Sweet Revenge
Part 26
Xander staggered into his apartment, he didn't know how he'd got back from Spike's crypt, he couldn't remember the journey, just a rushing, noisy blur, though he remembered grabbing onto his stomach as he vomited, retching desperately without relief in the street. Disgusting. He was disgusting.
He looked around at his apartment with uncomprehending eyes. It looked so normal, so utterly still. It was home but he couldn't reach it, like he was looking at it from a long distance away, it was as silent as a tomb with no comfort to offer.
Shouldn't he be crying? Raging, screaming, anything, but all there was only an awful cold space. Surrounding him, inside him.
"I never loved him," he said aloud. His voice sounded so loud in his ears he winced. His throat burned, it hurt. Throat, nose, eyes, they all hurt. He groped his way to the couch and sat down stiffly, he needed to do something normal, and then he'd feel better. He pressed the remote and the T.V came on. He flinched back at the loud noise, the bright colours and groped again at the remote, turning it off. The silence fell again, worse this time and he began to shiver. Maybe talking to someone would help. He pulled the phone over to him and held the receiver up to his ear but he couldn't think of a number to call. There was no one he could talk to and he just listened to the dial tone until an automised voice came on and told him to replace the receiver. With a dull thud he put it down. What was *wrong* with him? Maybe if he let this out then he'd feel better. He tried to cry but tears wouldn't come.
"Bastard," he said aloud, but it had no power behind it. He moved then, stumbling into the kitchen, opening and slamming cupboard doors, blindly searching until his fingers closed over the bottle of scotch the guys in work had given him for his birthday. It was still unopened. He wasn't really much of a drinker. The liquid glinted brown. Brown like the curtain he'd pulled back in Spike's crypt, and behind it. Buffy. Pictures of Buffy, clothes of Buffy's, Buffy's perfume, drawings of Buffy, hundreds of Buffy's laughing down at him.
Always Buffy . . .
"Never loved him," he said again, trying to use the words to switch off the memories. He looked down at himself. He should be bleeding. He was bleeding inside, slashed, torn to ribbons. There should be marks on the outside, on his body, his clothes should be ripped, *something*. He slopped some of the scotch into a glass and drank it, his fingers numb, not gripping the glass properly. The liquid burned down his throat, but it tasted of nothing. Clutching the bottle he staggered out of the kitchen, towards the mirror. He stared at his reflection in the glass, tentatively touching his face. His reflection didn't look real anymore, just random shapes that didn't make sense. Was that him? Trapped in the world beyond the glass. Impaled on this awful moment that didn't seem to be ending. Unable to conceive of a future where he wasn't half dead and cold all over.
A knock was rapped onto his door, but he couldn't move, couldn't answer, just stared into the mirror at the room beyond. The door was knocked on again, rattled impatiently and it flew open, but there was no reflection of anyone standing in the entrance.
***
"Xander!" Spike examined happily as the door swung open to reveal that Xander was there. When there had been no answer he'd been worried that Xander had decided to go on patrol after all and he'd have to wait for him to get back. He really wasn't in the mood for waiting, last night felt like forever ago. He ached to touch him, he'd missed him so badly. This had been one hell of a long day and they'd already wasted enough time. He and Xander had a lot to talk about - but there were a few things he wanted to do first, none of which included deep conversation. A few moans and cries of pure pleasure however would be perfect.
Spike began to walk over to him, smiling, just a few steps before he could hold him, just a few steps to a whole new future, and no way was he letting go again.
"Why didn't you answer when I . . ?" Spike began then stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped moving. Just froze halfway across the room, his words sucked up until nothing was left but silence. Nothing but that and the sight of Xander's reflected face.
It was very quiet. Not much happened. Xander didn't move. Didn't speak. But in the utter silence Spike could hear the death knell as the future they'd come so close to collapsed around him. Something cold, sickly and frightened began to crawl under his skin, nestling inside him.
"You know don't you," Spike said dully.
Xander didn't speak, didn't turn to face him, the silence was his reply and Spike felt a roaring in his head as he saw the few steps between them grow, expand into a gulf that he could never bridge.
"I tried to tell you." Spike said at last when the silence became too terrible to listen to any longer. "I wanted to tell you. But I knew if I did, I'd lose you."
Xander still didn't move. Didn't speak.
"I couldn't bear it you see," Spike said, almost to himself. "If I lost you. I was going to make it up to you. For the rest of your life." Without him noticing tears began to slide silently down his cheeks.
"I didn't love you at first. You knew that. I do now. Nothings really changed." Was he even speaking? Was he even really here? It felt like he was sinking without a trace, his words falling on deaf ears because Xander never spoke, never even turned to see him, just kept looking at that empty space in the mirror where he stood in the room beyond.
"Xander, c'mon, scream at me, beat me up, just don't just stand there, trying to make out I'm not here. I know what I did. I can't believe I did it to you. I was an utter bastard - I seduced you, used you, played games . . ." He started stumbling over the words, but there had to be something. Something he could say that would fix this.
"I was so stupid . . . but then you were so . . .and I couldn't help myself I fell in love with you . . . I never loved Buffy, if I had I wouldn't have tried to hurt her - I know this is a nightmare, but..."
Xander still didn't move.
"I'll do anything to put this right, anything . . .I love you so much . . .just tell me what you want me to do."
Xander slowly turned around, Spike looked up as the hope, sharp and powerful sprung up inside him that died as he saw Xander's face. His eyes were red rimmed, burning in a white face, his mouth set in a cold hard line.
"Get out."
"No," Spike whispered through numbed lips. He moved suddenly, springing over to him, grabbing on tightly to his arms. "Listen to me I *love* you, why this started doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't!"
Xander tried to pry his fingers away from his arms, nothing on his face but an expression of horrified distaste. Spike began to shake him desperately; Xander shook back and forth in his arms as unresponsive as a rag doll.
Spike stopped shaking him, and let go of his arms. He reached up holding Xander's face between his hands; he swallowed down a sob as he frantically smoothed back the dark hair, trying to take away the pain through simple touch.
"You have to forgive me," he pleaded as the tears still slipped down his face, his fingers tight in Xander's hair. "You have to."
He gazed searchingly into Xander's eyes, only this morning they had looked at him with hope, love. There was nothing in there now, they stared back at him, empty, unresponsive and numb.
He'd lost him.
The sobs came then, wrenching through his body as he crumpled, sinking to his knees, his hands clinging on to Xander's waist, tears soaking into Xander's shirt while Xander's hands remained limply by his sides. He buried his face into Xander's stomach, smelling his skin under the fabric of his shirt and this wasn't his anymore.
"Xander . . .*please*. You can't leave me, you *can't* . . ."
A sound like a sob was trying to break free from Xander came from above him, and for a moment Spike allowed himself to hope, but then he was hauled to his feet, and shoved away. Xander's face was pinched, but his eyes were dry.
"Get out."
"But . . ."
"Get out, get out, GET OUT!" Xander shoved him, again and again. Hard, quick pushes like he just couldn't stand to touch him. Spike staggered back as words coming from Xander filtered into his ears. Jerky, jagged sentences.
"Never want to see you . . .you're *disgusting* . . .how could you . . . "
Until he was at the door, Xander reached past him and wrenched it open pushing him through it, slamming the door in his face, as though he couldn't bear to look at him a second longer.
Spike instinctively reached out to it, then stopped, his fingers hovering just over the doorknob. He dropped his hand and slowly backed away until he hit the wall and let his legs buckle as he sank down to the floor, shivering uncontrollably.
/Xanderxanderxander/ It was all he could think, over and over. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, crumpled outside Xander's apartment like he'd been gutted, weak and powerless. He couldn't bear to move away, but eventually he couldn't bear to stay sitting there, listening to the silence from inside Xander's apartment, knowing he was just behind that wall, so close, but so completely out of reach.
He dragged himself up and stumbled blindly down the corridor on shaking legs. His eyes blurred and he couldn't see, couldn't hear except for the hoarse sobs resounding in his ears, they just went on and on.
***
Willow was just getting out of the bath when she heard the phone ringing and made a dash for it, for once it worked and she caught it before it stopped ringing. Hopefully it would be Xander, she was itching to talk to him, but she guessed he'd be holed up with Spike, doing whatever it was that they did. Thankfully her mind blanked out in an anti-ick protection device.
"Hello?"
"Hey Willow."
"Hi Buffy, are we still on for our calorie consumption bonding session?"
"Yeah - can you pick up some chocolate ice cream on your way over? Dawn wants some."
"Yeah right." Willow grinned.
"I may have a spoonful." Buffy admitted. "Hey have you seen Xander?"
"No not today, why?"
"He was over here before and he rushed off on me, I've tried calling but there's no answer. I'm getting worried."
"Why, what happened?" Willow asked concerned.
"I was telling him about tonight and he said he didn't think he'd come because you guys had been a bit weird. I said it was only because you cared and I told him how worried you were in case Spike was using him to get back at me after I told him to leave me alone and . . ."
"Woah! Wait - Buffy you told him that?"
"Yeah, and he just rushed off. Willow what's going on? Should I not have said? I was only trying to help. *Is* Spike doing something . . .?"
"Buffy I have to go, I'll call you back."
"But what about . . ."
Willow slammed the phone down.
" . . .tonight." Buffy finished to a dead line. "Why do people keep doing this to me?"
***
Buffy flew out of the house, after extracting a sincere promise from Dawn not to move until Giles got there and headed for Xander's. She had a hunch that Willow would be heading there, but had the advantage that Willow had further to travel than she did. Plus she could run faster.
She was in so much of a rush that she flew scant inches past one of Glory's minions watching her from the bushes and didn't notice. She also didn't notice when he began following her.
She raced to Xander's place and hammered on his door but when there was no answer she tried it. It opened with no problem. She frowned - Xander must be here - no way would he go out leaving his place unlocked.
The apartment was dark, the curtains were closed so not even moonlight penetrated the gloom. She moved to snap the light on then paused. The hairs on the back of her neck stood lightly on end. Something was here, she could sense it. She lowered her hand. If the 'something' was Xander she didn't want to frighten him off or make it worse, whatever 'it' was, but something was very wrong. She could feel it.
"Hello?" She cautiously entered the room. In the darkness she waited for eyes to adjust a little before looking around. Dark, cold, silent. Yep. Wrongness was just baked right in. Ignoring the fear tickling at her spine she began to look around.
Nobody in the front room, no Xander curled up on the couch, or noisily pottering around in the kitchen. She peered in the bedroom.
"Xander?" He wasn't asleep in bed or in the bathroom. She stood and frowned as she circled slowly around in the front room. It seemed empty . . .
Then a kind of muffled shifting sound caught her attention to the corner of the room where the shadows were darkest.
"Xander? Is that you?" She slowly approached the shadows, seeing a bigger shadow nestled in amongst them. She knocked against his coffee table on the way over and flinched. Dreadful possibilities were racing through her head making her skin turn cold. Xander could have been turned, he could have been attacked, he could be dying . . .
"Xander, I'm gonna pull the curtain back a little bit," she said gently. She drew it back, letting the moonlight and streetlight enter the room, and lighten up the corner where he crouched.
She gasped involuntarily. It was the bad light, she reassured herself frantically. It was the poor light that made him look like that, like his eyes were bottomless dark pits opening up in the whiteness of his face. He flinched as he saw her and rubbed his eyes. Something terrible had obviously happened, but at least he was alive.
She knelt down next to him. "Can you get up?"
For a moment he didn't seem to have heard her then she saw the light glinting on the half empty bottle next to him, and wondered if he was just to far gone to respond.
"Okay - I'm just going to turn the lamp on over there," she said, swiftly snapping on the lamp.
He flinched and looked down shading his eyes from the light.
"Is it hurting your eyes?"
He shook his head. "I don't want you to look at me," he croaked. His voice sounded rusty, underused.
"Why?"
"Disgusting. Stupid."
Buffy flinched. "Don't say that! What's happened? Is it . . ."
She stopped. She didn't want to say Spike's name.
"Is this my fault? Because of what I said this afternoon?"
Xander shook his head and gulped. "My fault. So stupid," he whispered.
"I don't think that." Buffy grabbed his hands and held them tightly, trying not to wince at the sight of him. "I'll *never* think that, no matter what."
His mouth twisted like he was about to cry, and she almost welcomed it, anything would be better than this bottled up unresponsiveness that was totally unlike Xander, but then he drew back from the edge, and just kept his eyes on the floor.
"What did he do? I know its something to do with him. It's okay. Tell me."
"Spike." Xander said eventually, his voice hitching on the word. "Spike."
"I know but . . ."
"Buffy. Let me talk to him," said Willow from where she had arrived, panting and out of breath in the doorway. "Give us a minute."
"I'm not going anywhere until I know what is going on here." Buffy snapped at Willow still holding on to Xander's hands. It was the only contact she had with him and it felt tentative at best.
"Buffy you don't understand."
"I'm trying to. You're not making it easy. Please Xander I know Spike's done something bad, tell me, I'll fix it."
Xander shook his head violently.
"Whatever he's done I'll kill him!" Buffy swore as the frustration got the better of her. "Xander what could be so bad that . . ."
"Xander." Willow knelt beside him. "After Buffy told you, what happened? Did you see Spike?"
"I went to his crypt," Xander whispered. "I saw it all."
"You saw the things he had?" Buffy guessed. "The pictures?"
"He still had all that?" Willow examined.
Buffy ignored her, still stroking Xander's hands. " What? What has he made you do? Why does seeing the pictures bother you so mu . . ."
She stopped. She thought . . .but no, no *way* would Xander ever . . .
She looked at him again, he was still staring at the floor, his hands resting limply in hers.
"Spike and you . . ." Buffy stopped. She looked at Xander who was still unable to meet her eyes, she looked at Willow and the wary, miserable expression on her face was all the confirmation she needed.
"Spike and *you*," she said in a totally different tone.
She dropped his hands in shock and leaned back on her heels. "No. *No*. You didn't, you couldn't have, Xander please, please tell me you didn't . . ."
But Xander just shivered and hid his face in his hands like the shame was too much to bear.
***
In Xander's bedroom, out of his earshot Willow and Buffy faced each other warily.
"Buffy this is the last thing Xander needs right now."
"Have I got this right? Xander's been . . ."
"Sleeping with Spike. Yes."
"But Xander isn't . . .he wouldn't . . .oh God what is happening to us all?" Buffy asked helplessly. "Spike and *Xander*. How could this happen?"
"I don't know." Willow took a quick peak out to check that Xander was still in the corner where they had left him, before securely closing the door.
"Oh God," Buffy whispered. "This can't be happening." Suddenly she turned to Willow.
"You - you knew about this. Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you tell me!"
"It wasn't exactly the right time to tell you! I tried to stop it, but things got complicated, I'm not sure what's going on. I know it's a shock but . . ."
"A *shock*?" Buffy mimicked in disbelief. " A *SHOCK*? When I get hold of Spike I'm going to rip him apart. He's sick, sick . . ."
Her voice broke as she sank down on the bed, and covered her face in her hands. There was a dip as Willow sat down on the bed next to her.
"This is all my fault." Buffy whispered at last.
"No, Buffy you can't blame yourself."
"I didn't kill him because he couldn't fight back . . because I thought he was helpless." She dragged her hand across her tear-streaked face. "And now Xander is paying because I was so *stupid*."
"Spike started this to get to you, Buffy. He knew it would hurt you."
"I hate him." Buffy's mouth twisted. "I *hate* him." Her hands clenched compulsively, like they just couldn't wait to get hold of him.
"Spike came to see me today," Willow said hesitantly. "He knew I'd worked out what was going on. He came to beg me not to tell Xander. He said he was going to leave town, and I'm not sure anymore what was going on, but I think . . .or I *thought* he meant it. He said he'd given up on the idea, he didn't want to hurt Xander. I don't think he wanted Xander to see all that stuff."
"So why did he still have it?"
"I don't know. I didn't think he was lying, but maybe I was wrong."
"Oh he was lying alright, he planned all this." Buffy rubbed her head trying to contain the ache throbbing inside. "Why didn't I make him leave town?"
"It doesn't matter right now, Xander is what's important."
"Yeah," Buffy sighed. "You'd better get in there."
"What about you?"
"I'll help him in my own way. I will hunt down. Maim. Destroy Spike." Her voice was filled with utter loathing.
"Buffy no!" Willow examined fearfully. "I know how you feel, and as much as I'd like to throw a thunderbolt at Spike myself right now, killing Spike isn't going to help Xander, it's not going to make this go away, it'll make it worse. Xander doesn't need the Slayer, he needs a friend."
"I'm the reason this happened! I'm the last person Xander needs to see right now, he probably hates me."
"Which is why you need to talk to him not go off being all 'Action Gal'."
"Willow I can't go out there!" Buffy rose to her feet and began pacing the room in agitation. "I know he's the victim in all this but it's not like he had to go along with it!"
Willow twisted her hands helplessly. "I think he lo . . ."
"God!" Buffy cringed in disgust. "Don't say that! Don't even think it! He could have stopped, asked for help . . ."
"Like you did when Angel came back from Hell?" Willow pointed out sharply as anger began to boil up inside her. She stood and moved to block Buffy's path. "Like you could just switch off your feelings and kill him when he turned evil?"
"That was different! I was . . .it was all different. But this . . .it's like I don't even know who that is out there! Its not Xander, its disgusting . . ."
She heard the cracking noise a split second after the hot pain flew across her cheek.
Buffy gasped, her hand flying to cover her face. It hadn't been much of a slap, more noise than anything, and it certainly took a hell of a lot more than that to make her cry but her eyes still welled up again as she stared in shock at Willow.
Willow faced her looking just as shocked. "I'm sorry," Willow stammered. "I didn't . . I'm sorry." She looked down at her hand incredulously. "God, I can't believe I did that, I didn't mean to. . .Buffy . . ." She tentatively reached out and Buffy's face crumpled.
"I'm sorry too."
They wrapped their arms around each other, clinging on in a tight embrace, trying to draw strength, from each other, reassurance that somehow all of this would work out.
"Don't you get scary on me Will, I couldn't take it," Buffy gasped into her shoulder.
"I won't, I'm sorry," Willow replied, holding on even tighter. The stayed locked in each others arms for a long moment then eventually pulled apart, a little embarrassed in a way they'd never been before.
"I didn't mean that Xander was disgusting," Buffy struggled to explain. "I just meant . . .that Spike did this to him and it's like he's . . .tainted him, and Xander's let him, I just wish I knew *why*."
"So ask him, talk to him, you can help," Willow gulped.
"How can *I* help him?" Buffy asked wiping her eyes.
"Think about it Buffy, you could be the *only* person that can help him."
***
Time didn't seem to have any meaning for Xander anymore. It felt like hours he'd crouched in the dark drinking before Buffy came, now it all seemed to be overlapping messily. He was drunk but it wasn't helping, it just made everything muffled and distorted. He couldn't believe it was still only one day. Only this morning he'd woken up in Spike's bed, from that to this.
But he couldn't think about that. Couldn't bear to think about last night, or Spike's visit this afternoon, he had to keep it blocked out, it was the only way he could stand it.
His bedroom door opened and Buffy came out looking pale and sad. He was half expecting her to leave, maybe spit on him as she walked past, but she sat down on the floor next to him.
"Hey," she said quietly.
It was kind of nice she was still trying, even now she knew. Xander only wished he could feel grateful, but he couldn't let himself feel anything. He knew what was lurking behind those floodgates of *feeling*, and it was too frightening to let anything in. He had to stay like this, trapped in a grey cold bubble he couldn't let himself get out of.
"Sorry about that." Buffy apologised. "It was kind of a shock."
"Yeah," he said dully.
Silence fell between them. He didn't hate Buffy . . .exactly, it was hardly her fault Spike had done what he did, but why couldn't things have been different? Couldn't she have done *something* so Spike wouldn't have done this? And it hurt to see her. Hurt to listen to her, to watch her move and know that this was what Spike had wanted, had always wanted and he couldn't even compete. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, /never loved him/ and gulped at the scotch. Buffy shifted uncomfortably.
"How are you doing?" She asked at last.
He shrugged. "Oh, you know."
"Yeah. I know," she agreed softly. "You can cry you know."
He shook his head. "I don't feel like crying."
"Okay," Buffy said as she took his hand. "We can just sit here for a while."
Yeah, silence was good, he could cope with silence. Silence where he could sit and not think, not feel, just finish the bottle. But Buffy was talking again, and though he tried to block them, the words dripped into his ears, into his head.
"I remember after I . . .sent Angel to hell I couldn't cry. I almost did, but I had to hold it back. I was scared once I started I would never be able to stop."
/No, no don't listen, don't . . ./
"I was the same when . . .when Mom died. I thought I was coping," she continued as she stroked his hand. "But really I was just hiding. When something feels that bad, like you're dying inside, well I guess anyone would be scared to face that. But until you do you can't let go. You can't get better if you just switch off."
He felt his hand grip on to hers a little tighter even as he thought frantically /Oh shut up Buffy, please shut up, please don't. . ./
"You loved him didn't you? If anyone knows that you can't help who you love it's me. And when someone you love breaks your heart, you're allowed to feel hurt. You're allowed to cry."
A tiny earthquake was beginning inside him. Despite sitting so quietly he could feel something shift inside him. /No, no/ he thought panicked, but it spread, got bigger, more powerful, until he opened his mouth.
"I loved him," Xander said aloud, slowly, tasting the words in his mouth. "I did."
Like he'd finally slid the final piece into a puzzle the world that had been looking so wrong, so confusing that all he could do was hide from it in a dark corner, flew back into shape, a terrible, heartbreaking shape that he couldn't avoid any longer.
The bubble burst. The iron grip around his heart loosened, and he was dimly aware of Buffy taking him in her arms at the tears finally came.
***
Later - a long time later he was lying in bed with Buffy sitting beside him. Willow was in the kitchen, probably getting yet another jug of water. She'd made him drink a lot saying it would help the hangover tomorrow. He didn't think anything would make him feel better tomorrow but he'd drank it anyway. They hadn't spoken very much. He'd cried lot, but then so had Buffy and Willow. In a weird way it had helped, at least it lessened his humiliation that they *knew*; that he'd hit rock bottom in front of them. It was still painful to look at Buffy but the near hate he'd been feeling for her had faded into an ache that he could live with. She was hurting because he was hurting and somehow it made it easier to forgive her for the memory of drawing back the curtain. He let his head rest back on the pillows. It felt so good to just let its weight go.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Buffy asked.
Xander shrugged, then tried to smile except his face was so twisted with tears that he couldn't manage it. He felt damaged, disfigured with his misery. "Shame?"
"Xander . . ."
"I didn't think you'd understand."
"You didn't think I'd understand? You fell in love with a vampire and you didn't think I'd understand?!"
Xander shook his head. "Angel was different, at least he had a soul."
"Yeah and when he lost it I still loved him."
"Yeah, but it wasn't like I was supportive guy there. I didn't think I deserved any help. I knew what I was doing was crazy, but I couldn't stop it, I just felt like I had to go my own way and hope at some point it would all come together." He sighed shakily as his eyes began stinging again, but managed to hold back another crying bout. "But it all fell apart."
"I know the feeling." She smoothed the blanket down over him and managed to choke down her own tears. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this I wish I could make it stop."
Xander sighed shakily. "Me too."
She squeezed his hand. "Try to sleep."
She left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.
"How is he?" Willow asked as Buffy entered the kitchen where she was drinking her fourteenth cup of coffee.
"Not great. I've never seen him like this before. I think he's resting now," Buffy replied wearily. "What time is it?"
"Nearly four," Willow replied through a yawn.
"Will you stay tonight? I don't think Xander should wake up alone."
"Sure. Tara knows I'm here. Buffy? Do you think I should tell him about Spike coming to see me? Maybe it'll help, maybe this is all some kind of mistake."
"The only mistake as far as I can see is that Spike hasn't been introduced to my friend Mr. Pointy," she paused, then grabbed her coat. "But maybe I can do something about that."
"Buffy? Where are you going?"
Buffy turned to face her, and Willow felt herself shrinking back in the chair. The determined Buffy 'kick ass' look had nothing on the expression of pure murderous rage on her face right now.
"Payback."
"Buffy!" Willow said quickly. "Buffy don't kill him! It won't help!"
"No maybe not." Buffy acknowledged as she opened the door. "But it'll feel *good*."
***
Spike sat numbly outside his crypt, the night air was waning into the pre-sunrise scent that warned him that time was short, but he still sat there, unmoving. No more howling, raging or screaming, he'd emptied himself out. Inside his crypt was torn apart, furniture broken, bottles smashed, one had shattered in his grasp leaving shards that had left tiny cuts all over his hands.
Xander was gone.
His eyes hurt but the tears still came, slipping silently down his cheeks, but no sobs, he was too tired now to sob. Still he couldn't face lying in the bed that had Xander's scent clinging to it. Couldn't face lying still and thinking about this day. Couldn't face sleeping only to wake up and know that Xander wouldn't be there, and it was all *his fault*. Everytime the horror hit him afresh, that he'd brought this whole thing on himself, and even worse, on Xander. He didn't know how this had happened, maybe Willow had lied, maybe she had told Xander anyway, maybe she'd told Buffy who'd told Xander, right now it didn't matter. All that mattered was he loved Xander and Xander was gone. He couldn't bear to think of what Xander must be thinking, feeling. He had to find Xander, he had to explain, but what could he say that he hadn't already said? All he could do was say 'sorry, I love you, I'm sorry . . .' But it wasn't enough.
Maybe it would be better tomorrow but today, now he couldn't think about tomorrow, couldn't think about anything but sitting here. In the distance a pink tinge began to break in the sky. He had to move but he was afraid to, to scared to take that step into his crypt and accept that the day would end like this. To scared to do anything that might mean that life was moving on, without Xander, his mouth opened in a soundless wail, he couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it . . .
A rustle came from behind him, but he didn't turn to face it, whatever it was could have him. He didn't care. He felt himself hoisted up and hurled, when he flew through the air he just closed his eyes and almost enjoyed the rush as the air flew past his ears, enjoyed the moment of weightlessness until he smashed back to the ground. Not a second to recover, even if he'd wanted to, she was on him again.
She . . .the Slayer, Buffy. So she knew. She didn't speak a word, as she dragged him to his feet and hurled him face first into the side of the stone mausoleum. His nose broke and began to pour with blood, she raised his head and pounded it into the stone again, again, again. All the time she never spoke a single word and Spike felt oddly removed from his body, almost dreamlike, as she pulled him back, punched him to the ground, and kicked him, hard kicks that landed on his thigh, his face, his stomach. He gasped, retched, laughed, cried and laughed again. It had worked, it was perfect, the reaction he'd dreamed of getting from her when he'd first begun this. She was crazy with grief, out of her mind with anger and sorrow and it was amazingly, incredibly funny that he'd come so far, yet ended up back at the beginning. Just as he'd imagined it except he wasn't dodging, shouting taunts, revelling in her pain, he was too busy drowning in his own. She straddled him and began to rain blows down on him, harder and harder. No words, no quips, just her breath loud and hoarse and the crunching as his bones cracked under her blows. He didn't move to block her, to try to get away, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. He laughed and bled, and the tears kept pouring, mingling with the blood, he didn't care. He welcomed the blows, it was a distraction from the wrenching aching pain in his chest where his heart should be.
She pulled back and grabbed the stake from her pocket, she raised it, and held.
***
Buffy froze, her hands clasped firmly around the stake. For the first time she looked at Spike under her, bloodied and battered he just looked at her from reddened eyes. He was still laughing at little, but there were tears on his cheeks glinting wetly.
/Has he been crying all the time?/ The thought flashed in her head as she stared at him. One word, one movement from him would have brought the stake smacking into his chest, but he just lay still.
The red mist hanging over her eyes cleared. She still wanted to kill him. Her hands twitched with the need to slam the stake down. But the consequences were just too high, if she killed someone Xander had loved, probably still loved despite everything it would only set the pain in stone, he would never trust her again.
/Do it. Do it./ A voice whispered. /He never has to know./
But there had already been way too many lies.
"Why?" She asked Spike at last. "Just to hurt me?"
Spike shook his head. "Get over yourself Slayer," Spike spat out a mouthful of blood and stared up at her out of an eye rapidly swelling shut. "This hasn't been about you almost from the start."
"Then why carry on?" A moment ago she could have dusted him and only felt joy, now all she felt was terribly, heartbreakingly sad, for Xander, for herself, for continually trying to save a world that let things like this happen.
"Because you stupid, *stupid* bitch I *love* him." He laughed again then, a terrible lost sound that made her skin crawl. So might Drusilla have laughed when she found the bodies of her family; then his laughter turned back into tears. "I love him."
"You don't know how to love." She slowly lowered the stake and moved off him. She stood, looking down at him.
"You're *disgusting*. You're *nothing*. I want you out of town, I want you away from me and mine, if you come back . . ."
"Do your worst love! I've got nothing to bloody go on for anyway. Did you find out? Did you tell him? I've got to hand it to you - you just keep on fucking up my life don't you?"
"You started this!" Buffy yelled. "You did all this! This is because of you, you and your sick games!"
"The hell with you," Spike said wearily, bitterly as he staggered to his feet wiping blood from his mouth with a shaking hand. "The hell with you and your fight and your key . . ."
Buffy froze. Spike had never come closer to dying than he did in that moment. Maybe it was even what he wanted. "You ever tell anyone who the key is and I . . ."
"I don't care!" Spike screamed. "You hear that you bitch! I don't care."
Buffy regarded him through reddened eyes for a moment. Pure loathing flooded through her veins, she was so close to staking him it took a palpable wrench to pull her eyes away, to unclench her fists.
"Stay away from us."
She turned away and wearily began the journey home. Spike's legs bucked again, but he managed to stagger slowly, relucantly back into his crypt.
As the pink flooded the sky with the sunrise Glory's minion cautiously came out from the gravestone he had been hiding behind, his eyes alight with glee as an unpleasant smile began to spread over his face.
Continued in the next part
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