Sentimental Value
He turned up the music louder, unable to think of anything pleasant. Trying to push away the sweet fragrances still lingering from his nightmares, more so tried to push away the images his dreams dug up inside his mind.
Blood. Pieces of her skin. The way her body bounced once on the metal debris shards and concrete below. The air had reeked of death seconds before she landed with a sickening thud.
In his dream, he had watched himself. Just standing there, standing there slack jawed and doing nothing. Now he struggled to reach her, but couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breath.
'Counting on him.' He heard whispered from the dark recesses of his memory, 'Counting on him, till the end of the world.'
A rash promise and an anguished sob swallowed with a knowing kiss.
He closed his eyes tightly, grasping out like a drowning man to take hold of the flimsy cotton shirt of the other. Spike's nails bit into the loose fitting fabric as he clung to the lean muscled form before him. Pouring all his fears and doubts into the kiss. Knowing the moment he let go of the warm body, he'd be forced to face reality once again. There'd be no absolution. Not in sex and definitely not for him.
Xander didn't close his eyes. Didn't mold his body into the form of this desperate creature. He didn't feel love and he didn't feel the crushing betrayal he knew he'd feel if it were Anya here.
He stared, his hands coming up of their own accord to brush against the unwashed locks of over processed hair. Spike's expression of pain was crushing. Tightly drawn anguish painted his features in a spider web of mortal suffering.
And Xander couldn't shake the coldness of his presence. The smell of old death seeping from the walls of the crypt-made-humble-home. He allowed himself to be pushed backwards until his shoulder blades hit with a dull thud against the uneven cement wall, Spike pushing away long enough to look into the eyes of the peculiar boy.
Xander's sigh, quick roll of the eyes to hid the suffering need he felt, was all the permission the vampire needed. Didn't bother unbuttoning the cotton. Never patient, he tore away the mortals shirt with unfelt urgency, the boy could borrow another to get home. It didn't matter, discarded to the floor. Near weightless in the tomb, it fell with feather-like grace.
The Third.
Xander hissed at the exotic chill of dead fingers scratching over his ribs, dancing along his spine. It was always unfamiliar, an almost alien sensation. Closed his eyes as Spike fell with a deft thump to his knees upon the concrete floor.
It made Xander curb a burst of sudden laughter. To think, Spike willingly on his knee's. Chipped or no. It was. funny. Off, or odd in some sense.
Even if his clothing was never quite as melodramatic as his attitude and complex need for individualism should have commanded, he was all the same riddled to be every persona he met along the path of life. Drusilla's A.D.D., Slayer killing, torture machine who would readily use a salad fork to take out your tonsils just to see that insane grin light a spark in her eyes. Angelus' whipping boy, Buffy's toothless puppy and guilt ridden servant post-mortem. A condescending egotist who's flippant tongue and searing perceptiveness could claw through whatever boundaries you chose to hold and shred the walls.
He could be charming, though. Nice even. When he wanted something, or when his world was turned upside down and he felt lost, or confused.
For all his outward objectionable, obnoxious qualities, he did seem quite thoughtful underneath. His almost brotherly affection, protection of Dawn spoke numbers. And there were times, when they were alone.
When he never gave off that arrogant attitude.
Xanders back arched off the wall, his hands trembling to twine in Spike's hair as the vampire's lips trailed hungrily over the exposed flesh of his waist, pale fingers stroking through the denim of his jeans until he was pushing against Spike's hand, moaning lightly.
Running his hands through the blond muss of hair, Xanders hands trailed along the vampire's arms laying to rest on his shoulders. And suddenly he fell. A slight grimace flashed across his face when his knee's collided against the stone, eyes shinning at the look of bewilderment glowing in Spike's sharp blue orbs.
There was always something waiting around the bend of his psyche to throw him off balance.
Bloodshot and red rimmed sunken circles carved out the eyes bereft of a soul before him. Tear tracks, new and old, dust collection on his clothing. He did not want to comfort this demon. He didn't want to be the one to say it would be alright, time heals all wounds.
He didn't.
And this was the third time he had.
Falling forward suddenly and taking the vampire by surprise, Xander's hands came up to cup the sides of his partners head, forcing Spike onto his back. The brunette put his body into the kiss, groaning at the fiery sparks ignited inside.
Remembered his frantic groping with Cordelia, small cramped spaces, darkened closets. The rush of fear and thrill of a chase. He'd kissed Anya before, in innumerable ways and in many different places. He didn't think that there would be a time when he the sensation of lips on his own would feel new. Foreign.
Their movements were rushed and forceful as Xander pushed himself up slightly, licking his lips free from the stale taste of cigarettes and booze. His fingers skimming the surface of Spike's cotton top to fumble with the zipper to the vampires jeans.
Perspiration beaded on his forehead and taking in loud gasps of breath, the brunette's lips made their way lower, his lean shoulders heaving with the effort of holding onto restraint. Not allowing himself to lose control in this crypt, with this man who wasn't even a man. As long as he was in control, he could justify it.
Spike shivered at the first, swelling touch of Xanders tongue along the sensitive skin. Thrusting his back off the floor when the brunette sucked in the tip.
As his mind filled with lust, the pain faded and he hissed.
Xanders hands pressed against Spike's hips hard, pushing him back into the ground and looking up with a wicked gleam in his eyes. The vampire rolled his eyes, starring at the crypt ceiling obliviously.
As the lips moved along his hard staff, a feeling of frenzied composure washed over him. Like organized chaos, the jigsaw puzzle that was his life fell haphazardly in the right directions, and for a moment he needn't worry about what life would be like once the feeling was over. Once reality crashed back again.
Serenity for one moment was heaven for the night.
The scrape of Xanders teeth against the underside of his shaft all but sent him bursting through his flesh coat. Spike's jaw clenched, his head knocking against the cement as he crooned.
Lips and tongue scrupulously teased his cock, and he ground out, "god, yes." Before an animalistic growl came from deep within his chest. Xander had smirked the first time. Teasing that he could 'make him purr' but now it was only the bleak reminder that this wasn't a mortal man drowning his sorrows in sex. Wasn't even close. Spike's hips jerked and, despite the vampires taunts, refused to swallow anything that came from the vampire.
He pushed away from the dead body, panting for breath with a slight smile that was painfully hollow.
How life haunted him.
And Willows words echoed through his brain as he leaned upwards, still clothed from the waist down, to rest his head against the crook of the vampire's neck. 'I can work this. I can do this. We can bring her back!'
Ninety-seven days. Spike kept tally on her, just as he had in life. Ninety-seven long painful days and Ninety-eight hauntingly cold nights.
"I--I.." Spike turned slightly, his eyes devoid of menace or mocking. Waiting to hear what would be said. "we are.."
But Spike would never bring himself to ask, and suddenly Xander's throat is too dry to speak the words. Spreads his hands in a gesture of apology, unable to find the voice to express himself.
Spike seemed to understand, his lips moving to imitate a near wry grin, the closest to an understanding smile his stiff features were capable of.
Xander's eyes echoed the sentiment, liking the feel of being understood. Warmed by the thought that nothing was expected of him. They needn't talk. Merely accept the situation presented.
Such inconsistencies in Spike's judgement made the moment that much more potent. Created a sense of timing that need be met.
Disguised as one of them, the vampire took the warmed hands in his own. Kissing the palm and aching as he licked the blue veins racing along Xanders wrist. Tracing invisible lines with his tongue along the arm and slowly forgot his life.