Bitter Casualties
by
SpikesKat
Part Seven
Xander waited only as long as it took Spike to shift off him and collapse face first on the mattress before getting up off the bed. He stood and spied the tattered remains of his jeans on the floor and wrote them off as a lost cause. There was no way he’d being wearing them again.
‘Should make him buy me a new pair of damn jeans.’
Raiding the pockets of the various humans and demons he came across on a nightly basis kept him clothed and fed with a roof over his head. But just barely.
His movements were a bit jerky – a combination of his rising anger as the seconds ticked past without one word from Spike and the lingering tenderness of his ass – when he crossed the room to his duffle bag and pulled out a fresh set of clothes, all the while thanking his lucky stars that he was no longer entirely human. Even now, he could feel his body begin to repair itself.
He dressed in silence, a small part of him hoping that Spike would open his mouth and ask him to stay. But he didn’t, and Xander moved to the second duffle and began rifling through it for weapons. As he did, his anger consumed him.
‘Doesn’t mean a thing…’
Spike’s words from the night before taunted him as he armed himself to the nines. He had to get out of there… and fast. Before he did something he would likely regret.
Better for him to take out his frustration on the baddies lurking about outside. Leave the one inside for another time. Say, when he wasn’t feeling quite so homicidal.
He ignored Spike as he crossed the room and headed for the door. And it wasn’t like the vamp was making with the conversation – or the objections to him leaving his side – the entire time it took him to dress and gather weapons, so it came as a surprise when he reached the door and Spike’s voice rang out.
“Just where the bloody hell do you think you’re going? We’re not done yet.”
‘Now? He asks me that now?’
Xander stopped, counting to ten before he trusted himself to turn around.
Spike was standing now, arms crossed over his chest. Eyes changing from blue to gold and back again.
Xander allowed himself a brief moment to look his fill. Felt his dick twitch in response as he eyed the vamp from head to toe. Spike looked good. Damn good.
“I’m going out,” he snapped. “And if you’re smart, you won’t be here when I get back.”
Spike took a threatening step forward and Xander let loose the dagger that seemed to materialize in his hand, reacting instinctively to the implied threat. If it had been a stake, Spike would have been dust, given where the point imbedded itself in his skin and the fact he’d been too slow to prevent the attack.
Spike stumbled back and landed on the bed, his hands clutching the hilt.
“I’m not the Zeppo, Spike,” he warned, voice low, eyes flashing brilliant green. Ignoring Spike’s bellow of pain and rage as he ripped the dagger free from his chest. “And I’m not your damn fuck toy either!”
Xander turned and strode off without a backward glance, slamming the door in his wake.
By the time Spike managed to stagger to his feet and right
his clothes, Xander was long gone.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike spent the remainder of the night looking for Xander,
but had no luck. All he found was a trail of dead bodies, human and demon alike.
The human bodies surprised him; the Slayer and her lot had never gone for that
particular brand of justice before. Choosing instead to leave the humans
engaging in criminal activity for the police.
But then, Xander wasn’t hanging with the Slayer these days. Probably had his own moral code he lived by. Not that Spike cared one whit who the boy marked for execution. Evil was evil in his book – it didn’t matter the face it wore.
And it wasn’t like he could claim he’d not done the same. There was no small shortage of thugs in Phoenix to keep him supplied in fresh human blood. It seemed almost nightly he was interrupting some human at their worst, draining them dry as penance for their aborted crimes. His demon thrilling at the fear pervading his victims’ bodies in their final moments of life.
Surprisingly, his soul offered up no protests either.
Sometimes he wondered if he even had a soul anymore. Or if he’d lost it long ago in a rain-soaked alley.
Towards dawn, Spike gave up looking for the boy and debated going home and listening to Cordelia rant versus going back to Xander’s motel room and taking him to task for the hole in his chest.
No one had ever said he was smart…
Smiling with evil intent, he headed back to Xander’s motel
room.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike’s temper, already at the boiling point because he’d
been unable to find Xander, grew to epic proportions when he returned and
realized the boy was still gone. He was still out there… somewhere. And
pointedly avoiding him.
Xander had to know he’d return. That things between them were far from settled.
Now, with the sun up, it left him stuck inside the motel room twice in as many days.
It mattered naught that he really had no reason for being pissed off – discounting the boy’s fuck and run, and the dagger to his chest. That if anyone had a right to be bent out of shape, it was Xander.
But then, Spike had never claimed to be rational.
He spent the remainder of the morning pacing the tiny motel room, ears attuned to the slightest noise that would signify Xander’s return. Cursing under his breath as he chain-smoked his way through the remaining cigarettes in his pack.
By lunchtime, Spike knew Xander wasn’t coming back.
He gave a brief thought to what Cordelia was going to say – prompting a quick jaunt to the lobby to make a phone call, only to be told that she hadn’t seen Xander, not since he’d left sometime early last evening after the two of them had played catch up. He’d hung up before she could interrogate him further. Or jealousy could rear its ugly head and he demanded to know just how they’d caught up.
If he remembered correctly, the two of them used to date.
The climb back to Xander’s motel room had been a slow one, and the walls bore a few holes where his anger had gotten the best of him.
By late afternoon, he’d worn a hole in the carpet from his
continual pacing.
~*~*~*~*~
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Cordelia demanded in
her no-nonsense tone. She’d not said anything when Xander turned up on her
doorstep just before dawn without so much as a hello, demanding to be let in.
Then she’d gone one step further and lied to Spike about Xander being there –
which she so was going to deny to her grave.
She’d let him in and pointed towards the couch.
He’d no sooner sat down than he’d fallen asleep. Leaving him be, she’d retreated to her room until lunchtime – a new record for her. It was only as she emerged from her room to see Xander awake and staring broodily at the television screen that she’d decided enough was enough.
“No.”
“No? Xander…”
Her hands settled on her hips and she gave him her best “tell me now or else” look. Totally lost on him, given that he’d yet to look her way.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Don’t want to talk about what? The fact that you’re here and Spike is there? In your motel room.” At his startled look, she laughed. “Oh, please… like I couldn’t figure out for myself that that was where Spike was going when he took off outta here last night.”
“It’s not— we’re not—”
“Uh huh… right,” she interrupted. “So, you two have a lover’s tiff?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a bitch, Cordy?” There was no malice in his voice, only resigned acceptance.
“All the time,” she told him happily, and settled next to him on the couch. “So, spill. I want all the juicy details. Wait… maybe not all the details. But, if I’m gonna catch shit from Spike, this needs to be worth it.”
“No.”
“Xander,” she whined.
“Give it a rest, Cordy. I’m not talking about me and Spike. Not that there is a ‘me and Spike’. There’s not. I told you last night, it was just a thing. Wouldn’t happen again.”
‘Only it did. Boy, did it ever!’
‘Shut up! Not helping here!’
And now Xander knew he was starting to lose his mind; he was arguing with himself.
Cordelia’s quirked brow said it all, but for once she kept her mouth shut.
Xander breathed a sigh of relief when she let the matter drop, facial expressions aside. He’d forgotten how tenacious she could be. Besides, he was reserving all of his anger for the person that deserved it.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just gone back to the motel once he’d finished his patrol and settled things with Spike right then. He knew his parting remark would ensure Spike’s being there.
Oh, please, you know why.
Arguing would lead to fucking, rather quickly in his and Spike’s case, it seemed. And he didn’t want to be just an itch that Spike needed scratching. Forgive him if he wanted a little something… more.
Which just boggled the mind, given that he was talking about Spike.
He wanted more from Spike?
‘Ok, it’s official. I’ve lost my mind.’
Part Eight
Xander let himself into his motel room, wary of the vampire he knew to be lurking inside. The nose didn’t lie, nor did the hairs on the back of his neck. He was on alert, giving due respect to a fellow predator. Plus, there was that whole dagger to the chest thing he had going for him, not that he regretted doing it at the time… or now. Spike had deserved it, and it wasn’t like the steel blade could have killed him. Hurt like a bitch, sure, but no lasting damage.
No, he’d been proving a point, nothing more.
He expected to be attacked – not literally, he hoped – as he walked inside, so it was with something akin to surprise that he managed to step inside without word one from the vampire.
Thinking that he’d caught Spike still sleeping, his gaze went straight to the bed. Only to have his brows draw together when it revealed no sign of him, the bedcovers untouched. He walked further into the room and stopped suddenly, swinging round to stare in confusion at the vamp huddled in the corner, gazing unseeing at the wall in front of him.
“Spike?” Xander called out, saying his name again when he didn’t respond. “Spike?”
The third time he called Spike’s name, Xander was kneeling in front of him, hands closing around the leather covering his shoulders and gently shaking. Worrying when the action produced no acknowledgment of his presence.
He was half tempted to smack Spike across the face to get a reaction – hey, it worked on people with hysterics, didn’t it?
But Spike wasn’t having a hysterical fit. He was just sitting there, face devoid of all expression, knees drawn to his chest and held in place with his arms. If Xander didn’t know any better, he’d think the vamp was shivering. Impossible, given the whole vampire thing and Spike’s lack of truly needing warmth.
Xander couldn’t have said what made him draw Spike into his arms, but when he felt the vampire plaster himself against his body, he knew he’d done the right thing. He landed on his butt from the impact, barely managing to remain sitting upright. Spike’s legs were straddling his thighs and given how close the vamp was trying to get – like he was determined to burrow inside Xander’s own skin – it was a matter of course that their groins were smashed together. His body instantly reacted to the nearness, his cock beginning to harden within the confines of his jeans.
He gave up the fight with his dick when Spike began nuzzling his neck where he’d bitten him earlier – who knew how sensitive that particular area would be? – and just barely managed to refrain from tightening his grip on Spike’s waist and thrusting his hips upward. Spike wasn’t behaving in typical fashion and his actions weren’t the least bit sexual. Something Xander confirmed when he laid a hand against Spike’s crotch… and felt no telltale bulge in his pants.
Down, boy, he ordered his own cock. Snorting to himself when it blithely went about its own business. Not that Xander could blame it for having a mind of its own. Spike, with his mouth pressed to his neck, tongue and lips running over the barely healed marks there, wasn’t helping in the least.
Figuring the easiest thing to do would be to go with the flow and ride out Spike’s weird behavior, Xander laid back against the worn carpet, taking the vamp right along with him. It hadn’t been the most comfortable position, sitting upright without any means of back support, 150-plus pounds of softly growling vampire plastered to his front and nuzzling at his throat.
Arms wrapped loosely around Spike’s back, Xander lay there for the longest time. Long enough for Spike’s lips to cease their movements, sniff his neck a few minutes longer, then go completely still atop him.
He’d fallen asleep –at least that’s what Xander figured Spike had done.
Well, there was no way he was going to lay on the floor while Spike slept sprawled on top of him. Or so he told himself. Ten minutes later and Xander still hadn’t moved.
There was something to be said for actually getting a chance to hold the prickly vampire without him being aware.
It was… nice.
~*~*~*~*~
“Morning, sunshine,” Xander teased, and got what he thought
was a “sod off” in reply. It was hard to tell given it was mumbled against his
neck. Or more like growled.
Note to self – Spike was not a morning person. Er, vamp.
He felt Spike shift against him, felt him nuzzle into his neck, and groaned to himself as his dick decided – again – to stand up and take notice. He didn’t bother telling it to behave, especially when Spike’s own distinct bulge began to press into his groin. There were just some things he had no control over. It was a shocker to find that it included his body’s physical reaction to the blond vampire.
However…
I am not having sex on the floor again, Xander thought, and he either voiced it out loud, or Spike was now a mind reader, because he stilled and eventually levered himself up until he was straddling his hips.
Spike looked like he was back to being pissed again, which all things considered, was better than the blank nothingness of earlier. Xander went to ask him about the trance thing but was cut off by Spike’s abrupt question. Xander’s hand went automatically to the patch resting comfortably over his left eye, was brushed away by cool fingers before it could encounter the worn satin.
A second later, it was drawn over his head and tossed aside.
Xander was amazed by how vulnerable he now felt. The patch had been a constant since England. A reminder. A penance.
It was because he’d still been wearing the patch upon his arrival in England those many years ago that his friends had no inkling of what had happened to him. He’d been relegated to the hired help… and part of him had been pissed off. Angry that his friends, his family, hadn’t noticed any change in him.
The shame he felt, still felt to this day, from the things he’d muttered under his breath as he’d stormed out of the house and away from the group.
Xander shoved Spike off him and scrambled to his feet to retrieve his eye patch. Secured it back in place just as the other invaded his personal space. He watched, warily, as Spike stopped, cocked his head to the side, and stared at him. Like he was looking into Xander’s soul.
“Don’t you think you’ve beaten yourself up enough over their deaths?” Spike asked, one brow quirked in enquiry.
“Like you’ve got room to talk,” Xander snorted. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared back at the vamp. “And what are you, a vamped Dr. Phil now? What’s it to you what I do?”
“I don’t know,” Spike replied honestly, relaxing his aggressive stance. And he really didn’t know. Or why he cared… other than he recognized so much of himself in Xander.
So much bitterness. Towards himself and the fates.
His hands dug into his pockets, searching for his smokes and lighter, but only managed to produce the second. Forgetting that he’d blown through his pack of cigarettes searching, and then later waiting, for Xander. With a frustrated snarl, he dropped the lighter back in his pocket and strode to the bed to sit down.
Spike knew Xander was watching him, waiting for some answers. He could practically feel the tension in the boy’s body. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any.
Sighing, he bent over and began unlacing his boots. It wasn’t until he’d taken his duster off and thrown it into a chair and started on his shirt that Xander spoke.
“What are you doing?” Xander’s voice was higher than normal as Spike’s shirt was removed to reveal pale skin littered with various cuts and scrapes, some of them caused by him. He swallowed hard when Spike started on his jeans, pulling them off and kicking the discarded heap in the same direction as his other clothes; they landed half on the seat and hung down to the floor.
But that wasn’t what held Xander’s attention.
No, it was the sight of Spike, uncaring of his nudity, calmly sliding into his bed.
“Spike…?”
“Still a bit worn out. Don’t mind if I catch a few more hours kip, do you, Xan? You can watch TV, won’t bother me none.”
Xander watched, jaw hanging somewhere down around his knees, as Spike turned on his side, grabbed one of his pillows and inhaled. Deeply. He found himself mimicking the vampire’s deep breath, smelling… him. Spike was smelling him, and making a weird rumbling noise – much like the sound he’d made when nuzzling his neck a bit ago – as he snuggled down into the pillow and stilled.
He wasn’t sure if he should be more shocked by that, or by the fact that Spike had called him by name. Well, almost by name.
Minutes ticked by before Xander managed to tear his gaze away from the lump on his bed. He walked over towards the chair and let out a sigh. Spike was just as sloppy now as when he used to share Xander’s basement with him. He grabbed the jeans dangling off the edge of the seat and folded them first before replacing them on the chair. Did the same for the shirt too.
His stomach growled suddenly, and he realized that he’d missed breakfast. With Spike asleep, it wouldn’t hurt for him to dip down to the convenience store on the corner and stock up on some supplies.
He paused at the door, calling over his shoulder, “Just gonna grab a quick bite to eat.” Then shook his head at his foolishness, doubting that the vampire had heard.
Still, at least Spike couldn’t complain he’d left without saying goodbye.
Part Nine
Xander wasn’t expecting to wake up in bed with Spike practically plastered against his side, an arm and leg thrown over his body possessively. Then again, he’d not planned on even being in bed. But, after the first hour of watching daytime television – which was boring and beyond stupid, to say the least – he determined that the bed would be much more comfortable than the straight-back chair he’d been sitting on. It was… marginally.
He must have fallen asleep sometime during Oprah.
The short nap had him feeling well rested, which was a surprise in itself. He’d never slept during the day before and figured the brief respite would have left him more tired than usual.
Maybe Spike’s presence in his bed had something to do with that.
He lay there for a bit, waiting for the vampire to awaken, half listening to the news now playing on the local television station. The female newscaster went on, complete with dramatic pauses, about the city’s latest doom and gloom; the stories barely sparked his interest except to pass the time.
Until she came to the last one.
Xander sat up in bed abruptly, his eyes glued to the screen, displacing the vampire curled up next to him – who was a little less than pleased at being jolted but went right back to sleep.
The report was innocuous enough, a double twin kidnapping – one set of boys, one set of girls. Both identical. Both pre-pubescent. The rarity of the event was probably the only thing that had warranted the story even making the evening news.
He’d been right in assuming Zepheus was here. The proof was the missing children. Now he just had to find the bastard and put an end to him once and for all.
Xander tried to nudge Spike awake but got only a muffled complaint about it still being daylight and he was bloody tired.
“Come on, Spike,” Xander wheedled as he shook the vamp’s shoulder. “Wake up. Or, at least give me Cordy’s number. It’s important.”
“Cell phone… duster pocket…”
Xander rolled his eyes at the sleepy reply and climbed out of bed. He found the tiny phone, still marveling that Spike would even carry one around.
“Gotta be Cordy’s influence,” he mumbled under his breath
as he scanned the list of saved numbers. There were two: “Home” and “Cordy
cell.” Xander started with the second.
~*~*~*~*~
“It’s about damn time you called me, Blood Breath! Do you
know how worried I’ve been?” Cordelia shouted into the phone before
Xander could get a word in edgewise. “Xander’s—”
“On the phone, Cordy,” he interrupted calmly. “Spike’s with me.”
But Cordelia was just getting warmed up and apparently hadn’t heard him.
“… When I get my hands on you…”
“Uh… Cordy?” Xander tried again. And again. Finally taking a page from his ex’s book and shouting like a shrew into the phone. “Cordy, it’s Xander!”
“Xander?”
“Yes. Spike’s with me. But, that’s not why I called.”
“What is it?” she asked, her tone going from aggravated to concerned in the blink of an eye.
“Have you had any visions lately?”
“Visions?”
“Yes. Visions. A demon… big, probably six feet, give or take. Dark skin, bald. Tattoos. Looks human enough except for his eyes. Think Shaquil O’Neal… only meaner.”
“Sha-who?”
“Basketball player. He— never mind. Just… have you had any kind of visions involving a behemoth of a man and two sets of twins?”
“No… why?”
“Damn…” he muttered to himself. “I was hoping for a bit of a break. What’s the point of having a seer on the ‘good guys’ team if she doesn’t ‘see’?”
“Xander, what is it? What’s wrong?” Cordelia could sense Xander’s impatience, and something else. Worry, perhaps even fear. Which was why she ignored his last remark. “Xander?” she called again when he didn’t answer her.
“What? Oh, sorry, Cordy. Look, lemme kick Spike outta bed and then we’ll come over. I’ll explain things then. If I’m right, we’ve a few days yet before the shit hits the fan.”
“Alright. I’ll be waiting…”
Xander said goodbye and hung up. He walked back to the bed and took perverse pleasure in yanking the covers off Spike, who vaulted to his feet ready to do battle, cursing a blue streak at having been woken so abruptly.
“Gonna have to take a rain check,” Xander replied with a chuckle mid-tirade. “Only this time it’s gonna be me fucking you.” Which effectively shut the vampire up and made his dick start to swell, Xander couldn’t help but notice when he glanced down. “Here…” he snapped to cover his own body’s response, flinging Spike’s jeans towards him. “… Put these on. We’ve got a baddie to track down.”
A few minutes later, the two left to meet up with Cordelia.
Surprisingly, Spike had offered no protest to Xander’s
comment – whether he’d been kidding or not, Xander wasn’t quite sure – which
gave him plenty to think on as he as Spike walked quietly towards the vamp’s
home.
~*~*~*~*~
“Well, isn’t that wonderful! I vote we move back to
Seattle. Give up this Hellmouth crap,” Cordelia grumbled. “I mean if it’s
not one demon, it’s another. Can’t we just put a sign on the thing that says
‘Closed for Good’?”
Xander had given them a brief rundown of his last confrontation with Zepheus. How he’d been working one of the Hellmouths – in all places, Africa – and caught wind of the demon’s plan. He’d managed to stop the portal from opening, but had had to sacrifice one of the twins to do so. Greater good, Spike had muttered; Cordelia had nodded. And he’d felt a weight he was carrying for the last year lift slightly.
He’d gone on to explain how later he’d found out that even without taking the boy’s life, the ritual would not have worked. That only the Phoenix Hellmouth could be opened in such a manner. He didn’t explain the condemnation in the watcher’s eyes – nor did he have to. Spike had just seemed to know. Cordy, too, for that matter. Both had said the same thing however. That it wasn’t his fault. That they’d have done the same thing in his place. “Can’t second-guess yourself, boy, or you’ll wind up dead.”
And suddenly, the weight was gone. The guilt he’d been carrying on his soul absolved by the two sitting in front of him.
So, Xander had gone on to explain his leaving Africa and returning to the states. How he’d not bothered to hurry to Phoenix to tip Zepheus’ hand, seeing as the ritual called for a specific full moon – the one they were due to have in a few days. He’d wandered the country, like he’d wanted to do before he got stranded in Oxnard what seemed a lifetime ago, staying in one place only long enough to soak up a bit of local color and get rid of a few baddies, pocket their stolen cash, before moving on.
He’d been in Phoenix for two weeks now, careful to keep a low profile so as not to alert Zepheus to his presence. Not that it would have mattered to the demon either way; he was single-minded in his attempt to open the Hellmouth and hearing of Xander’s presence in the city wouldn’t sway him either way.
“Funny, pet,” Spike smirked, catching Cordelia’s pun, even if she didn’t.
“Huh—?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m just saying…” she griped. “You were evil once and it wasn’t like you made a habit of trying to bring hell on Earth. What is it with these demons nowadays?”
“Guess they didn’t get the memo,” Xander told her.
“Didn’t get much of anything… least of which is brains. I mean, hello… Hell equals no people. No people equals no food. Why is this so hard to understand?” She sat back in her chair in a huff. “Not that I’m condoning the killing of innocent people,” she added as an afterthought, just in case the two mistook her meaning. “Bad ones, sure. Makes our lives a bit easier.”
Xander couldn’t help but laugh.
“That’s my Cordy. Always looking out for everyone’s best interests.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she grinned.
“So, I guess we have to do this the old-fashioned way,” Xander told them, steering their conversation back to Zepheus and his attempt to open the Hellmouth. “I should probably head out. See if I can sniff out the bastard. I found him once. Shouldn’t be too hard to do it again.”
Spike stood as Xander did.
“Take your cell phone, Spike. If the Powers decide to become more forthcoming, then I’ll give you a call.”
“Yeah, ok.”
Spike wandered into the kitchen to retrieve his phone from where he’d left it charging on the counter. He dropped it in one of his pockets and walked to the door.
“Don’t wait up, luv.”
“Uh huh,” Cordelia muttered under her breath. “I seem to be getting a lot of that lately.”
Xander was almost out the door when he remembered.
“I’m just gonna use the bathroom a minute.”
Spike nodded. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he replied, fingering his cigarettes.
Xander mentally breathed a sigh of relief that he’d managed to get Cordelia alone without Spike getting suspicious. He went through the motions of walking towards the bathroom as Spike walked out the door and pulled it closed behind him. His sensitive hearing – which wasn’t quite as good as the vamp’s but got the job done – picked up the sound of the outer door closing and he turned towards Cordelia.
“Does Spike have spells?” he asked without preamble.
“Spells?”
“Spells. Trances. You know? Where he sits in a corner and stares off into space?” he gesticulated wildly with his hands.
Cordelia’s expression softened as it dawned on her what Xander was saying. She got up from her chair and laid a hand on Xander’s arm.
“I told you Spike’s had a rough time of it. He—” She wasn’t sure how to proceed. Or what to say to make him understand. “I guess you could call them nightmares. Or daymares. Sometimes Spike… he gets trapped in the past and he ends up reliving Angel’s death. Usually when he gets upset.” Or worried, she didn’t add.
“He…” What, Xander? Plastered himself to you like a little girl? Nuzzled your neck like he was inhaling his own scent? “I held him. And he fell asleep.”
“Good. He doesn’t sleep enough as it is.”
“Does he… does he remember? You know, after?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” Cordelia pulled her shirt aside and showed him her neck. “Kinda hard to hide these from him.”
Xander stared at the faint marks on her throat and just barely managed to contain his growl.
Jealous. He was jealous of Cordy. Jealous that Spike had bitten her. His nostrils flared and he leaned in to inhale Spike’s scent. Wanted to eradicate it from her skin. And barely caught himself in time.
“But you said—”
“We’re not. We weren’t.” Her hands released her shirt. “This was… he needed something to keep him grounded. Here. A sense of…”
“Belonging,” Xander whispered.
“Yes. Spike was alone in the world. Angel… everyone was dead, Xander. And Spike wanted to be too.”
It pained Xander to think of Spike like that. The vamp had always been larger than life, even when he was chipped. But he’d seen glimpses of Spike’s softer side. The emotions even his demon had been unable to suppress, though Xander had discounted them at the time; he couldn’t upset the truths that had been ingrained since meeting Buffy and taken everything she and Giles had said as gospel.
“I better go. Spike’s probably wondering where I am.” He turned and walked to the door; Cordelia’s words stopped him before he could open it.
“It wasn’t just me, Xander. Connor got his fair share too. When he closes in on himself, his scent on us would always bring him back. He needed that. Needed us.”
Xander nodded, not turning around. It still didn’t help the jealousy twisting his gut into knots.
He’d gotten his answers. But, all they did was create more questions.
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