Rearranged
He never had an easy life.
It was a well-known fact. He wasn't smart enough to make the grades to go to a decent college. He wasn't athletic enough to make the football team, the basketball team. Wasn't handsome enough to have all the girls that caught his eye when he was younger; he wasn't dead enough to have the girl of his dreams.
And he wasn't strong enough to stand up to his father, to stop the beatings he and his mother, siblings received constantly.
In all his 21 years, out of all the trials and tribulations he faced, out of all the demons he battled, both supernatural and those right under the roof of his childhood home, Xander Harris knew he had never felt pain until this night. For nothing hurt more than being betrayed by two of the three women that he loved most in the world.
"Shove it in... add a little oil," Xander slurred to himself, poking at the lock on the door to his apartment. After several jabs he managed to get the key in and unlock the door, stumbling inside and kicking the door closed behind him.
Anya and Willow were together.
They hadn't even told anyone. Didn't have the decency to tell him. He was Willow's best friend and Anya's ex-fiance, and they felt they couldn't even tell Xander Harris, of all people about their little romance.
He had to find them necking in the kitchen at Buffy's house. Anya's arms around Willow, moaning in a way that only he had caused countless times. Willow's hands in places on Anya's body that only Xander's had been.
And Spike's.
Xander's eyes fell to the slim, muscular figure on his sofa, piercing blue eyes looking up at him. Hands behind his head, his booted feet propped up on the coffee table. A tiny smirk curving his lips.
Lips that had kissed Anya's. Among other things.
"What are you smiling at?" Xander snapped, his eyes narrowing to a glare. Spike's lips twitched as his smirk broadened.
"What sorrows did you need to drown, Boy Wonder?" Spike asked, chuckling to himself as he surveyed the swaying man in front of him. His brown hair was disheveled, more so than usual, and his cheeks were tinged red from his obvious mass consumption of alcohol. Spike could smell it from where he sat.
"None of your business, Spike," he muttered, tossing his keys onto the table. He turned his back to the vampire, walking towards the kitchen. Maybe he had some more alcohol in his cabinets. Spike wasn't blurry enough to his liking.
"Girl troubles?" Spike pressed, snorting at Xander's slight wince, "You get turned down again? Tell me about it mate, I wanna compare it to you an' the worm dater, see if it's more laughable than that one."
"Shut up Spike!" Xander's voice, slurring the blonde's name, raised slightly as he slammed the door of the cabinet he was looking in shut, "Or good help me, useful or not I'll kill you."
"Score one for old Spikey, I struck a nerve," Spike murmured, his eyes following Xander back to the living room, watching as he clumsily brushed his hair out of his eyes and collapsed into his recliner chair.
"Anya and Willow are fucking."
Xander's voice was bitter, almost scornful. He was too drunk to notice Spike's raised eyebrow. An unimpressed snort escaped him as he shifted on the couch, crossing one leg over his knee. Xander turned to look at him, squinting.
"Tell me something I don't know, mate," Spike said. His tone, his unsympathetic, bored, nonchalant tone irritated Xander.
"You knew? You fucking knew?" His fingers gripped the arms of his chair, as Spike's smug voice filled the room.
"Oh yeah. Saw it coming for months. Maybe longer. Your little demon honey's been hot for the Wicca for ages. Everybody knows that."
They had lied to him for months. They were the most unlikely source.
Willow, sweet, not-so-innocent little Willow. She had lost the love of her life, an event that scarred her permanently, and was recuperating from her magic addiction and near world ending, And though he didn't know how, she still managed to retain her pureness, her... Willowness. But she was now making a fool of her best friend, betraying him in the worst way possible.
And Anya, his beloved Anya. She was lost and confused when he had met her, had helped her develop into the woman she was now. The woman who was exiled from vengeance for the final time, an act he had driven her to. And she had no respect for him whatsoever, couldn't tell him of this major development in her life.
He obviously meant nothing to them.
Spike stood up and stretched, groaning at the relaxing pull of undead muscles. He looked down at Xander for a few moments, watching his cloudy eyes contemplate the thoughts racing through his mind. Something hard to do when one was drunk, Spike knew this well. He stepped around the table, planning to head to his closet.
"Yunno mate, I for one say more power to them. Willow's a lucky girl. Anya's a tasty little treat, I know that for a fact." He couldn't help but rub it in. He turned his back to Xander and took a few steps towards his room.
Xander's hand landed roughly on his shoulder , spinning him around. His jaw connected with Xander's other fist, sending him spinning to the floor. He grunted as Xander's heavy, steel-toed workboots connected with his ribs, kidney's, and stomach in rapid succession. Rough hands grabbed him and threw him across the room into the wall, his head thudding painfully. Xander followed, grabbing him by the shirt and throwing another punch at him before pushing him against the wall.
"Whoa, did you treat your girl-"
He was cut off by Xander's lips roughly mashing into his. Xander's fingers dug into his shoulder as he pulled them away from the wall slightly. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes glazed from a mixture of lust and rage.
He wanted to hurt Anya like she had hurt him. The thought rang clear through his mind as his eyes flicked from Spike's bruised lip to his icy eyes. He saw Spike's swollen cheek and wanted to give him a matching one on the other side of his face. The thought of hurting Spike more pleased him in ways he knew he wasn't comfortable admitting.
"Shut up, Spike," He breathed, slamming the vampire into the wall again before attacking his lips once more. He relinquished his grip on Spike's shirt to slide his hands over his body. One hand slid up to tangle in short blonde hair; the other moving over his chest, palm brushing over his nipple, causing Spike to groan as Xander pulled away again.
"Fuck you, Harris." Spike's voice was low, bordering seductive to Xander's ears. Xander grabbed the bottom of Spike's shirt and ripped it over his head, bending down and biting Spike's nipple, just as his hand grabbed him through his jeans hard enough to make him scream.
Xander was startled to find him hard. He released him, his hands fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. Spike pulled him closer and kissed him, his teeth nibbling on Xander's lower lip as he reached for Xander's own fly, deftly undoing the button, then the zipper.
Xander ripped away from him, not caring that Spike took a chunk out of his lip. He grabbed hold of him, turning them to the side and pushing Spike into the table in the corner, relishing his grunt of pain. He grabbed his hips as he kissed him again and pushed himself forward, his knee brushing against Spike's jean-covered erection.
He groaned softly as Spike's knee did the same. He grabbed his hair and jerked his head backwards, his lips sliding over Spike's chin, to his neck. He kissed the skin he found there, his tongue darting out to taste cold flesh. And his mind cleared enough to realize he wouldn't find a pulse point to suck on. His hands slid down Spike's smooth chest and stomach and to his jeans, his fingers fumbling once again with the button, this time with success.
Spike reached inside of Xander's pants, his hand sliding past the waistband of his boxers and grabbing his cock in one swift movement. Xander whimpered at how cold his hand was, deliciously pleasurable. Spike's hand squeezed softly and began to stroke him slowly. Breathing heavily, Xander fumbled with Spike's jeans, pushing them down his legs before his own hand came up and he discovered Spike wasn't wearing underwear.
Xander lifted his head, chocolate eyes meeting dark blue for a moment, before he noticed Spike's smirk. And he wanted to wipe it off his face. His hand gripped Spike, squeezing painfully as he started up a quick rhythm. Spike yelped in shock, his hand jerking, causing his thumb to brush over the head of Xander's erection, an action that he mimicked on Spike.
They kissed again, Xander sliding his tongue into Spike's mouth. He was fascinated at how cold Spike was, something he had always condemned others for enjoying. He didn't know who would condemn him later for enjoying it. Or if anyone cared. Their movements became more urgent, as groans and sighs filled the room.
He was surprised when he came, when they came. Nearly together, moaning softly into each other's mouth. Xander shuddered as Spike's cold seed splashed onto his stomach, his own filling his boxers. His hand held Spike as he grew flaccid, finally releasing him when Spike pulled his hand from Xander's underwear.
His eyes met Spike's once more, for long, endless moments. He attempted to catch his breath, feeling suddenly cold in the wake of his orgasm, and of what he'd done. He took a step back from Spike, his eyes lowering as Spike tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up. Spike walked shirtless to his bedroom and closed the door behind him, and Xander found his eyes drawn to the black t-shirt on the floor.
Xander's shaky hands buttoned his own jeans as he shuddered once again. This time far from pleasure. He swallowed hard, finding himself to be suddenly sober when he least wanted to be.
He had wanted to hurt Anya. But he knew, as he heard Spike rustle about in the bedroom, that Anya would never find out about what happened. Nor would Willow, Buffy, or anyone else. Spike wouldn't tell. And he couldn't.
For in that moment of sober clarity, Xander Harris realized that the pain that Willow and Anya had given him was nothing in comparison to the pain he had just given himself at having the knowledge that his worst nightmare was true.
Like father, like son.