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Title: Kin to Sorrow: Here With Me (this is the last one, I swear it - no matter how much threatening feedback I get ;)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Pairing: S/X
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe
Notes: This is the epilogue to the Kin to Sorrow series I did. Just because I feared for my life:) Previous parts can be found here and here.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue.
Xander turned off of route 25, feeling the truck’s tires skid and finally catch on the gravel of the one-lane road. He jacked the truck back up to speed, feeling like he was flying over the unmarked path. Dust and gravel trailed behind the Ford as he coasted through the night.
He rolled down the window, smiling as the cool night air came rushing into the cab. Through the open window, he had a view of the vineyards in this post-sunset darkness. Plants, low and dense as far as the eye could see rang back with the beams from his headlights.
He could make out a billion green flickering lights and he remembered being a child in Sunnydale before things had gotten bad at home. He and Willow used to catch these glowing green insects in mason jars. Willow had always let the ones in her jar go at the end of the night, but he’d always kept his; they’d always died in the night.
Out here in the breeze of the southern Californian darkness, he didn’t feel the need to bottle them up. Here it was openness; here it was freedom. He could breathe here; the closeness and densely cramped streets of Los Angeles had suffocated him.
His eyepatch was itching, and after scratching a few times, he tore it off. Hesitating for a second, he decided it was time. He stretched his arm out the window, almost laughing as he let it slip from his grasp. It was over; Sunnydale was nonexistent now. The pain, the torment, the demons and monsters – all gone and floating away in a haze of dust and pebbles, leather and sweat.
Xander turned his eyes upward towards the sky. Not for the first time, his breath was stolen from him as the immense and eternal beauty of an unobstructed sky reminded him of its existence. Reflecting the insects in every shade of blue and violet, white and water, billions of stars shown like an I-Max on his retinas. Xander felt his cheeks sting, stuck as they were in a smile.
Smiling was something that came natural these days. Indeed, sometimes it felt like he couldn’t stop. Smiling and laughing, finally feeling and caring about life. Xander now understood Buffy’s dilemma when she was brought back, understood the deadness she had felt. He’d been trapped in the same nightmare. Only, he hadn’t realized it until he finally woke up.
Xander ran his hands through long and silky hair, pleased at how well it had grown in after he’d shaved it all off. That too had been a reminder, a reflection of a past he’d rather not relive. So he’d clipped it off, shaved it down to skin. It had taken months to finally get to its current length, but the wait had been worth it. He loved the feel of tender fingers stroking it, tugging it, caressing it.
Ahead in the looming blackness, he made out the rolling old Victorian he’d finally saved up enough to buy. Well, savings, a mortgage and all the insurance he’d gotten out of the Sunnydale disaster. It needed some work; the wrapping porch sagged in some places, the plumbing was iffy at best, and the roof leaked when it rained. But that was half the reason Xander had loved it so much; here he could build and make things better. He could turn the house into what he’d always dreamed. Old hardwood floors and marble fireplaces, a greenhouse in the back and complete solitude, total privacy. He was the only man living out here – the nearest town or house was four miles.
As he drew closer, Xander saw a light in the upstairs hallway, a flicker of flame in the attic. The attic had never been wired for electricity; something he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to fix. He rather liked the old gas lamps. There was something surreal about them here in the middle of nowhere. When they were lit and the mood was just right, it felt like time had stopped, had forgotten. And if there was anything Xander had learned from the Doc, it was that life is now, not then and not someday, but now. He wanted to preserve now forever.
He slowed, turning carefully into the narrow drive. Row after row of willow trees lined the drive on either direction, swaying softly in the night breeze. At the end of the day, it felt to Xander as if they were reaching out to welcome him home. Because for the first time in his life, that’s what it felt like: home.
He rolled up the window, wincing but smiling nonetheless at the squeak as the mechanism protested. Easing the heavy door open, Xander grabbed his bag and the blueprints of his current project off the bench. He hopped down and gave the rusty door a hefty push, hearing it “clunk” shut.
The flames still sputtered in the attic windows, the glow seeping into the night and tingeing it orange. The hallway light, as well, still burned, but no other light in the house glowed.
Xander dropped his bag and blueprints next to the foyer table, and leaped up the stairs two and three at a time. At the top of the first flight, he found waiting for him a mason jar. He picked it up and examined the contents: lightening bugs glowing and crawling. A note was tied to the lid. He opened it, puzzling over the finely scripted words:
”Are thy pure eyes than all the stars of night
That shine in heaven everlastingly!
An arrow pointing up was the only other clue, and Xander made his way down the old wooden floor towards the back of the house. Creaking and groaning, the path of the master of the house was well aged and gracefully at that.
He came to the narrow staircase where electric light could no longer reach. Here, the hallway was shrouded in shadow, save for the lick and stutter of the lone gas lamp. The door to the attic at the top of the stairs was closed.
Another note graced the foot of the staircase, directing him towards the highest room of the house.
Xander smiled deliciously and began his trek up the steep wooden steps. It felt like walking back in time, and was accompanied with a mental time machine:
Tripping and stumbling, he made his way into the kitchenette of his closet-sized studio apartment. The dream had made him sweat out any water in his body, and his mouth felt like cotton – tasted like landfill.
He opened the refrigerator, wincing at the bright white that seared against his eyes. He reached for the bottle of distilled water but froze as he felt a solid cold hand on his shoulder.
Before he could turn, he heard a voice that sent a dead tingle through his body:
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Spike asked.
Xander felt a dead cold pass through him as he realized this was only a dream. Felt as his heart fell from his chest to the floor. Felt the tears well up in his eye as he realized this wasn’t real.
Though he knew he’d wake up as soon as he tried, he also knew he had to at least try to see Spike. At least try to hold him. Maybe then the dream would be gone.
He turned to find the man he’d dreamt of standing right before him, solid and smirking. Through the tears, Xander could see the blazing blue eyes, the skin that seemed iridescent in the glow of the refrigerator. He could smell the leather, could feel the cold flesh of the hand on his shoulder. This was…
“Not a dream,” he whispered. “You’re real, aren’t you? God, you’re really here. How…Why?”
“Been having some dreams, lately,” Spike whispered back. “Needed to see you, pet. To know you’re all right.”
“But you’re dead – I, I saw you die, Spike.” Xander’s voice was just below whispering now as the reality of the moment came crashing into his mind.
“I did at that, pet, did at that. You lived on the Hellmouth for how long, and you don’t know that dead things don’t stay dead? Bloody git.” Spike admonished, though his hand on Xander’s shoulder never moved.
“But, but how, Spike?”
“S’a long story. But to make it short, I came back a ghost in the Poof’s office. Got my body back, and after a few weeks of those bleedin dreams, I needed to see you. Needed to…touch you. They told me you survived, that you got out. But I needed to see for myself.” Spike’s words were punctuated by sharp gasps as he remembered the pain in Xander’s eyes, the hoarseness of his voice, the way he’d haunted his dreams.
“I can’t believe it,” Xander murmured, water long forgotten. “Wait, how did you come in? You’ve never been invited…”
“My dream, love. In my dream, you said I was always welcome, wherever you are. It’s an old vampire legend – that if your dreams are pure and the words are true…”
“They are. You’re welcome here, Spike.”
They both stood still, one man breathing and one man reeling. They gazed into each other’s eyes, searching for something.
“Yeah, well I should go, let you get some sleep –“
“No! Please, please don’t go, Spike.” Xander clamped onto Spike’s arm like a child to candy.
“You sure, love?” Spike’s eyes spoke to Xander more than his words ever would. They wanted to belong, wanted to be loved. He wanted to be woken from a dream that looped every night, every day. A dream in which he lost the only human who could have ever gotten under his immortal shell. Over and over again, he lost Xander. Didn’t want it to happen again. So tired of being alone…
“Yeah…Spike, I know it’s crazy. I know it’s us and we used to…You know how we were. But, to make my long story short, I was wrong. I haven’t hated you this whole time…I…I love you. I know you probably don’t, and probably won’t but I-“
“Thank the bloody stars you finally said it!” Spike exclaimed. “Wish you knew, love…wish you knew how bad I wanted this. How many times I thought about it, dreamed about it…”
“Stay here with me…”
Neither one of them could speak, but actions spoke as they leaned in and crushed their mouths together. Swollen, aching lips met parched and worried ones, and for once it seemed like it was right to Xander. Not like Faith, not like Buffy, not even like Anya. This was…this was Spike…And now it seemed like he was finally awake for the first time in who knew how long.
After long moments of exploration and appreciation, they broke the kiss. Xander turned and closed the refrigerator, casting the room into darkness once more. Taking Spike’s hand, he led him quietly but confidently to the bed…
That had been a year ago. More than either could have expected had happened since then. Xander had been promoted up in the construction firm he’d been working for. Spike had still taunted Angel and graced Wolfram and Heart with his presence – he still felt like he was needed there.
Not long after, the Partners had released hell on earth. Not surprisingly, Angel was the target – but his companions were to be made casualties in the war. Dragons and hellbeasts had come down from the sky. The war took out a large section of Los Angeles, and still the public never new. In the end, there was only Spike and Angel. Spike returned home to Xander, and Angel had disappeared.
Both Spike and Xander decided it was time to leave the city. They found this crumbling Victorian, and they knew they were home.
The dreams had never come back.
Xander made it to the landing at the top of the stairs. One last note was propped against the doorframe. Xander’s breath hitched as he read it:
Night still is night, with every star aglow;
But light were night didst thou not love me so.
He took several deep breaths, and reached out, turned the knob.
The door fell back to reveal a red room. Scarlet velvet couches, ruby read silk drapes, bright red flames in the gas burners. In the center of the room, in a black leather chair, Spike faced Xander. Only a smile adorned the naked vampire.
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Spike asked.
*quotes from Starlight by John White Chadwick
Author:
chocgood84Pairing: S/X
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe
Notes: This is the epilogue to the Kin to Sorrow series I did. Just because I feared for my life:) Previous parts can be found here and here.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t sue.
Xander turned off of route 25, feeling the truck’s tires skid and finally catch on the gravel of the one-lane road. He jacked the truck back up to speed, feeling like he was flying over the unmarked path. Dust and gravel trailed behind the Ford as he coasted through the night.
He rolled down the window, smiling as the cool night air came rushing into the cab. Through the open window, he had a view of the vineyards in this post-sunset darkness. Plants, low and dense as far as the eye could see rang back with the beams from his headlights.
He could make out a billion green flickering lights and he remembered being a child in Sunnydale before things had gotten bad at home. He and Willow used to catch these glowing green insects in mason jars. Willow had always let the ones in her jar go at the end of the night, but he’d always kept his; they’d always died in the night.
Out here in the breeze of the southern Californian darkness, he didn’t feel the need to bottle them up. Here it was openness; here it was freedom. He could breathe here; the closeness and densely cramped streets of Los Angeles had suffocated him.
His eyepatch was itching, and after scratching a few times, he tore it off. Hesitating for a second, he decided it was time. He stretched his arm out the window, almost laughing as he let it slip from his grasp. It was over; Sunnydale was nonexistent now. The pain, the torment, the demons and monsters – all gone and floating away in a haze of dust and pebbles, leather and sweat.
Xander turned his eyes upward towards the sky. Not for the first time, his breath was stolen from him as the immense and eternal beauty of an unobstructed sky reminded him of its existence. Reflecting the insects in every shade of blue and violet, white and water, billions of stars shown like an I-Max on his retinas. Xander felt his cheeks sting, stuck as they were in a smile.
Smiling was something that came natural these days. Indeed, sometimes it felt like he couldn’t stop. Smiling and laughing, finally feeling and caring about life. Xander now understood Buffy’s dilemma when she was brought back, understood the deadness she had felt. He’d been trapped in the same nightmare. Only, he hadn’t realized it until he finally woke up.
Xander ran his hands through long and silky hair, pleased at how well it had grown in after he’d shaved it all off. That too had been a reminder, a reflection of a past he’d rather not relive. So he’d clipped it off, shaved it down to skin. It had taken months to finally get to its current length, but the wait had been worth it. He loved the feel of tender fingers stroking it, tugging it, caressing it.
Ahead in the looming blackness, he made out the rolling old Victorian he’d finally saved up enough to buy. Well, savings, a mortgage and all the insurance he’d gotten out of the Sunnydale disaster. It needed some work; the wrapping porch sagged in some places, the plumbing was iffy at best, and the roof leaked when it rained. But that was half the reason Xander had loved it so much; here he could build and make things better. He could turn the house into what he’d always dreamed. Old hardwood floors and marble fireplaces, a greenhouse in the back and complete solitude, total privacy. He was the only man living out here – the nearest town or house was four miles.
As he drew closer, Xander saw a light in the upstairs hallway, a flicker of flame in the attic. The attic had never been wired for electricity; something he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to fix. He rather liked the old gas lamps. There was something surreal about them here in the middle of nowhere. When they were lit and the mood was just right, it felt like time had stopped, had forgotten. And if there was anything Xander had learned from the Doc, it was that life is now, not then and not someday, but now. He wanted to preserve now forever.
He slowed, turning carefully into the narrow drive. Row after row of willow trees lined the drive on either direction, swaying softly in the night breeze. At the end of the day, it felt to Xander as if they were reaching out to welcome him home. Because for the first time in his life, that’s what it felt like: home.
He rolled up the window, wincing but smiling nonetheless at the squeak as the mechanism protested. Easing the heavy door open, Xander grabbed his bag and the blueprints of his current project off the bench. He hopped down and gave the rusty door a hefty push, hearing it “clunk” shut.
The flames still sputtered in the attic windows, the glow seeping into the night and tingeing it orange. The hallway light, as well, still burned, but no other light in the house glowed.
Xander dropped his bag and blueprints next to the foyer table, and leaped up the stairs two and three at a time. At the top of the first flight, he found waiting for him a mason jar. He picked it up and examined the contents: lightening bugs glowing and crawling. A note was tied to the lid. He opened it, puzzling over the finely scripted words:
”Are thy pure eyes than all the stars of night
That shine in heaven everlastingly!
An arrow pointing up was the only other clue, and Xander made his way down the old wooden floor towards the back of the house. Creaking and groaning, the path of the master of the house was well aged and gracefully at that.
He came to the narrow staircase where electric light could no longer reach. Here, the hallway was shrouded in shadow, save for the lick and stutter of the lone gas lamp. The door to the attic at the top of the stairs was closed.
Another note graced the foot of the staircase, directing him towards the highest room of the house.
Xander smiled deliciously and began his trek up the steep wooden steps. It felt like walking back in time, and was accompanied with a mental time machine:
Tripping and stumbling, he made his way into the kitchenette of his closet-sized studio apartment. The dream had made him sweat out any water in his body, and his mouth felt like cotton – tasted like landfill.
He opened the refrigerator, wincing at the bright white that seared against his eyes. He reached for the bottle of distilled water but froze as he felt a solid cold hand on his shoulder.
Before he could turn, he heard a voice that sent a dead tingle through his body:
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Spike asked.
Xander felt a dead cold pass through him as he realized this was only a dream. Felt as his heart fell from his chest to the floor. Felt the tears well up in his eye as he realized this wasn’t real.
Though he knew he’d wake up as soon as he tried, he also knew he had to at least try to see Spike. At least try to hold him. Maybe then the dream would be gone.
He turned to find the man he’d dreamt of standing right before him, solid and smirking. Through the tears, Xander could see the blazing blue eyes, the skin that seemed iridescent in the glow of the refrigerator. He could smell the leather, could feel the cold flesh of the hand on his shoulder. This was…
“Not a dream,” he whispered. “You’re real, aren’t you? God, you’re really here. How…Why?”
“Been having some dreams, lately,” Spike whispered back. “Needed to see you, pet. To know you’re all right.”
“But you’re dead – I, I saw you die, Spike.” Xander’s voice was just below whispering now as the reality of the moment came crashing into his mind.
“I did at that, pet, did at that. You lived on the Hellmouth for how long, and you don’t know that dead things don’t stay dead? Bloody git.” Spike admonished, though his hand on Xander’s shoulder never moved.
“But, but how, Spike?”
“S’a long story. But to make it short, I came back a ghost in the Poof’s office. Got my body back, and after a few weeks of those bleedin dreams, I needed to see you. Needed to…touch you. They told me you survived, that you got out. But I needed to see for myself.” Spike’s words were punctuated by sharp gasps as he remembered the pain in Xander’s eyes, the hoarseness of his voice, the way he’d haunted his dreams.
“I can’t believe it,” Xander murmured, water long forgotten. “Wait, how did you come in? You’ve never been invited…”
“My dream, love. In my dream, you said I was always welcome, wherever you are. It’s an old vampire legend – that if your dreams are pure and the words are true…”
“They are. You’re welcome here, Spike.”
They both stood still, one man breathing and one man reeling. They gazed into each other’s eyes, searching for something.
“Yeah, well I should go, let you get some sleep –“
“No! Please, please don’t go, Spike.” Xander clamped onto Spike’s arm like a child to candy.
“You sure, love?” Spike’s eyes spoke to Xander more than his words ever would. They wanted to belong, wanted to be loved. He wanted to be woken from a dream that looped every night, every day. A dream in which he lost the only human who could have ever gotten under his immortal shell. Over and over again, he lost Xander. Didn’t want it to happen again. So tired of being alone…
“Yeah…Spike, I know it’s crazy. I know it’s us and we used to…You know how we were. But, to make my long story short, I was wrong. I haven’t hated you this whole time…I…I love you. I know you probably don’t, and probably won’t but I-“
“Thank the bloody stars you finally said it!” Spike exclaimed. “Wish you knew, love…wish you knew how bad I wanted this. How many times I thought about it, dreamed about it…”
“Stay here with me…”
Neither one of them could speak, but actions spoke as they leaned in and crushed their mouths together. Swollen, aching lips met parched and worried ones, and for once it seemed like it was right to Xander. Not like Faith, not like Buffy, not even like Anya. This was…this was Spike…And now it seemed like he was finally awake for the first time in who knew how long.
After long moments of exploration and appreciation, they broke the kiss. Xander turned and closed the refrigerator, casting the room into darkness once more. Taking Spike’s hand, he led him quietly but confidently to the bed…
That had been a year ago. More than either could have expected had happened since then. Xander had been promoted up in the construction firm he’d been working for. Spike had still taunted Angel and graced Wolfram and Heart with his presence – he still felt like he was needed there.
Not long after, the Partners had released hell on earth. Not surprisingly, Angel was the target – but his companions were to be made casualties in the war. Dragons and hellbeasts had come down from the sky. The war took out a large section of Los Angeles, and still the public never new. In the end, there was only Spike and Angel. Spike returned home to Xander, and Angel had disappeared.
Both Spike and Xander decided it was time to leave the city. They found this crumbling Victorian, and they knew they were home.
The dreams had never come back.
Xander made it to the landing at the top of the stairs. One last note was propped against the doorframe. Xander’s breath hitched as he read it:
Night still is night, with every star aglow;
But light were night didst thou not love me so.
He took several deep breaths, and reached out, turned the knob.
The door fell back to reveal a red room. Scarlet velvet couches, ruby read silk drapes, bright red flames in the gas burners. In the center of the room, in a black leather chair, Spike faced Xander. Only a smile adorned the naked vampire.
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Spike asked.
*quotes from Starlight by John White Chadwick
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I love the way you ended this. Xander couldn't just be left without Spike. I love the image of him throwing away the eyepatch. That seems very appropriate for me. And shaving his head. I always cut my hair after a major life event. It;s part of starting over.
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Thanks, luv - glad you approve :D