Navigating Rough Waters Ch 1-3
Okay Chapters 1 to 3 of my fic.
Wonder if I need warnings in my own journal? Maybe.
Title: Navigating Rough Water
Author: tempestsreach
Chapter: 1/20+
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: Adult
Feedback: Love it!
Disclaimer: Don’t own any of the characters, etc.
Warnings/Squicks: Rape, non-con S/Aus, illusions to child abuse, M/M STARTS OFF QUITE DARK
Summary: Spike and Xander, with life not easy for either, the two bumpy paths cross and lead to an unlikely friendship and more.
Notes: Set in season two during the Angelus phase.
Notes 2: Final Beta'd by the ever lovely and very capable sublimatedangel and the proccess was made so much easier by 50ftqueenie.
Chapter one
Xander crept around the side of the warehouse, holding his breath as he watched the last of the minions depart out of the main door like school children, laughing and chattering, off to a night of fun and bloodthirsty frolics.
He clutched his stake more firmly in his slightly sweat damp hand, but they didn’t notice him, leaving him momentarily breathless in the dark.
Terror welled up once more and he took firm control of himself, pushing it down like he always did. “Well, it really is now or never, Xanman,” he said softly. Moving forward, he examined the steady babble from various parts of his brain: ‘Fuck... You've really lost it this time’...‘MUST protect pack’...‘Careful, there still may be some enemy about’
Last night had been the clincher. Seeing Angelus in the hospital. Backing him down all by himself. The adrenalin that followed.
Buffy shouldn’t have to kill the one she loved, or at least someone wearing the face of the man she loved. So Xander would help, or die trying. Not that he’d ever really liked Dead Boy anyway, not that the Buffster would ever look at him that way, or anyway that didn't involve getting the best donuts. Shrugging, he turned off that train of thought before he got distracted.
Moving past a window the dim light from within filtering around the weathered boards nailed over it, he paused; he could hear Angelus talking to someone.
“Think it's funny the slayer’s white knight got the better of me, do you, Spike?”
Warning tones of anger whispered through the sentence, making Xander cringe. He knew that type of tone. He’d heard it enough throughout his life, and it always spelt trouble for someone.
“Fucking best story I’ve heard in ages, mate,” was Spike’s smart arsed comment.
“Maybe you will think differently in a moment,” returned Angelus in a mild tone.
Xander peered through a slit in the loose, weathered boards that covered the window, seeing Angelus and Spike caught in a tableau. The gutter of candle light threw Spike's sharp features into a feline dance of light and dark and made Angelus’ half-turned face a study in duality, light and dark overhung by his heavy brow.
“Somehow I doubt that, Peaches.”
Angelus stalked round what was obviously a bedroom until he was behind Spike, running his hand along the back of his neck. Leaning down to reach his ear, he hissed.
“Oh, I think you will, childe. I think you need reminding of who the Master here is.”
Xander caught the brief flash of fear as it raced across Spike's face.
“You haven’t been my bloody Master for a very long time, Angelus; never again, NEVER!”
“Oh, I think you’ll be crying a different tune soon, childe.”
With that, Angelus swept Spike out of the wheelchair and onto the concrete floor.
“Come, childe, get up and fight,” Angelus sneered. “Oh, sorry, you can’t. Need to wait for your precious Dru to come and help you...”
Moving forward, he let the weight of one knee fall on Spike’s back, forcing him flat to the floor.
“Need her to help you feed...”
His hand went to the back of Spike's t-shirt and ripped it away. “Can’t really service her now, can you. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of that for you.”
Spike struggled beneath him, hissing and growling, legs very obviously not working as he tried to buck off the weight pinning him down.
Xander’s breath was only coming in short, sharp pants, the voices in his head suddenly very quiet, coalescing into one which moaned, ‘no, please, no.’
Cramming his fist into his mouth to stifle any sound, he watched as Angelus lifted the slighter figure off the floor and threw him over the edge of the bed, one hand coming down to pin the torso, the other hand reaching out to take one of the whips off the night table.
“Hold still now, this won’t hurt much,” Angelus crooned, laying the first lash over the pale marble of Spike’s back.
It was the first scream from Spike that broke Xanders hypnotic gaze; red blood running down, soaking the tatters of jeans and the sheets of the bed. Xander didn’t know how Spike had lasted so long.
“That’s right, childe, who is your master?”
But Spike just screamed, refusing to answer. Xander’s whole body jerked every time the lash fell until it seemed to become a ripple running from heel to head.
His own body ached in sympathy. He knew Spike was an evil, bad vampire, but this…
“You will submit, Spike,” Angelus roared, throwing down the whip and ripping off the remains of his childe’s clothing.
The piercing scream drawn from Spike as he was taken had Xander twisting to slide down below the window. Teeth biting down harder on to his fist and silent tears running down his face as his own memories overlaid the sounds behind.
The final broken “Master, please…” signalled the end. Angelus came with a roar, pounding into the broken body of his childe.
Angelus withdrew and watched in satisfaction as blood poured down the thighs of his childe. “Never let it be said I never did anything for you, Spike. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you for a couple of days.” Grinning maliciously, he pulled the door closed and locked the door from the outside.
Chapter Two
Xander sat on the ground, his hand muffling the sobs racking his body as tears slipped down his face unchecked.
After a few minutes, the silence of the room behind him began to intrude on his conscious mind. Roughly wiping away the tears still lingering with his shirt sleeve, he stood back up.
Gazing once again through the gap, he saw Spike hadn’t moved from where he lay over the bed, blood streaking down his body and away from him, out over the dark grey of the floor. He looked like the corpse he should be. Xander felt a strange twist of sympathy in his chest.
Without giving himself time to really think about what he was doing, he carefully eased the loose board from the window and slipped over the windowsill into the room.
Inside the still of the room, Spike’s quiet whimpers were just audible.
Pausing by the window, Xander stood totally still, listening for any sound of Angelus’ return or any other movement beyond the door. Faintly, he could hear the child-like tones of Drusilla.
“Where’s my Spikey?”
“Ah, Dru, I don’t think he wants to come and play at the moment,” he heard Angelus answer.
“Did you and he play, Daddy? Did you play wicked games with him?”
“Yes Dru, wicked games. Come, we can play some games of our own now.”
The voices faded out, leaving only Spike’s pained whimpers to break the dark silence.
“Oh shit, this has got to be your worst idea yet,” Xander muttered to himself. Keeping the bed between himself and the injured vampire, he moved closer to Spike.
The figure on the bed didn’t stir and the faint whimpering had died off completely.
Xander wondered how much blood Spike had lost... and if he lost too much, would he just kind of spontaneously dust, no stakeage required? Cool.
Looking closer at the figure, he felt guilty; maybe it wasn’t so cool. He could remember all too clearly the pain of being in similar situations; no-one to help, no-one to tell, no-one to care.
“Okay Spike, if you can hear me, I can’t quite believe this but I’m gonna help you, okay, so no eating the nice helpful human, okay?” The figure didn’t even twitch.
‘Xanman, you are so losing it, you're talking to an almost dead (relatively speaking) vamp and expecting what?’ Xander grimaced at his own musings. ‘Get a grip.’
Reaching out carefully, he poked the still figure, ready to jump back out of reach.
Nothing.
‘Okay, dead to the world.’ Xander snorted at his own thoughts. ‘Dead, yeah right!’
Looking about, Xander spotted a second doorway. ‘The bathroom? Do vampires need bathrooms? I guess they might need to get clean. I mean you can’t go hunting in the Bronze all stinky and blood covered.’ Xanders internal musings came to an end as he found what must have been an employee restroom at once time, although towels had been brought in at some point, and there was soap.
‘Okay, question answered.’
Catching sight of his watch, Xander hurried up. Jeez, how the hell had it got to 10pm already? He needed to hurry up, or he’d be in a world of pain himself if he got home late.
Turning the tap on low, Xander set a container to fill so that it would make as little sound as possible. While it was filling, he grabbed a couple of towels and walked back over to Spike.
One quick poke to make sure the vampire was still out cold and he carefully started to lift him further up onto the bed, keeping him lying on his front. Not really sure why he was being so careful, he mused on the weight of the body. ‘Wow, not really as heavy as I thought.' Thinking back over Angelus’ comments, he guessed, 'But then, maybe he’s not feeding so well in the wheelchair.’
Returning to the restroom, he turned off the taps and balanced the bowl, walking back in to the bedroom. ‘Top down,’ he decided.
Starting with Spike’s shoulders, he dipped the towel into the water and squeezed it out a bit. ‘Not too much water, or blood just spreads everywhere.'
The mess down the center of Spike’s back that was ribbons of flesh made him feel sick, the flesh shifting under his fingers. ‘God, what the hell do I do?’ Xander decided just to flatten it out as much as he could. No way to stitch it.
The backs of Spike’s legs showed a lot less damage, so he just mopped up the blood that was still pooling there. ‘Jeez, when is it gonna stop, how much can he lose?’ Running the warm damp towel over Spike’s abused backside made Xander very uncomfortable. He knew how much that hurt.
Ripping up one of the clean sheets off the bed, he quickly bound the now clean but still pulped flesh up and gently rolled Spike onto his back. Noting little more than deep bruising to his front, he cleaned the last of the blood up and took the bowl and now red dripping towels back to the bathroom.
Walking back out of the bathroom he paused by the window. “I hope that was enough, buddy, cause I gotta go or else I’ll be the one needing mopping up.” With a final glance at the still figure on the bed, he reached for the windowsill, glancing left and right to check it was safe.
Pulling his weight up onto his hands ‘Shit’ he dropped back into the bedroom.
“Okay, I have totally lost what little brain I had.” Xander walked back towards the bed.
“And I’m thinking the nightstand is a good place to find.. Aha!”
Xander walked back to the bathroom and rinsed out the an old mug which was sat on the side. ‘Doubt the evil dead will mind a little dirt.’
Sitting on the edge of the bed away from the bloody patch, he rolled up his sleeve and scored across the soft part of his arm with the knife he had liberated off the night table.
“Shit” He looked at the shallow messy cut and the blood that beaded along its edge.
“Get a grip!”
Taking a deep breath he held the knife more firmly and made a parallel cut this time adding more pressure, he watched as the blood trickled into the cup, pressing his hand over the wound when it was full.
Grabbing a bit of spare sheet he had left on the bed, he quickly wrapped it and picked up the mug.
“And how does one get blood into a comatose vamp?” He waved the mug under Spike’s nose, watching as his demon face came forward.
“Ummm, less of a problem than I thought.” Putting his hand under Spike’s head, he lifted him up and placed the mug to his lips, internally snarking, ‘Helmet hair, much?!’
“Come on, Spike, drink up the nummy blood, it’ll make you big and strong again.” Hoping that Spike couldn’t actually hear him and want to rip out his tongue.
The hesitant movement became gulps as the much needed blood was recognised, and the mug was all too soon finished.
“Sorry Spike, but that’s all I can spare, need to get going.” With that, Xander put the cup and knife on the nightstand and went back to the window.
“Bye Spike.” Checking for any returning vamps, he slipped out of the window and, after replacing the board, off into the night.
Chapter Three
Spike groaned his way back to consciousness just as the sun set. ‘Christ, what the fuck is going on?’ He hadn’t felt this weak and hurting since the organ had fallen on him.
The memories of the night before started to flood back to him and he snarled. Fucking Angelus’ power tripping, Spike mocking him for being backed down by one of the slayer's minions.
“Bloody Hell, need to learn to keep my mouth shut.” Spike looked down at his body. “What the…”
He looked down and saw the ripped sheet bandages wrapping his torso. “Who?” he tried to puzzle. ‘S’not like the bloody Poof to doctor me back up, no, might not learn my lesson that way.’ In fact he could distinctly remember Angelus saying nobody would be in to help and locking the door.
Lying there trying to work it out, a familiar scent teasing at him, he looked round and spotted a cup sat on the side. Picking it up, he sniffed it experimentally. ‘Human!’
“Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice,” Spike muttered to himself.
Licking his finger, he rubbed some of the dried blood and popped it into his mouth. Taste exploded over his tongue: warmth, chocolate and cinnamon with a dash of fear and something else that Spike couldn’t place for a while but that came to him - kindness.
The scent that remained on his bandages seemed familiar somehow but he couldn’t place it. “So someone I’ve met, maybe.”
Tiredness rapidly over taking him, he snuggled further in to the bed. The lack of blood in his system made the demon lethargic as it diverted all available energy to healing.
“Some bloody ‘White Knight’ I’ve got.” The phrase stirred a memory but it was gone before Spike could grasp it and he drifted.
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Xander had managed the night before to get home and into his house with little problem around the parents passed out on the sofa, TV droning on.
Sleep had eluded him though and his thoughts kept returning to a certain vampire; this had left him tired and late that morning., dashing in to class and throwing himself in to his seat.
“Morning ladies, the Xanman has arrived.”
Willow whispered, “Where have you been, Xander? You’re late, you don’t want detention, you…”
Buffy butted in. “Yeah, Xan, research party later. Bring coffee and donuts, can’t do that if you're in detention.”
Xander knew Willow was just upset and trying to prevent any problems at home; she knew a bit of what went on. She’d been his best friend since kindergarten, patched him up enough when he was younger before he’d learnt to hide. She thought it had mostly stopped now. Buffy just didn’t see anything beyond her own Slayerness and its problems.
“No worries, ladies, the Xanman will provide.” The class was called to order and all further conversation stopped.
The day had passed so slowly and Xander didn’t think he had actually listened to any of the lessons. Oh well, he could always copy Willow's notes.
His thoughts kept returning to a certain blond vamp, had he woken up? Was he alright? It was that question which pulled him from his reverie. “Why the hell should I care?”
“Care about what, Xander?”
Willow was looking at him expectantly and he glanced at the mouldy old tome he was currently drooling - correction! - reading at the moment.
“The mating habits of T’okolan demons, not much careage going on there!”
“Oh, Xander, you need to concentrate. Buffy could be endangered just because you failed to find the relevant bit of information in a book you were given to read.” Willow spoke with disappointment tingeing her voice.
Xander’s eyes got big. “Sorry Willow,” he whispered.
“Maybe you should go and get some soda, it sounds like Buffy and Giles have finished training for the evening.”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll concentrate.”
“I think it best if you go and get some and have a think.” Willow gave him a stern look. Xander wilted under her gaze and turned on the puppy eyes. “Sorry, Willow.” Her eyes softened and she looked at him, worry for him making her words sharper than she realised.
“Now Xander, you need to grow up a bit and start thinking about your actions and how they affect people. You can’t be a slacker forever.”
Miserably, Xander turned away. “Yes, Willow.” Shoulders hunched, he turned and walked towards the door; pausing before it closed behind him, he could hear the conversation start up before he left.
“Where’s Xander going?” Buffy piped up.
“I sent him to go and get some soda and have a think, he was slacking over research.”
“Oooh, Bad Xander,” Buffy said with a smirk in her voice.
“Willow what have you found out?” Giles asked, panting slightly whilst removing his body armour.
The door shut behind Xander and he muttered, “Not like Buffy never slacked off from research!”
--------------------------------
Arms loaded with soda from the machine in the cafeteria, Xander pasted on goofy smile number 258, and returned to the library.
“The Xanman is back bearing soda-y goodness for thirsty Slayers and their Watchers and ……”
“Oh don’t worry, Xander, we’re off to patrol.” Buffy pulled on her coat.
“Xander, do you want to borrow my History notes? You did say you needed to copy them.” Willow pulled her notebook out and held it up.
“Xander, is this true? Not falling behind in class, are you? You must keep up, it's very important, a good education. Although Lord knows if that’s what you could call the system here.”
Xander was momentarily speechless, not a feeling he was used too. “Umm…patrol?”
“That’s settled, Xander catches up on class work and we can patrol, right Giles?” Buffy said as she brushed past him.
Giles just reached for his glasses and wiped them. “If that is okay with Xander.”
“Of course it is,” Buffy gushed.
Xander stood in the library feeling lost and alone, the bright butterflies had flown leaving him feeling like the poor relation at a wedding. He was used to being treated this way, just not usually by his friends.
“Come on, Xan, not really their fault. Nothing begets nothing,” he whispered sadly to himself.
Turning off the lights, he left the now empty library and hugging Willow’s book to his chest.
Xander could name the moment in time he started to lose his friends, and it was entirely his fault.
He’d walked through the science lab doors expecting to find Amy and a love spell, only to see Giles, Buffy and Willow standing there.
Amy had looked smug as his life had halted, stopped and changed course.
Buffy had looked at him the same way she did at any of the week’s nasties she had to deal with; he’d slipped from goofy friend to potential enemy in the space of two heart beats. He could have coped with that but for Willow.
Betrayal and disappointment shone in her eyes as his best and only friend since Kindergarten had turned away. Stopping his stuttered apologies with a “How could you, Xander?”, she hadn’t even looked back at him as she walked out the door. Willow had let him back into her life eventually, but things were still strained and Buffy only seem to exacerbate the situation.
Giles, the only adult to look at him with any sort of kindness, had told him to get out of his sight, refused to look at him.
Cordelia ripped into him privately and publicly every time she saw him, and he couldn’t blame her, but wasn’t it time to forget if they couldn’t forgive?
He knew he’d made a mistake, apologised a thousand times. Grovelled, bought donuts and done every crappy job they had asked of him, but it was never enough; they’d moved on. One mistake and he wasn’t quite part of the inner circle any more.
He was sorry, so very sorry, and he would do anything to be part of them again: his friends, his only true family.
Okay now to put in memories. It seems best to put it in blocks like this.
Wonder if I need warnings in my own journal? Maybe.
Title: Navigating Rough Water
Author: tempestsreach
Chapter: 1/20+
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: Adult
Feedback: Love it!
Disclaimer: Don’t own any of the characters, etc.
Warnings/Squicks: Rape, non-con S/Aus, illusions to child abuse, M/M STARTS OFF QUITE DARK
Summary: Spike and Xander, with life not easy for either, the two bumpy paths cross and lead to an unlikely friendship and more.
Notes: Set in season two during the Angelus phase.
Notes 2: Final Beta'd by the ever lovely and very capable sublimatedangel and the proccess was made so much easier by 50ftqueenie.
Chapter one
Xander crept around the side of the warehouse, holding his breath as he watched the last of the minions depart out of the main door like school children, laughing and chattering, off to a night of fun and bloodthirsty frolics.
He clutched his stake more firmly in his slightly sweat damp hand, but they didn’t notice him, leaving him momentarily breathless in the dark.
Terror welled up once more and he took firm control of himself, pushing it down like he always did. “Well, it really is now or never, Xanman,” he said softly. Moving forward, he examined the steady babble from various parts of his brain: ‘Fuck... You've really lost it this time’...‘MUST protect pack’...‘Careful, there still may be some enemy about’
Last night had been the clincher. Seeing Angelus in the hospital. Backing him down all by himself. The adrenalin that followed.
Buffy shouldn’t have to kill the one she loved, or at least someone wearing the face of the man she loved. So Xander would help, or die trying. Not that he’d ever really liked Dead Boy anyway, not that the Buffster would ever look at him that way, or anyway that didn't involve getting the best donuts. Shrugging, he turned off that train of thought before he got distracted.
Moving past a window the dim light from within filtering around the weathered boards nailed over it, he paused; he could hear Angelus talking to someone.
“Think it's funny the slayer’s white knight got the better of me, do you, Spike?”
Warning tones of anger whispered through the sentence, making Xander cringe. He knew that type of tone. He’d heard it enough throughout his life, and it always spelt trouble for someone.
“Fucking best story I’ve heard in ages, mate,” was Spike’s smart arsed comment.
“Maybe you will think differently in a moment,” returned Angelus in a mild tone.
Xander peered through a slit in the loose, weathered boards that covered the window, seeing Angelus and Spike caught in a tableau. The gutter of candle light threw Spike's sharp features into a feline dance of light and dark and made Angelus’ half-turned face a study in duality, light and dark overhung by his heavy brow.
“Somehow I doubt that, Peaches.”
Angelus stalked round what was obviously a bedroom until he was behind Spike, running his hand along the back of his neck. Leaning down to reach his ear, he hissed.
“Oh, I think you will, childe. I think you need reminding of who the Master here is.”
Xander caught the brief flash of fear as it raced across Spike's face.
“You haven’t been my bloody Master for a very long time, Angelus; never again, NEVER!”
“Oh, I think you’ll be crying a different tune soon, childe.”
With that, Angelus swept Spike out of the wheelchair and onto the concrete floor.
“Come, childe, get up and fight,” Angelus sneered. “Oh, sorry, you can’t. Need to wait for your precious Dru to come and help you...”
Moving forward, he let the weight of one knee fall on Spike’s back, forcing him flat to the floor.
“Need her to help you feed...”
His hand went to the back of Spike's t-shirt and ripped it away. “Can’t really service her now, can you. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of that for you.”
Spike struggled beneath him, hissing and growling, legs very obviously not working as he tried to buck off the weight pinning him down.
Xander’s breath was only coming in short, sharp pants, the voices in his head suddenly very quiet, coalescing into one which moaned, ‘no, please, no.’
Cramming his fist into his mouth to stifle any sound, he watched as Angelus lifted the slighter figure off the floor and threw him over the edge of the bed, one hand coming down to pin the torso, the other hand reaching out to take one of the whips off the night table.
“Hold still now, this won’t hurt much,” Angelus crooned, laying the first lash over the pale marble of Spike’s back.
It was the first scream from Spike that broke Xanders hypnotic gaze; red blood running down, soaking the tatters of jeans and the sheets of the bed. Xander didn’t know how Spike had lasted so long.
“That’s right, childe, who is your master?”
But Spike just screamed, refusing to answer. Xander’s whole body jerked every time the lash fell until it seemed to become a ripple running from heel to head.
His own body ached in sympathy. He knew Spike was an evil, bad vampire, but this…
“You will submit, Spike,” Angelus roared, throwing down the whip and ripping off the remains of his childe’s clothing.
The piercing scream drawn from Spike as he was taken had Xander twisting to slide down below the window. Teeth biting down harder on to his fist and silent tears running down his face as his own memories overlaid the sounds behind.
The final broken “Master, please…” signalled the end. Angelus came with a roar, pounding into the broken body of his childe.
Angelus withdrew and watched in satisfaction as blood poured down the thighs of his childe. “Never let it be said I never did anything for you, Spike. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you for a couple of days.” Grinning maliciously, he pulled the door closed and locked the door from the outside.
Chapter Two
Xander sat on the ground, his hand muffling the sobs racking his body as tears slipped down his face unchecked.
After a few minutes, the silence of the room behind him began to intrude on his conscious mind. Roughly wiping away the tears still lingering with his shirt sleeve, he stood back up.
Gazing once again through the gap, he saw Spike hadn’t moved from where he lay over the bed, blood streaking down his body and away from him, out over the dark grey of the floor. He looked like the corpse he should be. Xander felt a strange twist of sympathy in his chest.
Without giving himself time to really think about what he was doing, he carefully eased the loose board from the window and slipped over the windowsill into the room.
Inside the still of the room, Spike’s quiet whimpers were just audible.
Pausing by the window, Xander stood totally still, listening for any sound of Angelus’ return or any other movement beyond the door. Faintly, he could hear the child-like tones of Drusilla.
“Where’s my Spikey?”
“Ah, Dru, I don’t think he wants to come and play at the moment,” he heard Angelus answer.
“Did you and he play, Daddy? Did you play wicked games with him?”
“Yes Dru, wicked games. Come, we can play some games of our own now.”
The voices faded out, leaving only Spike’s pained whimpers to break the dark silence.
“Oh shit, this has got to be your worst idea yet,” Xander muttered to himself. Keeping the bed between himself and the injured vampire, he moved closer to Spike.
The figure on the bed didn’t stir and the faint whimpering had died off completely.
Xander wondered how much blood Spike had lost... and if he lost too much, would he just kind of spontaneously dust, no stakeage required? Cool.
Looking closer at the figure, he felt guilty; maybe it wasn’t so cool. He could remember all too clearly the pain of being in similar situations; no-one to help, no-one to tell, no-one to care.
“Okay Spike, if you can hear me, I can’t quite believe this but I’m gonna help you, okay, so no eating the nice helpful human, okay?” The figure didn’t even twitch.
‘Xanman, you are so losing it, you're talking to an almost dead (relatively speaking) vamp and expecting what?’ Xander grimaced at his own musings. ‘Get a grip.’
Reaching out carefully, he poked the still figure, ready to jump back out of reach.
Nothing.
‘Okay, dead to the world.’ Xander snorted at his own thoughts. ‘Dead, yeah right!’
Looking about, Xander spotted a second doorway. ‘The bathroom? Do vampires need bathrooms? I guess they might need to get clean. I mean you can’t go hunting in the Bronze all stinky and blood covered.’ Xanders internal musings came to an end as he found what must have been an employee restroom at once time, although towels had been brought in at some point, and there was soap.
‘Okay, question answered.’
Catching sight of his watch, Xander hurried up. Jeez, how the hell had it got to 10pm already? He needed to hurry up, or he’d be in a world of pain himself if he got home late.
Turning the tap on low, Xander set a container to fill so that it would make as little sound as possible. While it was filling, he grabbed a couple of towels and walked back over to Spike.
One quick poke to make sure the vampire was still out cold and he carefully started to lift him further up onto the bed, keeping him lying on his front. Not really sure why he was being so careful, he mused on the weight of the body. ‘Wow, not really as heavy as I thought.' Thinking back over Angelus’ comments, he guessed, 'But then, maybe he’s not feeding so well in the wheelchair.’
Returning to the restroom, he turned off the taps and balanced the bowl, walking back in to the bedroom. ‘Top down,’ he decided.
Starting with Spike’s shoulders, he dipped the towel into the water and squeezed it out a bit. ‘Not too much water, or blood just spreads everywhere.'
The mess down the center of Spike’s back that was ribbons of flesh made him feel sick, the flesh shifting under his fingers. ‘God, what the hell do I do?’ Xander decided just to flatten it out as much as he could. No way to stitch it.
The backs of Spike’s legs showed a lot less damage, so he just mopped up the blood that was still pooling there. ‘Jeez, when is it gonna stop, how much can he lose?’ Running the warm damp towel over Spike’s abused backside made Xander very uncomfortable. He knew how much that hurt.
Ripping up one of the clean sheets off the bed, he quickly bound the now clean but still pulped flesh up and gently rolled Spike onto his back. Noting little more than deep bruising to his front, he cleaned the last of the blood up and took the bowl and now red dripping towels back to the bathroom.
Walking back out of the bathroom he paused by the window. “I hope that was enough, buddy, cause I gotta go or else I’ll be the one needing mopping up.” With a final glance at the still figure on the bed, he reached for the windowsill, glancing left and right to check it was safe.
Pulling his weight up onto his hands ‘Shit’ he dropped back into the bedroom.
“Okay, I have totally lost what little brain I had.” Xander walked back towards the bed.
“And I’m thinking the nightstand is a good place to find.. Aha!”
Xander walked back to the bathroom and rinsed out the an old mug which was sat on the side. ‘Doubt the evil dead will mind a little dirt.’
Sitting on the edge of the bed away from the bloody patch, he rolled up his sleeve and scored across the soft part of his arm with the knife he had liberated off the night table.
“Shit” He looked at the shallow messy cut and the blood that beaded along its edge.
“Get a grip!”
Taking a deep breath he held the knife more firmly and made a parallel cut this time adding more pressure, he watched as the blood trickled into the cup, pressing his hand over the wound when it was full.
Grabbing a bit of spare sheet he had left on the bed, he quickly wrapped it and picked up the mug.
“And how does one get blood into a comatose vamp?” He waved the mug under Spike’s nose, watching as his demon face came forward.
“Ummm, less of a problem than I thought.” Putting his hand under Spike’s head, he lifted him up and placed the mug to his lips, internally snarking, ‘Helmet hair, much?!’
“Come on, Spike, drink up the nummy blood, it’ll make you big and strong again.” Hoping that Spike couldn’t actually hear him and want to rip out his tongue.
The hesitant movement became gulps as the much needed blood was recognised, and the mug was all too soon finished.
“Sorry Spike, but that’s all I can spare, need to get going.” With that, Xander put the cup and knife on the nightstand and went back to the window.
“Bye Spike.” Checking for any returning vamps, he slipped out of the window and, after replacing the board, off into the night.
Chapter Three
Spike groaned his way back to consciousness just as the sun set. ‘Christ, what the fuck is going on?’ He hadn’t felt this weak and hurting since the organ had fallen on him.
The memories of the night before started to flood back to him and he snarled. Fucking Angelus’ power tripping, Spike mocking him for being backed down by one of the slayer's minions.
“Bloody Hell, need to learn to keep my mouth shut.” Spike looked down at his body. “What the…”
He looked down and saw the ripped sheet bandages wrapping his torso. “Who?” he tried to puzzle. ‘S’not like the bloody Poof to doctor me back up, no, might not learn my lesson that way.’ In fact he could distinctly remember Angelus saying nobody would be in to help and locking the door.
Lying there trying to work it out, a familiar scent teasing at him, he looked round and spotted a cup sat on the side. Picking it up, he sniffed it experimentally. ‘Human!’
“Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice,” Spike muttered to himself.
Licking his finger, he rubbed some of the dried blood and popped it into his mouth. Taste exploded over his tongue: warmth, chocolate and cinnamon with a dash of fear and something else that Spike couldn’t place for a while but that came to him - kindness.
The scent that remained on his bandages seemed familiar somehow but he couldn’t place it. “So someone I’ve met, maybe.”
Tiredness rapidly over taking him, he snuggled further in to the bed. The lack of blood in his system made the demon lethargic as it diverted all available energy to healing.
“Some bloody ‘White Knight’ I’ve got.” The phrase stirred a memory but it was gone before Spike could grasp it and he drifted.
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Xander had managed the night before to get home and into his house with little problem around the parents passed out on the sofa, TV droning on.
Sleep had eluded him though and his thoughts kept returning to a certain vampire; this had left him tired and late that morning., dashing in to class and throwing himself in to his seat.
“Morning ladies, the Xanman has arrived.”
Willow whispered, “Where have you been, Xander? You’re late, you don’t want detention, you…”
Buffy butted in. “Yeah, Xan, research party later. Bring coffee and donuts, can’t do that if you're in detention.”
Xander knew Willow was just upset and trying to prevent any problems at home; she knew a bit of what went on. She’d been his best friend since kindergarten, patched him up enough when he was younger before he’d learnt to hide. She thought it had mostly stopped now. Buffy just didn’t see anything beyond her own Slayerness and its problems.
“No worries, ladies, the Xanman will provide.” The class was called to order and all further conversation stopped.
The day had passed so slowly and Xander didn’t think he had actually listened to any of the lessons. Oh well, he could always copy Willow's notes.
His thoughts kept returning to a certain blond vamp, had he woken up? Was he alright? It was that question which pulled him from his reverie. “Why the hell should I care?”
“Care about what, Xander?”
Willow was looking at him expectantly and he glanced at the mouldy old tome he was currently drooling - correction! - reading at the moment.
“The mating habits of T’okolan demons, not much careage going on there!”
“Oh, Xander, you need to concentrate. Buffy could be endangered just because you failed to find the relevant bit of information in a book you were given to read.” Willow spoke with disappointment tingeing her voice.
Xander’s eyes got big. “Sorry Willow,” he whispered.
“Maybe you should go and get some soda, it sounds like Buffy and Giles have finished training for the evening.”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll concentrate.”
“I think it best if you go and get some and have a think.” Willow gave him a stern look. Xander wilted under her gaze and turned on the puppy eyes. “Sorry, Willow.” Her eyes softened and she looked at him, worry for him making her words sharper than she realised.
“Now Xander, you need to grow up a bit and start thinking about your actions and how they affect people. You can’t be a slacker forever.”
Miserably, Xander turned away. “Yes, Willow.” Shoulders hunched, he turned and walked towards the door; pausing before it closed behind him, he could hear the conversation start up before he left.
“Where’s Xander going?” Buffy piped up.
“I sent him to go and get some soda and have a think, he was slacking over research.”
“Oooh, Bad Xander,” Buffy said with a smirk in her voice.
“Willow what have you found out?” Giles asked, panting slightly whilst removing his body armour.
The door shut behind Xander and he muttered, “Not like Buffy never slacked off from research!”
--------------------------------
Arms loaded with soda from the machine in the cafeteria, Xander pasted on goofy smile number 258, and returned to the library.
“The Xanman is back bearing soda-y goodness for thirsty Slayers and their Watchers and ……”
“Oh don’t worry, Xander, we’re off to patrol.” Buffy pulled on her coat.
“Xander, do you want to borrow my History notes? You did say you needed to copy them.” Willow pulled her notebook out and held it up.
“Xander, is this true? Not falling behind in class, are you? You must keep up, it's very important, a good education. Although Lord knows if that’s what you could call the system here.”
Xander was momentarily speechless, not a feeling he was used too. “Umm…patrol?”
“That’s settled, Xander catches up on class work and we can patrol, right Giles?” Buffy said as she brushed past him.
Giles just reached for his glasses and wiped them. “If that is okay with Xander.”
“Of course it is,” Buffy gushed.
Xander stood in the library feeling lost and alone, the bright butterflies had flown leaving him feeling like the poor relation at a wedding. He was used to being treated this way, just not usually by his friends.
“Come on, Xan, not really their fault. Nothing begets nothing,” he whispered sadly to himself.
Turning off the lights, he left the now empty library and hugging Willow’s book to his chest.
Xander could name the moment in time he started to lose his friends, and it was entirely his fault.
He’d walked through the science lab doors expecting to find Amy and a love spell, only to see Giles, Buffy and Willow standing there.
Amy had looked smug as his life had halted, stopped and changed course.
Buffy had looked at him the same way she did at any of the week’s nasties she had to deal with; he’d slipped from goofy friend to potential enemy in the space of two heart beats. He could have coped with that but for Willow.
Betrayal and disappointment shone in her eyes as his best and only friend since Kindergarten had turned away. Stopping his stuttered apologies with a “How could you, Xander?”, she hadn’t even looked back at him as she walked out the door. Willow had let him back into her life eventually, but things were still strained and Buffy only seem to exacerbate the situation.
Giles, the only adult to look at him with any sort of kindness, had told him to get out of his sight, refused to look at him.
Cordelia ripped into him privately and publicly every time she saw him, and he couldn’t blame her, but wasn’t it time to forget if they couldn’t forgive?
He knew he’d made a mistake, apologised a thousand times. Grovelled, bought donuts and done every crappy job they had asked of him, but it was never enough; they’d moved on. One mistake and he wasn’t quite part of the inner circle any more.
He was sorry, so very sorry, and he would do anything to be part of them again: his friends, his only true family.
Okay now to put in memories. It seems best to put it in blocks like this.