A Road Covered With Blood
Jul. 11th, 2007 01:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Xander/?
Rating: NC-17 overall
A/N: Written for the Just Rewards/fangfetish/darker_spike Alternate Realities/Dimensions Challenge. X-posted to darker_spike for challenge reasons, posted here for fun. Bit of dialogue taken from the BtVS S2 episode "Becoming II". Will put out for feedback :P
Summary: What if everything you thought was real turned out to be a lie?
Xander grimaced at the feeling of flesh encasing him. This body, whichever Xander it was, felt smaller somehow. Limited in ways that didn’t match his memories. Maybe this was the metaphysical version of ‘you can’t go home again’, not fitting into your old body.
‘Hey, you again!’ Well, that’s one of us accounted for and was it his imagination or did this Xander-voice sound tense?
‘Anybody else up there?’ Xander did a quick mental inventory, finding himself, the Xander-voice, a raspy growl that must be the hyena and a whole bunch of disjointed imagery of weapons and security clearances.
Right, soldier memories, he thought. So this is after Halloween, which means I’m where? Bushes, bushes and hey look! More bushes! Great, so I’m somewhere with foliage in Sunnydale. That narrows things down considerably. I’ve only hidden in the woods a million times. A little help would be nice, folks.
‘Waiting for Buffy,’ the Xander-voice informed him. ‘Angelus is…’
“Shit,” Xander swore aloud. “Acathla, re-ensouling, and my biggest asshole maneuver ever. Let it never be said I can’t make a bad situation worse with a lie.”
‘Lie? What lie?’ The Xander-voice sounded puzzled, as if the very concept of a lie were foreign to him.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Xander murmured. “If I do this right, you’ll never have to know what I’m talking about.”
He saw a flash of gold and leapt from the bushes. Buffy started, jumping backwards. Her incredibly lame sword cover-up danced. Ah, the early years when none of them knew that you could lug an arsenal through downtown SunnyD with nary a questioning glance from the natives.
“Xander,” Buffy exhaled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.
“Buff,” he acknowledged, drinking in this younger version of his friend. This Buffy wasn’t hard or brittle, yet. She looked relieved, happy even to see her Xander-shaped friend. But those lines around her eyes, tense and disbelieving, gave him a little preview of the Buffy he’d left behind.
“You’re not gonna fight,” she ordered him. “Get Giles out and run like hell, understood? I can’t protect you. I’ll be too busy killing.”
Either reality had already started to shift or age really did impart a teeny bit of wisdom. The first time he’d played this scene, she’d sounded hard, sure of herself, ready for anything. Now, he could hear the quaver in her voice; see the unsteadiness in her steps.
“Listen, Buffy, I hear and obey. But, take a breath, all right?” Xander placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she walked. “Wills is awake and she says to hold it off. Keep Angel from becoming a one-hit wonder and she’ll…”
“What, Xander? She’ll what?” Buffy’s voice was quiet, but it cut through him like a shriek. “Did she find a spare soul hidden under Angel’s doormat? He’s gone, Xander. Isn’t that what you told me? Just another killer monster, and I should do my job, right?”
Another time, another place and he’d have gone all defensive. Hell, he still felt the need to pull a little of the old ‘yeah like you never screwed up’. He just hugged her because she wasn’t the bitch who lectured him about being scared in her ‘everyone sucks but me speech’ or the put-upon pal who told him to stay “fray-adjacent”. She was still just a girl who loved someone who hurt her.
“I was wrong,” he whispered into her hair. “I was wrong and you were right. Angel is a man worth saving. So let’s save him.”
She pulled back, those big hazel eyes shiny as she searched his face. He smiled down at her, and brushed away the lone tear that spilled over. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. The only benediction he could give her, the only apology he could make, for fucking this up so badly the first time.
“I got your back, Buffster,” he promised. “We’ll keep Angelus busy so Willow can shove that soul right up his…”
“Xander,” she protested, smacking his chest. “Naughty words should be saved for crucial moments during the Apocalypse, not squandered willy nilly beforehand.”
He nodded solemnly, and walked up to the mansion side by side with the only hero he’d ever had.
“We still need to rescue Giles,” she murmured to him as she mounted the steps.
“I’m thinking that Giles will still be rescueable after we stop Angelus,” Xander replied. “If we don’t stop him, it won’t matter where Giles is what with the whole world sucked into Hell thing.”
“Right.” Buffy turned to him, panic swirling in those oh so young eyes.
He couldn’t help her now. That had been the hardest part of being a Scooby. When it came down to it, she had to do it alone and he could only watch. Well, watch and offer himself up for random pummeling. Still, it hurt to see her like this. Sliced him to the bone to watch her prepare to die, and nothing he did or said could ease her burden even a little.
She stepped forward and it was game on. He did his bit, wielding a stake with finesse he hadn’t possessed the first time around. In the back of his brain, the little portion of himself that managed to stay ‘fray-adjacent’, he could only marvel at how easily this body responded to his commands. The older possibly wiser Xander-bod didn’t have the flexibility or stamina of this one.
‘Ouch.” the Xander-voice winced. ‘No stamina? Say it ain’t so.’
‘Busy,’ he thought back. ‘Trust me, keeping THAT going isn’t the issue. Now, shut up?’
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike creeping up behind Angelus. Right, the whole deal that revolved around the enemy of your enemy. He’d kinda forgotten that in the rush to make things right. Random vamps dusted, he stood back to watch Spike whale on Angelus. Tire iron, nice choice, if a bit clichéd. That was Spike, though. Always had a soft spot for the classics.
Looks like Buffy was keeping Angelus busy, though. Witty banter back and forth, several sniping remarks about who had the least to offer in bed. A low blow about Buffy having no friends, a riposte about not needing them with sweetie pies like Angelus around.
Spike had gathered Drusilla close, eyes following the combatants. Xander watched as he shook his head, face screwed up in puzzlement. The look vanished quickly and Spike swept off.
Something tugged at Xander, and he strode off behind Spike. Buffy had the situation well in hand and right about now…a scream rent the air. Yep, Willow’s Mojo Express, the 10:35 to Soulville had chugged into the station. Send the all-clear signal, folks.
He stood and stared at Spike tenderly inserting Drusilla into his evilmobile. Had he noticed this before, this deep down care that Spike took with those he loved? Xander didn’t think he had or if he had, he’d blown it off. Seemed to be a pattern with him, this inability to notice the important bits. Must be why he’d turned everything into the suck.
“She’ll never love you,” he began conversationally. “No matter what you do, no matter how evil you are, she’ll never put you ahead of Brood Boy.”
Spike flinched, but didn’t turn around. He just stood there, focused on Drusilla, fingers running through her hair. Xander sighed and turned to go. He wasn’t even sure why he’d followed the bleached menace. Buffy was going to have her hands full with Giles and Angel.
“I know. But without her, what am I?” The words were so soft, so incredibly hollow, that Xander couldn’t believe he’d heard them from Spike.
“You’re William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers and you were my friend,” Xander told him honestly, unable to think of anything else.
Spike laughed bitterly, and finally moved to face him.
“I don’t go making friends with the food, wanker.”
Xander couldn’t help but agree. This Spike didn’t make friends with the food. He was a killing machine, so damn good at what he did that he should have won a medal for carnage.
It was difficult to stand here and look at this Spike. So much like the Spike he’d known and eventually come to care about, and yet not that Spike. In a way, none of them were the people he’d known. A Buffy who hadn’t had to send Angel to Hell, a Spike who didn’t have a chip or a soul or a reason not to kill him, and a Dawn that didn’t yet exist.
“You don’t,” Xander said softly. “But nothing ever stays the same, Spike. Not even you. The next time you’re here, just don’t hit me on the head, okay? I have enough brain damage to last me, thanks.”
With that, Xander walked back into the mansion. That swirling tilty feeling washed over him and he just let it flow. He still wasn’t entirely sure he could fix things, but this felt good. It felt right and maybe it was his imagination, but he could almost hear a bit of fractured reality snapping into place.
Rating: NC-17 overall
A/N: Written for the Just Rewards/
fangfetish/darker_spike Alternate Realities/Dimensions Challenge. X-posted to darker_spike for challenge reasons, posted here for fun. Bit of dialogue taken from the BtVS S2 episode "Becoming II". Will put out for feedback :PSummary: What if everything you thought was real turned out to be a lie?
Xander grimaced at the feeling of flesh encasing him. This body, whichever Xander it was, felt smaller somehow. Limited in ways that didn’t match his memories. Maybe this was the metaphysical version of ‘you can’t go home again’, not fitting into your old body.
‘Hey, you again!’ Well, that’s one of us accounted for and was it his imagination or did this Xander-voice sound tense?
‘Anybody else up there?’ Xander did a quick mental inventory, finding himself, the Xander-voice, a raspy growl that must be the hyena and a whole bunch of disjointed imagery of weapons and security clearances.
Right, soldier memories, he thought. So this is after Halloween, which means I’m where? Bushes, bushes and hey look! More bushes! Great, so I’m somewhere with foliage in Sunnydale. That narrows things down considerably. I’ve only hidden in the woods a million times. A little help would be nice, folks.
‘Waiting for Buffy,’ the Xander-voice informed him. ‘Angelus is…’
“Shit,” Xander swore aloud. “Acathla, re-ensouling, and my biggest asshole maneuver ever. Let it never be said I can’t make a bad situation worse with a lie.”
‘Lie? What lie?’ The Xander-voice sounded puzzled, as if the very concept of a lie were foreign to him.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Xander murmured. “If I do this right, you’ll never have to know what I’m talking about.”
He saw a flash of gold and leapt from the bushes. Buffy started, jumping backwards. Her incredibly lame sword cover-up danced. Ah, the early years when none of them knew that you could lug an arsenal through downtown SunnyD with nary a questioning glance from the natives.
“Xander,” Buffy exhaled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.
“Buff,” he acknowledged, drinking in this younger version of his friend. This Buffy wasn’t hard or brittle, yet. She looked relieved, happy even to see her Xander-shaped friend. But those lines around her eyes, tense and disbelieving, gave him a little preview of the Buffy he’d left behind.
“You’re not gonna fight,” she ordered him. “Get Giles out and run like hell, understood? I can’t protect you. I’ll be too busy killing.”
Either reality had already started to shift or age really did impart a teeny bit of wisdom. The first time he’d played this scene, she’d sounded hard, sure of herself, ready for anything. Now, he could hear the quaver in her voice; see the unsteadiness in her steps.
“Listen, Buffy, I hear and obey. But, take a breath, all right?” Xander placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she walked. “Wills is awake and she says to hold it off. Keep Angel from becoming a one-hit wonder and she’ll…”
“What, Xander? She’ll what?” Buffy’s voice was quiet, but it cut through him like a shriek. “Did she find a spare soul hidden under Angel’s doormat? He’s gone, Xander. Isn’t that what you told me? Just another killer monster, and I should do my job, right?”
Another time, another place and he’d have gone all defensive. Hell, he still felt the need to pull a little of the old ‘yeah like you never screwed up’. He just hugged her because she wasn’t the bitch who lectured him about being scared in her ‘everyone sucks but me speech’ or the put-upon pal who told him to stay “fray-adjacent”. She was still just a girl who loved someone who hurt her.
“I was wrong,” he whispered into her hair. “I was wrong and you were right. Angel is a man worth saving. So let’s save him.”
She pulled back, those big hazel eyes shiny as she searched his face. He smiled down at her, and brushed away the lone tear that spilled over. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. The only benediction he could give her, the only apology he could make, for fucking this up so badly the first time.
“I got your back, Buffster,” he promised. “We’ll keep Angelus busy so Willow can shove that soul right up his…”
“Xander,” she protested, smacking his chest. “Naughty words should be saved for crucial moments during the Apocalypse, not squandered willy nilly beforehand.”
He nodded solemnly, and walked up to the mansion side by side with the only hero he’d ever had.
“We still need to rescue Giles,” she murmured to him as she mounted the steps.
“I’m thinking that Giles will still be rescueable after we stop Angelus,” Xander replied. “If we don’t stop him, it won’t matter where Giles is what with the whole world sucked into Hell thing.”
“Right.” Buffy turned to him, panic swirling in those oh so young eyes.
He couldn’t help her now. That had been the hardest part of being a Scooby. When it came down to it, she had to do it alone and he could only watch. Well, watch and offer himself up for random pummeling. Still, it hurt to see her like this. Sliced him to the bone to watch her prepare to die, and nothing he did or said could ease her burden even a little.
She stepped forward and it was game on. He did his bit, wielding a stake with finesse he hadn’t possessed the first time around. In the back of his brain, the little portion of himself that managed to stay ‘fray-adjacent’, he could only marvel at how easily this body responded to his commands. The older possibly wiser Xander-bod didn’t have the flexibility or stamina of this one.
‘Ouch.” the Xander-voice winced. ‘No stamina? Say it ain’t so.’
‘Busy,’ he thought back. ‘Trust me, keeping THAT going isn’t the issue. Now, shut up?’
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike creeping up behind Angelus. Right, the whole deal that revolved around the enemy of your enemy. He’d kinda forgotten that in the rush to make things right. Random vamps dusted, he stood back to watch Spike whale on Angelus. Tire iron, nice choice, if a bit clichéd. That was Spike, though. Always had a soft spot for the classics.
Looks like Buffy was keeping Angelus busy, though. Witty banter back and forth, several sniping remarks about who had the least to offer in bed. A low blow about Buffy having no friends, a riposte about not needing them with sweetie pies like Angelus around.
Spike had gathered Drusilla close, eyes following the combatants. Xander watched as he shook his head, face screwed up in puzzlement. The look vanished quickly and Spike swept off.
Something tugged at Xander, and he strode off behind Spike. Buffy had the situation well in hand and right about now…a scream rent the air. Yep, Willow’s Mojo Express, the 10:35 to Soulville had chugged into the station. Send the all-clear signal, folks.
He stood and stared at Spike tenderly inserting Drusilla into his evilmobile. Had he noticed this before, this deep down care that Spike took with those he loved? Xander didn’t think he had or if he had, he’d blown it off. Seemed to be a pattern with him, this inability to notice the important bits. Must be why he’d turned everything into the suck.
“She’ll never love you,” he began conversationally. “No matter what you do, no matter how evil you are, she’ll never put you ahead of Brood Boy.”
Spike flinched, but didn’t turn around. He just stood there, focused on Drusilla, fingers running through her hair. Xander sighed and turned to go. He wasn’t even sure why he’d followed the bleached menace. Buffy was going to have her hands full with Giles and Angel.
“I know. But without her, what am I?” The words were so soft, so incredibly hollow, that Xander couldn’t believe he’d heard them from Spike.
“You’re William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers and you were my friend,” Xander told him honestly, unable to think of anything else.
Spike laughed bitterly, and finally moved to face him.
“I don’t go making friends with the food, wanker.”
Xander couldn’t help but agree. This Spike didn’t make friends with the food. He was a killing machine, so damn good at what he did that he should have won a medal for carnage.
It was difficult to stand here and look at this Spike. So much like the Spike he’d known and eventually come to care about, and yet not that Spike. In a way, none of them were the people he’d known. A Buffy who hadn’t had to send Angel to Hell, a Spike who didn’t have a chip or a soul or a reason not to kill him, and a Dawn that didn’t yet exist.
“You don’t,” Xander said softly. “But nothing ever stays the same, Spike. Not even you. The next time you’re here, just don’t hit me on the head, okay? I have enough brain damage to last me, thanks.”
With that, Xander walked back into the mansion. That swirling tilty feeling washed over him and he just let it flow. He still wasn’t entirely sure he could fix things, but this felt good. It felt right and maybe it was his imagination, but he could almost hear a bit of fractured reality snapping into place.