Eternal Love
Eternal Love
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: PG
Summary: A little look at Giles and Xander, many years down the road. A Christmas Fic Card and a little hurt/comfort for bethlehem2. This is slightly angsty, but not horribly so, and the end makes me smile.
The blood was all he could think about, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes at night, and the first thing that crossed his mind in the morning. It horrified him and broke him and he was so, so lost.
He struggled to rise from his position on the couch when he heard the coughing begin again. He looked at the Christmas tree that stood in the corner next to the fireplace, desolate beside the roaring flames.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief and dragged it across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that forever poured out of him. The coughing sounded again and he turned, taking a deep breath before walking over and pulling back the curtains, exposing the bed, and its frail occupant. An old man lay there, long past his prime, nearing death, his body twisted and shriveled beneath the mound of bedclothes.
Giles was shaking violently, the cough that wracked through his body forcing out saliva and blood. Xander moved quickly to his side and lifted him up, shoving pillows behind his back. “Giles, wake up now.” He pulled at the closures of Giles’s nightshirt, opening it to expose the bruised flesh beneath. He grabbed a towel and shoved it deep into a bowl, the contents of which he didn’t understand, but knew worked.
He pressed the compress down on Giles’s chest, whispering softly. “Giles, sweetheart, can you hear me? Time to wake up.”
Giles’s eyes began to open and he smiled. Xander couldn’t help but smile back. Willow had begged him to relieve himself of this burden, of having to watch this long drawn out death, but Xander couldn’t leave him, not at a home, not at a hospital. He had loved this man too long, had been loved too long, to separate from him now.
“There you are.” Warm eyes, full of life and awareness smiled back at him, and although he was no longer able to speak, Xander could hear his voice, remember every word, every sound, telling him that he was loved, that he was cherished.
Xander grinned again and reached for Giles’s glasses, sliding them onto his nose. “There, better?”
Giles nodded and Xander reached for a clean cloth, wiping away all traces of the cough-borne fluids. Giles wiggled over, tugging at Xander, silently begging with his eyes. Xander climbed carefully into the bed, pulling the covers over them both.
Giles reached out and stroked Xander’s cheek, his fingers lingering on the scars around the empty socket, tracing the lines of age above the brow. He seemed to try to speak, a soft grunt escaping his lips. “No, my love,” Xander whispered. “I am not beautiful.”
Giles’s eyes crinkled with glee and he laid back, the effort of touching Xander seemingly using all of his negligible energy. He tilted his head, looking over at the tree, grunting softly.
Xander wrapped himself around his partner and smiled. “Dawn and her girls will be here later. Joan is about to pop, you know, the baby is due next week. But don’t worry, they will be here to decorate the tree.” Giles nodded and curled closer to Xander, taking in his warmth.
“I love you, Rupert,” Xander whispered in Giles’s thinning hair. He felt Giles’s smile against his chest and they both began to sleep.
The End
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: PG
Summary: A little look at Giles and Xander, many years down the road. A Christmas Fic Card and a little hurt/comfort for bethlehem2. This is slightly angsty, but not horribly so, and the end makes me smile.
The blood was all he could think about, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes at night, and the first thing that crossed his mind in the morning. It horrified him and broke him and he was so, so lost.
He struggled to rise from his position on the couch when he heard the coughing begin again. He looked at the Christmas tree that stood in the corner next to the fireplace, desolate beside the roaring flames.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief and dragged it across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that forever poured out of him. The coughing sounded again and he turned, taking a deep breath before walking over and pulling back the curtains, exposing the bed, and its frail occupant. An old man lay there, long past his prime, nearing death, his body twisted and shriveled beneath the mound of bedclothes.
Giles was shaking violently, the cough that wracked through his body forcing out saliva and blood. Xander moved quickly to his side and lifted him up, shoving pillows behind his back. “Giles, wake up now.” He pulled at the closures of Giles’s nightshirt, opening it to expose the bruised flesh beneath. He grabbed a towel and shoved it deep into a bowl, the contents of which he didn’t understand, but knew worked.
He pressed the compress down on Giles’s chest, whispering softly. “Giles, sweetheart, can you hear me? Time to wake up.”
Giles’s eyes began to open and he smiled. Xander couldn’t help but smile back. Willow had begged him to relieve himself of this burden, of having to watch this long drawn out death, but Xander couldn’t leave him, not at a home, not at a hospital. He had loved this man too long, had been loved too long, to separate from him now.
“There you are.” Warm eyes, full of life and awareness smiled back at him, and although he was no longer able to speak, Xander could hear his voice, remember every word, every sound, telling him that he was loved, that he was cherished.
Xander grinned again and reached for Giles’s glasses, sliding them onto his nose. “There, better?”
Giles nodded and Xander reached for a clean cloth, wiping away all traces of the cough-borne fluids. Giles wiggled over, tugging at Xander, silently begging with his eyes. Xander climbed carefully into the bed, pulling the covers over them both.
Giles reached out and stroked Xander’s cheek, his fingers lingering on the scars around the empty socket, tracing the lines of age above the brow. He seemed to try to speak, a soft grunt escaping his lips. “No, my love,” Xander whispered. “I am not beautiful.”
Giles’s eyes crinkled with glee and he laid back, the effort of touching Xander seemingly using all of his negligible energy. He tilted his head, looking over at the tree, grunting softly.
Xander wrapped himself around his partner and smiled. “Dawn and her girls will be here later. Joan is about to pop, you know, the baby is due next week. But don’t worry, they will be here to decorate the tree.” Giles nodded and curled closer to Xander, taking in his warmth.
“I love you, Rupert,” Xander whispered in Giles’s thinning hair. He felt Giles’s smile against his chest and they both began to sleep.
The End