Ashes to Ashes, 17/30
May. 27th, 2009 09:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grief and a kind of madness take Spike and Xander places they aren't sure they can bear to go.
A/N: Written for prompt #25-placebo effect-on my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30 table. While the placebo effect is generally used in regards to medicine (i.e., the good old sugar pill), I've twisted it a bit to include mental sugar pills, something I think Spike takes on a regular basis. Thank you so much to everyone who keeps reading and leaving me such wonderful encouragement. I'm slower than molasses, but I hope it's always worth the wait!
Previous chapters can be found in reverse order in my tags or start from the beginning.
He tells himself it doesn’t matter. What the bloody hell does he care about the good opinion of Xander Harris? He repeats it the first time Harris ignores him on patrol, after he stomps home alone to pace his crypt, when he tosses aside his third empty.
Why the bloody hell should it matter?
He tells Dawn, an almost snarl that lifts one of her eyebrows. It’s so much like her sister that he flinches and he blames that on Harris, too. The man’s so soppy he almost drips. Spike jerks his head away as a series of images flash through his mind; Xander’s thick, ropy muscles gleaming in the dull candle light, lines of sweat trailing down skin gone golden, translucent droplets scattered across a tight belly still quivering from a long, hard come.
It doesn’t matter.
The phrase reverberates through his mind, his now constant, faithful companion. It doesn’t matter. He tells himself he was only interested in passing the time. Eternal life gets boring. Even Angel has his projects and his pets. No harm in passing the time.
The little sod didn’t really matter.
The next time he’s summoned, he walks past Harris without so much as a sneer. He silently insists the whole ugly scenario was a mistake, a stupid mistake. Only did it because he was so bloody bored and lonely. Wouldn’t even have bothered with the little sod if Buffy’d been around.
Wouldn’t even bite him.
When Red assigns them to patrol together, he doesn’t protest. He shrugs his shoulders because what does it matter? He’s there to watch out for Dawn and get his daily dose of violence. What happens to the rest of them isn’t his concern.
“Spike,” Xander says coolly. “What’s say we get patrolling? Lots of the recently departed to kill.”
“Yeah,” Spike answers. “Nothing like a thrilling evening rescuing the Scooby’s pet prat. “
“Whatever,” Xander shoots back and his face hardens. “Let’s just get this over with.”
They patrol in silence and if Spike feels Xander’s eyes on him, he refuses to acknowledge it. That’s how it started. Those damned eyes and their need, their heat, boring into him. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care.
Later, he doesn’t reach for the whiskey. He’s long past needing any panacea, intoxicating or otherwise. His eyelids flutter then drop as his hand drops down, impatient fingers popping open buttons and careless fingers tangling in a thick bush. His hand wraps around his cock, pulling in long, slow strokes designed to draw out his pleasure. The dark hair has lengthened and lightened, the strong masculine body developed supple curves, and it’s the Slayer’s name he whispers.
He moans his heat, his need, into the musty darkness of the tomb. The lukewarm splatter of his release dampens his fingers and thighs, but he feels the ache in his belly recede for a moment. As he reaches for a rag, he doesn’t even feel the twinge of regret fighting past the laxness of temporary satiation.
And if he did, he knows he wouldn’t care.
Chapter 18
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grief and a kind of madness take Spike and Xander places they aren't sure they can bear to go.
A/N: Written for prompt #25-placebo effect-on my
psych_30 table. While the placebo effect is generally used in regards to medicine (i.e., the good old sugar pill), I've twisted it a bit to include mental sugar pills, something I think Spike takes on a regular basis. Thank you so much to everyone who keeps reading and leaving me such wonderful encouragement. I'm slower than molasses, but I hope it's always worth the wait!Previous chapters can be found in reverse order in my tags or start from the beginning.
He tells himself it doesn’t matter. What the bloody hell does he care about the good opinion of Xander Harris? He repeats it the first time Harris ignores him on patrol, after he stomps home alone to pace his crypt, when he tosses aside his third empty.
Why the bloody hell should it matter?
He tells Dawn, an almost snarl that lifts one of her eyebrows. It’s so much like her sister that he flinches and he blames that on Harris, too. The man’s so soppy he almost drips. Spike jerks his head away as a series of images flash through his mind; Xander’s thick, ropy muscles gleaming in the dull candle light, lines of sweat trailing down skin gone golden, translucent droplets scattered across a tight belly still quivering from a long, hard come.
It doesn’t matter.
The phrase reverberates through his mind, his now constant, faithful companion. It doesn’t matter. He tells himself he was only interested in passing the time. Eternal life gets boring. Even Angel has his projects and his pets. No harm in passing the time.
The little sod didn’t really matter.
The next time he’s summoned, he walks past Harris without so much as a sneer. He silently insists the whole ugly scenario was a mistake, a stupid mistake. Only did it because he was so bloody bored and lonely. Wouldn’t even have bothered with the little sod if Buffy’d been around.
Wouldn’t even bite him.
When Red assigns them to patrol together, he doesn’t protest. He shrugs his shoulders because what does it matter? He’s there to watch out for Dawn and get his daily dose of violence. What happens to the rest of them isn’t his concern.
“Spike,” Xander says coolly. “What’s say we get patrolling? Lots of the recently departed to kill.”
“Yeah,” Spike answers. “Nothing like a thrilling evening rescuing the Scooby’s pet prat. “
“Whatever,” Xander shoots back and his face hardens. “Let’s just get this over with.”
They patrol in silence and if Spike feels Xander’s eyes on him, he refuses to acknowledge it. That’s how it started. Those damned eyes and their need, their heat, boring into him. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care.
Later, he doesn’t reach for the whiskey. He’s long past needing any panacea, intoxicating or otherwise. His eyelids flutter then drop as his hand drops down, impatient fingers popping open buttons and careless fingers tangling in a thick bush. His hand wraps around his cock, pulling in long, slow strokes designed to draw out his pleasure. The dark hair has lengthened and lightened, the strong masculine body developed supple curves, and it’s the Slayer’s name he whispers.
He moans his heat, his need, into the musty darkness of the tomb. The lukewarm splatter of his release dampens his fingers and thighs, but he feels the ache in his belly recede for a moment. As he reaches for a rag, he doesn’t even feel the twinge of regret fighting past the laxness of temporary satiation.
And if he did, he knows he wouldn’t care.
Chapter 18
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-05-27 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-06-13 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-27 03:09 pm (UTC)And very rich, evocative description too. *fans self*
no subject
on 2009-06-13 09:39 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed this, though. :)
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on 2009-05-27 05:35 pm (UTC)Shakatany
no subject
on 2009-05-27 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-06-13 09:41 pm (UTC)And thank you so much for reading and commenting even though I keep getting slammed and taking forever to update and reply. I really honestly appreciate it. :)
no subject
on 2009-05-28 01:09 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-06-13 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-05-29 04:03 pm (UTC)Poor, poor me. ;-)
no subject
on 2009-06-13 09:46 pm (UTC)Thanks very much and sorry to be so terribly slow in replying. RL can really be full of blah sometimes. But I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far.
no subject
on 2009-05-30 03:08 am (UTC)Very, very nice. Nice, too, to see Xander stand up for himself and force Spike to deal.
no subject
on 2009-06-13 09:52 pm (UTC)I have to confess I've read your Spike/Xander story Pons about four times now, but I've been too shy to leave a comment. So here and now in my own safe little journal I wanted to tell you that I thought it was an incredibly story and the most original take on the Spike/Xander first time I've read since I've been in fandom. I really enjoyed it and I can't wait to read more of your writing. Thank you. :)
no subject
on 2009-06-16 04:55 pm (UTC)I've only just started writing Spike/Xander, and I'm afraid I've really worried that it's not what people expect. I'm in the middle of writing a rather looong two story (well, really two stories?) while I'm in the middle of another series, and, as I'm writing and revising and editing and writing some more, I keep telling myself that I'm writing for me, because I want to read it, but I can't help wondering if anyone aside from me will really care about what I put into it. I come out of fandoms where you just don't post 400 words at a time of a WiP, and Spander fandom's so very different in so many ways, I feel like I'm a bit of an oddball in terms of both my process and my result.
So it's nice to hear that something worked!
no subject
on 2009-06-22 11:40 pm (UTC)