Sleeping Loved
Spike sat next to Xander, watching him. Xander, for his part, was asleep, unaware of his observer. Actually, asleep was the wrong word, unconscious would be better. He’d simply dropped off a little while ago, and Spike hadn’t taken his eyes off of him since.
There wasn’t much else to look at in the tiny cell they were in. Just stone walls, that looked depressingly strong, and a sturdy metal door with crosses etched into it. Spike had spent time earlier trying to open it, but all his efforts had bought him was burnt hands and a headache.
The demons had taken them a little before dawn. They’d come for Xander, but Spike had been with him at the time so he was taken too. He wasn’t sure whether the demons considered him a bonus or an extra burden. He wasn’t dust yet though, so that was something.
However it wasn’t much, not when he’d had to watch as the demons pulled Xander out of the little cell they’d only recently been deposited in. He didn’t think the demons knew that he and Xander were together; otherwise they probably would have tried to use that against them in some way. No one knew they were together; it was a secret, an illicit affair that they were both enjoying immensely. They’d planned on telling everyone soon, but in the meantime they’d enjoyed having something that was just theirs. It had only been six months since they’d gotten together, but for Spike it was serious. He hadn’t said the words yet, but he knew he loved Xander, and felt that Xander was just as serious about their relationship as he was.
So when the demons had dragged Xander away, kicking and screaming, it had felt like it was his heart being dragged across the dirty ground. It had been worse though, when they’d dragged him back in.
Xander had been beaten, badly. His torso and face were covered with bruises. His nose was broken, as were some ribs. His throat was bruised as well, as though he’d been choked. His breath sounded wet, so Spike thought that one of the broken ribs had perhaps punctured a lung. There looked like there might be internal bleeding as well.
Xander had been awake when they first brought him back, but unable to talk. He’d tried at first, but Spike had quickly shushed him, cradling his head and holding his hand. He’d told Xander that Buffy would be coming soon, that she always did. Willow would do a locator spell and all the Scoobies would come running. Nothing to worry about, any minute now.
They both knew it was probably not true. Xander, Buffy and Willow had drifted apart in the last year. With the girls in college and Xander working odd jobs it was no longer a cause for alarm if they didn’t see each other for a few days. The other scoobies would figure it out eventually, they’d come and do the heroic and amazing rescue. It was just a matter of time.
But Xander didn’t have time. Spike knew it, and he could see in Xander’s eyes that he knew it too. He was having a harder and harder time drawing breath, and was bleeding out somewhere below his stomach. It was anyone’s guess as to which killed him first.
Spike knew the moment Xander lost consciousness because the grip on his hand eased. He could tell he wasn’t dead yet by the steady cadence of Xander’s heart. He kept holding on to the hand, and reached the other up to stroke Xander’s hair. He wished he could turn Xander, but with the chip he couldn’t bite him, and the bite was necessary to the turning. Just drinking vampire blood wouldn’t do it. It was one of those arbitrary rules the supernatural world lived with.
So he watched Xander, pretended that he was just asleep. That he would wake up soon, and all would be well, because reality just wasn’t acceptable right now. But when he heard that heartbeat, the one that had lulled him to sleep many times in Xander’s big bed, falter, well, he couldn’t pretend anymore.
In an underground cell, where no one could see, and no one would ever know, Spike cried. He clutched at Xander, and in between great wracking sobs, managed to say the words he hadn’t said yet.
“I love you.”
He said it, over and over again, as the heartbeat slowed, stuttered, and stopped.
There wasn’t much else to look at in the tiny cell they were in. Just stone walls, that looked depressingly strong, and a sturdy metal door with crosses etched into it. Spike had spent time earlier trying to open it, but all his efforts had bought him was burnt hands and a headache.
The demons had taken them a little before dawn. They’d come for Xander, but Spike had been with him at the time so he was taken too. He wasn’t sure whether the demons considered him a bonus or an extra burden. He wasn’t dust yet though, so that was something.
However it wasn’t much, not when he’d had to watch as the demons pulled Xander out of the little cell they’d only recently been deposited in. He didn’t think the demons knew that he and Xander were together; otherwise they probably would have tried to use that against them in some way. No one knew they were together; it was a secret, an illicit affair that they were both enjoying immensely. They’d planned on telling everyone soon, but in the meantime they’d enjoyed having something that was just theirs. It had only been six months since they’d gotten together, but for Spike it was serious. He hadn’t said the words yet, but he knew he loved Xander, and felt that Xander was just as serious about their relationship as he was.
So when the demons had dragged Xander away, kicking and screaming, it had felt like it was his heart being dragged across the dirty ground. It had been worse though, when they’d dragged him back in.
Xander had been beaten, badly. His torso and face were covered with bruises. His nose was broken, as were some ribs. His throat was bruised as well, as though he’d been choked. His breath sounded wet, so Spike thought that one of the broken ribs had perhaps punctured a lung. There looked like there might be internal bleeding as well.
Xander had been awake when they first brought him back, but unable to talk. He’d tried at first, but Spike had quickly shushed him, cradling his head and holding his hand. He’d told Xander that Buffy would be coming soon, that she always did. Willow would do a locator spell and all the Scoobies would come running. Nothing to worry about, any minute now.
They both knew it was probably not true. Xander, Buffy and Willow had drifted apart in the last year. With the girls in college and Xander working odd jobs it was no longer a cause for alarm if they didn’t see each other for a few days. The other scoobies would figure it out eventually, they’d come and do the heroic and amazing rescue. It was just a matter of time.
But Xander didn’t have time. Spike knew it, and he could see in Xander’s eyes that he knew it too. He was having a harder and harder time drawing breath, and was bleeding out somewhere below his stomach. It was anyone’s guess as to which killed him first.
Spike knew the moment Xander lost consciousness because the grip on his hand eased. He could tell he wasn’t dead yet by the steady cadence of Xander’s heart. He kept holding on to the hand, and reached the other up to stroke Xander’s hair. He wished he could turn Xander, but with the chip he couldn’t bite him, and the bite was necessary to the turning. Just drinking vampire blood wouldn’t do it. It was one of those arbitrary rules the supernatural world lived with.
So he watched Xander, pretended that he was just asleep. That he would wake up soon, and all would be well, because reality just wasn’t acceptable right now. But when he heard that heartbeat, the one that had lulled him to sleep many times in Xander’s big bed, falter, well, he couldn’t pretend anymore.
In an underground cell, where no one could see, and no one would ever know, Spike cried. He clutched at Xander, and in between great wracking sobs, managed to say the words he hadn’t said yet.
“I love you.”
He said it, over and over again, as the heartbeat slowed, stuttered, and stopped.