Author: Arisluv, aka Willowschild
Rating: R
Title: Drunken Tears part 1/?
Pairing: X/S eventually, X/S/A
Disclaimer: Dark fic, substance abuse, depression, cutting, attempted suicide
I own nothing. Sorry, I only play sometimes.
Feed back: please god yes... I need to be validated.
I could end it now he thought as he downed another shot of Jack. His life had quickly become a joke to him since Anya left. Xander the Zeppo had returned. God, even Spike is better off than me right now. Damn stupid vampire. So, he poured another shot of liquid fire and stared off into the night without a second thought.
He'd been sitting on the balcony of their apartment for a couple of hours just thinking about how horrible he'd been to the woman he loved. Did he though? Did he really love Anya? He had loved the idea of her, the warm feelings that he got when he pictured a home and children with the woman. But when you peeled the layers away, that wasn't what he'd ever really wanted was it? Xander looked down at the remainder of the alcohol he held. It suddenly didn't hold the appeal it had a few moments before. Xander had lost count of the shots he'd done but the empty bottles and cans lying around him made Xander regret how much he'd downed. It wasn't because Xander was feeling sick or that he might pass out at any given moment. It was the fact that Xander saw his father's face in the glass' reflection. Xander swore he'd never see this day but there it was. The face that stared back at him was that of the abusive bastard of a father that Xander hated more than life itself, which was saying a lot lately. With the fury in his heart, Xander threw the door open and crawled into the apartment. He prompltly passed out on the floor, barely inside the door. The alcohol coursed through his veins like a raging fire consuming him from the inside. As the night wore on, Xander's pulse began to slow, his breathing evened out to shallow wisps of air barely effecting the stagnant air around him.
It had been six long hours since anyone had come to check on him. It had been six hours since Xander had resigned himself to die tonight. When he awoke though he wasn't dead-one, two he was lying a pool of his own vomit. Oh god that's horrible. Xander jumped up and wiped down his body looking for any signs of the disgusting refuse. He wasn't sure why he was still alive but he was ready to give it another go. He knew that they'd put a gun somewhere in the apartment if only his alcohol-laden brain could remember where. He stepped over the booted foot without pause. Where the hell is it? I know it's here somewhere. Think Harris, think.
"Looking for this mate?" Spike asked nonchalantly as he twirled the gun in his hand. Xander kept turning over drawers and couch cushions desperately searching for the weapon. This time he stumbled over the vampire.
"What the hell? What are you doing here Fangless?" Xander tried to say but it came out more like-"waizktllp? Ghfnrwirlfing ghir faglist?"
Spike was torn between laughing at the sight of the fallen white knight or crying at how pathetic the human had become. Spike picked Xander up with ease. "Hey Harris. No drooling on the shoes ok?"
Spike questioned briefly why he had decided to come up and check in on the whelp tonight, so close to dawn. He knew the others had things under control, they told him so every day, yet the vampire watched in silence as the one Scooby he gave a fig about fell deeper into a well of depression. Sure, the bit was a good kid and he looked after her and the witches were nice to have around, but Xander had held Spike's attention since the night he should have taken him. Spike could hear the murmur of Xander's heartbeat now growing ever weaker. Xander was fading out like a dim light.
"No, no. Fuck. I'm not gonna bloody lose you pet. You're too precious. Gotta go. Gotta get ya to the 'ospital. Take good care of ya." Spike was in a full on run to get the boy to the nearest Hospital. Damn. It's near dawn. Hope we can make it pet.
Just as the first rays of light hit the horizon of Sunnydale, Spike and his pet tumbled into the doors of the hospital. Worry broke across Spike's face and tears fell in streams. "Help him. Oh god, Help him!"
The nurses came running assaulting Spike with questions he never knew he could answer. He left Xander in their capable hands and paced for the next 45 minutes. When he was finally allowed into the room, Spike crumpled into a useless pile over Xander's body. Xander just lay there so motionless, so sad and dilapidated. There had been so much alcohol in his system, that the doctor's still weren't sure if he'd fully recover. So Spike cried and Xander slept.
