Xombies unite!
Part 11 of "A Critique of Pure Reason", the Dom/Xander. Continued from the previous scene - the last few lines overlap for ease of reading.
Previous parts are here.
***
"I don't think I know any happy stories," Xander says quietly. Dom feels him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Tell me about Africa, then," Dom says, warm and sleepy. "Tell me about Cairo."
Xander doesn't say anything for a little bit. Resting against Xander's back, Dom feels him breathing, Dom's own body rising and falling with Xander's inhales and exhales. He focuses on breathing in sync with Xander, the swell and shrink of lungs in tandem. It feels comforting.
"Cairo," Xander says, finally. "Cairo was... okay, actually. I didn't run into any vamps or demons or anything in Cairo."
"Why not?" Dom asks.
"I wasn't looking for them," Xander says. "That was after... well, I was on vacation. Sort of. Taking a break."
"Oh," Dom says.
"You could see the pyramids from my hotel," Xander says quietly, almost to himself. "From the roof. You could look out across the city and see the pyramids in the distance, looming over the buildings. If it was really hazy, you almost couldn't see them at all, just the shadows of them coming out of the dust and pollution, but there they were. The frickin' pyramids. But if you looked down you'd just see garbage on the roofs of houses, and poverty, and dark alleys, and people crowded together. The TV in my hotel room was held together with duct tape, but there were two guys in every elevator to push the floor button for you, because people are cheaper than technology there. And everything's brown, dusty, sandy, except right on the river, where it's green, suddenly. This surprising green, when you're not expecting it. Like you'd forgotten what green was, what growing things looked like, and there they were again. "
Dom lets himself fall into Xander's voice, into Cairo. His eyes slip closed and his head feels disconnected from his body, like he's floating above them, looking down. Seeing his light hair mixing with Xander's dark, his smaller body nestled against Xander's larger one.
"Did you go to the pyramids?" he asks.
"Yeah," Xander says. "I went out to them one day, with all the rest of the tourists. They're huge, right, really impressive. Look just like in pictures. And you can go inside, and you figure that's going to be amazing, right? I mean, the pyramids are made of blocks of stone that are taller than I am, how could the inside not be fantastic? And so you go inside, up these long narrow slanting corridors, all the way to the very center of the pyramid. Imagining them bringing the Pharaoh's body up this way, imagining high priests and mummies and hieroglyphics and all that stuff, like in your 7th grade world history class. Thinking how unbelievable it is that you're about to get to go inside the secret room inside these pyramids."
Xander pauses. "And?" Dom asks, finally.
"It was an empty room," Xander says. "Nothing there. Just a gray, empty room."
The fire pops loudly in the silence. Xander shifts, in the process nearly knocking Dom sideways. Dom struggles to stay upright, moves so that his head rests between Xander's shoulder blades.
"So you go back down again and get your picture taken on a camel," Xander finishes, his voice dull and blank. "That's what Cairo's like."
"Oh," Dom says.
His arm is hurting again, throbbing along with his breaths. It is getting colder still. He thinks about the vampire's teeth again, how it tore through his arm, and stares into the darkness, listens for anything out there. The beach is quiet, and it unnerves him. Xander has stopped talking. "How did you start fighting evil, anyway?" Dom asks finally, his desire to break the silence overcoming his desire for Xander not to tell any more stories.
Xander sighs, his breath soft. "There was this girl," he says. He says it like it's the beginning of an inevitable story. Like that's the way everything starts, like how else would you get into fighting evil if there weren't a girl? Dom's tired enough that this seems to make sense. "Buffy," Xander continues.
"You were in love with her?" Dom asks.
"Yeah," Xander says, voice somehow sweet, longing. "Yeah, I was in love with her."
"Are you still?" Dom asks.
"No," Xander says, on an exhale. After a moment, he continues, "Yes. I don't know." He pauses again. "These days... it's almost the kind of love that feels like hate, sometimes. Or something. I don't know. Anyway, it's not the same."
"Yeah," Dom says. "Things never stay the same, though, do they?"
"No," Xander says. He suddenly tenses at a rustle in the bushes beside them, but when nothing appears he relaxes again, muscles shifting against Dom's back. "And then with vampires and everything," he continues, as if there had been no interruption, "once you've seen them, it's hard to un-see them. And so you fight them, because what else are you supposed to do? So you fight them until you lose everything, and even then, you can't stop."
"Yeah," Dom says. He takes a breath. "There are things you can't go back from." He thinks of Billy's lips, the sweet curve of them, of things that can't be undone, that you keep doing even though you know they'll end everything.
They fall into silence, the fire dying down beside them. Dom lets his eyes close again, shutting out the stars and ocean and the menacing dark outside the circle of firelight. He concentrates on the warmth of Xander's body and of the fire, the smell of salt and wood smoke, concentrating on these physical sensations to block out anything else. And he finally slips into sleep, lulled by the sound of the waves.
He dozes fitfully, his head pillowed on Xander's back. At some point in the night he wakes slightly to find Xander moving him so that he's lying on his left side, face towards the fire. Xander moves his hand lightly over the bandage on Dom's arm, checking it, making sure the jostling hadn't upset it. His touch is so delicate that Dom barely feels it, a whisper of pressure, gentle. Dom slips back into unconsciousness as Xander again lies back-to-back with him, warm and watchful and awake, weapon at the ready.
Dom sleeps.
He dreams of pain in his arm, of Billy's eyes turning yellow and his teeth growing long and sharp. He dreams of Billy's face alien and monstrous, turned on him in anger, of Billy's fangs ripping down his arm. It is cold, cold, cold, and his blood is pooling red on the ice, frozen puddles of blood.
He wakes shivering, freezing and terribly thirsty, tears wet on his face. His arm hurts, fuck it, it hurts, it hurts, and he's cold, and he wants water, and the sand is uneven and uncomfortable under his body.
Xander's arm comes over his chest, rubbing briskly to warm him up, and his body slowly stills, stops its shaking. "Hey," Xander murmurs. "Hey. Don't go into shock on me. You're okay. Stay with me. Stay warm. You're okay." Dom makes his breathing slow again, feels the impersonal warmth of Xander's body seeping into his own as he quiets.
And he suddenly wishes the one holding him were Billy, or Viggo or Elijah or Orli or Sean or anyone, really, any of those who have left him behind. And somehow it seems that this is their fault, that if it weren't for them he wouldn't be out here with this sad stranger, injured and bleeding at a disaster site, fearing he won't last the night.
In aching lonely sadness, he falls back to sleep.
***
TBC...
Previous parts are here.
***
"I don't think I know any happy stories," Xander says quietly. Dom feels him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Tell me about Africa, then," Dom says, warm and sleepy. "Tell me about Cairo."
Xander doesn't say anything for a little bit. Resting against Xander's back, Dom feels him breathing, Dom's own body rising and falling with Xander's inhales and exhales. He focuses on breathing in sync with Xander, the swell and shrink of lungs in tandem. It feels comforting.
"Cairo," Xander says, finally. "Cairo was... okay, actually. I didn't run into any vamps or demons or anything in Cairo."
"Why not?" Dom asks.
"I wasn't looking for them," Xander says. "That was after... well, I was on vacation. Sort of. Taking a break."
"Oh," Dom says.
"You could see the pyramids from my hotel," Xander says quietly, almost to himself. "From the roof. You could look out across the city and see the pyramids in the distance, looming over the buildings. If it was really hazy, you almost couldn't see them at all, just the shadows of them coming out of the dust and pollution, but there they were. The frickin' pyramids. But if you looked down you'd just see garbage on the roofs of houses, and poverty, and dark alleys, and people crowded together. The TV in my hotel room was held together with duct tape, but there were two guys in every elevator to push the floor button for you, because people are cheaper than technology there. And everything's brown, dusty, sandy, except right on the river, where it's green, suddenly. This surprising green, when you're not expecting it. Like you'd forgotten what green was, what growing things looked like, and there they were again. "
Dom lets himself fall into Xander's voice, into Cairo. His eyes slip closed and his head feels disconnected from his body, like he's floating above them, looking down. Seeing his light hair mixing with Xander's dark, his smaller body nestled against Xander's larger one.
"Did you go to the pyramids?" he asks.
"Yeah," Xander says. "I went out to them one day, with all the rest of the tourists. They're huge, right, really impressive. Look just like in pictures. And you can go inside, and you figure that's going to be amazing, right? I mean, the pyramids are made of blocks of stone that are taller than I am, how could the inside not be fantastic? And so you go inside, up these long narrow slanting corridors, all the way to the very center of the pyramid. Imagining them bringing the Pharaoh's body up this way, imagining high priests and mummies and hieroglyphics and all that stuff, like in your 7th grade world history class. Thinking how unbelievable it is that you're about to get to go inside the secret room inside these pyramids."
Xander pauses. "And?" Dom asks, finally.
"It was an empty room," Xander says. "Nothing there. Just a gray, empty room."
The fire pops loudly in the silence. Xander shifts, in the process nearly knocking Dom sideways. Dom struggles to stay upright, moves so that his head rests between Xander's shoulder blades.
"So you go back down again and get your picture taken on a camel," Xander finishes, his voice dull and blank. "That's what Cairo's like."
"Oh," Dom says.
His arm is hurting again, throbbing along with his breaths. It is getting colder still. He thinks about the vampire's teeth again, how it tore through his arm, and stares into the darkness, listens for anything out there. The beach is quiet, and it unnerves him. Xander has stopped talking. "How did you start fighting evil, anyway?" Dom asks finally, his desire to break the silence overcoming his desire for Xander not to tell any more stories.
Xander sighs, his breath soft. "There was this girl," he says. He says it like it's the beginning of an inevitable story. Like that's the way everything starts, like how else would you get into fighting evil if there weren't a girl? Dom's tired enough that this seems to make sense. "Buffy," Xander continues.
"You were in love with her?" Dom asks.
"Yeah," Xander says, voice somehow sweet, longing. "Yeah, I was in love with her."
"Are you still?" Dom asks.
"No," Xander says, on an exhale. After a moment, he continues, "Yes. I don't know." He pauses again. "These days... it's almost the kind of love that feels like hate, sometimes. Or something. I don't know. Anyway, it's not the same."
"Yeah," Dom says. "Things never stay the same, though, do they?"
"No," Xander says. He suddenly tenses at a rustle in the bushes beside them, but when nothing appears he relaxes again, muscles shifting against Dom's back. "And then with vampires and everything," he continues, as if there had been no interruption, "once you've seen them, it's hard to un-see them. And so you fight them, because what else are you supposed to do? So you fight them until you lose everything, and even then, you can't stop."
"Yeah," Dom says. He takes a breath. "There are things you can't go back from." He thinks of Billy's lips, the sweet curve of them, of things that can't be undone, that you keep doing even though you know they'll end everything.
They fall into silence, the fire dying down beside them. Dom lets his eyes close again, shutting out the stars and ocean and the menacing dark outside the circle of firelight. He concentrates on the warmth of Xander's body and of the fire, the smell of salt and wood smoke, concentrating on these physical sensations to block out anything else. And he finally slips into sleep, lulled by the sound of the waves.
He dozes fitfully, his head pillowed on Xander's back. At some point in the night he wakes slightly to find Xander moving him so that he's lying on his left side, face towards the fire. Xander moves his hand lightly over the bandage on Dom's arm, checking it, making sure the jostling hadn't upset it. His touch is so delicate that Dom barely feels it, a whisper of pressure, gentle. Dom slips back into unconsciousness as Xander again lies back-to-back with him, warm and watchful and awake, weapon at the ready.
Dom sleeps.
He dreams of pain in his arm, of Billy's eyes turning yellow and his teeth growing long and sharp. He dreams of Billy's face alien and monstrous, turned on him in anger, of Billy's fangs ripping down his arm. It is cold, cold, cold, and his blood is pooling red on the ice, frozen puddles of blood.
He wakes shivering, freezing and terribly thirsty, tears wet on his face. His arm hurts, fuck it, it hurts, it hurts, and he's cold, and he wants water, and the sand is uneven and uncomfortable under his body.
Xander's arm comes over his chest, rubbing briskly to warm him up, and his body slowly stills, stops its shaking. "Hey," Xander murmurs. "Hey. Don't go into shock on me. You're okay. Stay with me. Stay warm. You're okay." Dom makes his breathing slow again, feels the impersonal warmth of Xander's body seeping into his own as he quiets.
And he suddenly wishes the one holding him were Billy, or Viggo or Elijah or Orli or Sean or anyone, really, any of those who have left him behind. And somehow it seems that this is their fault, that if it weren't for them he wouldn't be out here with this sad stranger, injured and bleeding at a disaster site, fearing he won't last the night.
In aching lonely sadness, he falls back to sleep.
***
TBC...