Paring: Spike/Xander slash
Prompt: 093 Voices
Word Count : Chapter One: 1019 words
Genre: Alternate seasons of four and five produced this S5 dark fic
Warnings: Slash, dark fic, bloodplay, death and dark characters.
Table: 50 Dark Fics
Summary: Xander discovers that the line between sanity and insanity is as thin as that between pleasure and pain.
This is what happens when I am staring at my dark fics table: 50 Dark Fics , realize that it is evil Xander month at good__evil and that there is a Dark!Xander Ficathon
Author’s Note: Things are different but should be mentioned in the story. Note that Xander/Anya and Spike loving Buffy never happened. Joyce died, even though Buffy has not died yet, she is completely broke – think med bills and funerals. Thank you to my amazing beta spikeslovebite. Please comment, as my first actual Spander fic I am nervous. Never written more the a ficlet before in this pairing and sooooo nervous!
He could hear them; the voices of the night as they were carried in on the wind. He listened to them as they whispered. They told him secrets he would have been better off not knowing. They called to him, taunted him, and promised him sweet release. All he had to do was just give in. If he embraced the madness that everyone believed had taken him. Embraced it and become one with the night. To live in the shadows and pick up the blade; to become what he loved and what he fought against.
But he had to stay strong. He knew that he wasn’t insane; knew that the whispers taunting him were part of the night. He could feel the tendrils of the Hellmouth shaping the town above, whispering to those who listened. It manipulated those who would fight regardless of what they thought they were fighting for. The Hellmouth cared not for good or evil. It wasn’t capable of that level of thought. Yet, it was sentient. It craved the power of the earth, of the dimensions, and longed to be freed. It drew in power. Good, bad; it cared naught, it desired only sweet release.
They didn’t understand. Everyone thought he had gone insane. His friends had turned against him. Refused to believe the truth, they insisted that he must have finally snapped. That night after night fighting against the forces of darkness had unhinged him, pushed him into lunacy. They actually believed that one day he just gave up and allowed the madness to seep into his brain. That he took the coward’s way out. After all, if he was insane, he couldn’t be expected to fight.
He knew they would never say it. Never admit to their dark thoughts. They expressed concern for him, and pretended to be his friends, but they never saw him. They never took the time to know who he really was. As always, he’d hidden behind a joke and goofy smile, content to be their foolish white knight.
He might never have known the truth. He certainly would have been happier not knowing. It was their actions that drove him to befriend a demon. Buffy and her carefully withheld truths, that and the complete lack of trust from the others. His stupid desire to serve them, to save them backfired, but in doing so, he saved himself. He finally realized what he’d always denied, what he’d always repressed. That he craved the darkness as well as the light. The pain with the pleasure. And with the slip of a hand, his entire world changed. However, that was a story for another day. Tonight, he had to concentrate on the voices.
He realized now that it didn’t matter to the Hellmouth how it got power. Just that it received it. Energy in any form was beneficial to it. Slayer, demon, human; it was all connected and it all tried to drive Xander insane. The whispers had been telling him secrets, things it was to late to do anything about. It knew him, knew them, and it craved them more then it craved the demons that flocked to Sunnydale in supplication. It wanted the Slayer and her power, the witch and her magic, and apparently the sanity of one Xander Harris.
It was rather comforting though; to be wanted. He knew the truth now. His friends had never really wanted him. He’d never had a place with them. Never excelled at research, didn’t have a super power, wasn’t a strong fighter, yet he was always there. Supporting them, helping them, and trying to ease their burdens. Yet what happened the first time that he really needed help? When he realized that he could hear the Hellmouth; that he was connected to part of it? That the voices on the wind were real and he could finally contribute to the group with his knowledge?
He had been warned that this would happen. That no one would believe him. That they would assume he was evil or - even worse - ignore him. But he’d insisted. He would be believed and they would listen. Finally, he could make a difference.
His lover had laughed softly. Slightly mocking, but not with the intention to hurt. Yet it had. So, when he asked that Xander wait, to please not tell them until he got back, he had blithely ignored the request. He had been so anxious to prove his beloved demon wrong.
Spike had left, supposedly to get an artifact that would allow Xander to control his newly unleashed power. He had asked Xander to go with him, but the laughter stung and he still believed in his friends. He may have been in love with a demon, but he still wanted to walk in the light. He still wanted to be their Xander-shaped friend, He wanted to save the world, but be bitten in secret.
Yet they never believed him. He saw the doubt in their eyes, the nervous laughter they tried to conceal. They didn’t believe that the Hellmouth could influence them. Didn’t believe that he spoke the truth. In desperation, he’d played his final card. He relayed some of the whispers. ‘You can find the bodies there. They were carved up. I listened to their screams as it was being done.’
Then there was a different look on their faces, and it was fear.
They never trusted him, never believed him. Locked him away in an asylum and threw away the key. They were convinced he was insane and that he was helping someone. Someone who they did not know, but could match up with the bite marks that peppered Xander’s body. There were drugging him now, trying to ‘cure’ him; trying to make him sane. But it would never work; he knew the truth. He’d always been sane.
He smiled a wicked grin. They might not have believed him, they might have betrayed him, but he would have the last laugh. For the wind whispered to him once more. A new song. A new secret.
His lover was coming home.