tabaqui | Little Runaway2, part 4

Little Runaway2, part 4

Wednesday, September 29th, 2004 12:51 am

And, the next bit.
And because she was so amazingly helpful, please go take a look at

kyrieane's lovely S/X fic To Break, To Mend. Absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, sweetie!

Spike stood in the doorway to his room, watching Xander. Xander, who was twisted up in Spike's covers, wrapped around Spike's pillow. *Silly git. And what if the Slayer or the Watcher walked in here? He'd probably have heart-failure, tryin' to explain...* Spike sighed and winced. Rough night, and his ribs ached, and his head, and his ass. *Fucker was out of control. Three more days. Three, that's all, then...* Spike smiled, imagining the carnage. He was going to pay every last one of that little clique a visit when the fucking chip was out.

But for now, he had a warm boy in his bed, sighing softly, hair tousled over his cheek and neck, hand loosely splayed on the sheet. Spike stripped and showered, looking with a slow, seething rage at the cuts on his thighs - the bruises everywhere. He wondered if the Slayer would notice - if she'd think they were from fighting or fucking. *Watcher might notice - but then, what could he say? Christ, hope Xander calms down today.* The boy's frantic heartbeat had driven Spike half mad - he'd listened to it from across the room and wanted to go to him - touch his cheek and run his fingers through his hair and tell him it was all right.

*Well fuck. I'm well and truly lost, now aren't I...? This is only going to hurt, damnit. So tired of hurting...* Spike toweled himself off roughly and stalked through the house to his room. The dim, saffron light of the rising sun was glowing behind his blinds as he curled into the bed behind Xander - snuggled close and took a deep breath of the sweet anise scent that was just him, was just Xander. Warmth radiating back to him and soaking into him and Xander stirred - sighed - inched closer.

"Spike," his voice fading and falling away, and Spike rumbled a noise down in his chest, purest pleasure. Xander jerked a little. "Spike?"

"M'here, pet," Spike murmured, kissing his shoulder and Xander stiffened for a moment and then wormed closer, his hand finding Spike's and pulling it up to tuck under his chin.

"Can't let them find me in here," he said, so soft, and Spike heaved a huge sigh, knowing the boy was right. But wanting just a little more - a little more of the heat, and the musky-sweet scent, and the faint salt and cloves taste of clean skin and soap.

"I know, love, just let me...just for a minute..." Spike whispered, and Xander nodded, making a little humming sigh of pleasure, one Spike couldn't help but copy. He closed his eyes and just held on.

Something - touching him. A rough, shaking grip and Spike flinched away - learned response, awareness rocketing to the surface. But not fast enough. A voice - 'Buffy, don't -!' Touch again, harder, and he snarled and lashed out, instinct taking over, sending his fist into a body that yielded with an 'ooof' of expelled air and then *no, no nonono!* acid and fishhooks, raking him from crown to heels and he shrieked, arching hard off the bed. His eyes snapped open but he only saw flashes and flares of red - sparks of white as the pain arced through him. Then it was done, over. His whole body felt as if it were on fire and he propped himself up on one elbow, gasping in a breath, pushing his palm hard into his forehead in an effort to make the jagged bursts of residual pain stop. Even the dimness of his room was hurtfully bright right at that moment and he closed his eyes. There was a confused babble of voices - Xander, Dawn, Buffy, Giles.

"Jesus, Buffy - told you not -"

"Buffy, you hurt him! I said I-"

"Guys, it's just Spike, he'll -"

"Isn't that a bit of an extreme -" And then Xander's voice over all, brittle with some emotion that Spike wanted desperately to be worry - to be...

"No, it's not extreme, Giles! I sill remember you almost clocking Willow that day when she surprised you in the library after - after what Angel did -"

"Angelus -"

"Whatever! The point is - we told you not to touch him, Buffy; we just call his name from over here and he wakes up. That way nobody gets hurt."

"Has someone been hurt?"

"Yes, Giles, Spike has been hurt." Spike felt a rusty, reluctant chuckle bubbling up in his chest and he stifled it. *That's it, boy - tell him! Why are you telling him? Did they find you in bed?* His brain felt sluggish and too bruised to work right and he flopped back down onto the pillows, inhaling the lingering traces of anise and salt that meant *always means* Xander. *Never gonna shake this, how'd I let him get IN so fast? Pathetic sod...anything for...* But he wouldn't let that word form even in utter silence behind closed lids and he sighed in relief as the voices moved away - as Buffy and Giles and Dawn left the house.

A moment later the edge of the bed sagged a little and he felt Xander's hand - hesitant and warm - stroking the hair back off his forehead - stroking through and through the rumpled strands.

"Sorry, Spike. I tried to stop her -"

"Mmm..." Spike opened his eyes and looked up at Xander - saw the defeated droop of his shoulders and the sadness that made his usually lively eyes dull and dark. "Not your fault, pet. Not much stops the Slayer when she wants to do somethin', you know? You tried. More than most would do."

"I... I just..." Xander seemed to be having a sudden rush of severe self-doubt and Spike curled himself around Xander's hip and thigh - put his head on Xander's knee. *Get what you can. I'll let him off the hook, make it easy.*

"Listen, Xander, you don't have to tell them - anything. You should just fly back with them. Easier all around, don't you think?" Spike felt Xander's hand stop - felt his body stiffen and his heartbeat skip up a couple of notches.

"But - but I -" His voice was shaky and Spike sighed.

"It's all right, pet, it'll be fine."

"Stop it. Stop it, Spike! Don't - oh, fuck!" Xander jerked himself away and stood up fast, pacing to the window. *That's it, then. Go on and spit it out, boy...* Spike curled into the lingering warmth left behind and rested his head on his folded arm. Trying not to look...as desperate as he felt.

"Xan -"

"No, wait. Do you want me to - to go back with them? I thought...thought you -" Xander turned away from the window, curling his hands into fists, obviously trying for some sort of control. "I thought - you wanted m-me -" He stopped then, just looking at Spike - looking with those dead eyes, the color gone under his tan so he looked ill - looked - broken.

*Oh, fuck. FUCK. It won't be good...can't be good...* Spike wanted to tell him 'no' - wanted to tell him go home to his family and his life. Wanted to - tried to. But what came out of his mouth when he opened it to speak was the truth, the damning truth and Spike was already seeing the miserable inevitability that would come from it.

"Course I want you, love. I'd be daft not to." Xander just stared at him - stared for so long Spike wondered what, exactly, had come out of his mouth. The life flooding back into Xander's face was - sunlight through mist, all glowing edges and soft shadows and Xander smiled at him - smiled and took five long strides to the bed and kneeled down, and put that smile and that sunshine straight into Spike with a kiss as eager as it was all-consuming. Spike gave himself up to it, not caring, anymore, where it all might lead. The now - was too sweet to be denied.

Tags:

runaway2,
spander

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