Drunken Tears- pt 3/?
A/N- I promise it will get better but I hate to say it has to get worse first. feeds chocolate to readers. Take hope.
Snap. Goosh. Snap. Goosh. Snap. Goosh. The ventilator pumped a constant flow of air into his limp form. Snap. Goosh. Snap. Goosh. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Snap. Goosh. Snap. Beep. Constant sounds of machines doing the body's work. The rest was silence.
No. Not silence. Not quite. That wasn't all there was. Silence of voices but there were other sounds for Spike to focus on. Xander wasn't just beeps and snap gooshing noises. Those were the consistent striations of the machines. The underneath was Xander. Xander was the soft whispering breath that escaped his nostrils telling Spike that he's still fighting for his life. Xander was the gentle thump, thump, thump of a beating heart beneath his chest. Spike took heart in those soft sounds. They were what kept him going as the days melted into the first week.
Spike never left Xander's side, never fed, never slept. He just watched. Wouldn't leave his boy for a minute. The doctor's all knew his name. Some even called him William or Will. The others has tried desperately to rip him away from the form of their friend but it was no use. No one knew what to do anymore. So they watched as Spike grew paler and more tightly drawn. More tears fell. A flood of tears poured down staining the sheets once more.
Xander struggled once more. His weary body was taking all the beatings again. Living through the pain was somehow more terrible than before. Oh god. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Please someone. I'm still here! So alone. Gods. I'm so alone.
The constant pounding on his soul ached through his bones. Searching frantically for the way out, Xander spotted the little boy instead, huddled in a corner of the fog. There was a painful gash across his face. One that Xander remembered all too well. He couldn't help but gasp at the sight though as the blood trickled down the child's cheek. Then he saw the arm, hanging limp at his side- broken in three places. Xander remembered now the first of many times that he broke that arm. The first time always hurt the most. So many tears poured down. Xander ran as fast as he could to stop the invisible arm from landing another punishing blow. It was of no use. Xander couldn't help the child that was himself. He choked once more on the gallons of unshed tears that held him captive. Xander felt ill. He wanted to vomit but he couldn't so he clawed his way through another layer of the tear fog that engulfed him. The sea of salty substance that was as solid as stone was holding even tighter than before threatening to devour Xander. He choked on them but pulled himself to closer to the tinny rain of distant voices. Another place and time. Home.