All Souls' Night, 5/7
Oct. 31st, 2007 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Xander, mentions of Spike, Buffy, Willow friendship
Rating: R overall
Warning: Character death...sort of
Summary: Ten years after Sunnydale's destruction, Spike returns to the ruins. Chasing his lover on All Souls' Night, when the dead can return and walk amongst the living, Spike will do whatever he must to get Xander back.
A/N: Written forfall_for_sx . Thanks to my beta,kidcyclone , for putting up with my complete insanity while writing this. Also, a big thank you to virtualpersonal for her inspiration over at waywardbunnies . I've twisted her plot bunny completely out of shape, but it was still the inspiration!
Willow nodded slowly, once, then twice and she rose, a hand reaching out and almost touching Xander’s sheer body. Xander stared at her, a painful solemnity marring his features. Spike had seen them do this before, this bizarre voiceless expression of familiarity and love. It had never seemed more alienating.
Willow was actually going to do it. She was going to throw Xander away, consign his soul to wherever souls went and that was that. Spike glanced back at the motionless body on the sarcophagus, eyes glowing with rage. That dead body was all he would have left of Xander and for a brief moment, he wanted nothing more than to watch it turn to so much dust and ash.
Willow hustled Buffy out of the crypt without a backward glance. Spike hadn’t expected her to look at him. She had to know what Spike would say and do in order to get Xander back and Willow wasn’t stupid enough to give him the chance.
“So that’s it, then,” Spike asked rhetorically, a candy coating of bitterness dripping from his words. “You do the noble sacrifice and I’m left with what? Your corpse?”
“Spike,” Xander said tiredly. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t. You know I can’t let Buffy leave here without her soul.”
Spike wanted to howl, the urge to destroy welling up so fiercely that it blurred his vision. Of course Buffy would come first. She always had, with all of them. His own soul, poor battered William with his fears and his sorrows, fluttered inside him and he could hear the cry as clearly as if William stood in front of him. What about me? I, who love you and need you, who dreams of you ceaselessly and craves but a moment of your time? What shall become of us now?
“Why not,” he finally replied, clutching tightly at his control. The internal war weakened him, made him tired and sad. Spike just wished for everything to finally be over and damn the consequences. “She’s been doing fine without the thing for years now. Can’t see how it should make much of difference either way.”
“Because she’s not dead,” Xander screamed harshly. “Get it, Spike? That body over there isn’t me, no matter how much you’d like it to be. I’m dead. So, you’ll fucking forgive me for putting my living friend’s pain ahead of your desire for some quality time with my dick.”
Spike rocked, the force of Xander’s words sending him literally reeling. He couldn’t believe Xander would think that, let alone say it. He stiffened as years of pain and derision washed over him.
“Ah,” he murmured sardonically, lifting an eyebrow. “You know, you’re right. Why bother with your dead body when I can have the Slayer’s sweet warm one? Wonder if getting her soul back’ll make her a better shag?”
Spike brushed past Xander’s intangible form, head held high. Not going to give him the satisfaction, Spike thought dully. All those years of loving Xander, of missing him, flitted through Spike’s mind as he walked out. How many times had he stalked the dead facsimile of his lover, keeping the cold body safe from Slayers and demons alike on the faint hope that one day he’d have Xander back? Wasted years, wasted grief for a man who didn’t believe Spike loved him.
Something Drusilla said, years gone by, echoed in Spike’s ears as he wandered aimlessly around the shadowy town. Demons can love well, if not wisely. Never a truer word, luv, Spike thought.
“Spike.” Xander’s voice, soft and low. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Spike stopped walking and looked up towards the sky. Funny how well he remembered this sky. The stars winked down at him, oblique messages from an unknown source. Stay or go? Speak or stay silent? Love or hate?
“Yeah,” Spike answered him. “But you did. ‘S our pattern, innit? Soon as one of us gets close, the other one gives a good shove. Doesn’t matter anymore, does it? You’ll be…gone and I…”
“I love you,” Xander whispered, and for a moment, Spike could almost feel the other man’s arms holding him close. “I want to come back. But, I can’t. Not if my coming back means that someone else suffers.”
“I know,” Spike said. “I know. Miss you, Xander. Not a day goes by that I’m not thinking of you. Loving you,” he added. Time was growing short and if these were his last moments with Xander, he might as well make them count.
“Wow,” a low mocking voice interjected. “There’s enough loser between the two of you to power a whole Star Trek convention. The next thing you know, the violins will start playing and both of you will be wearing dresses. Lucky I was walking by.”
Rating: R overall
Warning: Character death...sort of
Summary: Ten years after Sunnydale's destruction, Spike returns to the ruins. Chasing his lover on All Souls' Night, when the dead can return and walk amongst the living, Spike will do whatever he must to get Xander back.
A/N: Written for
fall_for_sx . Thanks to my beta,kidcyclone , for putting up with my complete insanity while writing this. Also, a big thank you to virtualpersonal for her inspiration over at waywardbunnies . I've twisted her plot bunny completely out of shape, but it was still the inspiration!Willow nodded slowly, once, then twice and she rose, a hand reaching out and almost touching Xander’s sheer body. Xander stared at her, a painful solemnity marring his features. Spike had seen them do this before, this bizarre voiceless expression of familiarity and love. It had never seemed more alienating.
Willow was actually going to do it. She was going to throw Xander away, consign his soul to wherever souls went and that was that. Spike glanced back at the motionless body on the sarcophagus, eyes glowing with rage. That dead body was all he would have left of Xander and for a brief moment, he wanted nothing more than to watch it turn to so much dust and ash.
Willow hustled Buffy out of the crypt without a backward glance. Spike hadn’t expected her to look at him. She had to know what Spike would say and do in order to get Xander back and Willow wasn’t stupid enough to give him the chance.
“So that’s it, then,” Spike asked rhetorically, a candy coating of bitterness dripping from his words. “You do the noble sacrifice and I’m left with what? Your corpse?”
“Spike,” Xander said tiredly. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t. You know I can’t let Buffy leave here without her soul.”
Spike wanted to howl, the urge to destroy welling up so fiercely that it blurred his vision. Of course Buffy would come first. She always had, with all of them. His own soul, poor battered William with his fears and his sorrows, fluttered inside him and he could hear the cry as clearly as if William stood in front of him. What about me? I, who love you and need you, who dreams of you ceaselessly and craves but a moment of your time? What shall become of us now?
“Why not,” he finally replied, clutching tightly at his control. The internal war weakened him, made him tired and sad. Spike just wished for everything to finally be over and damn the consequences. “She’s been doing fine without the thing for years now. Can’t see how it should make much of difference either way.”
“Because she’s not dead,” Xander screamed harshly. “Get it, Spike? That body over there isn’t me, no matter how much you’d like it to be. I’m dead. So, you’ll fucking forgive me for putting my living friend’s pain ahead of your desire for some quality time with my dick.”
Spike rocked, the force of Xander’s words sending him literally reeling. He couldn’t believe Xander would think that, let alone say it. He stiffened as years of pain and derision washed over him.
“Ah,” he murmured sardonically, lifting an eyebrow. “You know, you’re right. Why bother with your dead body when I can have the Slayer’s sweet warm one? Wonder if getting her soul back’ll make her a better shag?”
Spike brushed past Xander’s intangible form, head held high. Not going to give him the satisfaction, Spike thought dully. All those years of loving Xander, of missing him, flitted through Spike’s mind as he walked out. How many times had he stalked the dead facsimile of his lover, keeping the cold body safe from Slayers and demons alike on the faint hope that one day he’d have Xander back? Wasted years, wasted grief for a man who didn’t believe Spike loved him.
Something Drusilla said, years gone by, echoed in Spike’s ears as he wandered aimlessly around the shadowy town. Demons can love well, if not wisely. Never a truer word, luv, Spike thought.
“Spike.” Xander’s voice, soft and low. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Spike stopped walking and looked up towards the sky. Funny how well he remembered this sky. The stars winked down at him, oblique messages from an unknown source. Stay or go? Speak or stay silent? Love or hate?
“Yeah,” Spike answered him. “But you did. ‘S our pattern, innit? Soon as one of us gets close, the other one gives a good shove. Doesn’t matter anymore, does it? You’ll be…gone and I…”
“I love you,” Xander whispered, and for a moment, Spike could almost feel the other man’s arms holding him close. “I want to come back. But, I can’t. Not if my coming back means that someone else suffers.”
“I know,” Spike said. “I know. Miss you, Xander. Not a day goes by that I’m not thinking of you. Loving you,” he added. Time was growing short and if these were his last moments with Xander, he might as well make them count.
“Wow,” a low mocking voice interjected. “There’s enough loser between the two of you to power a whole Star Trek convention. The next thing you know, the violins will start playing and both of you will be wearing dresses. Lucky I was walking by.”
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