FIC: Best Laid Plans (1/1)--S/X--R-ish for this part--#6 in the Reflection series
Previous parts found HERE
* * * * * * * * *
TITLE: The Best Laid Plans (1/1)
AUTHORED BY: Tisienne
RATING: NC-17-ish, I think.
PAIRING: S/X
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I’m just playing in his sandbox. No money made. Ever.
SUMMARY: Xander has a crisis… so does Spike.
A/N: This is #6 in the ‘Reflection’ series.
POV: Xander’s again.
* * * * * * * * *
He’s still bleeding when I carry him into our apartment, and okay, I kicked him out so it really should be my place but it’s just not. It’s ours, and no matter how long I live or how short a time he does, it will always be ‘ours’.
I kinda knew that already, but I know it even more now, when he’s even paler than usual on the dark sheets, his blood pumping so quickly from him that he doesn’t even look frightened.
I’m shaking. Shaking so hard. Oh, gods! What the fuck is happening here? How can this be… how can Spike be… “It’s not fair!”
Gods, whoever that is, they sound pissed, and not in that English way that means drunk.
No, the guy sounds furious and broken and hurt and hateful, all at once, and…
“He’s been human for less than a month and now you do this? You give him to me and then take him away? Well, FUCK YOU! Fuck you, Powers! I can’t… I won’t…”
And oh, Gods… it’s me.
It’s me who’s screaming and shaking his fist and telling the Powers that Be to fuck off… and gods, I mean it, too.
This… this shouldn’t be possible!
I protected him! I even sent him away so he’d be safe and have the chance to figure out who he is and what he wants and instead he came after me and then… this?
I don’t even know when I clamped one hand over the biggest wound-the one on his thigh-and I have no clue about when the other hand found his shoulder, trying to staunch or even slow the rushing blood.
“No… no, baby… don’t… it’s all my fault, Spike… I should have told you; should have just told you!”
Gods, his eyes are so accusing, even with being bleary and dim.
“Y-y-y… thin’…?” he stammers, and he’s shivering.
Oh, fuck, Spike’s shivering!
I mean, okay, he was doing that before but it’s cold outside and I hoped it was just because…
I have to swallow hard because that’s a lie.
He was going into shock.
I knew he was going into shock.
I just hoped… wanted to believe…
But it doesn’t matter and I sob.
“My fault,” I babble helplessly, even as his accusing gaze becomes softer, warmer.
“Should have told you, should have said… should have known you would come looking. You never were the kind of guy who’d just do what he was told, were you?”
Gods, I’m crying now. I can feel the hot, wet tears leaving my good eye; feel matching ones filling my empty socket, burning there before overflowing to spill down my cheeks.
“Gods, baby… wanted you safe, wanted you away from me. Wanted you where nobody could hurt you… and I fucked up, Spike! I fucked up so bad because you wouldn’t be… like this… if I hadn’t made you go and now I can’t… Gods, Spike, I can’t stop it! The… the blood, it’s… you’re…”
“D-dyin’…” he whispers and I can barely hear it, his voice is so soft and has so little breath behind it. “Dyin’, Xan… w’s worth ‘t, luv… t’ be… wit’ y’…”
No! No, no, no, no, NO!
This isn’t right! It can’t be right! How could the Powers send him to me and then just snatch him away like this? How could they reward me so fucking generously for such a short time and then show me just how alone I’ll always be?
It was bad enough knowing he was human and would die someday, but how dare they make it be now! It should… I was counting on…
I was counting on years… decades, even.
Or I was before I decided to send him away and straight into the path of danger, which is what I did, and now… oh, Gods, Spike’s dying and I can’t seem to do anything about it and it’s all my fault, even if making him leave was the right thing to do.
I could have done so many things so differently after that…
I could have said we’d go to his place when he found me out. Could have paid more attention while we were walking home.
Should have noticed that we were being followed but I was so fucking consumed with the need to look at him, to touch him, even if it was just my hand on his back.
Gods, they came out of nowhere, and maybe I didn’t really believe he was human because I wasn’t worried while I was fighting.
I killed the ones who were after me and I grinned.
Oh fucking Gods, I grinned!
I was grinning when I turned around to… I don’t know, give him a high five or watch him fight or push him up against a wall and kiss him breathless, or…
Gods, I can’t keep the images from my mind.
Spike… on his back with three of the fucking bastards on him, his hands pushing at them uselessly.
Spike’s blood being pulled from the larger wounds by those toothed tentacles that glowed rose-red in pulses as the creatures swallowed.
Spike’s eyes finding mine and looking so… resigned and apologetic. Just like they look right now.
“You can’t die, Spike,” I try to say back, but my own voice is just as soft and reedy as his. “You can’t just... I… I need you, Spike. I can’t do this without you. Not now that I know what my life can be like with you, and… please… please, baby, please… stay with me, Spike. Stay. I… I’ll even tell the others that you’re back, okay? I’ll tell them. Tell them how much I love you and how I’ll kill every one of them if they ever so much as think about hurting you, and…”
His eyes are closing slowly, just a bit at a time, and I can feel his heart slowing because the pulses of blood against my hands aren’t anywhere near as strong as they were before, and…
“No… no, no, no… No, baby, no… you can’t… I can’t… please, Spike… please, love…”
And I know it’s hopeless. I’ve seen enough mortality to recognize death creeping in, and maybe-just maybe-I could have somehow managed to talk myself around to feeling blessed for having had him for even as short a time as I did, but then…
Then he takes one last breath and his eyes open just a little to meet my pleading, wet eye.
“Love you, Xander,” he breathes before going completely still, and I want to die, too.
My hands release his flesh and blood-so much blood-and rise slowly as I stand and stare at his utterly still form, and if I were thinking clearly, I’d still do exactly what I’m planning.
I’m not sure if it’ll kill me, but it’s worth a try, and if it doesn’t?
Well, I know exactly where the frog-looking stone thing fell into me. I can dig it out. Maybe that’ll do the trick.
All I know for sure is… I can’t go back to being alone. Not when he’s dead and not safe. Not when I’m the one who fucked up and made him die… and not when I already feel so fucking lonely.
The bottle of whiskey is still where I left it a few days ago… and the Zippo I bought almost two years ago is still in the drawer of the table beside the bed.
My nose wrinkles just a bit at the smell of the booze, but that’s okay. It still reminds me of Spike.
So I pour the liquor out onto the down-stuffed comforter and slowly wrap myself around my lover’s still form, the tears flowing more copiously now… and when I flip the top of the lighter and spin the small wheel, I smile sadly at the flame that results.
“You wait for me, Spike,” I whisper into his too-white ear, hoping he’ll hear. “You wait, baby… I’m coming, okay? I don’t want you to be alone either…”
And then I drop the lighter and…
I deserve the pain. I deserve the anguish and the sensation of my entire body shrinking, pulling in on itself… but it doesn’t hurt as much as it should or as much as it could because he’s here in my arms and I know that wherever we end up, it’ll be Heaven because we’re together.
The smell of smoke reminds me of Spike, too. All that’s missing is the leather, but I guess that’ll come when the fire spreads to the chair in the corner, and… it’s fine.
* * * * *
“What the fuck!”
I don’t know what just happened but Spike’s looking at me like I’ve gone crazier than he was in the basement of good old Sunnydale High.
Jesus-fucking-Christ! It felt so real and I remember it all!
Spike died! Because of me!
Except he didn’t because I’m looking right at him and he’s got this expression on his face that says he’s worried and anxious and…
And I look away from him. I somehow force my eye to drag from nervous blue, and…
Oh, Gods. What if it wasn’t some sort of weird-ass waking dream? What if it was the Powers trying to clue me to what might happen, and it could be because I recognize this corner.
It was another block down that it happened and Spike was hurt… and Spike died! Because of me!
And Gods, I don’t know what to do or say right now, but I can’t take the chance that it really won’t happen, and…
We should take a cab.
I open my mouth to say that, even though it’s likely to make him think I’ve gone even more insane than he obviously believes, but what comes out of my mouth is… not that.
“I’m an idiot but I love you,” I hear myself saying, and Gods help me if I can manage to mind. “You were sent to me, Spike.”
I can feel myself blushing but it doesn’t stop my mouth from spewing on.
“I’m the Warrior. I’m the one who wanted you so badly that the Powers brought you back, and I’m sorry, okay? Not that you’re here, but… I’m sorry if I dragged you out of somewhere you wanted to be and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you thought or imagined or wanted, but I love you. I need you! I… I can’t be without you, Spike. I never should have made you leave. I was just…” and my voice dries up without any warning, leaving my lips moving soundlessly.
His brow furrows a bit more before clearing… and when his hand finds and wraps around my own, I almost want to collapse from sheer relief.
I almost expect some grand gesture…some sweeping declaration of his own feelings. Instead, he merely squeezes my fingers and smirks a bit.
“Knew you couldn’t resist me for long, Harris, but this has got ta be a record,” is all he says.
Then he tugs my hand and starts down the street again and I can’t!
I know what I saw, know what I felt! And Gods help me, let him think I’m a few prizes short of a box of Cracker Jacks.
“Tired of walking,” I tell him while I resist his pull. “There’s a taxi. Come on.”
He protests for a minute or so. We’re less than three blocks from home, after all…
But then I point out just how much easier it’ll be to feel each other up in a cab than while walking… and how much less likely it is that we’ll be arrested for public indecency, and…
Was it a dream or a warning?
I can’t say that I know or care.
Whatever it was, and whoever sent it… I thank them.
And I’ll be offering up a little prayer to them every night for the rest of my life, however long that may be.
Of course, now Spike and I have to actually talk about me and him and what I did and why, and…
Gods help me.
~End.
* * * * * * * * *
TITLE: The Best Laid Plans (1/1)
AUTHORED BY: Tisienne
RATING: NC-17-ish, I think.
PAIRING: S/X
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I’m just playing in his sandbox. No money made. Ever.
SUMMARY: Xander has a crisis… so does Spike.
A/N: This is #6 in the ‘Reflection’ series.
POV: Xander’s again.
* * * * * * * * *
He’s still bleeding when I carry him into our apartment, and okay, I kicked him out so it really should be my place but it’s just not. It’s ours, and no matter how long I live or how short a time he does, it will always be ‘ours’.
I kinda knew that already, but I know it even more now, when he’s even paler than usual on the dark sheets, his blood pumping so quickly from him that he doesn’t even look frightened.
I’m shaking. Shaking so hard. Oh, gods! What the fuck is happening here? How can this be… how can Spike be… “It’s not fair!”
Gods, whoever that is, they sound pissed, and not in that English way that means drunk.
No, the guy sounds furious and broken and hurt and hateful, all at once, and…
“He’s been human for less than a month and now you do this? You give him to me and then take him away? Well, FUCK YOU! Fuck you, Powers! I can’t… I won’t…”
And oh, Gods… it’s me.
It’s me who’s screaming and shaking his fist and telling the Powers that Be to fuck off… and gods, I mean it, too.
This… this shouldn’t be possible!
I protected him! I even sent him away so he’d be safe and have the chance to figure out who he is and what he wants and instead he came after me and then… this?
I don’t even know when I clamped one hand over the biggest wound-the one on his thigh-and I have no clue about when the other hand found his shoulder, trying to staunch or even slow the rushing blood.
“No… no, baby… don’t… it’s all my fault, Spike… I should have told you; should have just told you!”
Gods, his eyes are so accusing, even with being bleary and dim.
“Y-y-y… thin’…?” he stammers, and he’s shivering.
Oh, fuck, Spike’s shivering!
I mean, okay, he was doing that before but it’s cold outside and I hoped it was just because…
I have to swallow hard because that’s a lie.
He was going into shock.
I knew he was going into shock.
I just hoped… wanted to believe…
But it doesn’t matter and I sob.
“My fault,” I babble helplessly, even as his accusing gaze becomes softer, warmer.
“Should have told you, should have said… should have known you would come looking. You never were the kind of guy who’d just do what he was told, were you?”
Gods, I’m crying now. I can feel the hot, wet tears leaving my good eye; feel matching ones filling my empty socket, burning there before overflowing to spill down my cheeks.
“Gods, baby… wanted you safe, wanted you away from me. Wanted you where nobody could hurt you… and I fucked up, Spike! I fucked up so bad because you wouldn’t be… like this… if I hadn’t made you go and now I can’t… Gods, Spike, I can’t stop it! The… the blood, it’s… you’re…”
“D-dyin’…” he whispers and I can barely hear it, his voice is so soft and has so little breath behind it. “Dyin’, Xan… w’s worth ‘t, luv… t’ be… wit’ y’…”
No! No, no, no, no, NO!
This isn’t right! It can’t be right! How could the Powers send him to me and then just snatch him away like this? How could they reward me so fucking generously for such a short time and then show me just how alone I’ll always be?
It was bad enough knowing he was human and would die someday, but how dare they make it be now! It should… I was counting on…
I was counting on years… decades, even.
Or I was before I decided to send him away and straight into the path of danger, which is what I did, and now… oh, Gods, Spike’s dying and I can’t seem to do anything about it and it’s all my fault, even if making him leave was the right thing to do.
I could have done so many things so differently after that…
I could have said we’d go to his place when he found me out. Could have paid more attention while we were walking home.
Should have noticed that we were being followed but I was so fucking consumed with the need to look at him, to touch him, even if it was just my hand on his back.
Gods, they came out of nowhere, and maybe I didn’t really believe he was human because I wasn’t worried while I was fighting.
I killed the ones who were after me and I grinned.
Oh fucking Gods, I grinned!
I was grinning when I turned around to… I don’t know, give him a high five or watch him fight or push him up against a wall and kiss him breathless, or…
Gods, I can’t keep the images from my mind.
Spike… on his back with three of the fucking bastards on him, his hands pushing at them uselessly.
Spike’s blood being pulled from the larger wounds by those toothed tentacles that glowed rose-red in pulses as the creatures swallowed.
Spike’s eyes finding mine and looking so… resigned and apologetic. Just like they look right now.
“You can’t die, Spike,” I try to say back, but my own voice is just as soft and reedy as his. “You can’t just... I… I need you, Spike. I can’t do this without you. Not now that I know what my life can be like with you, and… please… please, baby, please… stay with me, Spike. Stay. I… I’ll even tell the others that you’re back, okay? I’ll tell them. Tell them how much I love you and how I’ll kill every one of them if they ever so much as think about hurting you, and…”
His eyes are closing slowly, just a bit at a time, and I can feel his heart slowing because the pulses of blood against my hands aren’t anywhere near as strong as they were before, and…
“No… no, no, no… No, baby, no… you can’t… I can’t… please, Spike… please, love…”
And I know it’s hopeless. I’ve seen enough mortality to recognize death creeping in, and maybe-just maybe-I could have somehow managed to talk myself around to feeling blessed for having had him for even as short a time as I did, but then…
Then he takes one last breath and his eyes open just a little to meet my pleading, wet eye.
“Love you, Xander,” he breathes before going completely still, and I want to die, too.
My hands release his flesh and blood-so much blood-and rise slowly as I stand and stare at his utterly still form, and if I were thinking clearly, I’d still do exactly what I’m planning.
I’m not sure if it’ll kill me, but it’s worth a try, and if it doesn’t?
Well, I know exactly where the frog-looking stone thing fell into me. I can dig it out. Maybe that’ll do the trick.
All I know for sure is… I can’t go back to being alone. Not when he’s dead and not safe. Not when I’m the one who fucked up and made him die… and not when I already feel so fucking lonely.
The bottle of whiskey is still where I left it a few days ago… and the Zippo I bought almost two years ago is still in the drawer of the table beside the bed.
My nose wrinkles just a bit at the smell of the booze, but that’s okay. It still reminds me of Spike.
So I pour the liquor out onto the down-stuffed comforter and slowly wrap myself around my lover’s still form, the tears flowing more copiously now… and when I flip the top of the lighter and spin the small wheel, I smile sadly at the flame that results.
“You wait for me, Spike,” I whisper into his too-white ear, hoping he’ll hear. “You wait, baby… I’m coming, okay? I don’t want you to be alone either…”
And then I drop the lighter and…
I deserve the pain. I deserve the anguish and the sensation of my entire body shrinking, pulling in on itself… but it doesn’t hurt as much as it should or as much as it could because he’s here in my arms and I know that wherever we end up, it’ll be Heaven because we’re together.
The smell of smoke reminds me of Spike, too. All that’s missing is the leather, but I guess that’ll come when the fire spreads to the chair in the corner, and… it’s fine.
* * * * *
“What the fuck!”
I don’t know what just happened but Spike’s looking at me like I’ve gone crazier than he was in the basement of good old Sunnydale High.
Jesus-fucking-Christ! It felt so real and I remember it all!
Spike died! Because of me!
Except he didn’t because I’m looking right at him and he’s got this expression on his face that says he’s worried and anxious and…
And I look away from him. I somehow force my eye to drag from nervous blue, and…
Oh, Gods. What if it wasn’t some sort of weird-ass waking dream? What if it was the Powers trying to clue me to what might happen, and it could be because I recognize this corner.
It was another block down that it happened and Spike was hurt… and Spike died! Because of me!
And Gods, I don’t know what to do or say right now, but I can’t take the chance that it really won’t happen, and…
We should take a cab.
I open my mouth to say that, even though it’s likely to make him think I’ve gone even more insane than he obviously believes, but what comes out of my mouth is… not that.
“I’m an idiot but I love you,” I hear myself saying, and Gods help me if I can manage to mind. “You were sent to me, Spike.”
I can feel myself blushing but it doesn’t stop my mouth from spewing on.
“I’m the Warrior. I’m the one who wanted you so badly that the Powers brought you back, and I’m sorry, okay? Not that you’re here, but… I’m sorry if I dragged you out of somewhere you wanted to be and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you thought or imagined or wanted, but I love you. I need you! I… I can’t be without you, Spike. I never should have made you leave. I was just…” and my voice dries up without any warning, leaving my lips moving soundlessly.
His brow furrows a bit more before clearing… and when his hand finds and wraps around my own, I almost want to collapse from sheer relief.
I almost expect some grand gesture…some sweeping declaration of his own feelings. Instead, he merely squeezes my fingers and smirks a bit.
“Knew you couldn’t resist me for long, Harris, but this has got ta be a record,” is all he says.
Then he tugs my hand and starts down the street again and I can’t!
I know what I saw, know what I felt! And Gods help me, let him think I’m a few prizes short of a box of Cracker Jacks.
“Tired of walking,” I tell him while I resist his pull. “There’s a taxi. Come on.”
He protests for a minute or so. We’re less than three blocks from home, after all…
But then I point out just how much easier it’ll be to feel each other up in a cab than while walking… and how much less likely it is that we’ll be arrested for public indecency, and…
Was it a dream or a warning?
I can’t say that I know or care.
Whatever it was, and whoever sent it… I thank them.
And I’ll be offering up a little prayer to them every night for the rest of my life, however long that may be.
Of course, now Spike and I have to actually talk about me and him and what I did and why, and…
Gods help me.
~End.