Disclaimer- I don't own the shoes I'm currently dancing in what's the
likelihood I own anything in Joss' universe? I own the original novels. . .
I bought them in Borders, and I own the DVDs. I don't however make money
off of this I just seem to spend a lot on it. I in no way intend to
infringe copyrights. I'm just entertaining myself, honestly, I'm shocked
that anyone's read it.
Setting: somewhere between Rm w\ Vu and Sense and Sensitivity I don't really think that's an issue as I don't really plan on sticking to cannon any more. Hell, I've already got Angel turning Spike and as you'll see this is totally not cannon.
Warning: SLASH Angel/Doyle. Spike/Xander. Hints Discussion of Xander/Jesse. Don't like, don't read, don't flame. Also rather heavy mentions of child abuse. Extreme angst.
Thanks to Poison for being the fastest Beta I've ever had!
Section rating: R
Dedication- to all the people who's lower lip quivers. Don't you just hate how young that makes you look? And it somehow weakens your case for crying when someone goes, "OMJ that is so adorable I didn't know anyone did that in real life!" I feel your pain for I share in it.
Notes: you have no idea how long it took me to figure out how to spell fallatio. My roommate Jack tried to help me but he couldn't figure it out either. And I have it on good authority that he's good at it. He's gonna kill me if he sees this. Where was I. . . fallatio is a funny word. My beta, Poison asked me to include a definition because I guess no one uses it anymore. Fallatio is the technical term for the act of oral sex performed on a man. Maybe I just know it because Jack's always telling me to stop performing fallatio on *his* couch. For anyone who doesn't know: Jack was my legal guardian when I first lived in the city without my parents. I as 13 he was 26. Now that I'm 20 and he's 33 he's less of an authority figure.
Part 6/?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Buffy . . . yeah ok . . . ok, yeah, really I got it . . . But I'm some good here, I help . . . Ok, I'll come back . . . yeah . . . ok. Bye." Xander had his back to Spike. He watched as the boy's shoulders fell.
"How's SunnyHell?" asked Spike from where he sat at the kitchen table. They had been eating a late dinner when the phone had rung.
"Buffy wants me back there."
"Why you've only been gone three weeks. Why is she calling you back already?"
"She needs me."
"For what her errand boy?" Spike asked, angry at the notion that he could lose his roommate to that stone cold bitch.
"I am not the errand boy," Xander said quietly.
"Yes. You are." The slight anger on his behalf was directed at Buffy.
"I'm not the fucking Zeppo, Spike!" Xander stepped forward and towered over the sitting man.
"I know that," Spike said gently, "I don't think you do though. Certainly Buffy thinks of you thusly. She sees you as one of her "Scoobies" and you're so much better than that. Don't go back, Xander, you're doing good here. Back there you're just a sidekick."
"I have to go." Xander suddenly found that the floor was endlessly fascinating.
"Because the bitch wants you there?" Spike asked with quiet anger. That the chit snapped her fingers and this beautiful boy asked how high she wanted him to jump so that he was good enough for her.
"No there's other stuff," Xander muttered while he counted the floor tiles.
"Other stuff? Is Red ok?" Spike asked standing up.
"Yeah, no, she's fine. My mom is in hospital." His lower lip trembled. Spike fixated on the movement, he had never thought anyone did that in real life. In a hundred years of making people cry he'd never seen it. The boy comprehended the topic of Spike's gaze and bit hard into his lip. So hard in fact that a bead of blood rolled off his lip. Spike's nonexistent breath got caught in his throat. Xander stepped away conscious of the gesture but not realizing the cause.
"Is she ok? What happened?"
"Um. She told Buffy that she fell down an outside stairway. She's covered in scratches, and um bruises, and black eyes, and - and well she has a pretty bad concussion."
"Oh god, Xander-" started Spike but the boy cut him off.
"Maybe Buffy's right, maybe I'm more needed there."
"Xander."
"I could help my mom - make sure . . . she doesn't fall anymore."
Spike stepped tentatively forward. "Xander, listen to me. You've tried to stop her . . . from falling down stairs before. She always chooses to go back."
The boy looked up, wide eyed at the fact that clearly Spike had some idea of what was going on and was trying to be kind. "I can't just let her . . . fall down stairs."
But then Spike snapped suddenly. "Using yourself as cannon fodder so that he doesn't hit her isn't fair to you! I don't want you to do that again! You tried to get her out. I mean, fuck, the minute you got your license you stun-gunned your own mother and took her to your pen pal's house in Mexico to get away from the bastard. And you had told the pen pal everything, there was only one other person who knew." Xander flinched at the reference to that "other person". "But you were desperate so you told him it all. What you did? That was so brave fucking brave. And how does she repay you?"
"Spike, shut up." His voice was cold and distant.
"I won't! She beat the shit out of you and went back and let him have a turn at your hide too. You were sixteen! And you just wanted to save her."
"Shut up, Spike!"
"No! I don't want you to go back there! You don't deserve that bastard's drunken wrath."
"And she does?" Xander demanded quietly. His voice hitched as though he were close to tears.
"She had a choice in the matter. You couldn't chose your father but she chose her husband," he said as he ran his hands over the silver/white scars on the boy's arm. He was covered in them and all over his chest and legs. Spike had no idea how long they'd been there. From the colour and stretch of them he would wager they'd been put there when Xander was too young to remember. Did it please him that the lad had no recollection of the incident or did it just piss him off that the bastard had hurt Xander when he was so young? Xander had worn long sleeves and pants even in the hottest weather. How could those people who called themselves his friends have never noticed? How could the fucking watcher, who prided himself of being the "father" of the group, have never taken note? The laughing happy boy had so obviously been drowning - not fucking waving.
"How do you know all this?"
"Master Vampire. It's my business to know."
"But as you said, the pen pal knew and I know he didn't tell and . . . he - the other - he promised me he would never tell Willow."
"And Jesse never broke that promise, he wouldn't have told anyone. I have ways of knowing, people with ears all over the place. But never from him," Spike said softly.
A tear ran down Xander's face at Jesse's name. "So if you know all this how can you even l-"
"Oi! Don't you dare finish that sentence, boy! I'll rip out your fucking tongue! I can look at you because you did nothing wrong. You never earned his punishments. He was the loser, not you." Xander looked away and Spike shook his head angrily and pulled the boy in for a hungry kiss.
Xander was stunned and still. The taste of him made Spike want to recoil all bitter, and anger, and self-loathing, with unhealthy amounts of fear on the mix. But he didn't pull back instead he tried only to siphon everything he felt into that one desperate kiss, assuming that at any moment Xander would pull back and hate him. He tried to make Xander feel how much need and love and respect was there. Silently he prayed to every deity who listened to evil soulless monsters to please let him hear this. He tried to prove how *not* disgusting and reviled the boy was to him. He ran his tongue along the boy's lip expecting no response but just wanting to taste them, just this once if it was all he would get. He felt Xander tense and then slowly he opened his mouth and granted Spike entrance. Near tears, Spike pulled the boy closer as fingers locked in his white hair. The pair only broke apart as Spike realized Xander's need to breathe.
Words poured out of Spike's mouth in a current so quickly that only Xander Harris would ever understand. "I just want to give you this. I wanted you to realize how *special* you are." He spat the word out. "Special, fuck. I've never been eloquent, bloody awful poet. You are special, amazing, so, so strong. I just want you to see! Let me make you see? I want to help you so badly. You can do anything you want with me. I just . . . I don't care if this means nothing to you. It wouldn't matter how you felt about me, all that matters is that you grasp how fucking wonderful you are. You refuse to see that and you hide it from everyone and you shouldn't. While I was stalking Buffy it pissed me off to no end to see the way they treat you. So special and they act like you're dirt 'dependable old Xander, hey! we can walk on him, he won't mind' and you just let them because for some reason you just don't realize that you don't deserve that. There's that word again *deserve* it's all so fucked up. I wish I could make you see what I see. What all the world would see if you let them. Your stupid friends are so fucking blind. It hurt to watch you. You're so fucking . . . you're beautiful and I just . . . God! Why can't I say this right?" His words suddenly slowed. "I just wanted you to see. Wanted to help you see."
Xander said nothing. Spike waited expectantly for his metaphorical staking. Still the silence stretched and then, so slowly it was almost painful Xander rested his forehead on Spike's shoulder and burst into tears. Whatever Spike had been expecting, this wasn't it. Xander knew he must have seemed unhinged but he just want this so bad. He melted into Spike's embrace and it felt so good to know that Spike knew it all. Somehow it made him feel cleaner. And as odd as it all was, it felt so right when Spike started to rock him. How long had he wanted this? For someone to know. for someone to notice him. for Spike to take care of him? God, how long? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He woke up slowly and tried to figure out where he was. This was not his bed . . . this was Spike's bed. Why was he? . . . Then suddenly it all came back with a powerful punch. A rush of fear and embarrassment swept over him. What had he done? Well, Spike had done pretty much everything, but still, what had he let happen? Spike would surely kill him when he woke up! Though currently, said future killer had his head rested on Xander chest directly above his heart. Oh God! Oh God! What had he done?
"Pet, though I love waking to the scent of panic and anxiety I don't like it on you. Calm down and go back to sleep," Spike said without opening his eyes. He ran his fingers over the boy's body, memorizing it and mapping out his territory. God, he was as bad as his poncy sire, always so fucking possessive. Hadn't he promised the boy that it could mean nothing - that it didn't need to be real just so long as Xander benefited? He had told him it didn't matter, that he could use him. Most likely the boy was going to never think about it again and Spike lay there planning a life around the whelp. Mind-blowing fallatio didn't change anything, not for Xander. Right? In his mind he kept chanting "don't tell him you love him, it'll fuck it up further." Then he said out loud, "Go to sleep, pet."
"I'm supposed to be on my way back to Sunnydale," Xander said. All the emotion banished from his voice but not his scent, which was steeped in fear. He got up and started pulling his pants on and then realized with a heavy sigh that they had been ripped when torn off his body.
Spike growled as he sat up and watched the dark seraph. "I thought I said that you weren't going ba-"
"Come with me?" Xander asked softly pausing in his actions. "Please?"
"Yes. Why?" Spike asked.
Xander just shrugged. "Why are you coming?"
"Because I love you." Oh fuck! It slipped out even though he'd warned himself not to let it. He'd never had any preservation instincts. "Sorry, forget I even-"
"Ya do?" Xander asked with unabashed wonder in his eyes. How could Spike want him? Maybe in a physical 'any port in a storm' sense, sure, but actually want him? No, never. And love? Well damn.
Spike considered it. Should he be honest and just spill? Or should he have let Xander dictate where it all went. "With everything I am, pet." And then Xander was crying. "Oh god, don't cry. I take it back! This is nothing! It means nothing to me! You're just a nummy treat and I couldn't resist a taste! Just don't cry, please, Xander, I don't wanta make you cry."
"When I was seven my mom told me she loved me. She'd never said it before and she's never said it since. And I was so happy I cried. And she hit me so hard I lost a tooth and said that good boys didn't cry. And - and-"
"If you don't want to say it, don't. I already know," Spike said, softly standing and placing a hand on Xan's arm.
Xander nodded put went on anyway, he wanted Spike to hear it from him not some "unnamed informant". "Jesse loved me. More than anyone had or has, nor do I think will I ever be loved in that way again. He made me feel so fucking *special* as you say. We were only kids, fifteen, it was that pure innocent type of love I thought you could only read about. It was all innocence and there were none of the wind-up games that generally go hand in hand with being with someone. I was actually really happy, and I had never realize life could *not* suck before." He laughed dryly. "God, we had so much fun. We played such stupid games. Like who could chase the most girls without getting any action, he won. But he cheated he went for Cordy who clearly would never go for him." He paused lost in thought and Spike believed he was done speaking. Spike wondered if that was the reason Xander had later courted the lovely Miss Chase. Suddenly Xander said. "Buffy says that when you're turned you aren't you anymore. And I believed her at first. She was the slayer and I was just a guy. I think she said it to make what she was doing into a public service and not murder. But when I put that wood through him I could see from his eyes that it was very much Jesse. My Jesse. Changed, sure, but still Jess. I still loved him and in his own new way, he still loved me. I felt forever dirty, like everyone could just look at me and see . . . everything. I killed him, I killed the only person who ever really loved me." He fell silent.
Spike felt ill. No one had told him that Xander had staked the boy. That Jesse had been turned, that Xander had seen him and had seen him killed. That he knew. Those three things in and of themselves were bad enough. But add on top of that the guilt and grief of having dealt the final blow . . . Spike didn't like to think of that. He touched Xander's chin and met his gaze. Xander's eyes looked cold as though he were beyond showing his emotion or possibly beyond feeling them. Spike knew it was a front.
"I am so sorry . . . I didn't, well I guess my sources aren't as wonderful as I thought. Did he hear Buffy say that?" Xander nodded slightly unshed tears making his brown eyes warm and glassy. He bit into his lip again to still the quivering, it opened the wound. "He knew. He knew you thought you were saving him. He knew you still loved him. And though I don't know this for sure, he probably loved you even more for staking him as in a way it was your way of protecting him and showed him just how much you loved him. But I assure you, no matter what he loved you with his last . . . well, not breath," he said with a shrug.
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because I am. Now let me ask it again. Why? Why do you want me to come?"
"I need a friend there. and you might just be my last real friend left. I want you to come. I don't want to do this alone. I've done too much alone as of late."
"You don't need to be. You shouldn't be. Ok?" he asked desperate that the boy should see this. Xander nodded but in his heart and mind he still held it to be true that his actions had more than merited everything he got. Spike saw this in the boy's eyes and kissed him fiercely. "Love you, pet, always here when you want me. Now grab a bag and put whatever the hell you want in it."
"I have six changes of clothes here and that's it."
"We'll get you more. This should feel more like home." Spike packed the bag but miraculously keeping a hand on Xander the whole time.
"It already does," Xander said softly. The statement was greeted with a wide, factual smile that nearly made him cry in its sincerity.
Setting: somewhere between Rm w\ Vu and Sense and Sensitivity I don't really think that's an issue as I don't really plan on sticking to cannon any more. Hell, I've already got Angel turning Spike and as you'll see this is totally not cannon.
Warning: SLASH Angel/Doyle. Spike/Xander. Hints Discussion of Xander/Jesse. Don't like, don't read, don't flame. Also rather heavy mentions of child abuse. Extreme angst.
Thanks to Poison for being the fastest Beta I've ever had!
Section rating: R
Dedication- to all the people who's lower lip quivers. Don't you just hate how young that makes you look? And it somehow weakens your case for crying when someone goes, "OMJ that is so adorable I didn't know anyone did that in real life!" I feel your pain for I share in it.
Notes: you have no idea how long it took me to figure out how to spell fallatio. My roommate Jack tried to help me but he couldn't figure it out either. And I have it on good authority that he's good at it. He's gonna kill me if he sees this. Where was I. . . fallatio is a funny word. My beta, Poison asked me to include a definition because I guess no one uses it anymore. Fallatio is the technical term for the act of oral sex performed on a man. Maybe I just know it because Jack's always telling me to stop performing fallatio on *his* couch. For anyone who doesn't know: Jack was my legal guardian when I first lived in the city without my parents. I as 13 he was 26. Now that I'm 20 and he's 33 he's less of an authority figure.
Part 6/?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Buffy . . . yeah ok . . . ok, yeah, really I got it . . . But I'm some good here, I help . . . Ok, I'll come back . . . yeah . . . ok. Bye." Xander had his back to Spike. He watched as the boy's shoulders fell.
"How's SunnyHell?" asked Spike from where he sat at the kitchen table. They had been eating a late dinner when the phone had rung.
"Buffy wants me back there."
"Why you've only been gone three weeks. Why is she calling you back already?"
"She needs me."
"For what her errand boy?" Spike asked, angry at the notion that he could lose his roommate to that stone cold bitch.
"I am not the errand boy," Xander said quietly.
"Yes. You are." The slight anger on his behalf was directed at Buffy.
"I'm not the fucking Zeppo, Spike!" Xander stepped forward and towered over the sitting man.
"I know that," Spike said gently, "I don't think you do though. Certainly Buffy thinks of you thusly. She sees you as one of her "Scoobies" and you're so much better than that. Don't go back, Xander, you're doing good here. Back there you're just a sidekick."
"I have to go." Xander suddenly found that the floor was endlessly fascinating.
"Because the bitch wants you there?" Spike asked with quiet anger. That the chit snapped her fingers and this beautiful boy asked how high she wanted him to jump so that he was good enough for her.
"No there's other stuff," Xander muttered while he counted the floor tiles.
"Other stuff? Is Red ok?" Spike asked standing up.
"Yeah, no, she's fine. My mom is in hospital." His lower lip trembled. Spike fixated on the movement, he had never thought anyone did that in real life. In a hundred years of making people cry he'd never seen it. The boy comprehended the topic of Spike's gaze and bit hard into his lip. So hard in fact that a bead of blood rolled off his lip. Spike's nonexistent breath got caught in his throat. Xander stepped away conscious of the gesture but not realizing the cause.
"Is she ok? What happened?"
"Um. She told Buffy that she fell down an outside stairway. She's covered in scratches, and um bruises, and black eyes, and - and well she has a pretty bad concussion."
"Oh god, Xander-" started Spike but the boy cut him off.
"Maybe Buffy's right, maybe I'm more needed there."
"Xander."
"I could help my mom - make sure . . . she doesn't fall anymore."
Spike stepped tentatively forward. "Xander, listen to me. You've tried to stop her . . . from falling down stairs before. She always chooses to go back."
The boy looked up, wide eyed at the fact that clearly Spike had some idea of what was going on and was trying to be kind. "I can't just let her . . . fall down stairs."
But then Spike snapped suddenly. "Using yourself as cannon fodder so that he doesn't hit her isn't fair to you! I don't want you to do that again! You tried to get her out. I mean, fuck, the minute you got your license you stun-gunned your own mother and took her to your pen pal's house in Mexico to get away from the bastard. And you had told the pen pal everything, there was only one other person who knew." Xander flinched at the reference to that "other person". "But you were desperate so you told him it all. What you did? That was so brave fucking brave. And how does she repay you?"
"Spike, shut up." His voice was cold and distant.
"I won't! She beat the shit out of you and went back and let him have a turn at your hide too. You were sixteen! And you just wanted to save her."
"Shut up, Spike!"
"No! I don't want you to go back there! You don't deserve that bastard's drunken wrath."
"And she does?" Xander demanded quietly. His voice hitched as though he were close to tears.
"She had a choice in the matter. You couldn't chose your father but she chose her husband," he said as he ran his hands over the silver/white scars on the boy's arm. He was covered in them and all over his chest and legs. Spike had no idea how long they'd been there. From the colour and stretch of them he would wager they'd been put there when Xander was too young to remember. Did it please him that the lad had no recollection of the incident or did it just piss him off that the bastard had hurt Xander when he was so young? Xander had worn long sleeves and pants even in the hottest weather. How could those people who called themselves his friends have never noticed? How could the fucking watcher, who prided himself of being the "father" of the group, have never taken note? The laughing happy boy had so obviously been drowning - not fucking waving.
"How do you know all this?"
"Master Vampire. It's my business to know."
"But as you said, the pen pal knew and I know he didn't tell and . . . he - the other - he promised me he would never tell Willow."
"And Jesse never broke that promise, he wouldn't have told anyone. I have ways of knowing, people with ears all over the place. But never from him," Spike said softly.
A tear ran down Xander's face at Jesse's name. "So if you know all this how can you even l-"
"Oi! Don't you dare finish that sentence, boy! I'll rip out your fucking tongue! I can look at you because you did nothing wrong. You never earned his punishments. He was the loser, not you." Xander looked away and Spike shook his head angrily and pulled the boy in for a hungry kiss.
Xander was stunned and still. The taste of him made Spike want to recoil all bitter, and anger, and self-loathing, with unhealthy amounts of fear on the mix. But he didn't pull back instead he tried only to siphon everything he felt into that one desperate kiss, assuming that at any moment Xander would pull back and hate him. He tried to make Xander feel how much need and love and respect was there. Silently he prayed to every deity who listened to evil soulless monsters to please let him hear this. He tried to prove how *not* disgusting and reviled the boy was to him. He ran his tongue along the boy's lip expecting no response but just wanting to taste them, just this once if it was all he would get. He felt Xander tense and then slowly he opened his mouth and granted Spike entrance. Near tears, Spike pulled the boy closer as fingers locked in his white hair. The pair only broke apart as Spike realized Xander's need to breathe.
Words poured out of Spike's mouth in a current so quickly that only Xander Harris would ever understand. "I just want to give you this. I wanted you to realize how *special* you are." He spat the word out. "Special, fuck. I've never been eloquent, bloody awful poet. You are special, amazing, so, so strong. I just want you to see! Let me make you see? I want to help you so badly. You can do anything you want with me. I just . . . I don't care if this means nothing to you. It wouldn't matter how you felt about me, all that matters is that you grasp how fucking wonderful you are. You refuse to see that and you hide it from everyone and you shouldn't. While I was stalking Buffy it pissed me off to no end to see the way they treat you. So special and they act like you're dirt 'dependable old Xander, hey! we can walk on him, he won't mind' and you just let them because for some reason you just don't realize that you don't deserve that. There's that word again *deserve* it's all so fucked up. I wish I could make you see what I see. What all the world would see if you let them. Your stupid friends are so fucking blind. It hurt to watch you. You're so fucking . . . you're beautiful and I just . . . God! Why can't I say this right?" His words suddenly slowed. "I just wanted you to see. Wanted to help you see."
Xander said nothing. Spike waited expectantly for his metaphorical staking. Still the silence stretched and then, so slowly it was almost painful Xander rested his forehead on Spike's shoulder and burst into tears. Whatever Spike had been expecting, this wasn't it. Xander knew he must have seemed unhinged but he just want this so bad. He melted into Spike's embrace and it felt so good to know that Spike knew it all. Somehow it made him feel cleaner. And as odd as it all was, it felt so right when Spike started to rock him. How long had he wanted this? For someone to know. for someone to notice him. for Spike to take care of him? God, how long? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He woke up slowly and tried to figure out where he was. This was not his bed . . . this was Spike's bed. Why was he? . . . Then suddenly it all came back with a powerful punch. A rush of fear and embarrassment swept over him. What had he done? Well, Spike had done pretty much everything, but still, what had he let happen? Spike would surely kill him when he woke up! Though currently, said future killer had his head rested on Xander chest directly above his heart. Oh God! Oh God! What had he done?
"Pet, though I love waking to the scent of panic and anxiety I don't like it on you. Calm down and go back to sleep," Spike said without opening his eyes. He ran his fingers over the boy's body, memorizing it and mapping out his territory. God, he was as bad as his poncy sire, always so fucking possessive. Hadn't he promised the boy that it could mean nothing - that it didn't need to be real just so long as Xander benefited? He had told him it didn't matter, that he could use him. Most likely the boy was going to never think about it again and Spike lay there planning a life around the whelp. Mind-blowing fallatio didn't change anything, not for Xander. Right? In his mind he kept chanting "don't tell him you love him, it'll fuck it up further." Then he said out loud, "Go to sleep, pet."
"I'm supposed to be on my way back to Sunnydale," Xander said. All the emotion banished from his voice but not his scent, which was steeped in fear. He got up and started pulling his pants on and then realized with a heavy sigh that they had been ripped when torn off his body.
Spike growled as he sat up and watched the dark seraph. "I thought I said that you weren't going ba-"
"Come with me?" Xander asked softly pausing in his actions. "Please?"
"Yes. Why?" Spike asked.
Xander just shrugged. "Why are you coming?"
"Because I love you." Oh fuck! It slipped out even though he'd warned himself not to let it. He'd never had any preservation instincts. "Sorry, forget I even-"
"Ya do?" Xander asked with unabashed wonder in his eyes. How could Spike want him? Maybe in a physical 'any port in a storm' sense, sure, but actually want him? No, never. And love? Well damn.
Spike considered it. Should he be honest and just spill? Or should he have let Xander dictate where it all went. "With everything I am, pet." And then Xander was crying. "Oh god, don't cry. I take it back! This is nothing! It means nothing to me! You're just a nummy treat and I couldn't resist a taste! Just don't cry, please, Xander, I don't wanta make you cry."
"When I was seven my mom told me she loved me. She'd never said it before and she's never said it since. And I was so happy I cried. And she hit me so hard I lost a tooth and said that good boys didn't cry. And - and-"
"If you don't want to say it, don't. I already know," Spike said, softly standing and placing a hand on Xan's arm.
Xander nodded put went on anyway, he wanted Spike to hear it from him not some "unnamed informant". "Jesse loved me. More than anyone had or has, nor do I think will I ever be loved in that way again. He made me feel so fucking *special* as you say. We were only kids, fifteen, it was that pure innocent type of love I thought you could only read about. It was all innocence and there were none of the wind-up games that generally go hand in hand with being with someone. I was actually really happy, and I had never realize life could *not* suck before." He laughed dryly. "God, we had so much fun. We played such stupid games. Like who could chase the most girls without getting any action, he won. But he cheated he went for Cordy who clearly would never go for him." He paused lost in thought and Spike believed he was done speaking. Spike wondered if that was the reason Xander had later courted the lovely Miss Chase. Suddenly Xander said. "Buffy says that when you're turned you aren't you anymore. And I believed her at first. She was the slayer and I was just a guy. I think she said it to make what she was doing into a public service and not murder. But when I put that wood through him I could see from his eyes that it was very much Jesse. My Jesse. Changed, sure, but still Jess. I still loved him and in his own new way, he still loved me. I felt forever dirty, like everyone could just look at me and see . . . everything. I killed him, I killed the only person who ever really loved me." He fell silent.
Spike felt ill. No one had told him that Xander had staked the boy. That Jesse had been turned, that Xander had seen him and had seen him killed. That he knew. Those three things in and of themselves were bad enough. But add on top of that the guilt and grief of having dealt the final blow . . . Spike didn't like to think of that. He touched Xander's chin and met his gaze. Xander's eyes looked cold as though he were beyond showing his emotion or possibly beyond feeling them. Spike knew it was a front.
"I am so sorry . . . I didn't, well I guess my sources aren't as wonderful as I thought. Did he hear Buffy say that?" Xander nodded slightly unshed tears making his brown eyes warm and glassy. He bit into his lip again to still the quivering, it opened the wound. "He knew. He knew you thought you were saving him. He knew you still loved him. And though I don't know this for sure, he probably loved you even more for staking him as in a way it was your way of protecting him and showed him just how much you loved him. But I assure you, no matter what he loved you with his last . . . well, not breath," he said with a shrug.
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because I am. Now let me ask it again. Why? Why do you want me to come?"
"I need a friend there. and you might just be my last real friend left. I want you to come. I don't want to do this alone. I've done too much alone as of late."
"You don't need to be. You shouldn't be. Ok?" he asked desperate that the boy should see this. Xander nodded but in his heart and mind he still held it to be true that his actions had more than merited everything he got. Spike saw this in the boy's eyes and kissed him fiercely. "Love you, pet, always here when you want me. Now grab a bag and put whatever the hell you want in it."
"I have six changes of clothes here and that's it."
"We'll get you more. This should feel more like home." Spike packed the bag but miraculously keeping a hand on Xander the whole time.
"It already does," Xander said softly. The statement was greeted with a wide, factual smile that nearly made him cry in its sincerity.