Fic: Another Future (1/3)
Author: Cobalt Mystic
Title: Another Future, Pt 1/3 Soon to Be Your Past
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17 to be safe
Feedback: Suit yourself, just no permanent damage, k.
Disclaimer: Just playing with the pretty kittens. Unfortunately, they are not mine, but I will gladly groom and bathe them before sending them back home to Daddy (aka Joss/Mutant Enemy/et al).
Warnings/Squicks: Character death (canon, nothing new and pls remember the Mys is one of those sappy ppl, so anyone important will be alive/undead and, if at all possible, happy by the end so don’t get your knickers in a twist).
Summary: The boys had finally gotten together, it’s smooth sailing from there on out right… Unless, you’re a souled vamp who makes the mistake of falling in love on the Hellmouth. Written for spring_with_Xan.
AN1: This IS a sequel/follow up to Hours of Forever.
AN2: Ats:5, Canon? What canon? ”They’re more like guidelines…” So, yeah, Cordelia is alive, the Council isn’t (openly) at odds with Angel and Co, stuff like that. BtVS:8 *fingers in ears* LALALALALALALALALALALALALA
AN3: In Pt II: Like Every Wave to Kiss a Shore, the poem is Sonnet by the lovely and talented takhen, similarly, in Pt III: The One I had in Mind Ecstasy is also one of takhen’s wonderful works. Both of these lovelies used with permission. *hugs her takhen friend and blows kisses* Thanks for everything, doll!
AN4: Please forgive the unremorseful Torchwood and Neil Gaiman (specifically this) abuse.
AN5: Yes, once again the title and subheadings are from Concrete Blonde’s Days and Days
Like every heart to beat before
and every wave to kiss a shore,
I'm not the first,
I'm not the last...
and soon to be your past.
But every mourning, when the light
comes creeping in around my eyes
another future falls behind
the one I had I mind.
And completely off the subject- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAK!!!!!!!!!!! *hugs you and offers cake and various other confections*
Soon to be Your Past
It hurt. Bad. Not only that, but he’d actually been scared. And it wasn’t the standard ’I-live-on-a-Hellmouth-and-the-demon-of-the-week-wants-to-eat/sacrifice/mate-with/all-of-the-above-me’ type scared. It was ’life-flashing-before-your-eyes/gods-I’m-glad-I-didn’t-wait-to-make-Dawn-my-beneficiary’ type scared.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so thankful for vampiric speed and strength, or for having such an over-protective boyfriend. Speaking of which, he snuggled closer into the firm body holding him.
Strong arms tightened around him and cool lips brushed his forehead as his lover’s silky voice spoke, ”I’m sorry, Xan. So sorry. I shoulda kept a closer… I shoulda been faster. I..”
”Shut up, Baby,” Xander’s groggy voice squeaked. ”You saved my life, again! Okay, so it hurts like hell and the left side of my face is swollen enough that I could be mistaken for Pumpkinhead, but, the point is, it’ll heal- no permanent damage, just stuff even my poor human bod can fix.”
Spike had to smile at his lover’s take on the situation, even as he explained, ”Ah, Pet, thing is I shouldn’t ’ave let him get that close. He hurt you- yeah, you’ll heal, but it could’ve been so much worse. Mean, look at the girls.”
Xander rubbed his boyfriend’s hand and kissed it. He knew the vamp was blaming himself for more than Xander’s injuries. He also knew that the best thing he could do was keep quiet and make sure his vamp felt connected.
In the few months they had been together, Xander had learned a lot about Spike. One of the most surprising things had been the vamp’s need for connection, to feel belonging and needed. In truth it wasn’t that surprising when he thought about it and it threw light on more than a little of Spike’s behaviour. Regardless, Xander was only too happy to sit quietly in his vampire’s embrace getting and giving the comfort both men needed.
---------
”Why you?” Xander snarled as he practically spit the words.
”Xan, Pet…”
”Don’t ’Pet’ me! Answer the question: Why you? Deadboy being too much of a coward again? Or is Buffy too afraid to put her precious Soulboy at risk?”
Spike wrapped his arms around his struggling semi-hysterical lover. *’e’s right, ya know. (Of course he’s right. He’s neither blind, nor stupid. Peaches has always been a coward and Buffy still loves the Neanderthal, too much. Where as we’re…) We’re what!? Expendable? Is that what you were thinking? Hmph. Never mind, ’course it was…* He continued to mutter nonsense words and sounds as his love collapsed into him, sobbing. *What about him? Is he expendable too? Do they realize what this is doing to him? Do they even care? (I thought I was in charge of being morose?) Shut it, this is serious, you know that. (I do. I also know that he needs us to be strong, which means no time for either of us to take after ’Daddy Dearest’.) Yeah. I know.* Spike caressed and petted the precious boy in his arms, wishing with his entire being that he could keep the pain and hurt from him.
Xander’s breath had slowed, hitching only occasionally now. The tears still flowed, but they were no longer gushing or hysterical. ”Sorry.”
The word was whispered so softly into the vampire’s chest that even with his sensitive hearing Spike barely heard it. *No! (No…)* Tightening his grip on his boy, ”You have nothing to be sorry for. Not now. Not ever. You’re a good man, Xander, and I love you more than anyone or anything ever. There’s no place and no one I’d rather be with. Remember that.” Spike paused to kiss Xander’s brow. ”Whatever happens tomorrow will happen. Tonight, well, tonight’s ours.”
---------
They were halfway to L.A., to the relative safety of the Hyperion, with Sunnydale no more that a large crater and a not-so-distant memory when the survivors began to breakdown. The stress of the battle, the injuries, and the loss of life were taking hold. The remnants of the Scoobies were doing their best to keep the newly awakened Slayers together. They at least had been through battles before, had lost loved ones, and somehow still managed to fight again. They were ’old hats’ at sorrow and pain.
What seemed like, and most likely was hours later, Angel and his crew had patched up, fed, or sent to the hospital the physically wounded, and were now tending to their mentally scarred friends.
Willow and Kennedy had wandered off to comfort each other, Wes was with Giles, Buffy had fallen on Angel, Faith, Wood, Fred, and Gunn had gone with the seriously wounded to the ER, Cordelia was doing her level best not to pommel Andrew, and Xander was checking on a peacefully sleeping Dawn.
Xander really didn’t mind, he wanted to be alone. Spike was gone. His love, his life, his whole was gone. Not for the first time in his life he was glad he wasn’t the suicidal sort, otherwise there would’ve already been one more casualty on the list. Now, if he could only resist the urge to stake Deadboy.
He wandered through the broken an dishevelled rooms of Angel’s disused hotel, finally settling in one on the upper floor where he could see the stars that now dotted the sky. As he stared at the beautiful night sky, the unfairness of it all crashed in on him; he and those he loved most had saved the world, again, people died- good people, lives had been utterly shattered in the process- his life, and the world hadn’t even noticed. It never did, but for some reason those beautiful pale pieces of forever hanging in the sky seemed to be mocking him as they twinkled contently in a safety bought with his lover’s life.
He was so lost in his musings that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, nor the creak of the floorboards. He didn’t even register when his visitor sat on the floor beside him, almost touching.
It wasn’t until the hand did touch him that Xander realized he was no longer alone.
He looked into the hazel eyes of his oldest friend and saw sympathy and heartache. ”If this is how you felt, maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you.”
”Oh Xander…” Willow’s voice broke with unshed tears and she hugged him tightly, wanting to will the pain away.
Held in her warm embrace, Xander finally let the tears flow.
Willow held her friend as he cried, screamed, and sobbed his sorrow and rage. Once the sobs no longer wracked his body and his breathing no longer verged on hyperventilation, Willow pulled out the leather bound journal she had been asked to deliver. ”Here. He asked me to make sure you got this.”
Gingerly, the young man took the journal. ”Bastard,” he muttered as his hands reverently stroked the leather book. His eyes, red and puffy from tears, were transfixed on the volume in his hands. How many times in recent months had he watched Spike feverishly writing on these pages; how many times had he longed to ask what he was writing; what drove the pen in his elegant hand to move with such ferocity? Now, the answers were literally in his hands.
---
The door eased open and the soft footsteps of bare feet patted to the edge of his bed.
”Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
Xander asked without even opening his eyes.
”Probably,” came the reply as a small frame seated itself at the foot of the bed.
Sitting up, Xander looked to the girl seated on his bed, of everyone she came closest to sharing his pain. Willow understood it more, after all she’d been here, but it was Dawn who felt this particular loss close to as much as he did. ”What’s up Dawnster?”
She picked at the non-existent fluff bunnies on the bed for a moment before turning doe eyes on Xander and whispering, ”I miss him.”
Smiling sadly at her, ”I know.” He opened his arms offering a hug.
Unhesitantly, the girl dove into the awaiting embrace. ”Would it be completely wrong of me to say the world seems so much darker without him in it?”
Xander chuckled and smirked into Dawn’s hair, ”Of course it’s darker- his hair could light up a city block.”
”Xander!” Dawn half-heartedly admonished as she giggled and slapped at Xander’s shoulder. ”That’s not what I meant.”
Sighing, ”I know Dawnie. And yeah it is a lot darker.”
Smiling sadly, she snuggled against her surrogate brother’s chest, knowing the contact comforted them both.
Within minutes, Dawn was asleep in Xander’s arms.
As she woke, Dawn stretched languidly- her body and mind re-adjusting to consciousness. She rolled her head, hunching her shoulders forward then back. Yawning, she stretched her right arm, followed by her left. She heard the soft thump before she registered knocking anything. Looking over the edge of the bed, Dawn saw a leather bound journal, a single sheet of paper sticking out of it. Her eyes instantly teared up as she caught sight of the words, ’I love you always’ in Spike’s flowing Victorian script. Carefully, she leaned over the bed to retrieve the book. No sooner had she righted herself then she heard the door open and a warm soothing voice say, ”Oh, good you’re up.”
”Yeah, sorry for taking over your bed.”
Xander sat at the foot of the bed, ”First, you didn’t take over, or run me off, or any of the other paranoid teenaged things you’re thinking. Second, you needed sleep. I’m just glad you finally got some.”
A self-depreciating smirk crossed her face, while her fingers idly ran over the leather book, ”Xander? Was this his- Spike’s?”
Despite his best efforts, Xander winced, he’d avoided reading the journal for days. He just hadn’t been able to open it. Since Willow gave it to him four days ago, he sat up for hours every night staring at it, touching it (the supple leather so like and so different from the duster), and smelling it (wondering if it was real or merely longing for the scent of his lover) until he drifted to sleep clutching the book to his chest.
”Xander?” Dawn’s voice was verging on panic, ”Xander, I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, ”Dawnie. Dawn, don’t. You didn’t… yeah, it’s his.”
”What’s in it?”
Smiling and snorting lightly, ”I don’t know.”
The girl’s brow wrinkled, ”But… he wrote it for you.”
”I don’t know.”
”He must’ve. Who else would he ’love always’?” Dawn crossed her arms over her chest as if this settled the matter.
*Uh, Buffy.* His brain not-so-helpfully supplied.
”Pht, please. He chose you, wholly.”
”Did I say that out loud? And what do you mean ’chose wholly’?”
”No, but I’ve seen that look enough on his face and Angel’s to know what it means. And I mean Spike isn’t Angel. Where Angel’s soul makes him be a ’good guy’, Spike’s just made him more human. Spike’s soul gave him the choice- he did things because he chose to, not because of overwhelming guilt.”
Xander’s mouth quirked into a half smirk, ”You mean the way Angel can love Buffy, while Angelus only wants to torture and kill her.”
”Exactly! Spike loved you- demon, soul, and everything in-between.” Once again dawn folded her arms in triumph. ”Read it, Xan. He wouldn’t have left it for you otherwise.”
---
Xander stewed for days, Dawn’s words bouncing incessantly in his head, and by the time he managed to open the journal, they’d been in London for over a week.
He’d been helping Giles and Willow sort through the write-ups from The Battle. He hadn’t meant to read the file but when it fell and he saw Buffy’s handwriting he instinctively read.
Willow showed up several hours later, burgers and shakes in hand, to find her dearest friend sobbing in a heap on the floor. Papers and files were strewn around him, the most telling ones clutched tightly in his white-knuckled grip.
”Goddess! Xander,” the small witch ran to her friend.
Bleary eyes turned towards her voice, ”He screamed. She said he screamed.”
”Oh, Xander,” she threw her arms around the young man, trying to hold him tightly.
”Why?”
The redhead pulled back, cocking her head.
”Should’ve… it should’ve been me.” Before Willow’s confused mind could form the obvious question and even more obvious denial, he answered her, ”Not her, me.” Eyes overflowing with moisture stared, impossibly large, from his tear streaked face. ”Should’ve been me with him. ME! She… she… had no right! No right…,” there was a sound like a lover’s heart being ripped apart followed by a wail of pain and sorrow that the young witch remembered all too well escaping her own throat a year ago.
For the second time in too short a time she held her friend as he cried, cursing herself and Giles for leaving Buffy’s report for Xander stumble across. Making quiet cooing noises, Willow scanned the papers she’d removed from Xander’s hand. ””Goddess,” she whispered, her already fair skin paling as she read over the vampire’s last moments. ”Xan, I’m sorry. I had no idea this was here. You shouldn’t have had to see this before you were ready.” She held and rocked her best-friend, her own tears flowing freely for the friend in her arms, the friend they lost, and for the lover she lost too soon.
When Xander awoke later that evening, he was alone in his bed, Spike’s journal having been lovingly placed in his hands, and he knew it was time. With trembling hands he opened the book. He knew he wasn’t read to read the journal itself, but the letter, that, he hoped, he could manage.
Taking the paper with it’s incongruitously elegant writing from the book, Xander found himself giggling. Not a happy sound, but one that would’ve reminded his girls of a certain insane vampiress. Even more so if they knew what set off the giggles- the image of Spike, the Big Bad, uber-punk covered in leather and metal writing in this classical flowing upper-class script was too much for his overtaxed mind.
It took several attempts, but he finally got his laughter (however psychotic) under control, and began to read.
”Xan, pet, you can’t imagine how much I hope you never see this and how much it eats at me to know you most likely will.
Sitting here writing this, listening to you breath, watching your troubled sleep, knowing it’s the first of many restless nights, I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms and take you away from all of this.
But we both know that can’t be.
I want to thank you. You gave me everything- made me see I could be worthy, more than that you made me feel worthy. I love you, Xander. Never forget that.
It’s hard to imagine that we found each other when I agreed to bare myself to you. Something you never made me do. I want you to have this journal it’s the closest I can come to fulfilling that promise- it’s everything I wish I could tell you, it’s who I was, who I am, who I want to be for you. Xander, my precious beautiful love, I may have sought my soul for her, but you gave it meaning. It belongs to you, just as my heart does. I love you always.
Your own,
Spike
Title: Another Future, Pt 1/3 Soon to Be Your Past
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17 to be safe
Feedback: Suit yourself, just no permanent damage, k.
Disclaimer: Just playing with the pretty kittens. Unfortunately, they are not mine, but I will gladly groom and bathe them before sending them back home to Daddy (aka Joss/Mutant Enemy/et al).
Warnings/Squicks: Character death (canon, nothing new and pls remember the Mys is one of those sappy ppl, so anyone important will be alive/undead and, if at all possible, happy by the end so don’t get your knickers in a twist).
Summary: The boys had finally gotten together, it’s smooth sailing from there on out right… Unless, you’re a souled vamp who makes the mistake of falling in love on the Hellmouth. Written for spring_with_Xan.
AN1: This IS a sequel/follow up to Hours of Forever.
AN2: Ats:5, Canon? What canon? ”They’re more like guidelines…” So, yeah, Cordelia is alive, the Council isn’t (openly) at odds with Angel and Co, stuff like that. BtVS:8 *fingers in ears* LALALALALALALALALALALALALA
AN3: In Pt II: Like Every Wave to Kiss a Shore, the poem is Sonnet by the lovely and talented takhen, similarly, in Pt III: The One I had in Mind Ecstasy is also one of takhen’s wonderful works. Both of these lovelies used with permission. *hugs her takhen friend and blows kisses* Thanks for everything, doll!
AN4: Please forgive the unremorseful Torchwood and Neil Gaiman (specifically this) abuse.
AN5: Yes, once again the title and subheadings are from Concrete Blonde’s Days and Days
Like every heart to beat before
and every wave to kiss a shore,
I'm not the first,
I'm not the last...
and soon to be your past.
But every mourning, when the light
comes creeping in around my eyes
another future falls behind
the one I had I mind.
And completely off the subject- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAK!!!!!!!!!!! *hugs you and offers cake and various other confections*
Soon to be Your Past
It hurt. Bad. Not only that, but he’d actually been scared. And it wasn’t the standard ’I-live-on-a-Hellmouth-and-the-demon-of-the-week-wants-to-eat/sacrifice/mate-with/all-of-the-above-me’ type scared. It was ’life-flashing-before-your-eyes/gods-I’m-glad-I-didn’t-wait-to-make-Dawn-my-beneficiary’ type scared.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so thankful for vampiric speed and strength, or for having such an over-protective boyfriend. Speaking of which, he snuggled closer into the firm body holding him.
Strong arms tightened around him and cool lips brushed his forehead as his lover’s silky voice spoke, ”I’m sorry, Xan. So sorry. I shoulda kept a closer… I shoulda been faster. I..”
”Shut up, Baby,” Xander’s groggy voice squeaked. ”You saved my life, again! Okay, so it hurts like hell and the left side of my face is swollen enough that I could be mistaken for Pumpkinhead, but, the point is, it’ll heal- no permanent damage, just stuff even my poor human bod can fix.”
Spike had to smile at his lover’s take on the situation, even as he explained, ”Ah, Pet, thing is I shouldn’t ’ave let him get that close. He hurt you- yeah, you’ll heal, but it could’ve been so much worse. Mean, look at the girls.”
Xander rubbed his boyfriend’s hand and kissed it. He knew the vamp was blaming himself for more than Xander’s injuries. He also knew that the best thing he could do was keep quiet and make sure his vamp felt connected.
In the few months they had been together, Xander had learned a lot about Spike. One of the most surprising things had been the vamp’s need for connection, to feel belonging and needed. In truth it wasn’t that surprising when he thought about it and it threw light on more than a little of Spike’s behaviour. Regardless, Xander was only too happy to sit quietly in his vampire’s embrace getting and giving the comfort both men needed.
---------
”Why you?” Xander snarled as he practically spit the words.
”Xan, Pet…”
”Don’t ’Pet’ me! Answer the question: Why you? Deadboy being too much of a coward again? Or is Buffy too afraid to put her precious Soulboy at risk?”
Spike wrapped his arms around his struggling semi-hysterical lover. *’e’s right, ya know. (Of course he’s right. He’s neither blind, nor stupid. Peaches has always been a coward and Buffy still loves the Neanderthal, too much. Where as we’re…) We’re what!? Expendable? Is that what you were thinking? Hmph. Never mind, ’course it was…* He continued to mutter nonsense words and sounds as his love collapsed into him, sobbing. *What about him? Is he expendable too? Do they realize what this is doing to him? Do they even care? (I thought I was in charge of being morose?) Shut it, this is serious, you know that. (I do. I also know that he needs us to be strong, which means no time for either of us to take after ’Daddy Dearest’.) Yeah. I know.* Spike caressed and petted the precious boy in his arms, wishing with his entire being that he could keep the pain and hurt from him.
Xander’s breath had slowed, hitching only occasionally now. The tears still flowed, but they were no longer gushing or hysterical. ”Sorry.”
The word was whispered so softly into the vampire’s chest that even with his sensitive hearing Spike barely heard it. *No! (No…)* Tightening his grip on his boy, ”You have nothing to be sorry for. Not now. Not ever. You’re a good man, Xander, and I love you more than anyone or anything ever. There’s no place and no one I’d rather be with. Remember that.” Spike paused to kiss Xander’s brow. ”Whatever happens tomorrow will happen. Tonight, well, tonight’s ours.”
---------
They were halfway to L.A., to the relative safety of the Hyperion, with Sunnydale no more that a large crater and a not-so-distant memory when the survivors began to breakdown. The stress of the battle, the injuries, and the loss of life were taking hold. The remnants of the Scoobies were doing their best to keep the newly awakened Slayers together. They at least had been through battles before, had lost loved ones, and somehow still managed to fight again. They were ’old hats’ at sorrow and pain.
What seemed like, and most likely was hours later, Angel and his crew had patched up, fed, or sent to the hospital the physically wounded, and were now tending to their mentally scarred friends.
Willow and Kennedy had wandered off to comfort each other, Wes was with Giles, Buffy had fallen on Angel, Faith, Wood, Fred, and Gunn had gone with the seriously wounded to the ER, Cordelia was doing her level best not to pommel Andrew, and Xander was checking on a peacefully sleeping Dawn.
Xander really didn’t mind, he wanted to be alone. Spike was gone. His love, his life, his whole was gone. Not for the first time in his life he was glad he wasn’t the suicidal sort, otherwise there would’ve already been one more casualty on the list. Now, if he could only resist the urge to stake Deadboy.
He wandered through the broken an dishevelled rooms of Angel’s disused hotel, finally settling in one on the upper floor where he could see the stars that now dotted the sky. As he stared at the beautiful night sky, the unfairness of it all crashed in on him; he and those he loved most had saved the world, again, people died- good people, lives had been utterly shattered in the process- his life, and the world hadn’t even noticed. It never did, but for some reason those beautiful pale pieces of forever hanging in the sky seemed to be mocking him as they twinkled contently in a safety bought with his lover’s life.
He was so lost in his musings that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, nor the creak of the floorboards. He didn’t even register when his visitor sat on the floor beside him, almost touching.
It wasn’t until the hand did touch him that Xander realized he was no longer alone.
He looked into the hazel eyes of his oldest friend and saw sympathy and heartache. ”If this is how you felt, maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you.”
”Oh Xander…” Willow’s voice broke with unshed tears and she hugged him tightly, wanting to will the pain away.
Held in her warm embrace, Xander finally let the tears flow.
Willow held her friend as he cried, screamed, and sobbed his sorrow and rage. Once the sobs no longer wracked his body and his breathing no longer verged on hyperventilation, Willow pulled out the leather bound journal she had been asked to deliver. ”Here. He asked me to make sure you got this.”
Gingerly, the young man took the journal. ”Bastard,” he muttered as his hands reverently stroked the leather book. His eyes, red and puffy from tears, were transfixed on the volume in his hands. How many times in recent months had he watched Spike feverishly writing on these pages; how many times had he longed to ask what he was writing; what drove the pen in his elegant hand to move with such ferocity? Now, the answers were literally in his hands.
---
The door eased open and the soft footsteps of bare feet patted to the edge of his bed.
”Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
Xander asked without even opening his eyes.
”Probably,” came the reply as a small frame seated itself at the foot of the bed.
Sitting up, Xander looked to the girl seated on his bed, of everyone she came closest to sharing his pain. Willow understood it more, after all she’d been here, but it was Dawn who felt this particular loss close to as much as he did. ”What’s up Dawnster?”
She picked at the non-existent fluff bunnies on the bed for a moment before turning doe eyes on Xander and whispering, ”I miss him.”
Smiling sadly at her, ”I know.” He opened his arms offering a hug.
Unhesitantly, the girl dove into the awaiting embrace. ”Would it be completely wrong of me to say the world seems so much darker without him in it?”
Xander chuckled and smirked into Dawn’s hair, ”Of course it’s darker- his hair could light up a city block.”
”Xander!” Dawn half-heartedly admonished as she giggled and slapped at Xander’s shoulder. ”That’s not what I meant.”
Sighing, ”I know Dawnie. And yeah it is a lot darker.”
Smiling sadly, she snuggled against her surrogate brother’s chest, knowing the contact comforted them both.
Within minutes, Dawn was asleep in Xander’s arms.
As she woke, Dawn stretched languidly- her body and mind re-adjusting to consciousness. She rolled her head, hunching her shoulders forward then back. Yawning, she stretched her right arm, followed by her left. She heard the soft thump before she registered knocking anything. Looking over the edge of the bed, Dawn saw a leather bound journal, a single sheet of paper sticking out of it. Her eyes instantly teared up as she caught sight of the words, ’I love you always’ in Spike’s flowing Victorian script. Carefully, she leaned over the bed to retrieve the book. No sooner had she righted herself then she heard the door open and a warm soothing voice say, ”Oh, good you’re up.”
”Yeah, sorry for taking over your bed.”
Xander sat at the foot of the bed, ”First, you didn’t take over, or run me off, or any of the other paranoid teenaged things you’re thinking. Second, you needed sleep. I’m just glad you finally got some.”
A self-depreciating smirk crossed her face, while her fingers idly ran over the leather book, ”Xander? Was this his- Spike’s?”
Despite his best efforts, Xander winced, he’d avoided reading the journal for days. He just hadn’t been able to open it. Since Willow gave it to him four days ago, he sat up for hours every night staring at it, touching it (the supple leather so like and so different from the duster), and smelling it (wondering if it was real or merely longing for the scent of his lover) until he drifted to sleep clutching the book to his chest.
”Xander?” Dawn’s voice was verging on panic, ”Xander, I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, ”Dawnie. Dawn, don’t. You didn’t… yeah, it’s his.”
”What’s in it?”
Smiling and snorting lightly, ”I don’t know.”
The girl’s brow wrinkled, ”But… he wrote it for you.”
”I don’t know.”
”He must’ve. Who else would he ’love always’?” Dawn crossed her arms over her chest as if this settled the matter.
*Uh, Buffy.* His brain not-so-helpfully supplied.
”Pht, please. He chose you, wholly.”
”Did I say that out loud? And what do you mean ’chose wholly’?”
”No, but I’ve seen that look enough on his face and Angel’s to know what it means. And I mean Spike isn’t Angel. Where Angel’s soul makes him be a ’good guy’, Spike’s just made him more human. Spike’s soul gave him the choice- he did things because he chose to, not because of overwhelming guilt.”
Xander’s mouth quirked into a half smirk, ”You mean the way Angel can love Buffy, while Angelus only wants to torture and kill her.”
”Exactly! Spike loved you- demon, soul, and everything in-between.” Once again dawn folded her arms in triumph. ”Read it, Xan. He wouldn’t have left it for you otherwise.”
---
Xander stewed for days, Dawn’s words bouncing incessantly in his head, and by the time he managed to open the journal, they’d been in London for over a week.
He’d been helping Giles and Willow sort through the write-ups from The Battle. He hadn’t meant to read the file but when it fell and he saw Buffy’s handwriting he instinctively read.
Willow showed up several hours later, burgers and shakes in hand, to find her dearest friend sobbing in a heap on the floor. Papers and files were strewn around him, the most telling ones clutched tightly in his white-knuckled grip.
”Goddess! Xander,” the small witch ran to her friend.
Bleary eyes turned towards her voice, ”He screamed. She said he screamed.”
”Oh, Xander,” she threw her arms around the young man, trying to hold him tightly.
”Why?”
The redhead pulled back, cocking her head.
”Should’ve… it should’ve been me.” Before Willow’s confused mind could form the obvious question and even more obvious denial, he answered her, ”Not her, me.” Eyes overflowing with moisture stared, impossibly large, from his tear streaked face. ”Should’ve been me with him. ME! She… she… had no right! No right…,” there was a sound like a lover’s heart being ripped apart followed by a wail of pain and sorrow that the young witch remembered all too well escaping her own throat a year ago.
For the second time in too short a time she held her friend as he cried, cursing herself and Giles for leaving Buffy’s report for Xander stumble across. Making quiet cooing noises, Willow scanned the papers she’d removed from Xander’s hand. ””Goddess,” she whispered, her already fair skin paling as she read over the vampire’s last moments. ”Xan, I’m sorry. I had no idea this was here. You shouldn’t have had to see this before you were ready.” She held and rocked her best-friend, her own tears flowing freely for the friend in her arms, the friend they lost, and for the lover she lost too soon.
When Xander awoke later that evening, he was alone in his bed, Spike’s journal having been lovingly placed in his hands, and he knew it was time. With trembling hands he opened the book. He knew he wasn’t read to read the journal itself, but the letter, that, he hoped, he could manage.
Taking the paper with it’s incongruitously elegant writing from the book, Xander found himself giggling. Not a happy sound, but one that would’ve reminded his girls of a certain insane vampiress. Even more so if they knew what set off the giggles- the image of Spike, the Big Bad, uber-punk covered in leather and metal writing in this classical flowing upper-class script was too much for his overtaxed mind.
It took several attempts, but he finally got his laughter (however psychotic) under control, and began to read.
”Xan, pet, you can’t imagine how much I hope you never see this and how much it eats at me to know you most likely will.
Sitting here writing this, listening to you breath, watching your troubled sleep, knowing it’s the first of many restless nights, I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms and take you away from all of this.
But we both know that can’t be.
I want to thank you. You gave me everything- made me see I could be worthy, more than that you made me feel worthy. I love you, Xander. Never forget that.
It’s hard to imagine that we found each other when I agreed to bare myself to you. Something you never made me do. I want you to have this journal it’s the closest I can come to fulfilling that promise- it’s everything I wish I could tell you, it’s who I was, who I am, who I want to be for you. Xander, my precious beautiful love, I may have sought my soul for her, but you gave it meaning. It belongs to you, just as my heart does. I love you always.
Your own,
Spike