My Sweet Prince
by
Pirate Purple
Part Ten
I lay there, contemplating sobriety with a feeling of cold dread. Harris family men weren’t meant to be sober anyway. This was all going to be a huge mistake.
“Spike…”
“What, pet?” Spike was cradling my head in his hand – I could feel my pulse beat against the base of his thumb. It was hot in the bedroom. The vesper twilight was muggy. I could feel each of Spike’s cooler fingers against my scalp.
I really didn’t want him to let go.
“Nothing. Lost my train of thought.”
“You sure, Xander?”
“Yeah… yeah. I'm just a little high still is all.”
“ ‘Kay.”
I should get up. We’ve gone way past a manly amount of cuddling. Instead I curl into him, and he lets me, pulling me closer so I can bury my face in his neck and smell the sandalwood soap he bought from a street vendor. He hums something off-key and we sit like that, with his right hand stroking my left shoulder, for over an hour.
For eternally-babbling me, and someone who used to be the poster child for vampiric ADHD, we have a lot of silence like this. We both crave it, simple touch. Yeah, sometimes it becomes sexual, we’re guys. Today it doesn’t though, as my rumbling stomach breaks the mood.
“Didja eat while I was gone today?”
“No, I was…” I stop myself from saying high, because I know that will make him frown. “I was reading.”
“Well, let’s get something in you, now. What do you want?”
“Something cool… ice cream?” I'm ever hopeful.
“Real food, git. Got leftover Chinese, could make some pasta, Got cheese and bread, could have a grilled cheese?”
Spike makes really good grilled cheese. “Ooh, that, please!”
Spike smiles at me again. I had been waiting for that. I smile back. I look away when tears prick my eyes. I'm gonna let him down.
Spike puts a plate in front of me, interrupting my reverie. “What’s up, Xan?”
Xan? A slow grin spreads across my face. I have a pet name! “Nothin’. Just thinkin’” Oh, yum, crispy bread and melty cheese.
“About what, git!”
I swallow and raise my eyebrow. “About what I'm going to do to you when I'm done with this sandwich.” I take another bite.
Spike swallows his blood, distractedly missing the counter several times as he tries to put his mug down. I openly stare at his zipper, and he adjusts himself.
“Right. I’ll be… ah… brushing my teeth, then.”
When I hear the click of the bathroom door shutting, I do a little in-chair snoopy dance. That’s the first time I’ve ever made anyone want me just by using words. Then I get busy finishing my sandwich.
Part Eleven
Spike gets some good hydroponic pot and I start weaning off the Khallia. He keeps his promise. He’s there through the nightmares, he talks to the Scoobies so I don’t have to, he brings me soup and Gatorade when it starts getting hard for me to keep food down. He doesn’t leave when I sweat and swear and scream at him to just “Give me my fucking fix now, you asshole!” He holds me through the shaking.
I both love him and hate him for this, but don’t tell him either. I wonder what his interest is in me, beyond a steady fuck. I search his face for some sort of calculation, but I see only concern, and maybe something that might be more. But when it comes down to it, I know people like Spike don’t have those kinds of feelings for people like me. He feels responsible for me, is all. The idea that Spike will never love me is a like an emotional bruise. I keep poking at it to see if it still hurts, and am eternally surprised, and yet not, when it still does.
The gang is harassing Spike about seeing me. They don’t know where he lives, and even Willow, in all her hacker and Wicca glory, cannot unravel the Gordian knot that is Wolfram and Hart’s files and magical protection. But they call the cell, first daily, then multiple times a day, then hourly. They leave long messages full of guilt for me and for Spike for keeping me from them. I don’t want to see them. I can’t see them. I start to panic whenever the phone rings. Spike takes the battery out, but I can’t eat or rest knowing they’re worried about me.
He puts the batteries back in the phone, and hands it to me. “Call them.”
I start to dial Willow’s number, but have to hang up and rush to the bathroom before I'm halfway through. When my stomach is empty, I hand the phone back to Spike, and look up at him pleadingly from the bathroom floor. The tiles are cool, like Spike’s hands.
“Bloody hell,” he gets Buffy’s number from the cell, and I can hear it ringing. He leaves the room at my panicked look. He comes back a few minutes later.
“I'm gonna go meet her in Sunnydale. You wanna come?”
I frantically shake my head. He picks me up and puts me in bed. He gathers all the takeout menus from around the house and puts them on the bedside table. “You gonna be okay here if I go?”
I shrug and look down.
“It’ll take me about as long to drive to Sunnydale as it will take Willow to get ready for the teleportation spell. I gotta go now, if I'm gonna do this.”
I nod, miserably.
“You sure you’re not comin’?”
I nod again, curling up and pulling the covers over my head.
Spike kisses my head through the blanket, and a few moments later I hear the click of the door.
It’s Wednesday and I'm miserable. I smoke all the pot. I order food but don’t eat it. No one calls. I cry myself to sleep. Thursday passes in much the same way, only without the pot, because I don’t have any more. By Friday morning I have decided that Spike and Buffy have gotten back together. Friday afternoon I go to the liquor store and get three fifths of Spike’s favorite scotch. When the sun goes down, I’ve got a little left in the first bottle. I get dressed in an outfit that he bought me, which I wouldn’t wear before. Leather pants and a mesh shirt. I use his eyeliner. I walk down to the clubs, demon clubs on the seedy side of town, where Spike likes to go.
I don’t feel anything as the bouncer lets me in. He’s seen me here with Spike before. No one sees me as I weave my way onto the dance floor. When I get there, I pretend Spike is right behind me, and I dance. The song is one that I’ve heard before, and had thought of as Spike’s and mine for awhile.
Never thought I’d do you the same.
Never thought I’d fill with desire.
Never thought I’d feel so ashamed.
And I really was ashamed. I had no right to feel the way I did about Spike. I never should have even slept with Spike. Of course Buffy would still have feelings for him.
So before I end my day, remember.
My sweet prince, you are the one
My sweet prince
You are the one
I knew that Spike was it for me. The last person I’d have expected was the one I believed to be my soulmate. My forever love.
Never thought I’d have to abstain
Never thought all this could back fire
Close up the hole in my vein
I never thought I’d stop using. I thought I’d let the drugs take over until there was nothing left of me. He made me change my mind.
Can fix all the pain away
So before I end my day
Remember
My sweet prince
You are the one
My sweet prince
You are the one
You are the one
But the drugs, my valuable friends, would help me forget all about that. No more unrequited love for the Xan-man.
When the music segues into the next song, there are two demons pressed against me, a female demon I’ve never seen before in front, and a male one called j’Reth that Spike plays poker with sometimes, behind me. We dance indecently for several songs before the female demon starts pulling me towards the back. I grab j’Reth by the front of his faded black jeans and pull him through the crowd behind us. We tumble into one of the back rooms. The female demon is either rich or on the prowl, she already had a key. She is methodically stripping me out of my clothes and walking me over to the bed, when j’Reth pulls the works and a baggie out of his pocket. I close my eye and fall back onto the ratty mattress.
I orbit a vesper somewhere in the sky as the needle slips out of my vein and j’Reth slips into me. The last thing I feel is the female demon’s lips wrapped around my shaft, and then I'm gone.
Part Twelve
I'm at home when I come back from orbit. I'm naked, and unshaven, and coming down hard. I nearly don’t make it to the bathroom, but it’s dry heaves anyway. I haven’t eaten in several days, and I'm probably dehydrated. I think about Spike bringing me Gatorade for the shortest possible moment, before stifling it. Spike’s gone.
I'm still rolling that around in my head when he steps into the shower behind me. I jump about a foot. “Ack! You could warn somebody you’re home!” My heart is jumping out of my chest for more than one reason.
To my surprised he says nothing about the state of me or of the house that I trashed in true rockstar form. He just pulls me close so we’re both standing under the water, which I had set to punishingly hot. And that’s it. He just holds me until the water starts to cool. Then he washes me quickly, taking extra care to get the smeared eyeliner off. When he’s done, he turns of the water and grabs a towel, wrapping it around me. I'm too stunned to fight him on any of this, and I'm afraid to say anything.
The bed has been changed when we get to the bedroom. How long was he home for? He lays me down on the bed and curls around me, pulling up the comforter. I start to stammer out an apology, but he hushes me.
“Shh, pet. We’re both knackered, yeah? Talking can wait.”
I stay quiet, but I'm certain he’s just too beyond fury to speak to me, and I don’t sleep. After awhile Spike sighs and turns me to face him.
“Right. Too pissed at me to sleep, right?” I open my mouth to interrupt but he places a finger over my lips, and continues. “You’re right to be. I went to see the slayer, and I didn’t call for days, yeah? And I'm sure you had all kinds of thoughts about what we were up to.” He pauses, and looks so frightened I want to look behind me and make sure there’s nothing there. If vampires cried, I would say his eyes teared up. But the Big Bad doesn’t cry. “And I'm so sorry, pet, but you’d be right. I was… with her, while I was in Sunnydale. I don’t even know why it happened, except that we were both reminiscing and maybe a little drunk.”
I tried to push away, and he finally, reluctantly, let go of me. He wanted Buffy. I had been right. I got dressed, and started to shove a couple of pairs of jeans and a few shirts in a bag. I had to go. Now. The clock says 3 AM, no vesper breeze or twilight walk for me. There was a flophouse sort of place down the street that rented by the hour, but I was sure the Council credit card would buy me at least a night.
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