As Xander's clothes landed on the floor, Spike felt something irretrievable die within him. He'd thought that they had come to some sort of mutual understanding in those final months before the battle against the First. They had not been close, had never trusted one another but Harris hadn't treated him with hate. In fact, he had allowed him to live in his apartment while Spike was still half mad. Had made sure to heat up blood for him when he'd forgotten to eat. Had given him clean clothes. They hadn't spoken much and it had been clear that they weren't friends, but Spike had thought that they weren't exactly enemies either.
How could he have been so stupid? So blind? Clearly the boy, no, the man, had never gotten over Spike's past actions before the soul. Nor after. Had probably never believed it when the First had played mind games causing Spike to kill again and knock Harris unconscious. Hadn't understood nor forgiven what went on between Spike and Anya that night at the Magic Box. And just a second ago, he'd suggested that Spike had expected to come out alive after entering the Hellmouth wearing that sodding amulet. That Spike had led them all on intentionally.
Spike knew he should have contacted Buffy when he got his body back but he had never found the right time, or the right occasion. Honestly, didn't have the guts to do it.
And after Rome, after seeing her with the bloody Immortal, he'd decided that Angel was right. It were better for the lot of them if she was allowed to move on with her life. She would be happier for it. Of course, Xander would never understand that. Would never believe him. And now he had come to take his revenge.
Maybe he was right. Maybe Spike did deserve this. He had caused so much pain in his unlife. Killed so many people. Had attacked Buffy.
He knew that was his worst crime in Xander's opinion. He'd never meant to cross the line that night but he understood why Buffy had feared him for a long time afterwards because he had hurt her, hadn't he? Had crossed that line. And if she hadn't kicked him away, who knew how far his demon would have gone before realizing what it was he was about to do to her? Notthat, but close enough. Much too close. And that was why he'd left, wasn' it? He couldn't bear the thought of what he had nearly done. He had needed to step away from that part of him and try to become a better person. A better man. A soddingvampire with a soul.
But Xander Harris didn't know that and would never believe that, either. Yes, there were many reasons why Harris hated him.
It was just so hard to take because he knew the boy. Even if they didn't like one another, Spike had never expected for something like this to happen. But it was and he couldn't bear it.
It made him feel more afraid and more terrified than ever because after this there would be nothing left of him.
Clearly, that didn't matter to Xander. All he ever saw was the demon. A thing. It broke what was left of Spike's resolve. Tears formed in his eyes. Crying now like the sorry ponce, he was and it felt devastating not even to be able to goddamn stop that.
Harris grabbed his hip and his body jerked from the touch. He placed his palm on Spike's back, slowly sliding his hand down to Spike's entrance. A violent tremble coursed through him. Tears trickled down his eyes and into his mouth.
The lube on Xander's fingers felt cool. Xander rubbed his fingers against his hole and Spike couldn't help but tense up. It would hurt.
In just a second, Xander would thrust his fingers deep inside him and make himhurt.
But he didn't.
Instead, his fingers felt… gentle. Non-intrusive ... The touches were soft and slightly probing and he merely stroked Spike's entrance instead of pushing in and Spike shuddered in helpless confusion. What was this? Why was Xander drawing it out?
Xander's fingers were running up and down his crack, now. The area became more and more sensitive, and slippery. The fingers felt warm and callused and they didn't jab or pinch or stretch or push. Instead, it felt like he was treating Spike with care. And wasn't that a laugh?
Xander's other hand began to move on his hip. Up and down. Drawing slow circles. Again, gentle, soothing.
It felt… it almost felt nice and Spike wanted to scream.
He hadn't been treated gently in all the time he had been a prisoner. He was starved for tenderness and his stupid body couldn't help but respond to the soft touches. His breathing shifted, became panting.
He didn't want to respond! But the hands felt so careful, so tender, and warm.
As Xander's left hand glided around him to travel to his belly and downwards to his cock, his betraying body welcomed it, and though he wished he could stop it, his cock began to fill out. He gasped in horror. When Xander's big hand closed around his shaft and began stroking it, it became hard with instant want and Spike cried out in anguished desperation. Oh, god, he didn't want this!
He became aware of Xander's ever rising arousal mixing with his own unwanted one.
Xander hadn't been aroused before. In fact, the only sensations Spike had caught onto were Xander's disgust, and anger, and pity…
Spike hesitated.
Pity?
