Sunlight Or Shadow, pt 3

[synapticjava]

Here's the third part, and it's also up on my website with all my other fiction.

Title: In Sunlight or in Shadow (3/?)
Author: chocgood84 (chocgood84 at livejournal dot com)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Sleeping Beauty fic, AU, character death
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike, Xander, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If I did, this wouldn’t be fanfic, it’d be cannon. These belong to Mutant Enemy and its creator, Joss Whedon. No harm, no foul.

“His folly has not fellow
Beneath the blue of day
That gives to man or woman
His heart and soul away.”

After a time, Xander felt that quick bolt of electricity zip through him. The hand that was lazily stroking Spike’s golden locks began shaking and then jerking. That motion as well coursed through his body. Xander, unafraid of this new experience, studied the hand as if it were a laboratory subject.

“What is it, love?” Spike asked, sensing a change in his boy’s demeanor.

“I dunno, Spike. What-what’s happening?” Xander clenched his teeth at a sudden onset of a violent shredding pain that unstitched and screamed through his body. Arching his back and closing his eyes tight to the too bright light, he howled – half demon and half hyena bowing to an invisible moon.

“Ssssspike!” He screamed, his chest sucking in involuntary and stabbing breaths. “Ssssspike, what is happening to me!”

Spike was right there, his hand bruising Xander’s in a death grip. He knew he could do nothing but talk his boy through it, but his own body was wracked with symbiotic pain at seeing this wonderful creature in pain that even a century of time couldn’t erase completely.

“Xander, love, just hold still! Love, it’s alright, it’ll pass. Xander, focus on me, pet. Flex your hand in mine. Come on, love, stay with me. It’ll pass, Xander, just focus on me. Don’t fight it, love, don’t fight it!” Spike commanded, one hand still locked in Xander’s, the other scrambling to keep Xander’s head from cracking against the marble floor. His entire body shook and slid in a seizure that dwarfed any violence Mother Nature had ever invoked.

“Oh God, Spike, it hurtsss ssso bad! What’s going on!” Xander called out again, his voice choking and croaking in his suddenly dry throat. He tasted blood on his lips and realized he had sliced his tongue open in another violent tremor. They rolled through him like prairie thunder in early September.

He felt as if something were inside him, stripping and shredding his flesh from the inside of his body; claws like daggers tore at his muscle and bone. He could feel; every blood cell, every neuron and synapse exploding one by one in even more horrific parodies of Hiroshima. A hundred billion particles streaming and firing and bursting inside him; he could feel everything.

“Xander!?” Spike screamed, his words lost in the terrible rattling drums that were gouging themselves into Xander’s ears. Tidal waves of cascading cacophonies and screaming soul-piercing missiles launched themselves into every fold and valley of Xander’s brain.

“Ssspike!” He screamed once more, his voice failing him half way through the name. He knew he should open his eyes, but he couldn’t; they felt sewn shut. He didn’t want that light anyway – that harsh and sandpapery light scalding white hot patterns of torture and demise on his retinas. No, no more!

“Xander, love, it’s almost over! Love, pet, it’s almost done! Just stay with me, love! Stay with me!” Spike crooned out, knowing his words were of no use – that they wouldn’t be heard. All he could do was hold on to Xander, anchor him. Spike couldn’t decide which feeling was worse – one of loss or one of helplessness.

A momentary calm fell over Xander. It seemed as if his pain had reached a plateau; every fiber of his being ached with arthritic tenderness but there was no longer that incessant stabbing digging horror beneath his flesh.

He relaxed for a moment, tasting the air and scenting the stench of pain and grief that seemed to surround him like ozone. Shallow, unneeded breaths came in ragged intervals – more comforting than Xander would’ve thought. He still couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes for fear of that awful brightness.

The tingling aching was slowly receding, for which Xander was orgasmically happy, when suddenly it seemed to swell again, pulsing with the beat of a nonexistent heart. He could feel it quickly gathering its strength to strike again. Quickly, however, it seemed to pull together into a tight ball made of brittle, broken glass in the center of his chest. It flowed from his toes and fingertips, nose and ears to that central cancer where it again pulsed, swelling with every beat.

And in a lighting fast moment, that searing scalding shredding ball shot like a spear from his chest up through his spinal cord and into his brain, exploding its tiny fragments and slicing at flesh and bone and brain matter.

This pain came second only to the singing flame that enveloped his entire face. His bones felt as if they were growing razors – pressing against his cheeks and forehead. He silently screamed again as his lips were sliced open by razor sharp fangs which pierced through his gums, changing and twisting his teeth. This was
by far the worst pain he could have ever imagined feeling.

Spike winced at the quiet whoosh of air as Xander tried to scream. He clung to Xander’s hand, knowing it would be over soon. He gritted his teeth as ridges began to slowly evolve on Xander’s forehead, his eye sockets receding ever so slightly.

He smelled the blood first, but soon saw it trickling down the younger vampire’s chin and neck as the fangs dropped into place at a snail’s pace.

Spike remembered this pain, so fresh in his memory. Remembered the agonizing feeling of glass and acid pouring through his system, of being attacked by so many thousands of insects trying to devour him from the inside out. He shook silently beside Xander at the memory, his hand never leaving Xander’s.

As quickly as it came, the flare of pain escaped from Xander’s body, leaving in its wake tiny pinpricks of tingling pleasure and an all-encompassing bruised feeling.

He lay there for many minutes on the floor of that golden and marble torture chamber, unable to form words or thoughts for fear of inviting that living being of pain back into his body. His eyes he still could not bring himself to unstitch.

At long last, he let his breathing calm. As he expelled that last breath, however, he felt a tiny yet growing emptiness deep inside of himself. Though painful, in the face of what he had just lived through it seemed no more important than a splinter.

“Xander?” Spike finally managed to coax from his own hollow throat. “Xander, it’s okay, it’s over. You’re okay, love. You’re fine now, pet, it’s over. Open your eyes, love.”

As if by Spike’s command, his eyelids flew open, taking in the no longer brilliant light of the room. Everything was as it was, although Xander could see everything more clearly, in more minute detail. There were several small cracks in the granite, the beginnings of tarnish on the golden urns, the lilies were
beginning to turn in at the edges. He could smell their upcoming decay.

Xander turned his head to find Spike on his knees before Xander, one hand still clasping his in a vice grip. Tiny beads of sweat had formed just below the lemon white curls. Spike had no line or blemish on his face, save for his prominent scar. The skin was as smooth as porcelain, and when Xander reached to caress it,
he found it was also as cold.

Spike gazed down at Xander, both in love with but terrified of this new other face that Xander wore. With his free hand, he reached down and ran cool fingers over the sharp ridges, touching and learning this new face; he memorized every hill and valley, enjoying the simmering purr that came from Xander’s chest at
the soft touch.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” Xander whispered, for he had nearly no voice left. Though his words were harsh, a smile tugged at his lips as the bruised feeling subsided to an undercurrent of ache.

“That? That was the change, love. The demon…had to make its home in you. Had to do some redecorating, yeah? That’s why it hurt so bad, Xander. It went through your whole body and…changed stuff. S’how you got your game face, love.” Spike responded, his fingertips still ghosting over this new visage.

“What? Game fa-oh. Oh, wow” Xander exclaimed, fingers finding Spike’s and slowly waltzing with them as he too explored this new territory. “Oh God, now I have bumpies?”

“Yeah, love, now you got bumpies. But I never saw any so lovely as yours, pet.” Spike chuckled, unable to stifle the laughter as the old Xander came through.

Xander took advantage of his position and pulled Spike by his hand down on top of him, wrapping arms and legs around the blonde.

Spike didn’t need any more cues than that as he leaned down and claimed that exquisite mouth. His tongue slid slowly into this new territory as well, glazing gently over the new fangs, tiny tremble of a pinprick, small drop of blood shared between the two.

Eventually, Xander pushed Spike back a little, amber eyes meeting sapphire.

“Spike? I’m a full-fledged…vampire, right?” He asked, his voice small, shy.

“Sure are, pet.” Spike said, winking and smiling before Xander’s game face slid away and tears again muddied chocolate orbs. “S’matter, Xander? Thought…thought you were okay about…”

“Not that, Spike…” Xander’s eyes closed and he sighed a deep breath, old habits die slowly. “But, if I’m a vampire…my soul…My soul’s gone, isn’t it, Spike?”

“Yes, Xander, it is.” Spike whispered after a moment, that guilt and grief swelling once more.

Spike lie there for a few more minutes, letting Xander grieve silently, his hands ghosting and brazing over his now-pale face, sifting through hair like chocolate silk.

All at once, however, he jumped to his feet, pulling Xander up by his hand.

Xander cocked his head to the right à la Spike, a puzzled look crossing that pretty face.

“Come on, love. Time to get outta here. Had as mucha this place as I can stand. ’Sides, you’re probably starving”

At that, Xander realized that emptiness had grown vaster, not completely unlike human hunger. He simply nodded, resigned to the fact that he eventually would have to feed…have to kill.

“Yeah…let’s go.”


Quotation is from A.E. Housman’s "A Shropshire Lad., XIV”
 

Comments

[tabaqui]

Wheeeee!
Innnnnteresting twist on the demon thing! I like that!
Very cool.
*bounce*
And Housman!
*is proud*

*smooch*

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

Innnnnteresting twist on the demon thing! I like that!
Took that cue from Anne Rice, but tweaked it for Joss!Verse. Thought it made sense to me, glad you liked it:)

*bounces some*
And yes, Housman - you do realize I'm hooked, yes? Couldn't *not* use that quote though. Sooo perfect.

*hugs* Thanks, luv!

[tabaqui]

Ah...yes - Ms. Rice. I'd forgotten about that.

I'm GLAD you're hooked on Houseman - he rocks. There's so much MORE out there - try Ezra Pound next!
:D

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

*jots down notes*

s'no wonder i never get school work done *g*

[tabaqui]

*snerk*

Not MY fault there's so many good poets out there.

[fanbot.livejournal.com]

Wow! No wonder the vamps always come out of the ground pissed off!
This is way cool, Love!

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

Wow! No wonder the vamps always come out of the ground pissed off!

*snerk*

Thanks!

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Wow. The description of the pain made me hurt. That was just way too damn good. Also, really liked how Spike was there for him, and the fact that Xander's still shining through makes this even more fantastic for me. I can't wait to see more!

~Nebula

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

Wow. The description of the pain made me hurt.
Thanks, luv! Was a little worried maybe I took the pain a bit too far, so thanks:)

the fact that Xander's still shining through makes this even more fantastic for me
We shall see:)

I can't wait to see more!
More soon. Like, probably *real* soon!

*hugs*