His mind goes to hell in a hand basket the moment he steps on to the RV. He has conditioned his brain to not think about him every two seconds and it helps knowing they are leaving town. True, they are fleeing from a Hell-god but leaving Spike and the insanity behind.
Insanity returns in spades and a little smile of pleasure crosses his lips before he can quash it. Xander feels his legs turn to jelly at the smug grin on Spike’s face but he whole-heartedly backs up Giles’s cold tone as he enquires why Spike is here. What else can he do?
A few miles down the road and he could cope with the travel sickness if only Spike would stop talking about leaving with Buffy and Dawn. It curls his insides in a way the journey never could and after a while he stops trying to figure out if he still feels nauseous or simply heart sick.
Whatever it is, it coalesces into a heavy lump when Tara moves the blind and Spike’s hand starts to smoke, and later he watches helplessly as Dawn bandages his hands. He knows he took the blade to save Buffy. Whoever he saves, it’s to save Buffy, and Spike is so wrapped up in her he can’t see Xander looking, wanting, needing.
Sanity waves at him for a fleeting moment as Spike smoulders under a blanket, a splash of cold water in his face to remind him this is a not a human he harbours feelings for. Then the smell of leather and cigarette smoke fill his nostrils as they lift Giles to the counter and sanity disappears again with barely a glance over it’s shoulder.
His life is playing out like a movie but he doesn’t get the lead. Compared to the other players he feels like he’s on the periphery and he wonders should he even be here? Buffy questions the General and Xander stands on the sidelines watching Spike, his heart writing the score. He can live with that, who notices the music until the movie is over any way? Spike stands facing him, not seeing him, with his arms held across his chest, the protective gesture belying his arrogant stance. Not once does he look; like he’s determined not too and then the possibility is snatched away as Tara’s distress shatters the moment.
Perhaps now he’s an extra with the camera on his face, as he watches Spike watch Buffy; she’s oblivious to the look of disgust that covers up his misery. He doesn’t think, just follows and closes the door when Spike spins on his heels and walks away. There’s a drum in the place where his heart should be and the beat holds his back to the wall.
Spike struggles to light his cigarette and seeing it breaks the stasis that beleaguers him. Promotion brings a speaking part and the words flow as though he knows his lines. He doesn’t know where they come from but they must be the right ones because he pockets the lighter like it’s a plot point. He tries to stay focused; they are fighting a war.
The enemy has infiltrated their ranks and the film freezes when Glory knocks Spike into his outstretched arms; he just wants to be lost here. Suspended time allows relief at his nearness and molecules try to fuse so he can’t leave his side. Fast forward and he’s gone, but he’s still nearby, and one look is a screen capture full of ’maybes’.
His head full of white noise he can’t break his role, it’s much easier to argue and fight than try to change the script. The hospital affords some distance to clear his head but it wrenches at his heart to see him leave. The air feels a lighter place but nevertheless bereft; he knows the feeling well.
His return is a jolt, must keep a neutral face, but the shock is unexpected and it twists with longing despite his resolve. Need is physical and he can barely stop his traitorous body from responding to the return of a severed limb. Is it cruel fate sending them out together or is providence smiling upon his weary and battered head?
They have somewhere to be and they walk stiffly, hardly a word passes between them and a new script plays out in Xander’s head. He can’t listen to it, they have a world to save but what’s the point if he can’t be in his arms? A fight with a demon is not so unusual and they get what they came for.
They leave Doc’s place and Spike’s step falters when they turn down the alley. He puts down the box and stops. Xander walks into arms that encircle him but he’s too stupefied to understand the change in direction. This is not what he expected; ad libs are for the professionals, yet he follows Spike’s lead when his lips mash down and he forces his tongue passed his lips.
Xander tremble’s in his arms, but stage fright won’t slow him down. He pulls Spike closer and clutches at his hair, a prop to keep him steady. He holds his breath as the heel of Spike’s hand rubs the outline of his hardness; an insolent look on his face.
"Is this really for me Harris? I’ve got to hand it to you, you speak volumes with the things you don’t say."
"Spike I ..."
"Don’t spoil it now, we don’t have time to wax lyrical and it’s this you really want isn’t it?"
His hands disappear under his shirt, cool fingers play across skin. He drops kisses across his jaw line, tenderness so unexpected. Xander pushes him back against the wall and drops to his knees in front of him. He runs his hands up the outside of his thighs and buries his nose in the mound at his crotch.
Then he looks at him steadily and the lust on Spike’s face surprises him; half lidded eyes and lips a swollen pout. The feast before his eyes would satisfy a greedy man and Xander doesn’t know what to taste first; just that he wants it all. Spike lowers his zipper and frees himself, an offering to the starved and Xander engulfs him like he has so many times before, dreams fading against reality.
Taking what he wants he pleases the object of his desire, not choreographed but a dance for the blind. The music plays in his head prompted by the soft sighs and moans coming from the one above him and he swallows in eagerness when it reaches it’s crescendo.
Kissing him again he discovers more tenderness and it seems misplaced in a creature of his nature. Yet this is why he’s here, he’s coveted for so long that which is normally reserved for another. Pressed against his back he wants him to feel it too and he enters him slowly.
Should the world end this night he shall rest in peace; something he will never know again if it doesn’t. His other life is waiting in the wings, ready to give him another walk on part and he’s so tired of the emptiness. Surrounded by cool flesh he pretends he can keep this place and exchanges it for his heart.
Spike trembles under his touch as he slides his hand up and down him and he grows harder with each clumsy thrust. Pleasure erupts for both of them in bitter sweet bursts and they cling to one another like they will never let go. Kisses so fervent, tasteful and addictive and then the only thing surrounding Xander is air.
"Spike?"
"I can’t. Go back to your life Xander if you have that chance; you know I can’t."
He smiles around the lump in his throat and bites at the lip that dares to betray him. He nods because there are no words. They have somewhere to be and they walk stiffly, hardly a word passes between them and a new script plays out in Xander’s head. He can’t listen to it, they have a world to save and what’s the point if he can’t be in Spike’s arms?
~Fin~