Athenewolfe (athenewolfe) wrote in bloodclaim,

Whispers of the Night 2/4 Spander

Title: Whispers of the Night 2/4
Author: Athenewolfe
Paring: Spike/Xander slash
Word Count : Chapter Two: 1243 words
Rating: NC-17
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
Previous Chapter Here

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, my first actual Spander fic (and sequal to follow).

Chapter Two
Foolish Intentions

His thoughts drifted back. How it all started, how it all had begun. It was foolish. His intentions had been pure, but he was deceived by their actions. He wouldn’t have taken such drastic steps - to try to help, to try to save - if they would have talked to him. If he felt he could have shared. But they shut him out, tried to protect him, tryied to protect their world. At least that is what they said. He doubted their every word.

He was naïve. He hadn’t been sure what he was doing, where he had been going, or even if his actions were save or logical. He was their white knight though. He lived to serve. Until their betrayal.

His sources had been clear; the world was going to end. There wasn’t much they could do about it. A Hell God was on the loose and searching for her Key. A Key which Buffy knew about it and refused to give up; even when the battle left her broken and bruised; forced to take refuge in the hospital. The same hospital that Joyce had died in. Buffy looked like a truck had hit her; he wondered what they put on the form.

His mind drifted. Conversations playing in his head: the doctors and the watchers each arguing for supremacy over the unconscious blonde.

Shaking his head, he focused. Yes. His sources, the overhead conversations between the visiting watchers. World ending, Hell God, mystical Key and did you know the Slayer was going to be homeless? They laughed at that. Irate with her for quitting the Council, they refused to assist her unless she gave them the Key. After all, they had said – how bad could it be if she wouldn’t let them help protect the artifact? Their laughter, mocking and cruel pushed him to that final step. He would find a solution to the God, protect the Key that he wasn’t trusted with, and since when did Buffy keep secrets? Perhaps they could stay in his basement.

He got lost in his research, determined to help. He wasn’t Giles or even Willow, but he knew he would discover the solution. It was his obsession. He wouldn’t let them win. Couldn’t let them win. He was their White Knight; even Angelus had said it was so.

He hadn’t known where to start or what to research. He hadn’t even been sure of the Key’s form. So he researched; starting with mystical objects and shiny baubles. They had an entire section for that you know.

Buffy stayed in the hospital. She had given up. Dawn moved in with Willow. Better to protect her they said. He was forgotten, overlooked, and so he researched. Searching day and night; forgetting to eat, forgetting to shave, half the time he forgot to go home. She was still there when he found his first references to a mystical treasure underneath Sunnydale. The Treasure of Amara.

Sure; there was no reference to any Key-related artifacts but there were loads of other objects listed as lost and presumed buried. It was mind-boggling, and he was pretty sure it would solve a lot of their problems. A gem that would help vampires … well, he was unsure what it translated to, but it looked like it would make a vampire stronger. And a treasure which - even if it was split between two parties - would pay off Buffy’s house and fund her for a good portion of her life, and probably Dawn’s as well. No basement dwelling for his girls.

He had known just the vamp for the job as well. A chipped Spike with increased strength couldn’t hurt them. He was still harmless against humans. He could be bribed with the Gem and some treasure and presto! one strong demon fighter to help against the Hell God. Between no more money worries and another fighter; he had been confident that they would win any fight. All he had to do was convince Spike, find the treasure, and he would be welcomed as the hero he was. He would have saved the day.

He had everything planned out before he even recruited the vampire; all the tools, all the maps, and all the daydreams of a thankful Buffy. It wasn’t even a challenge, Spike was easy. One mention of the Gem of Amara and he was sold. Spike’s cooperation was secured by payment, not as a favor. Strange how that had comforted him at the time.

He had never counted on the weeks it would take to locate the treasure. The time spent with Spike, working side by side. Never thought the sight of the vampire working shirtless, would have affected him so. It resurrected old feelings and thoughts towards a man, towards a vamp; feelings that the he thought he had buried once Angel had left.

Yet there he was; another vamp…another demon causing him to be confused, to doubt himself. He liked women - Buffy, Faith, Cordelia, and sometimes even Anya. He didn’t like vampires, or men! He hated demons, despised them, They had taken Jessie away from him. To love or even lust after another one would be the ultimate betrayal.

Yet he couldn’t stop watching Spike. Gradually the watching became wanting. So they fought, sniped, argued, and yelled. He ignored Spike’s knowing smirk, the one that said I know why we fight.

Until the day that Spike pushed him against the wall. Kissed him hard and demanding; smothering his protests with lips and tongue, frantic hands running over his body, begging for more. His hand had crept to Spikes cock, amazed at the hardness and mutual desire. Anya’s statement floated through his head … interlocking parts. As he mused, he’d felt the cold rush of air and a cooler tongue.

Groaning, he had moaned Spike’s name. Frustration mounted as Spike stopped and shocked realization followed. Spike had stood there in jeans and boots, only his hand touching Xander, slowly tracing his swollen cock. He had leaned forward, his tongue flicking out and tracing Xander’s lips. Then he smirked.

Xander had snapped, and quickly divested Spike of his clothing. They were naked, kissing, moaning, and moving against each other. Xander lost track of time. He barely flinched as Spike’s wet finger entered him; stretching him; then two; then slowly easing his cock into Xander.

It didn’t hurt – well, it did, - but in that pleasure-pain sort of way. The sensation was exquisite; Spike pounding into him harder and harder until all rational thought had fled. He wanted everything, he wanted more. He was begging and he couldn’t stop. All his dark desires laid bare in his moans. Fuck me, bite me, take me, want me. He felt shattered, yet complete. He was lost, brought back by the fierce piercing of fangs. Xander had roared when he came.

Funny how close that exquisite line between pleasure and pain could be; the chip never fired once.

Shortly after that they found the artifacts. The treasure room was like a playground. Shiny objects, wealth, and everything they could ever desire.

Using the description, they discovered the ring. They had then begun to sort through the pieces, selecting a few to take back with them to the surface.

With his luck, it seemed inevitable that his hand slipped, nicked on a sharp blade on top of their baubles. He bled and his world went black.


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