Title: A Progression in Moments
Pairing: Spander
Disclaimer: Do not own BTVS or characters
Warning: Slash, implied major character death (but is it for good? I actually really don't know)
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(Buffy POV)
I may not always be the best friend, or even the best person, but I would never, ever, try to purposely hurt Xan.
He's one of my best friends, practically my brother. I love him.
So, no, I would never try to hurt him like this.
It was an accident.
I've gotten used to vamps being predictable, and save some serious time by cutting down my patrol to the major vamp hang-outs.
And the Bronze, especially behind the Bronze, is party vamp-central.
They pick kids from the crowd, make them think they're being picked up, and take them out back for a bite.
So, when making my usual sweep for vamps behind the Bronze and hearing some of the usual noises, I, of course, run to the rescue.
All I see is blond head, connected to a leather-clad back, holding someone against the wall.
Spike
That lying bastard, I think, the stake flying before I can even open my mouth to yell it.
It's only once the dust settles that I see Xan's face.
And it's only after like 5 minutes of no response to my questions and stupid attempts to get him to a hospital or something that I notice Xan's neck. His blood-free neck.
With hickeys
Enter major confusion
Then Xan does this sort of slow slide thing down the wall, still staring at the little pile of Spike-dust, and starts to . . . cry a bit. No sobs, just tears running down his face.
Xander never cries.
And it's here where I start to realize that I may have made a bit of an oops. I've always been a bit slow on the up-take.
So, there you go. I never meant to hurt Xan.
It was just a whole big mess of my being too used to a pattern, and expecting a vamp-stakage, combined with shock and anger at a betrayal of trust.
I mean, I had actually been starting to like Spike a bit. I had trusted him alone with my friends.
And now to find out that that trust and liking had actually been deserved?
God . . .
There is nothing I wouldn't do to be able to go back to that night and fix what I did.
Nothing.
Because maybe then I wouldn't be sitting here, in the Magic Box, watching Xander destroy all that makes him Xander. Maybe then he would be able to actually look at me when we talk, would be able to do more than just go through the motions of living.
Maybe then I wouldn't have to watch him tear himself apart with his confusion and guilt and anger on placing the blame. Or to watch him take all that emotion and throw it into the books.
He's losing his life to those things.
He wants to blame himself. He wants to blame me. And neither one is really right so he can't let go.
It was an accident.
I wish it wasn't.
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To be continued, I guess.