FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
GENRE : Slash
PROMPT: 024. Tears
WORD COUNT: 372 words
SUMMARY: Since he left Spike, Xander’s not been the same.
WARNINGS: None. Angst. Tissue warning.
NOTES: X-Posted to lover100
DISCLAIMER: You recognize them? I don’t own them.
Xander would never admit just how much he missed Spike. Admitting he missed him was right up there with taking him back, and a man had to consider his pride.
Yet, as soon as he bid the last goodbye, Xander was in a well worn, well loved, t-shirt, clutching a pillow that smelled faintly of a cross between Drakkar Noir and Old Spice, his tears softly soaking into the green plaid pillowcase.
The house still looked as if Spike had never left. Bags of B Negative still sat in the freezer, waiting to be thawed. Three pairs of worn black jeans hung on the otherwise bare side of the closet. Two cologne bottles, Drakkar Noir and Old Spice, were lined up evenly, waiting to be applied.
All it would take to get him back was Xander, merely swallowing his pride, going to the crypt and asking for a second chance. It was that simple.
Instead, Xander was ‘content’, crying into his pillow, so lonely he could practically taste it.
There were dates. Plenty of them. Wayne from Buffy’s CPR class. Dave from Spell Caster’s Anonymous. Stu from the Pharmacy. Yet, none of them compared to William the Bloody, vampire of the night. The only one he wanted. The only one with the power to make him whole.
Before losing Spike, Xander hated most alcohol. After losing Spike, he relied on a single glass of Claret to ease him to sleep. It didn’t get him drunk, but managed to affect him just enough to numb most of the pain. The pain of a love lost to pure stubbornness…
Space. I need space.
I can’t handle you smothering me.
Smothered? What had made him say smothered? All Xan had ever wanted was to return one tenth of the love Spike had ever given him.
Maybe he was just incapable of love.
That old pillow in the green plaid case has seen so many tears, so many lonely nights. Before this, it has seen blood, sweat, sex and love. It had never considered seeing tears. It was close to eighty years old, made of the finest feathers.
It used to be Spike’s security blanket.
Now, it is Xander’s only comfort.