Modes of Silence
Nov. 15th, 2007 01:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Buffy's dead. Spike, Xander, and Dawn try to move on.
A/N: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tamingthemuse prompt 69: confrontational
Previous Chapters
Xander dragged Spike into the house, calling for blood and towels. He laid Spike on the couch, frantically stripping off the duster and ripping Spike’s shirt in two. Giles laid the Slayer on the floor, checking her pulse.
“How long,” Xander asked fiercely, taking the towels from Tara and pressing them onto the gaping wound in Spike’s chest.
“Perhaps another half an hour,” Giles answered softly. “Perhaps more. Slayer metabolism is notoriously unpredictable.”
Xander nods, concentrating on stopping the blood flow. There was so much of it, flowing and pulsing out of Spike and dripping uselessly through his fingers. How could someone without a heartbeat lose this much blood? No pulse, nothing pushing the blood through cold dead veins, but still the blood kept flowing.
“Willow,” Xander yelled. “I need blood now! It’s not stopping!”
Willow rushed into the living room, carrying several packets of human blood. She handed him one, an anxious smile creeping across her features. Xander fumbled with the packet, cursing under his breath. He couldn’t figure out how to open it, fingers slippery with blood and sweat. Dawn leaned forward and silently snipped a corner of the packet with a pair of scissors.
“Spike,” Xander breathed. “Come on, open up. Lots of nice yummy human blood here, just for you. Time to drink it down, okay? Just drink, Spike. A couple swallows and you’ll be back on your feet, bitching like usual.”
The blood spilled uselessly from Spike’s parted lips and Xander, on edge from the whole stupid awfulness of the night, fought against the anger that bubbled under his skin. He itched with rage, could feel it crawling around him like a colony of ants. The sun was peeking over the horizon, turning the outside world blue-grey, and it was no longer Halloween. Spike was damn near a pile of dust, Dawn had almost died at the hands of a vampire date, and they had an unconscious Slayer on their living room floor that Xander was pretty sure he could cheerfully pummel.
“That’s it,” Xander declared, slightly hysterical. “From now on, we stay home on Halloween. If it’s good enough for demons, it’s good enough for us.”
Dawn moved, whisper silent and wraith smooth, to take the blood bag from Xander’s trembling hands. She sat on the couch, fingers ghosting over Spike’s pale face before smearing some of the blood on her fingers. She stuck her bloody fingers in Spike’s mouth, coating it with the red liquid. She started to massage his throat, easing the tiny bit of blood down his throat.
Watching Dawn minister to the still form, Xander reflected that this was definitely the weirdest his life had ever been. Willow had tranq’d a Slayer, and Dawn was feeding a vampire. Somehow, he didn’t think this was what Buffy had in mind when she’d entrusted her sister to them. He could almost hear her voice now.
Willow did what to a Slayer? Dawn fed Spike blood? If you tell me she was a willing donor, so help me I might have to hurt you. Have all of you lost your minds? I died and now I’m in one of those freaky always Wednesday dimensions Anya talked about, only here the good guys save vampires and sucker punch Slayers.
Yeah, that about summed up the reaming he knew Buffy was giving him right now. Or maybe not. Buffy had changed. She’d never lost her mission, never lost her will to fight, to help those who needed it. But she’d seen…something in Spike that no one else had, so maybe wherever she was, she wasn’t pissed. He hoped not. That was his secret fear; letting Buffy down, not living up to her example.
Spike swallowed, his throat moving up and down slightly. Xander could have cheered, but he didn’t have the energy. Watching that stake slide into Spike’s chest had burned out his adrenaline. He closed his eyes, trying not to see it again. Trying not to see the look on Spike’s face, the pain and fear etched into every line.
“He was helpless,” Xander choked. “She just attacked him and he couldn’t fight back.”
Willow slid down to her knees and wrapper her arms around Xander. He didn’t cry, he just sat there, holding tightly to Willow and tried not to shatter into a million pieces. He wasn’t sure he could love Spike, was petrified of the demon and its wants. But the thought of losing Spike was even more terrifying.
“Giles,” Willow said softly, eyes on Xander. “We need to tie her up.”
“No,” Giles replied firmly. “I will not be party to whatever it is you have in mind.”
“Then get out.”
The calm words ricocheted through the living room, and the shock wave was almost palpable. Dawn stared at Giles, face set determinedly. She wasn’t angry or even upset. But, her words carried the force of a nuclear bomb.
“She tried to kill him,” Dawn said. “You don’t want to contain her, that’s fine. But, no confrontational out for blood Slayer is staying in my house. Spike keeps us safe, keeps the Hellmouth safe. He deserves for us to keep him safe, too. Tie her up or get out.”
She turned back to Spike, coaxing more blood down his throat.
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Buffy's dead. Spike, Xander, and Dawn try to move on.
A/N: Written for
tamingthemuse prompt 69: confrontationalPrevious Chapters
Xander dragged Spike into the house, calling for blood and towels. He laid Spike on the couch, frantically stripping off the duster and ripping Spike’s shirt in two. Giles laid the Slayer on the floor, checking her pulse.
“How long,” Xander asked fiercely, taking the towels from Tara and pressing them onto the gaping wound in Spike’s chest.
“Perhaps another half an hour,” Giles answered softly. “Perhaps more. Slayer metabolism is notoriously unpredictable.”
Xander nods, concentrating on stopping the blood flow. There was so much of it, flowing and pulsing out of Spike and dripping uselessly through his fingers. How could someone without a heartbeat lose this much blood? No pulse, nothing pushing the blood through cold dead veins, but still the blood kept flowing.
“Willow,” Xander yelled. “I need blood now! It’s not stopping!”
Willow rushed into the living room, carrying several packets of human blood. She handed him one, an anxious smile creeping across her features. Xander fumbled with the packet, cursing under his breath. He couldn’t figure out how to open it, fingers slippery with blood and sweat. Dawn leaned forward and silently snipped a corner of the packet with a pair of scissors.
“Spike,” Xander breathed. “Come on, open up. Lots of nice yummy human blood here, just for you. Time to drink it down, okay? Just drink, Spike. A couple swallows and you’ll be back on your feet, bitching like usual.”
The blood spilled uselessly from Spike’s parted lips and Xander, on edge from the whole stupid awfulness of the night, fought against the anger that bubbled under his skin. He itched with rage, could feel it crawling around him like a colony of ants. The sun was peeking over the horizon, turning the outside world blue-grey, and it was no longer Halloween. Spike was damn near a pile of dust, Dawn had almost died at the hands of a vampire date, and they had an unconscious Slayer on their living room floor that Xander was pretty sure he could cheerfully pummel.
“That’s it,” Xander declared, slightly hysterical. “From now on, we stay home on Halloween. If it’s good enough for demons, it’s good enough for us.”
Dawn moved, whisper silent and wraith smooth, to take the blood bag from Xander’s trembling hands. She sat on the couch, fingers ghosting over Spike’s pale face before smearing some of the blood on her fingers. She stuck her bloody fingers in Spike’s mouth, coating it with the red liquid. She started to massage his throat, easing the tiny bit of blood down his throat.
Watching Dawn minister to the still form, Xander reflected that this was definitely the weirdest his life had ever been. Willow had tranq’d a Slayer, and Dawn was feeding a vampire. Somehow, he didn’t think this was what Buffy had in mind when she’d entrusted her sister to them. He could almost hear her voice now.
Willow did what to a Slayer? Dawn fed Spike blood? If you tell me she was a willing donor, so help me I might have to hurt you. Have all of you lost your minds? I died and now I’m in one of those freaky always Wednesday dimensions Anya talked about, only here the good guys save vampires and sucker punch Slayers.
Yeah, that about summed up the reaming he knew Buffy was giving him right now. Or maybe not. Buffy had changed. She’d never lost her mission, never lost her will to fight, to help those who needed it. But she’d seen…something in Spike that no one else had, so maybe wherever she was, she wasn’t pissed. He hoped not. That was his secret fear; letting Buffy down, not living up to her example.
Spike swallowed, his throat moving up and down slightly. Xander could have cheered, but he didn’t have the energy. Watching that stake slide into Spike’s chest had burned out his adrenaline. He closed his eyes, trying not to see it again. Trying not to see the look on Spike’s face, the pain and fear etched into every line.
“He was helpless,” Xander choked. “She just attacked him and he couldn’t fight back.”
Willow slid down to her knees and wrapper her arms around Xander. He didn’t cry, he just sat there, holding tightly to Willow and tried not to shatter into a million pieces. He wasn’t sure he could love Spike, was petrified of the demon and its wants. But the thought of losing Spike was even more terrifying.
“Giles,” Willow said softly, eyes on Xander. “We need to tie her up.”
“No,” Giles replied firmly. “I will not be party to whatever it is you have in mind.”
“Then get out.”
The calm words ricocheted through the living room, and the shock wave was almost palpable. Dawn stared at Giles, face set determinedly. She wasn’t angry or even upset. But, her words carried the force of a nuclear bomb.
“She tried to kill him,” Dawn said. “You don’t want to contain her, that’s fine. But, no confrontational out for blood Slayer is staying in my house. Spike keeps us safe, keeps the Hellmouth safe. He deserves for us to keep him safe, too. Tie her up or get out.”
She turned back to Spike, coaxing more blood down his throat.
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no subject
on 2007-11-18 10:30 pm (UTC)