Xander used to dream of
black eyes and anger and spent days hiding under the sprawling rose bush
with the blighted leaves in his back yard. Now he dreams of demons and
death and wonders which is worse. He’d suffer in silence, except.
Spike knows. It’s taken Xander far too long to see the hateful, hurtful truth. Spikes watches protectively and Xander needs, craves that protection. It’s been twenty years overdue and the dearth of it has left him aching and bitter, but with such a wacky sense of humour that no-one, no-one, notices. But Spike. The first time it happens is when he’s beaten by another nameless, pointless monster in the cemetery. His head falls forward against the gravestone and he reads the epitaph with relieved eyes. Then the world turns red, black and angry and he’s accosted by a creature whose eyes are raging yellow and so animal that Xander’s afraid, afraid? Of Spike? The vampire takes him up against the gravestone, marking him with teeth and cock and making him his. Xander comes over the dew damp grass and feels perfect for the first time since he was born. Then he finds out about Buffy. And Spike. |
DONE