rngrdead (rngrdead) wrote in bloodclaim,

White Marble # 9A

It's too short but the best I can do right now... RL blahhh blahhh

Working Title: White Marble
Author: josie_h@yahoo.com
Archived at: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=rngrdead
Pairing: Xander/Spike
Rating: Mature Audiences – for content and themes.
Summary: Exquisite statue… admirer… magic… and everything changes.
Warnings: M/M – if you don’t like boys together, don’t play here!
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.


Xander wandered in and out of consciousness, sleeping for much of each day and struggling to concentrate when he was awake. His concussion had been “serious” and his other injuries troubled him when he was up and about… The local doctor visited daily and Davina and Helena took it upon themselves to check on their friend morning and afternoon, taking him food and fussing regards his well being. Xander felt humbled by the generosity of spirit and said as much to the women.

He was strangely emotional in the wake of the accident, and became quite teary as he told Davina and Helena just how much he appreciated their help, and the friendship of Helena’s husband and all the village and, and, and… The ladies were understanding, motherly and accepted his near desperate thank yous before feeding him and tucking him back into bed.

And each night, as the sun slipped over the horizon, the angel stepped from his prison.

It was two weeks since the accident and tonight his charge was still sleeping, so he shook out his wings with a massive shiver of white. He tidied the house a little and refilled Xander’s carafe of water by his bed. He sat for nearly an hour simply holding the brunette’s hand as the invalid slept on.

As Xander’s eyes flickered open once or twice, Spike leaned over to kiss the man and whisper reassurances. Eventually, he gave in to the nightly instinctive tug he had felt ever since the hospital. He checked Xander one more time then stepped out into the night and took off as was now his habit.

Spike was drawn to those in the most distress and without thought flew high and fast to the places he was most needed. Two nights previous, it was a car accident – the vehicle had spun out of control and hit a tree. Just before the fuel caught fire, he lifted the two unconscious and injured figures free. An anonymous call to the police saw them tended to.

Tonight it was an elderly woman, a favorite grandmother in the village. She had been unwell of late, yet few knew. Around one in the morning a massive heart attack struck. Her body arched with pain and lungs filling with fluid. She prayed, and he felt the tug.

Spike could do nothing, it was her time – just as the coroner would later determine – no one could have. The aorta had ruptured and death was inevitable, even had she been in hospital at the time. But what the coroner didn’t know was that in Maria’s last moments, she felt cool hands stroking her face, heard a soft baritone voice comforting her, and had no more pain. As her sight faded to black and spirit left, she had turned to a very real angel, felt loved, and smiled her thanks.

Spike returned to Xander’s home exhausted. His beautiful owner (for that *was* really the situation – Xander had *bought* him) was still sleeping. Spike simply lay alongside the man, his wings covering them both and promptly fell asleep.

He woke some hours later just before dawn, to desperate sobbing and gentle stroking of his face and hair.

“Oh god… Oh god… I wish you were real… I *wish* you were real… I never told you Spike… we were always… then I never told you!!!...”

Spike simply took Xander’s hand and kissed it… Then rose and kissed him on the lips.

“Real as can be, given the circumstances, pet.” Then kissed him again and let his wings open and fanned them as he allowed full body contact become a front on front full body caress.

Xander had been having strange dreams for weeks and since his injuries, nightly, but now to feel and see ‘for real’ was beyond comprehension.

Spike’s hand slid down and the human was swiftly brought to conclusion as a deft hand found just the right rhythm and mouths opened to allow tongues to tangle and caress.

Spike also found climax, only to realize that was the first time in… he was no longer sure.

As morning approached, he returned to his prison, but this time the statue’s eyes were closed and a permanent tear was tracking down the exquisite face.

Davina noted the difference as she let herself into Xander’s home – but discounted the observation as a silly notion, figuring she had simply not noticed before.

Xander’s arm and shoulder improved, his ribs knitted, and concussion mended slowly but the latter still saw him exhausted for much of each day. He went back to work half daily on the building site and helped the fishing crew once a week.

But nightly… nightly he had a visitor, a stunningly beautiful visitor. And slowly but surely, after his wider duties, Spike’s attentions to his friend pushed toward full ‘relations’.

For some weeks Xander discounted the vision of the beautiful man with the face of his former friend and wings, as one of the bizarre fantasies indicative of his concussion and recovery… he imagined one, then two fingers penetrating his rear and another hand tugged him to completion – with his permission. In the haze he had no idea it was real so simply felt and loved then slept.

On day fourty after his injury, as he fell into slumber, he whispered, “Please God... I *wish* you were real… I love you… I really do… I miss you so much and I love you Spike, I love you…” And with the final declaration, Spike watched in wonder as the low pedestal he had been forced to grace for more than three years… disintegrated into dust.

He was free, but Xander was now working three days a week and easing his way back in to working life. Spike was unsure how he might fit into his owner's life.

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