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Title: Learn to be Lonely Chapter 7/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Rating: NC-17 for brief violence and sexual content
Pairing: BtVS Spike/Xander
Author’s Note: Yes, I am aware that the timeline is a little screwed up and that Giles didn’t own the Magic Box until after Adam and after Dawn arrived. But in my reality, who’s Dawn? Adam what? Also, a huge spanking thanks tokitty_poker1 for being my official L2BL beta.
Disclaimer: These character’s aren’t mine, never were; I don’t get any profit for this hobby, so don’t sue – Thanks.
Warning: Brief violence, nudity, and hetero and homo sexual content and situations. And some h0t man-luvin. This chapter displays violent and graphic content.
Previous parts here.
“And I said to her…” Xander’s words were running together like a Picasso under a sprinkler, and his lurching stomach didn’t help things, either. “I said…Uh…”
“That you were leaving her, the crazy bint,” Spike ad libbed. They were almost to the bottom of the basement stairs, and in the near-hour it had taken Spike to get Xander home he’d heard the story half a dozen times.
“Yeah, the crazy bert,” Xander emphasized, missing the last step and slamming into the door. Spike pulled him back up and opened the door, easing Xander through it. “Did I tell you that she ripped my heart out? And started to eat it?”
“No, can’t say that you did,” Spike admitted, pushing Xander down to sit on the bed. “But I expected to hear as much from you sometime.”
“Huh?” Xander asked, throwing his arms open wide and losing his balance. Before he could fall face first on the floor, Spike pushed him backwards, sending him sprawling on the bed.
“The crazy ones always rip our hearts out, mate,” Spike explained, taking off and tossing his duster onto the chair and kneeling in front of Xander.
“What? No, no no no,” Xander insisted, the ‘no’s’ running together like a sputtering engine. “I don’t mean meta – mephore – miter – “
“Metaphorically?” Spike supplied, slipping one of Xander’s hideous Nikes off.
“Yeah, that!” Xander hollered. “I mean for real.”
“And when did she do this little number, Xander?” Spike asked, amused, while plucking the other shoe off.
“Last night, while I slept. I went to her place, and she hopped on me naked and started –“
“Spare me the details, yeah?” Spike pleaded as he sat Xander back up and stripped off his jacket.
“Anyway, it happened. I felt her do it.” With a clash of springs and mattress, Xander fell back on the bed and slithered up it. He started grunting when he got tangled in the sheets and, with an exasperated sigh, Spike untangled him and turned him on his side. Xander yawned, his eyes closing slowly.
“And, Spike?” he whispered, halfway asleep already.
“What is it, Xander?” Spike asked, crouching closer to hear him better.
“You saved me. You…you killed her and p-put my heart back inside me, made it beat again.”
“Well, that’s rather out of character, isn’t it?” Spike smiled. He stood back up and draped the sheet and thin blanket over the almost-sleeping man and flashed back to the first girl he’d ever loved. The pain wasn’t there anymore, just the memory of the pain. But that was enough for him to understand Xander’s own pain.
“Spike?” Xander said dreamily.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you…” And Xander finally fell asleep.
“You’re welcome,” Spike whispered back. He stood there a few moments, making sure he wouldn’t roll onto his back, stuck somewhere between familiarity and strangeness. “You’re welcome.”
****
Xander was running. His breath was hot and stank of fear, revulsion. It came out of him in desperate pants, huffs and puffs that streaked the cold night, hanging in the air like arrows pointing the way to find him.
He was running from…he didn’t know what he was running from. All he knew was that he couldn’t let it get to him, couldn’t let himself be found. Because once he was, it would be over. Goodbye mortality, hello pine box. And for whatever reason, he didn’t want that to happen. Somehow, he didn’t want to just give in and let go. He felt somewhere down deep that there was some reason to fight, some reason to live. He had to believe that – why else would he be running?
Circular logic, Xander understood, even as his feet picked up speed, the slap slap of his canvas shoes on dead, crisp leaves that littered the path he ran. He didn’t want to die because something was worth living for; there had to be something worth living for because he didn’t want to die. He knew it didn’t make sense, but, then again, what did?
He glanced down only once to find that his legs were pumping faster and harder than they ever had in all his time on the Hellmouth. He was breathing more heavily, and his chest was on fire with a thousand ice crystals threatening to shut down his lungs, his…his heart. He noticed the hole in his chest – the place where his heart had been. Before she had taken it from him. Before she had taken it and destroyed it. Now there was only a hole where it should have been. There was no blood, no wound; just a hole.
But Spike put it back in, he thought, as he leaped over a fallen tree. I saw him, felt him, put it back in me. It was beating again. What happened?
He tried to think, tried to remember. But where memory should be, there was only darkness. Anya was dead, and Spike put life back into his body, blue eyes and darkness. And now he was running. There was nothing in between, no chain of events, no actions or reactions. Just running, fleeing into the night. And it felt like he’d been here before. So many times before, and the trees looked exactly the same, and the path beneath him was replicated a hundred times. He had been here before; he knew this place. He knew it in the sense that he recognized it like a mother recognizes a child she hasn’t seen for decades. Knew it like an intruding hyena knew it was out of its own territory. It was instinct, it was a part of him. He knew this path because he’d been running it for so many years, for such a long time. With this realization came the remembrance of who he was running from. And he gathered more speed, still.
But speed couldn’t help – he knew that as solidly as everything else. This wasn’t something he could escape from.
The path rounded a large boulder and he followed it, coming to a complete stop in the middle of a wide meadow. The air here was warm, but the wind was crisp, cool. He felt the sweat dripping from his forehead, on his back and knees, under his arms. The cool hot air assaulted the wetness here, sending shivers running rampant through his body. His teeth chattered and his hands shook.
Before him stood three men. Two of them were not human, one of them was a sorry excuse for one. The human stepped forward, his face a knot of anger and betrayal. In one hand he wielded a torch. In the other was clenched the still-beating heart that had only recently been taken from Xander. The amber light from the torch cast a muddy glow on the man, contorting most of his features. But Xander still knew him.
“D-d-dad?” he stuttered. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have done a long time ago, you ungrateful beast,” fumed one of the other men – a brunette dressed in black, taller than the blonde man he had a hold of by the lapels of his leather duster.
“Angel? Spike, what’s going on?” Xander asked, looking back and forth between his father and the scene the vampires were creating right beside them.
“P-p-please, don’t!” Spike shrieked, tears streaming down his face. For the first time, Xander saw Spike completely helpless, completely dominated. He felt tears well up in his own eyes, didn’t try to stop them from flowing.
“What are you crying for, you filthy bastard?” Xander’s father boomed over him, echoing in the forest. “I told you that you weren’t mine, and now we can be done with this.”
“What do you mean?” Xander cried, confused and shaking, quivering under the look his father cast on him.
“You know what I mean!” Angel screamed, spraying spittle in Spike’s tear-streaked face.
“No, no, I don’t! What did I do!?” Spike hollered.
“You broke the rules, and don’t deny it,” Xander’s father explained, squeezing the heart in his hand. Blood trickled through his fingers, dripped from his knuckles.
“I don’t understand,” Xander whispered, though he felt that realization was coming to him.
“You are not my Childe,” Angel said solemnly, withdrawing a stake from his pocket. Spike screamed, begging like a child as Angel brought the stake high into the air.
“You are not my child,” Xander’s father said without emotion, raising the torch above them.
Simultaneously, Angel plunged the stake into Spike’s chest even as Xander’s father brought the torch to the heart he held, touching flame to it. Xander glanced at Spike, saw the explosion of ash and the wind blow it away. He looked back to find that his heart had also turned to ash and was being carried away with the wind. He felt his limbs burst, felt the red searing pain within turn him to ash. Felt the wind pulling at him…
And then, again, there was only darkness.
Author:
chocgood84Rating: NC-17 for brief violence and sexual content
Pairing: BtVS Spike/Xander
Author’s Note: Yes, I am aware that the timeline is a little screwed up and that Giles didn’t own the Magic Box until after Adam and after Dawn arrived. But in my reality, who’s Dawn? Adam what? Also, a huge spanking thanks to
kitty_poker1 for being my official L2BL beta.Disclaimer: These character’s aren’t mine, never were; I don’t get any profit for this hobby, so don’t sue – Thanks.
Warning: Brief violence, nudity, and hetero and homo sexual content and situations. And some h0t man-luvin. This chapter displays violent and graphic content.
Previous parts here.
“And I said to her…” Xander’s words were running together like a Picasso under a sprinkler, and his lurching stomach didn’t help things, either. “I said…Uh…”
“That you were leaving her, the crazy bint,” Spike ad libbed. They were almost to the bottom of the basement stairs, and in the near-hour it had taken Spike to get Xander home he’d heard the story half a dozen times.
“Yeah, the crazy bert,” Xander emphasized, missing the last step and slamming into the door. Spike pulled him back up and opened the door, easing Xander through it. “Did I tell you that she ripped my heart out? And started to eat it?”
“No, can’t say that you did,” Spike admitted, pushing Xander down to sit on the bed. “But I expected to hear as much from you sometime.”
“Huh?” Xander asked, throwing his arms open wide and losing his balance. Before he could fall face first on the floor, Spike pushed him backwards, sending him sprawling on the bed.
“The crazy ones always rip our hearts out, mate,” Spike explained, taking off and tossing his duster onto the chair and kneeling in front of Xander.
“What? No, no no no,” Xander insisted, the ‘no’s’ running together like a sputtering engine. “I don’t mean meta – mephore – miter – “
“Metaphorically?” Spike supplied, slipping one of Xander’s hideous Nikes off.
“Yeah, that!” Xander hollered. “I mean for real.”
“And when did she do this little number, Xander?” Spike asked, amused, while plucking the other shoe off.
“Last night, while I slept. I went to her place, and she hopped on me naked and started –“
“Spare me the details, yeah?” Spike pleaded as he sat Xander back up and stripped off his jacket.
“Anyway, it happened. I felt her do it.” With a clash of springs and mattress, Xander fell back on the bed and slithered up it. He started grunting when he got tangled in the sheets and, with an exasperated sigh, Spike untangled him and turned him on his side. Xander yawned, his eyes closing slowly.
“And, Spike?” he whispered, halfway asleep already.
“What is it, Xander?” Spike asked, crouching closer to hear him better.
“You saved me. You…you killed her and p-put my heart back inside me, made it beat again.”
“Well, that’s rather out of character, isn’t it?” Spike smiled. He stood back up and draped the sheet and thin blanket over the almost-sleeping man and flashed back to the first girl he’d ever loved. The pain wasn’t there anymore, just the memory of the pain. But that was enough for him to understand Xander’s own pain.
“Spike?” Xander said dreamily.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you…” And Xander finally fell asleep.
“You’re welcome,” Spike whispered back. He stood there a few moments, making sure he wouldn’t roll onto his back, stuck somewhere between familiarity and strangeness. “You’re welcome.”
****
Xander was running. His breath was hot and stank of fear, revulsion. It came out of him in desperate pants, huffs and puffs that streaked the cold night, hanging in the air like arrows pointing the way to find him.
He was running from…he didn’t know what he was running from. All he knew was that he couldn’t let it get to him, couldn’t let himself be found. Because once he was, it would be over. Goodbye mortality, hello pine box. And for whatever reason, he didn’t want that to happen. Somehow, he didn’t want to just give in and let go. He felt somewhere down deep that there was some reason to fight, some reason to live. He had to believe that – why else would he be running?
Circular logic, Xander understood, even as his feet picked up speed, the slap slap of his canvas shoes on dead, crisp leaves that littered the path he ran. He didn’t want to die because something was worth living for; there had to be something worth living for because he didn’t want to die. He knew it didn’t make sense, but, then again, what did?
He glanced down only once to find that his legs were pumping faster and harder than they ever had in all his time on the Hellmouth. He was breathing more heavily, and his chest was on fire with a thousand ice crystals threatening to shut down his lungs, his…his heart. He noticed the hole in his chest – the place where his heart had been. Before she had taken it from him. Before she had taken it and destroyed it. Now there was only a hole where it should have been. There was no blood, no wound; just a hole.
But Spike put it back in, he thought, as he leaped over a fallen tree. I saw him, felt him, put it back in me. It was beating again. What happened?
He tried to think, tried to remember. But where memory should be, there was only darkness. Anya was dead, and Spike put life back into his body, blue eyes and darkness. And now he was running. There was nothing in between, no chain of events, no actions or reactions. Just running, fleeing into the night. And it felt like he’d been here before. So many times before, and the trees looked exactly the same, and the path beneath him was replicated a hundred times. He had been here before; he knew this place. He knew it in the sense that he recognized it like a mother recognizes a child she hasn’t seen for decades. Knew it like an intruding hyena knew it was out of its own territory. It was instinct, it was a part of him. He knew this path because he’d been running it for so many years, for such a long time. With this realization came the remembrance of who he was running from. And he gathered more speed, still.
But speed couldn’t help – he knew that as solidly as everything else. This wasn’t something he could escape from.
The path rounded a large boulder and he followed it, coming to a complete stop in the middle of a wide meadow. The air here was warm, but the wind was crisp, cool. He felt the sweat dripping from his forehead, on his back and knees, under his arms. The cool hot air assaulted the wetness here, sending shivers running rampant through his body. His teeth chattered and his hands shook.
Before him stood three men. Two of them were not human, one of them was a sorry excuse for one. The human stepped forward, his face a knot of anger and betrayal. In one hand he wielded a torch. In the other was clenched the still-beating heart that had only recently been taken from Xander. The amber light from the torch cast a muddy glow on the man, contorting most of his features. But Xander still knew him.
“D-d-dad?” he stuttered. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have done a long time ago, you ungrateful beast,” fumed one of the other men – a brunette dressed in black, taller than the blonde man he had a hold of by the lapels of his leather duster.
“Angel? Spike, what’s going on?” Xander asked, looking back and forth between his father and the scene the vampires were creating right beside them.
“P-p-please, don’t!” Spike shrieked, tears streaming down his face. For the first time, Xander saw Spike completely helpless, completely dominated. He felt tears well up in his own eyes, didn’t try to stop them from flowing.
“What are you crying for, you filthy bastard?” Xander’s father boomed over him, echoing in the forest. “I told you that you weren’t mine, and now we can be done with this.”
“What do you mean?” Xander cried, confused and shaking, quivering under the look his father cast on him.
“You know what I mean!” Angel screamed, spraying spittle in Spike’s tear-streaked face.
“No, no, I don’t! What did I do!?” Spike hollered.
“You broke the rules, and don’t deny it,” Xander’s father explained, squeezing the heart in his hand. Blood trickled through his fingers, dripped from his knuckles.
“I don’t understand,” Xander whispered, though he felt that realization was coming to him.
“You are not my Childe,” Angel said solemnly, withdrawing a stake from his pocket. Spike screamed, begging like a child as Angel brought the stake high into the air.
“You are not my child,” Xander’s father said without emotion, raising the torch above them.
Simultaneously, Angel plunged the stake into Spike’s chest even as Xander’s father brought the torch to the heart he held, touching flame to it. Xander glanced at Spike, saw the explosion of ash and the wind blow it away. He looked back to find that his heart had also turned to ash and was being carried away with the wind. He felt his limbs burst, felt the red searing pain within turn him to ash. Felt the wind pulling at him…
And then, again, there was only darkness.
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