As If We Should Forget We Have No Hands...part three! *S/X*

[tabaqui]

Yup, posting. Again. Just - twitchy! Wanna post!
Heeeeee.

But first - a self-pimp! I have another Supernatural ficlet up at kaz2y5. Yis, Supernatural is sucking me down, OMGWTF!!!11!
But i love it. And no, *not* gonna abandon my best boys to these *new* ones. Just make 'em scooch over a bit so there's room.
Heh.

Anyway, pop over and read Liturgy if you're so inclined.

As for 'Hands' - wheeeeee! It's so fun. To write. And re-read. *la la*
Never mind me. Thanks, of coz, to reremouse for reading and poking and helping, and to darkhavens for making sure my UK flist-members aren't rolling their eyes and muttering 'omfGOD she's a moron!'.
*ahem*

On with the show!
Oh! Speaking of reremouse, she recently updated her totally hilarious, sexy and boys-will-be-boys-even-when-they're-girls gender!switch fic Parts. Yes!! All the...uh...parts are right here.

Oh yeah - Xander had no illusions which one of them was the plain Jane in this buddy movie and clearly he needed to spend a few hours curled up in a multiplex while things exploded on screen because there was no way no way Xander was prepared to be insecure in his femininity.

How can anybody resist stuff like *that*? Go, now, read!!
:)







"So I know the Slayer? Or - one of them?"

"Yeah - know several of 'em, actually." Spike paused to listen down an alley - sniff the air that was thick with wet and rot. Dockside, hunting - stalking through a creeping mist that was making Xander shiver. It was oddly like old times. Old old times. "You know Buffy, and then there was some foreign Slayer and Faith - and then all those bloody Potentials." Something scurried underfoot and Spike kicked it - sent the rat flying. Xander shoved his hands a little deeper into his pockets, hunching into the jacket. Spike needed to find something soon - Xander was getting cold.

"You're taking this awfully well," Spike said. "Kind of thought you'd be calling for the men in white coats by now."

"No, it's... I know you're not crazy." Xander stopped when Spike did - watched him suss out a dark, derelict looking building. "I do actually remember - one thing."

"You do?" Spike turned, eyebrow going up in expectation. There was something going on inside this warehouse. Something nasty. He could hear muffled groans of pain - harsh, panting breath. "You remember something?"

"Yeah. I never - forgot it, I guess. I woke up knowing it." Xander shivered, looking around them - looked at Spike and his eye was wide and scared - dark in the uncertain light. "Demons are real. That's the one thing I remember. They're...real."

*Fuck. That doesn’t sound good. Maybe we should just -* There was a sudden explosion of noise just behind them - a crash of something going over, shouts - and then the unmistakable shriek of someone in mortal pain. Xander flinched, visibly cringing and Spike cursed. "Stay here, right? I'll be right back." Spike darted into the building through a smashed door - took in a sharp breath. Searching. There. Stink of burning and sex, filth and rotting food and alcohol. There were two men - one was on the floor, screaming. His dirty fingers were clutched tight across his belly but his intestines were spilling out anyway; grey loops of flesh that glimmered wetly in the flickering light of a fire burning in a dented drum. The man's clothing was torn - pulled half off him and his pale flanks were mottled with dirt and bruises. Crouching over him - scarlet-bladed knife in one hand - was another man. He was rifling the first man's pockets, scattering the meager possessions and pocketing a foil-wrapped square of some drug.

"Shut it, you!" the second man snarled - lifted the knife high, ready to make the final cut. But Spike's hand was there, crushing his wrist - twisting it and sending the knife skittering over the floor. The man on the ground was whimpering now - twitching. Dying, his heart laboring to pump blood that wasn't there. Spike didn't waste time talking. He yanked the second man upright - wrenched his head over and bit. The man yelped - jerked once - and then hung limply in Spike's grip as Spike rapidly drained him. The blood was slick and hot in his mouth - down his throat - and Spike closed his eyes in pleasure. There was a soft noise - a harsh, choking intake of breath and Spike spun around, feeling - almost dizzy. Not wanting to see what he knew he would.

Which was Xander, not three feet away - staring in open-mouthed horror at the corpse in Spike's hands - at the near-corpse on the floor, gasping out a last, liquid breath. Xander looking as if he was going to throw up and Spike dropped the man he'd drained - took one step forward. "Told you to fucking wait -" Spike snapped, and only then realized he hadn't changed. That his demon was snarling at Xander and Xander - was running.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Spike spun - kicked over the drum and watched for long seconds as the fire scattered - caught in the rubbish and rags strewn on the floor and leaped up, crackling and bright. Then he ran, too.



He caught up to Xander about five blocks away. Five blocks the wrong way and Spike leaped over a crumbling half-wall and scaled the rickety shed beyond - swung around a corner and caught Xander to his chest, wrapping his arms around him and spinning half around before he could slow their momentum - stop Xander's headlong flight. Xander fought him, of course. Fought hard, and Spike felt a cold skitter of unease down his spine as he realized Xander wasn't making a sound past his harsh, rapid panting.

"Xander - fuck's sake! It's me! Stop it - stop it!"

"You - you're - one of them, one of th-them, you're - d-demon -"

Spike finally slammed him into a wall, fists bunched in Xander's new coat, pressing his shoulders into brick hard enough to hurt. "Yeah, I'm one of them but I'm not - fucking hell, let me tell you -!" Xander twisted, kicking, and Spike got one thigh between Xander's legs and got his knee up, pressing hard. Xander gave a thin wheeze of pain and froze. Somewhere along the way - during the fight, maybe - the patch had slipped off and he'd acquired a graze along his chin that bled sluggishly.

Xander's hands were clutching Spike's wrists, nails digging in, palms hot and sweat-slick. "N-nothing to tell, you're - demon, you -"

"Shut up!" Xander and Spike both blinked at Spike's shout and Spike shoved Xander back again, making his breath huff out as his back connected with the wall. Waft of vindaloo and sweat and Xander's chest heaving under Spike's hands. "Listen, just - listen." Xander was shaking his head wildly and Spike wanted to slap him - wanted to find Giles and gut him because bloody hell - this was the worst possible way of letting Xander know - anything. If he'd just followed orders -

"You never bloody change, do you? I told you to stay where you were but no, you had to come panting into that warehouse, following me like a fucking pup!"

"F-fuck you!" Xander's hands squeezed, hard, and Spike snarled silently at the sting of the man's nails cutting into his skin. "I heard - there was somebody being - hurt, I thought it was - Let me go!"

"Stop it!" Spike shook Xander again, but not very hard. "Bloody hell, you need a manicure. Listen - listen!" Xander finally stopped struggling as Spike pushed with his knee again, making Xander stand up on his toes. Spike bowed his head for a moment, trying to gather his wits. *Thought it was me being hurt. Came running in to help me. Must be in his bloody genes.* "All right. Yes. I'm a - a demon. A vampire, all right?" He looked up at Xander's shuddery gasp. "But I'm not - I don't kill -"

"Yes you do -"

"Yeah, all right, I do. But not - just anybody." Xander's look of disbelief made Spike want to shake him again, but he refrained, just barely. "The bloke I drained - he'd just killed that other one. Raped him - took what bloody little he had and gutted the poor bastard. Wasn't anything I could do, Xander." Spike felt Xander's death-grip ease just a little and he backed off himself, forcing his hands to unknot from their grip on Xander's lapels - moving back just a little so his knee wasn't pressing up so hard. "He was already dead - bled out before I got in there and that other one - he'd have done it again. Done it lots, you know?" Xander had slumped a little and now his hands slipped limply off Spike's wrists to hang by his sides. His heart was slowing toward normal and he coughed once, turning his head and muffling it into his shoulder. The mist had collected on his hair and eyelashes and he looked pale and cold - shivering in the dull, silvery light of a street lamp.

"I - saw him. That - hurt guy. His stomach -"

"Yeah. Nothing to be done for him, Xander, swear on - on whatever the fuck you want me to swear on. That knife was crawling - the whole place was. He was dead no matter what."

"Yeah..." Xander let his head fall back against the wall with a soft thump, eye closed and Spike finally let go of him completely - smoothed the crumpled leather of Xander's coat and took a couple steps back. He felt in his pockets for his smokes and lit one, sucking in a huge lungful of smoke and holding it for a long moment. Trying to calm down - trying to figure out what to do next.

*I'll gut that bloody Watcher.* "Sorry you saw that," Spike said finally, and Xander opened his eye - lifted his head and looked at Spike, his mouth a thin, grim line.

"Sorry I saw that guy with his guts on the floor, or sorry I saw you - s-sucking some guys blood?"

"Fuck you," Spike snarled and stalked a few feet away, smoking hard. Wishing he could just send the man home and go get a drink. Several drinks. Several bottles.

Xander was silent for a moment and then he sighed and Spike heard his sneakers grit over the cracked pavement as Xander stepped up beside him. "Okay, low blow. I just - I guess you're okay 'cause - you're that guy that came for me. You got me - home. I mean - they trust you, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Spike muttered, and plumed smoke into what was rapidly becoming a drizzle. "Yeah, they trust me and I bloody well blew it, but - now you know."

"Now I n-know," Xander said, and Spike looked over at him - saw that he was shivering, his teeth almost chattering and his breathing - definitely wheezy.

"Sodding hell. If you get pneumonia and die on me, mate, I'm gonna kick your arse from here to hell and back. Let's get home and get you warmed up, yeah?"

"Yeah, s-sounds good to me." Spike flicked the butt away and reached out - fumbled for a moment and then closed the zip on Xander's jacket, pulling it up snugly under his chin.

"You're too damn brave for your own good, Harris - you always were," he said.

Xander managed a shaky grin. "Yeah? So I'm like, a h-hero or something?"

"Yeah, you're a hero," Spike said, and turned them in the direction of home.




Spike turned on the TV and watched footie and World Cup Snowboarding and some weird quiz show and what seemed to be an algebra tutorial - Xander apparently relied on the cabinets full of DVDs for entertainment. Eventually he found himself dozing on the pull-out couch, body-clock still a little scrambled from international travel. So he hit the 'off' button on the remote and settled to sleep, lulled by the rhythmless tink of rain against glass and the hissing drone of car tyres rushing over wet tarmac.

Something woke him - it felt like an hour or so later. Something, and Spike lay there staring at the ceiling, hands tense on the loosely woven blanket he'd wrapped himself in. Dawn was close - minutes instead of hours, now - and the windows were faintly grey. Rain was still falling but the neighborhood was silent, suspended in that strange dead time just before the hustle of the day started all over again. Spike listened and then he was moving when he finally figured it out. It was silence, and the far-too-rapid pound of Xander's heart.

There was a lamp lit in the bedroom, dull amber light that showed an empty bed - sheets and blanket dragged halfway to the floor, pillow on the floor, squished between the bed and the night table. And Xander's heartbeat, thundering in Spike's ears. There was also the slightly wheezing, too-shallow gasps for breaths - the sound of someone trying not to breathe. Or not to breathe too loudly.

"Xander?" The breathing stopped with a tiny click and the shuffle of cloth on carpet - startled movement hastily frozen. Spike walked slowly to the bed - pulled the covers up and piled them on the mattress. Then he got down, first to his knees and then flat out on the floor, hands braced under his shoulders and his face turned toward the dark space between the box spring and the floor. "Xander?"

Under the bed - pressed back against the wall - his fists curled up by his mouth. Sweat-soaked hair sticking up in matted tufts and his eye wide and terrified.

"Hey, you okay?" Spike said, and then bit his lip, because - Jesus! But what the fuck else was he going to say?

Xander blinked. "S-spike..."

"Yeah, it's me. Spike."

"You need to get under here." Xander's voice was thin with tension - breathless and rasping. "You need to get under here right now."

"I do?" Spike contemplated the narrow space - sighed heavily. "Bloody hell, Harris -"

"Spike! It's in here!" A raw shout choked down to a whisper - wild look out into the empty bedroom beyond and Spike sighed - squirmed sideways until he was under the bed too, the slats pressing uncomfortably against his jean-clad arse and bare back. He lay down, his cheek pillowed on his wrist. Watching Xander shiver all over, convulsive twitches from nerves and chill. His t-shirt was sticking to him with sweat and there was a draft somewhere.

"Happy now?" Spike grumbled, and Xander hissed at him.

"Shhhh! Gotta be quiet, gotta - stay still. Stay still, don't move, don't - make a sound, don't...shhh, shhh..." Xander's gaze was glassy - distant - and Spike knew he wasn't seeing the room or the carpet or the vampire who was getting a cramp in his neck.

"Xander -"

"No, don't do that - don't do that! Don't - fuck - gotta stop - stop it -" Xander lashed out, kicking and hitting and clawing, eye screwed shut and his mouth open in horror and Spike scrabbled away - grabbed an ankle and hauled while Xander rolled and clawed the carpet, trying to get free - rapping his knuckles and his head on the wooden slats as Spike got him out from under the bed. Gone silent again, gasping for breath - stinking of fear and misery and blood.

"Come on, Harris, wake up! Wake up, Xander, you're dreaming - Xander -" Spike ducked a flailing hand - caught a foot in the thigh and then a rake of Xander's nails across his cheek and he growled, vamping - pounced on Xander and crushed him to the carpet, arms around Xander's biceps and their legs tangling - hands locked across Xander's chest. Squeezing until Xander went limp in his arms. Spike eased up slowly, listening to the staccato beat of Xander's heart and the creak and rush of his lungs. Xander's hands stopped clawing at Spike's wrists and he went limp - jerked hard, suddenly, and his head came up, nearly cracking into Spike's nose.

"What the - fuck - Spike?"

"Yeah? I mean - yeah, Spike."

"Why are you - can you get off me?"

"Are you gonna go all - barmy on me again?"

Xander craned his head around, trying to see, and Spike twisted the opposite way so they could be sort of face to face. The scrape on Xander's chin was bleeding again, just a little. Xander looked - bewildered. "Barmy? What the hell is that? Spike - my hand's bleeding."

"So's my face," Spike muttered, but he slowly let go and sat up - steadied Xander as he struggled upright and then slumped a bit. "So's your face. Again."

Xander examined his hand, wincing. He'd skinned his knuckles under the bed somehow - on a slat, Spike was sure - and they were bleeding a little, looking bruised and sore. "Damn." He blotted at his chin with the sleeve of his tee and made a little hissing noise. "Oo-kay." Xander pushed his uninjured hand back through his hair - pulled his soaked shirt off his chest with a frown. He looked up at Spike and his eye went wide and Spike almost ducked away from the hand that came up fast, to touch his chin and turn his face a little toward the light. "Spike, Jesus! Did - what happened to your face?"

"You happened to my face," Spike said, pulling away from Xander's cool fingertips - from the scent of his blood and chamomile soap.

"What?" Xander seemed truly confused, his expression bewildered but...there was fear there, too. Spike shook his head.

"Fuck. Look, why don't you go get cleaned up, yeah? Take a shower and wrap up your hand and -"

"And then you'll tell me why I attacked you?" Xander mumbled. He was hunching over his hand a little, looking defeated. "They - they tied me down, at that - hospital. Tied me to that - cot. I hurt Ngoc Minh one time, one of the nurses? And Dr. Nguyen. I didn't mean to! Ngoc Minh gave me - gave me that Mickey Mouse pen. So I could write stuff to re-member. Thought it'd...stop when I was...h-ome..." Xander's voice had gotten smaller and smaller as he talked and now it tailed off altogether and they sat there for a moment, Xander with his eye shut and his hands curled tightly into the hem of his shirt, and Spike...

Spike wanted to get up and kick the bed to fragments - wanted to call the Watcher right now and tell him get his arse out of bed and on this because - Because it was all too fucking much like his own days of confusion and loss - sleepwalking through the streets and waking up with blood on his teeth and dirt under his nails and Xander... Shouldn't have to go through anything like that. Nobody should.

"You didn't attack me, Xander - just a dream, is all," Spike said finally, ignoring the sting of the cuts. "You said - something was in here and I had to come under the bed with you -"

"Under the bed?" Xander looked up then - looked at the bed and made a little face, like 'under the bed' meant 'under a slimy rock' or something. "Why the fuck would I go under the bed? I hate going under beds."

"Dunno. You were -" *Bloody crazy. Scared to death and out of your head.* "You were a bit confused - told me something was in here and you started yellin' at it -"

"And then I hurt you -"

"I grabbed you! Look - it doesn't bloody matter!" Spike unfolded himself, standing up and raking his hand back through his hair, hoping there were no dust bunnies. "Just a bad dream and we'll go see the Watcher tomorrow - well, today, and we'll get you sorted, right?"

Xander stared up at him - pushed himself to his feet and looked like he wanted to argue but then he just shook his head. "This is really fucked up," he said. He opened a couple of drawers and pulled out a fresh t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants - marched out the door and down the hall. After a moment Spike heard the shower start up and he cursed softly.

"Yeah, fucked up is right, mate. Fucked all to bloody hell." Thank Christ they'd stopped on the way home and got a bottle. Spike headed for the kitchen.

Three shots down, Xander came into the kitchen in his fresh clothes, his hair toweled to a hedgehog-y mess and a length of gauze fluttering untidily from his hand. "I can't get this right," Xander said, sitting down and putting his hand on the table between them.

"Hands are hard to do by yourself." Spike took Xander's wrist and pulled him a little closer - unwound the gauze and redid it, wrapping it neatly and then tying a small knot - tucking the ends under. "There now, all better, yeah?"

"Sure. It's weird. When I was looking for a First Aid kit or something it was like - like I was snooping in somebody else's house." Xander touched the white gauze with his fingertips and then looked up at Spike, his expression hopeful and a little wary. "Spike? Will you...would you do me a - a favor?"

"Sure," Spike said, pouring and drinking his fourth shot - taking a long breath as the burn became mellow heat.

"Would you - tell me... Tell me about myself? Tell me - how we met and - why I know Slayers and..." Xander paused, looking down and away and taking a hard breath. "Tell me what h-happened to my eye? Tell me - everything."

"Don't really know - everything," Spike hedged, resisting for a moment. Thinking it might be a bad idea, but thinking too, that at least he wouldn't make up lies or leave out the hard parts.

"Tell me what you know, okay?"

Spike studied the tired, earnest face across from his - poured his fifth and last shot and drank it down - put the glass carefully upside down on the table. Then he leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable. "All right, then. Want me to start it off proper?" Xander nodded. "Right. Once upon a time, there was a town called Sunnydale, and in that town was a boy called Xander Harris..."




Previous parts are here.

Comments

[gnome781.livejournal.com]

*HAPPY*
I'm so, so very happy to see you've updated this fic! as always it's a study in perfection. such a beautiful tale, the way you portray the characters and the moods. I love that Xander Knew that Demons exist. and Spike not wanting him to go through the same thing as him, so sweet! I can't wait for the next part, please keep up the wonderful work!

[tabaqui]

Heeee!
Thank you so much!
:)