A/N: So this is my first fanfic in quite a while. And I'm rather pleased with how quickly it developed, even as a one-shot. Any criticism is appreciated; I always like knowing 1) how I can improve and 2) how much people enjoy what I write. Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or its characters. Thanks for taking the time to read.
***
Cold Numbs the Broken Edges
The cold water seared his flesh as his hands pressed firmly against the shower wall. The icily painful sensation numbed him emotionally, woke him mentally, and punished him physically. Voices from outside the bathroom called his name, but the frantic concern was lost on Xander as his mind screamed in anguish. Without coherent thought, he wailed inwardly even as he stood motionless, his mouth agape under the swift torrent.
Three years he had known Spike. The grudging help the striking vampire had provided since the chip had blinded Xander. Where he had seen a quest for redemption lay only a thirst for boredom's cure. Foolishly, he had begun meeting Spike late at night under the pretense of patrolling. Riley's departure had made his excuse doubly powerful, strong enough to delude even himself; he rationalized that more manpower was needed on the cemetery front.
For weeks, snarky comments and an eerily cheery understanding of mutual disdain gave the young man a rush of excitement. He knew the danger, he had experienced Spike's bloodthirsty madness throughout his junior year, but the reality seemed a distant and inconceivable notion given Spike's transformation.
Recalled to the present as the bathroom door flew off its hinges, Xander stared emptily at the women in the doorway. Clearly not prepared for what they saw, Buffy and Willow remained at the entrance as they took in his naked body standing in the cold water, the shower curtain not even moved over, the blood coming cuts on his neck and chest. He offered no protest at their entry, though it would seem a violation of privacy. "Leave the water on if you need in here so badly," he murmured. For a moment, he feared tears, might even have welcomed them, but nothing came from his eyes. Maybe the freezing water on his bare, exposed flesh had made crying an impossible act.
He thought back to that first kiss. One always goes to that memory; the cliché never fails to exist. Self-contempt filled him, but he could not get the scene out of his head. Walking in the graveyard, he had said something particularly scathing, an unusually sharp jibe towards Spike's "impotence." The vampire, seeming to suffer from tobacco withdrawal if that were possible, lunged angrily at him, his face human yet snarling.
Knocked forcefully to the ground with Spike on top of him, Xander started to make one of his awkward joking protests. But his breath warmed the air between them. Slowly, hesitantly, Spike descended and pressed his cold mouth to the contrast of Xander's heat, time going from a stand-still to warp speed. The young man acquiesced completely, recognizing the dormant attraction that had haunted him for months. The rigid cruelty of Spike's emotions, his entire character, melted as smooth hands caressed Xander's face, moved up his unbuttoned shirt, skated briefly against the stiffening beneath his jeans.
The flashback could remain on repeat forever, without ever moving on. Even the few weeks after that, the gentle love-making that Spike instigated so caringly, the furious animalistic sex that Xander later craved, seemed irrelevant to that first memory. Ironically, Xander could see the path he had created from the first kiss to that very evening. In surrendering to his lawless, unforgiving passion, Xander had no one to blame but himself for setting such scarring events into motion.
The words that Buffy and Willow tried to say to him were inaudible over the crashing of the shower and the din of his own interior. This pain wasn't caused by rejection, hatred for Spike, or even regret for what had consumed him for so long. He doubted Buffy, for all her angst and ruinous relationships, could relate.
Sex was the basis for their relationship, but not the peak; afterwards, they would talk, laugh, tease, and do all sorts of things that couples might do together. But it always began with kisses, sweat, gasps, thrusts, moans, collapse. It was what they had to do in order to reach that level of comfort, a reprieve from hatred and bitterness that Xander cherished more than anything.
Tonight had begun as always as Xander walked into the crypt a little after eight. Spike grabbed him around the waist, kissed him unapologetically, and ripped the clothes off to shove a naked, quivering Xander onto the bed. Even as Spike mounted him, moved deep inside, Xander could feel some change in the vampire. Moaning took away too much of his attention; it distracted him until too late.
The first rush of pain was hallucinatory. Xander had no idea what had happened, he lay in shocked silence unaware of the reality of Spike's actions. The second wave clarified the scenario entirely.
Spike had begun to drink from Xander. Without jumping back in pain, without yelling in protest, without murderous curses. And Xander, despite his desperate shoves and pleas, could do nothing to shove him out and off of him. Driven by bloodlust, Spike moved down to Xander's chest, biting deep into the muscular flesh above the nipple and allowing the blood to course down in rich streams from the neck wound.
Why was this happening? Spike's actions did little to surprise him as it would be naïve to believe otherwise of a vampire. No, the thought that entered his mind, that paralyzed him with fear, was why Spike was even capable of performing the act. Do no harm to humans. Can't bite. Can't kill. Bullshit.
Did I want this? Have I stooped so low that his chip doesn't even register as hurting me anymore? MY GOD MAKE THE PAIN STOP MAKE SPIKE STOP I CAN'T TAKE…
His screams, his anguish, somehow registered with Spike. Jerking himself back, the blonde wiped the shining liquid from his chin, hiding his face in shame from the sight of Xander's bloody body, his tears. Soulless Spike had a conscience, imagine that.
"I'm sorry, Xander," he said stammering, "I don't… don't know what… what the hell happened there."
Struggling against the flow of blood, Xander managed to press a piece of clothing to his neck and sat up. "Vampire. Should have known better."
"But I can't bite anyone! I can't! It's not possible."
As Xander fought the nausea that comes with blood loss, he stared emptily at the man he had begun to love. Somehow, incredulously and against all reason, he had found himself loving the sensitive, hidden Spike underneath that shallow, evil veneer. The veneer had never existed, ironically; Spike was the same throughout, his whole body rotten with the demon within. There was nothing to love.
Though Xander's eyes remained dry as he pulled on his clothes, Spike wept openly. "I'm so sorry," he barked out desperately, "You don't know how much I'm sorry. I never… I never thought it was possible… you have to believe me, Xander, please, please stay…"
It took all his strength to make it out of the crypt, but Xander used the last of his energy to look at Spike, groveling on his knees, and slam the door.
As the blood stopped seeping from his flesh wounds, the young man looked at his friends through the haze of the shower crashing down. In spite of his one request, Buffy solemnly shut it off. Willow took the nearest towel, opened it widely, and expectantly stepped towards him. The convenient numbness that had consumed Xander during his shower suddenly deserted him and he stumbled out in a wild shiver, hugging his body into the towel and Willow's tender warmth.
"It doesn't matter." He looked up, tears finally coming down after hours of spiteful refusal. Buffy laid her hand on his shoulder, her own eyes glistening with unshed water. "Whatever happened, whatever you think is wrong, it doesn't matter."
"Why not? Why doesn't this mean that nothing will ever be the same, that I'll never be the same? What if I'm broken?"
Buffy shook her head. "What if you are? It doesn't matter."
Rubbing the towel against his freezing body, Willow murmured, "We'll help fix you if you're broken. Something must be wrong with Spike for him to have hurt you like…"
Xander jerked his head up, the water shaking from his wet locks. "I'm not worried about why Spike could bite me. That's techno gadget stuff or something. No… I let things get that far. I let myself get lost in Spike's games, in his disguise. He may not even know it, but he's still a monster underneath all that. So after spending so much time believing in that, trusting that, loving that… how am I not broken?"