Title: Reborn
Series: Ashes to Ashes
Author: Jon Emery
Email:
Summary: Xander rises from his grave and finds the real world all too much.
Pairing: Xander/Spike
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: None of the characters of Buffy or Angel belong to me; they are the property of Joss Whedon (dammit!).
As the red light dissipated, the newly reborn Xander inhaled and was instantly choked by stale, rank air. Rasping desperately, his hands flew upwards to be blocked by a hard, flat surface. He was trapped. Growing increasingly panicked, he clawed at the wood, tears of shock and pain forming in his eyes.
It had been three months, and Spike still couldn't think about anything without his mind drifting back to Xander. Right now he was sitting with the rest of the gang at the table in the Magic Box, trying to figure out who was behind the brutal murder of a child that had disappeared a week ago. He had been found three days later, with his heart removed. It looked like an occult practitioner had taken the organ as an ingredient in an extremely dark and potent spell.
But, despite the horror of the crime, Spike could still not concentrate. Grabbing his leather duster from the back of his chair, he called out:
"I need to kill something…" and left the shop.
Everything was hurt. As Xander climbed out of the dirt in his grave, he could feel every single blade of grass on the ground, every grain of soil. His hands were covered in painful scrapes and bruises, tokens from the sharp splinters in the coffin below. Raising his face to sky, Xander released a guttural, primeval scream.
Spike had barely been outside two minutes when he felt that something was wrong. His preternatural senses could detect something distinctly wrong in the night air, as if something had been put where it didn't belong. He wandered around for about half an hour, trying to find the wrongness. That was when he heard the scream, full of pain and confusion. He instantly turned in the direction of the noise, and ran as fast as he could.
He rushed past the cemetery, a strange pang of something familiar hitting him. He followed the dark scent of death into an alley, and when he saw the source of it, an unearthly shudder went through him. If he had been alive, his heart would have stopped beating. Because curled up in the corner of the ally, streaked with dirt and covered in scratches, was Xander. His Xander. His mind instantly went to vampires, until his acute hearing picked up the sound of a heartbeat. Blood was being pumped around Xander's body, although how that was even possible was unknown to Spike. He could see tears streaming from those confused eyes, and his hands were bleeding freely.
Spike instantly knew where the wounds on his hands had come from. He had done it himself, over a hundred years ago. Xander had just broken his way out of a coffin. He was shaking uncontrollably, and Spike knew how much panic and confusion that waking up in a casket of death could incur. He kneeled down and reached out slowly.
"Xander," he said gently. "Xander, can you speak?" Those big brown eyes looked up at him, unsurely. And Spike felt the air around him scream with fear.
To Be Continued
On to Next Part - Sanctuary