Willow, I bet you've got some dark spell a-brewin'. Uh, make her a toad? Little hoppy toad, we can hit her with a hammer?"
Willow looked dubious in the extreme, but Tara laughed; "Hoppy toad."
Duly encouraged, another thought struck Xander. "What about Ben? He can be killed, right?"
Spike looked up, *finally* a bit of sense. Hell, if he didn't have this chip he'd do it himself. Flat choice Ben or Dawn, Dawn would win every time, even without the end of the world hanging in the balance.
"I mean, I know he's an innocent, but, you know, not like *Dawn* innocent," Xander continued, trying to justify his reasoning. "We could kill a ... a regular guy." The small hesitation in Xander's voice suddenly had Spike biting his lip so hard it might bleed. He cursed himself for his protectiveness but couldn't help it. Xander's innate goodness was grimed somehow by those words and he didn't want Xander to have to make that choice, to live with the consequences. He shouldn't have to. Him, yeah, he could handle it, so could Giles, but not Xander. Suddenly Spike felt every one of his hundred and twenty years and more. Tarnished and jaded and so very, very *old*. No wonder Xander didn't love him.
Rip.
"God." Xander said in helpless self-disgust as he realised what he had suggested.
Everyone was silent, maybe for the first time they were realising for the first time that if they killed Glory it'd be curtains for Ben. Although it didn't mean much to him, Ben wasn't a bad guy. He had helped Giles, crushed on the Slayer. Despite himself Spike remembered the shock he'd felt as he'd stumbled on Ben's bolthole amid Glory's suffocating presence. He hadn't been expecting to find it there, but in a way it had made awful sense. Where else would he go? In that moment he had identified with Ben so strongly it felt like he'd been slammed in the stomach. Both of them had an intruder in their body. In his case a chip, in Ben's a Hellgod. Both trapped by events out of their power, and both unable to connect with anyone for more than a few fleeting moments.
Suddenly he was very glad none of the others had seen that room.
After a moment Giles spoke up. "It's doubtful he'll surface again this close to the ritual. We can expect its Glory we're dealing with."
"We don't have to kill her," Willow said as the idea occurred. "We just have to stop her from doing the ritual. I mean, there's only the one time that she can do it, right?"
"Yeah!" Spike agreed, Red had a damn good point, and anything that stopped Xander having that sick look on his face was gonna get his 'yay' vote. "We get her on the ropes, we just gotta keep her occupied till it's too late."
Giles sighed irritably; "But how do you suggest ..."
"The Dagon sphere!" Xander snapped his fingers suddenly.
"Sorry?" Giles asked bewildered.
"When Buffy first met Glory, she found that magical ... " he waved his hand "glowy sphere that was meant to repel Glory. It's at my place remember? It might drive her away or hurt her."
"Ooh!" Willow bounced in her seat impatiently as she pointed to the display case. "And Olaf the troll god's enchanted hammer. You wanna fight a god, use the weapon of a god."
With an assessing look Buffy walked over to check out the hammer.
"Nah," Spike said disparagingly, remembering how he had buckled under its weight. "That thing's too heavy to ... " He stopped as Buffy picked it up easily, swinging it experimentally. "Yeah. Good."
"I like this," Buffy said thoughtfully. "Thanks."
Willow nodded a little breathlessly. "Here to help. Wanna live."
"Smart chicks are soooo cool." Xander said, looking admiringly at Willow.
"You couldn't have figured that out in tenth grade?" Willow said teasingly.
They smiled warmly at each other. Spike looked away.
Rip.
"Well," said Giles, "we have some ideas, if we could actually get Glory on the run, but ..."
"But, we still have no idea how to find her." Buffy finished with frustration.
"Big day!" Tara shouted impatiently. "Oh, it calls me! I have to be there!"
/Calls her?/ Spike looked at Tara, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Poor, confused Tara, who could turn out to be their biggest lead to Glory. The connections finally snapped together. He remembered back at the hospital Xander had said that all the loonies had just picked themselves up and gone ...
/Glory is calling her!/ He opened his mouth, then stopped, he could see the same connections, the same idea forming in everyone's mind as they looked at her.
"Big day!" Tara repeated, twisting in her chair with desperation.
/Just like Dru,/ he thought ironically. /Madness leading the way./ His eye accidentally fell on Xander again and suddenly the hand he was holding his cigarette in began to shake. The horror he'd momentarily managed to ignore slammed into him again, two-fold as he remembered Dru - the *other* love of his life. He'd lost both of them, and now there was a very good chance he could lose Dawn. For all his big talk he was useless. Always had been. Unable to hold on to anything he truly loved, anything that really mattered. In the end he was always alone.
~"I mean you do still love me a little ... don't you?"
"No. No. I don't."~
He bolted from his perch on the ladder. Ignoring the startled looks in his wake, he stumbled outside.
***
Xander flicked
aimlessly through a book Giles had left on the table. He didn't know why. He
wasn't even sure it was written in a human language. Buffy and Giles had gone
into the back room. He hoped they were making up after their row, time was too
short now to fight. Shame swept
over him, what the hell was he doing? Dawn could *die*, Glory was about to end
the world as they knew it and he was taking time out to worry about his love
life. Then again he may as well worry about it now, if the world ended he'd
never get another chance. Of course if the world didn't end then he'd have forty
years or so to worry about it.
Forty *years*.
A wallop of fear hit him. All that time - a lifetime - without Spike. The fear
sent tremors through him, shaking the foundations of his conviction that he
had made the right choice, like the world shifting before an earthquake. He
tensed. He wouldn't let himself be shaken now. He had done the right thing.
He *had*.
A hand dropped
comfortingly on his shoulder, he looked up at Willow.
"What's wrong?"
she asked, "You look sad."
He shook his
head, briefly considered a lie then changed his mind. "Just, y'know ... Spike
stuff."
"Oh." She didn't
make a physical move to hold his hand or hug him, but he still felt a little
comforted. Maybe it was a magic thing, maybe it was just a Willow thing. "I
know this must have been so hard for you, seeing him again, you've been real
brave."
Xander's eyes
flickered as he remembered ...
~"You do love
me ... at least a little bit don't you?
And his utter
cowardice as he lashed back with a lie. "No. No. I don't."~
"Yeah," Xander's
lip curled bitterly. "I'm a real brave guy."
"No you are!"
Willow protested loyally.
"No Wills, you're
the brave one. You held us all together today when we would have fallen apart,
getting Buffy back, organising us all ..."
Willow shook
her head. "I was scared, all the way through, but I knew it was the right thing
to do." She cast a sad look over at Tara. "Kind of like when I first got together
with Tara."
"Really? I thought
it just kinda happened for you two." As he spoke he realised he'd never had
this conversation with Willow. When everything had come out - ha, ha - about
her and Tara, he'd been so caught up in trying to come to terms with it, with
checking that Willow was happy with her, he'd never asked how she had felt when
they had first fallen in love.
She nodded.
"It wasn't as easy as you guys think. When I realised I was gay, it wasn't like
I had time to get used to the idea, I fell in love. It was so scary. Sometimes
I'd try to avoid her, then I'd lie awake at night hurting not to have her there,
but couldn't make myself call her."
"Why not?"
She sighed.
"I don't know - I guess it just felt easier to run away. I knew coming out wouldn't
be easy, and after ... Oz, I was so scared of feeling like that again about
someone in case I lost them. I thought if I didn't let her in then it wouldn't
hurt later."
"Right." Xander
looked down at his white knuckles. "And you had a point, because it does hurt
now doesn't it?" He spoke rapidly, a hard edge to his voice.
Willow paused,
he looked up at her and for a moment he had the spooky feeling she was looking
right into his soul. "Yeah," Willow agreed, her eyes full of sadness. "It hurts.
I love her so much and to see her like this ... it tears me apart, but I'm still
glad I took the chance. Without her ... I feel like I'd be empty. Even now -
I'd rather be miserable with her than without her."
Willow spoke
quietly but each word hammered home with such force it felt like she'd blasted
it on a trumpet. It was an attack, hammering away at him; every syllable was
another tremor shaking him violently. So hard to keep his balance but he couldn't
give in. He tightened his grip on his conviction and held on for dear life.
He'd done the right thing. He had.
Willow was looking
at Tara, pain and love mingled in her gaze and in that moment she was someplace
else. "She's my always," she said quietly, then she seemed to snap back. She
stood and gave him a pat. "I'd better go see if she's okay."
He nodded and
she moved over to Tara. For a moment, just a moment he thought of Spike. Longing
wrenched at him, so much longing he thought he'd die from it. Could Spike be
his always?
No, no, he had
to stop thinking like this. There was no such thing as an always. Not for him,
and even if there was, it wasn't Spike. Spike and him together were *wrong*.
In time he'd meet a nice girl - or maybe a nice guy ... No. He recoiled from
that thought. Another guy, doing all the things that Spike had done to him was
just wrong. He couldn't let someone else touch him inside, find that magic spot,
when all he would remember would be Spike's eyes watching him hungrily as he
writhed under his cool, skilful fingers, Spike crooning to him as he arched
up and cried out, Spike coaxing out of him just where to press ...
No - if he couldn't
have Spike he didn't want anyone else to touch him like that.
He'd find a
nice girl, with dark hair, and brown eyes, green eyes, red eyes for all he cared
as long as they weren't blue and it would be calm and well ordered with no mess
or heartache and suddenly he could have cried. Right now he was too worn down
and exhausted to lie to himself. He wanted Spike. He wanted to listen to him
tell hair-raising tales of his past and bitch about people who'd pissed him
off. He wanted to have Spike nicking his favourite chocolates to dunk in his
mug of blood and for them to watch T.V together and fight together and make
love together all night and all day, and he wanted the other nights as well
when they were too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed and pass out but
that was alright too because they were still doing it together.
The tremors
were shaking him to his core now - but he still fought against them. He had
done the *right* thing! He'd get over this, he just needed a little time. Eventually
he would stop feeling hollow and hurting. Eventually he'd stop hating himself.
Anyway it was
too late now. He wasn't as brave as Willow, his chance had been there on that
street and he had let it go. Sometimes you only got one shot at something, then
the moment slipped away and it never came again. So that was it, mission accomplished.
They were finally over. Ex's. Good.
But if this
was the right decision - why did it feel so totally wrong?
He rubbed his
eyes tiredly. He needed to get out of here, he needed some fresh air. He stood
and walked wearily to the back door, then slammed to a stop.
The door was
open and Spike stood in the alley, lost in thought, wreathed in smoke. A lump
rose in Xander's throat. At this moment in the dim light with smoke drifting
about him Spike looked otherworldly, enigmatic, and incredibly beautiful. Hunger,
deep, aching hunger rose up inside him. He wanted Spike so badly, wanted to
drown in him and never come up for air again. He remained motionless, paralysed
by his love, his eyes searing Spike into his mind, the slash of his cheekbones,
the curve of his lips, the narrow blue eyes. And he burned. He burned. And for
a moment he wished like he had never wished for anything before that he had
never pulled aside that curtain in Spike's crypt. That he had never seen that
stalker closet. If only their timing had been a little different, if only Spike
had already burnt it ...
He shook himself,
that was crazy. Anyone would know that was rubbish. It was no good building
a house on shifting sands, it was doomed to collapse. And it was no good standing
here, watching and wishing. On the street outside the Doc's place he had banged
the final nail into the coffin.
He turned away,
then stopped as Spike's voice floated over to him.
"I'm leaving,
Xander."
All the air
was sucked out of Xander's lungs as he lurched in shock, clumsily turning back
to Spike, who was still staring away from him into the distance. "What?"
"Not right now,"
Spike said dully, "but when this is over I'm taking off, if the world is still
turning of course. Get out of your hair forever."
"Oh," Xander
said quietly. "W-why would you do that?"
Spike shrugged.
"Why not?"
Despite himself
Xander weakened a little. Enough to step outside to stand beside Spike and wait.
"It seems like
the right thing to do." Spike said eventually.
"Since when
have you ever done the right thing?" Xander questioned. It was meant to come
out as a light-hearted comment, but the words caught in his tight throat and
came out harsh.
Spike examined
the glowing tip of his cigarette as though he'd never seen anything quite like
it before. "Since ... well *you*."
"But ... but
we need you." Xander stammered. "Dawn, she'll ... miss you."
Spike shook
his head. "It's not enough."
"But ..." Xander
trailed off. Wasn't this just what he wanted? With Spike gone he'd be totally
safe, and if safe suddenly seemed like a very grey, empty, lonely sort of a
place then it was a small price to pay. Maybe eventually him and Spike would
become distant, like a dream, something that happened to another person in another
life. He had a sudden surge of anger. He *wouldn't* forget. He didn't have enough
of Spike to forget anything. Every kiss, every touch, every fight, every smile,
he didn't want to lose a single one.
"We were only
really together for one night," he said sadly, his voice speaking out as though
on it's own accord. "I mean like a couple."
"Yeah." A ghost
of a smile touched the corners of Spike's mouth. "Longer than anyone else thought
we'd last."
"We had a good
run," Xander agreed. They glanced carefully at each other and shared a tentative,
twisted smile, but as they looked at each other the smiles faded.
"I know you
don't love me anymore," Spike said suddenly. "I know I'm a monster. But you
treat me like a man and that's ... " He paused, rolling his eyes self deprecatingly
at his obvious trembling before continuing rapidly; "I had a night with you,
a perfect night. More than I deserved, and ... I'll remember that night until
the end of the world. Even if it's tonight."
Xander stared
at him numbly, Spike's honesty, his courage was shining from him like a beacon,
and he felt so dirty, so polluted in comparison, his stomach churning sourly
as though the lie was poison, slowly killing him. Words were frozen at the back
of his throat, but he couldn't force them out. Spike reached out his hand touching
his arm, Xander glanced down, then up again in confusion as Spike suddenly threw
his arm around him, embracing him in a swift, one-armed, chokingly tight, hug.
Spike's body banged against his and he froze in fright, his defences almost
broken. He held himself stiffly, his arms by his sides, too scared to relax
even the smallest bit, for fear he would break apart in Spike's embrace. He
briefly closed his eyes, somehow holding back the tears as he inhaled deeply,
trying to store Spike's scent in his memory forever, yet already knowing it
would eventually fade. What else could it do?
Spike released
him almost at once and Xander backed away rapidly.
"I ... I'd better
go ..."
"Yeah," Spike
said looking away. "You go talk to your pals."
***
Spike waited
until Xander had stumbled back into the shop. He glanced in and saw Xander was
talking to Giles and Buffy, then fell into the small bathroom in the back of
the shop, slamming the door and bolting it. He couldn't hold back anymore -
Xander, repulsed and unresponsive as he had held him, just one last time, had
burst open the floodgates. He turned the taps on full to cover any sound, crumpled
on the floor, clasped his hands over his mouth and wailed. For everything he'd
had - for everything he'd lost.
It didn't last
long, the violence of emotion was released within a few wrenching, agonising
sobs, over almost as soon as it had begun. He spent a few more moments on the
floor, trying to regain his composure then gave a watery, shivering sigh. That
was it. No more tears, he was tired of this. Bored with moping and brooding
and wailing. Pulling himself to his feet on trembling legs he leant heavily
on the sink and splashed his face with cold water.
~"I can make
it right, if you'll just let me. Let me in. Please Xander, I mean you do still
love me a little ... don't you?"
"No. No. I don't."~
He closed his
eyes. /Alright./ He thought wearily. /I was there, I heard it the first time./
He still felt
a wreck, trembling and hurting all over but the shredding had stopped, released
at last. So it was over. At least now he didn't have to dread the worst, the
worst had happened. Now he had to survive and as if his heart had decided to
help him he felt a hardness, a stillness begin to build up around it like a
protective shield. He stared into the void in the mirror, and although he couldn't
see it, he could feel his jaw setting grimly, a new coldness begin to seep into
his eyes. People couldn't be trusted with his feelings. *Xander* couldn't be
trusted with his feelings and he was through with begging for scraps of affection
like a kicked puppy. There was one person left he cared about and when she was
safe he was going to get the hell away from this place, and never come back.
He gave his
eyes one last angry wipe, and adjusted his duster, drawing some reassurance
from it. The memory of how he'd got it had always given him swagger, and now
he gratefully returned to that feeling, as though it could protect him like
a suit of armour. He might be trapped behind this suit of armour, he might be
bleeding underneath it, but anything was better than the flood of agony and
misery that had been drowning him. Anything was better than being a broken,
pathetic shadow of himself.
Powered by cold
pride, he walked out with a semblance of his old attitude. So Xander had dumped
him. No need to behave like a tortured, fucking wanker and advertise it by moping
around like a wet ponce was there? He would get through this. He *would*.
As he stepped
out he was just in time to hear Xander speaking to Buffy and Giles. "... got
a few hours yet, haven't we? I'd better go get the sphere."
"Yeah," Buffy
said thoughtfully. "That could be pivotal. Thank you. But don't go alone. I
don't want Glory's guys grabbing you as well. Take Spike."
"Spike?" Xander
said his voice rising with panic. "I don't ..."
"Xander," Buffy
cut him off firmly. "Take him with you."
It was only
later, much later, Spike realised that it hadn't sounded like an order, her
voice had been too warm, too kind. It sounded almost like she was encouraging
him. However at the time he was too busy feeling bitter at Xander's less than
enthusiastic response to analyse Buffy's tone.
/No worries,
mate. You'll be glad to hear even I get the message in the end./
"Okay," Xander
said unhappily. "I've started keeping some weapons there as well, I'll grab
some. I'm looking for something in a broadsword."
"Don't be swingin'
that thing near me." Spike said sarcastically as he came up behind them.
Xander started,
insulted. "I happen to be ..." he began.
"A glorified
brick layer?" Spike finished coolly. Hurt and surprise flashed momentarily in
Xander's eyes.
"I'm also a
great bowler," he retorted defensively.
"Has his own
shoes," Buffy agreed supportively.
"The gods themselves
do tremble." Spike sneered.
"Spike," Xander
said irritably. "Shut your mouth, and come with me."
Spike's eyebrows
raised ironically, but he followed.
***
The short drive
to his place didn't take long, but Xander was trying so hard to hold onto himself,
to his convictions that he didn't dare say one single word to break the silence
between them. Plus Spike's mood seemed to have changed yet *again*. Cold, angry
vibrations radiated out from him making him tremble, an anxious knot forming
in his stomach. It was a relief when they reached his place and he could get
out of the enclosed space with Spike, and think about more pleasant things,
like weapons and the end of the world. He hurried into his apartment ahead of
Spike, desperate to put a little space between them.
"The weapons
are in the chest by the TV," he said as he walked in without looking at Spike,
only half paying attention to what he was saying, as he tried to recall whereabouts
in his bedroom he'd put the sphere for safe keeping. "I'll grab the sphere."
He was nearly
out of the front room when he heard Spike: "Uh, Xander..."
Xander turned
back to him, and frowned. Spike was still outside. What the hell was he waiting
for? Spike reluctantly gave him a small, embarrassed wave as he reached out,
lightly touching the barrier of his revoked invitation.
In that moment
the earthquake hit.
He'd been wrong.
He'd been WRONG. The truth streamed though him, blasting his convictions apart
as the feelings he had forced into a grinding, exhausting, completely wrong
pattern swirled up and rocketed out triumphantly, unstoppably into the right
one. Love streamed though him, a burning tide, healing, yet hurting in a wonderful
way that he could never get enough of, revealing a new world before his stunned
eyes. A completely new, chaotic, exciting, incredible world. He now knew exactly
how Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz must have felt when she had been thrown out
of her world of black and white into a land filled with vibrant colour.
He looked at
Spike on the threshold, just as vulnerable and sad as he was, his trying-to-be-cool,
slightly bitter smile belying the hurt in his eyes as he touched the barrier
between them and he knew. Spike was his always. If they were together or not,
Spike would always be the only one he wanted. The one he wanted to sleep beside
and wake up next to. The one he wanted to talk to, make love with, laugh and
cry, and even argue with. This was the face he still wanted to be looking at
in forty years time, and it was too late to run. Forcing himself away from Spike
didn't mean no pain, it just meant every day that Spike wasn't with him would
kill him a little at a time. Worse, it would mean that for the rest of his life
he would bitterly regret not even trying to hold on to him, and he didn't want
that grey, miserable 'safety'. He wanted Spike - whatever that may bring, the
colour, the chaos, the fear, the love, and fireworks, even the pain and the
tears that could be waiting. He could take that chance, and yeah, of course
he was scared, he was petrified, his heart was thudding shallowly in his chest
so fast he could hear it roaring in his ears but here, now, this was his chance
to speak out, and no way was he going to let it pass him by, because this vampire
standing at his door was the one he loved so much he couldn't contain it, his
eyes were welling up and glowing, his heart aching, filled to bursting and he
loved him, loved him, loved him.
Spike, unaware
of the earthquake taking place in him was still talking, trying to cover up
for his flash of vulnerability as he stood at the door;
"Ah, if you
wanna just hand them over the threshold, I'll..."
His mind was
finally - completely clear. There was so much he could have said, so many pretty
speeches he could have made but all he said as he took the leap that would change
his life, was; "Come in, Spike."
***
Spike smiled
with surprise and pleasure, as he stepped over the threshold. "Presto," he said
softly. "No barrier."
He looked at
Xander, who was watching him, his dark eyes glowing - like rich, utterly sinful,
delicious chocolate. The warm scent of Xander's skin teased at his senses. He'd
stepped in a little too close to Xander - and amazingly, Xander hadn't backed
away. For a moment Spike didn't move, yearning wrenched inside him, so deeply
it hurt, then ...
~"You do love
me ... at least a little ... don't you?"
Xander staring
back at him, sad, grim and utterly resolute. "No. No. I don't." Each word shattering
his heart into a thousand tiny fragments. ~
In Xander's
apartment the warm feelings beginning in Spike were doused as swiftly as if
he'd been drenched with a bucket of ice water, and his heart that had momentarily
softened at the unexpected invite, hardened again. He stepped away.
"Won't bother
with the small stuff," he said, heading over to the weapons chest. "Couple of
good axes should hold off Glory's mates while Slayer takes on the lady herself."
He opened the weapons chest, poking through the arsenal within it, but he could
feel the tension radiating from Xander - his wild desire to say something. He
could hear the tiny sounds as Xander opened his mouth, closed it again as he
tried to find the words. Oh no - he couldn't handle another scene. They both
knew the score - did they have to go over it in excruciating detail? Xander's
eyes were still on him. /Don't say it./ He willed fiercely. /Whatever it is
don't say it./
"Spike," Xander
began, his voice was shaking with nerves or suppressed excitement, or both.
"I want to tell you ..."
"No - it's alright,
lets just get the stuff and go," he snapped, staring blindly into the chest.
In the periphery of his vision he could see Xander moving closer to him. He
tensed himself up tightly. He wouldn't let Xander do this to him! Not again.
"No, don't stop
me - you might not want to hear this after everything but I have to say it."
Xander was right next to him. Xander reached out to touch his arm and Spike
jerked away from his touch. Xander didn't get to do this - if he wanted to stand
like a lump of stone when he tried to hug him goodbye, then he didn't get to
decide touching was okay! He stared down at the floor, fury and bitterness clashing
violently inside him. He didn't want this. He didn't want Xander to be kind,
he didn't want awkward clichés and pity - it was unbearable, how *dare* Xander
make him go through this again?
"Look I've got
the message," he said angrily. "I understand. You don't have to say anything
else."
"Oh yes I do."
Xander's voice still sounded shaky, awkward, full of emotion - *good* emotion
and it was so familiar, it pulled at him. Despite desperately wanting to keep
his eyes averted, his head lifted as though it had been tugged on a wire. Xander
was staring at him, his face pale, his eyes burning with all the passion he'd
thought he'd never see in those dark depths again. "I *love* you."
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