Warnings: Buffy AU. Angst. Permanent character death. Some swearing and mention of M/M sex. Xander's POV.
Pairing; S/X Mentions S/A
Status: Complete 1150 words.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and don't make any money from them.
Summary: Sometimes you just can't take anymore......
He was tired, sick, beyond bone weary, beyond exhausted.. He'd had enough, his heart couldn't take anymore.........
They'd been together five years all told, maybe more. Three years as enemies, roomies, comrades and finally on, off lovers. Two years they'd been a committed couple.
Gone through a ceremony and everything.
He thought they were happy. They hardly ever rowed. The sex was fantastic and his promotion meant for the first time they had enough money to live on and save a bit. Even the new apartment was great. He felt loved and cherished. Giving up his family (hardly any great loss).
"You're better off without those drunken arse holes, Luv."
Even going against Buffy, Willow and Giles had seemed worth it....
"They're not your real friends Pet or they'd want you to be happy and stop treating you like shit."
Two fucking years.......Only it wasn't not really.
It was six months, give or take.... Six months as a couple and eighteen months a threesome. Only he didn't know that. Not that there was a third in the relationship, not for a long time............
He supposed at the back of his mind he'd suspected there might be .... Just thought he was being paranoid. Well he hated Angel so he was bound to think the worst, especially when Spike started going to LA to help out. ....
"Don't want to risk human lives Pet".
And he could see the logic in it really.... Except those humans who worked with Angel they'd chosen to do that. They knew the risks............
He didn't know the risk of losing Spike.
Spike had asked him to go along at first, but obviously knew he wouldn't.... Then he'd stopped asking..... Now and again became once a month and then twice, then every couple of weeks. One night, became two, became three until Spike seemed to spend more time in LA than Sunnydale.... Spike denied it.....
"You're exaggerating Luv. I haven't been keeping count like you Pet, has it really been that much?"
And when he came back, wound up and hyper. The bruises and bites......
"What d' you expect Whelp? Been fighting fucking demons."
Finger shaped bruises on his hips and ass. Bites on his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, inner thighs, ass. Fading cuff marks on his wrists, lash marks on his back... Oh he tried to hide them. Drank lots of blood to speed healing, stayed as long as he dared in LA until the worst had faded...He supposed he ought to be grateful for his thoughtfulness....
But he wasn't.
He was proud he hadn't screamed, broken down, made a scene.... Not much, done most of that in private. He'd asked how long.... Spike had been on the defensive...........
"Does it fucking matter?"
It did to him.
"How long have I been going to LA...............?"
Spike said he had known what he was, knew what the Sire, Childe relationship was like, been around vampires, been around him long enough to understand. Why was he surprised?
And it was true. He knew what spike was. He knew what Angel was. He was a fucking idiot to believe that Spike would, could change because he loved him. It was his fault. He expected too much. He'd thought Spike capable of too much because he loved him..............And he wasn't.
He'd cheated. Dropped his pants and bent over for Angel almost from the first time he went to LA................
He'd suspected it ............... He fucking knew but he didn't want to believe it, not of spike...............
He asked which of them should leave. He thought Spike should because he was the one who'd bent over and let Angel stick it to him............ Been unfaithful.
He reckoned that shocked Spike............
"I haven't betrayed you. He's my Sire, he made me. It means nothing. It's the way our demons connect. It's as natural to a vamp as drinking fucking blood! I don't bloody love the Pouf, I don't even like him... I love you, Pet."
He looked unfaithful up in the dictionary.......
1. not true to a promise, vow, etc 2. not true to a wife, husband, lover, etc, esp. in having sexual intercourse with someone else . </i>
And then the synonyms:
untrustworthy, deceitful, treacherous, recreant, untrue.
Said it all really. He threw the book at Spike, he ducked.
Spike protested that Angel was family............
He pointed out that Tony Harris was his family but he'd never felt the overwhelming need to have sex with him......Now cousin Billy Bob...... Obviously a missed opportunity.
He'd started to pack his bags. That's when Spike started to cry and shout and tell him how ridiculous he was being and finally beg him to stay.. Threatened to walk into the sun...........
Then he realized how tired he was. How tired his heart was.... He loved Spike, always would but trust him.........? Not as long as Angel existed. No matter how Spike swore it wouldn't happen again, swore to never go near Angel. As long as his Sire existed he'd have a pull on him and Xander couldn't live with that, he just couldn't. He'd always be wondering...........
Seeing Spike beg wasn't something he enjoyed. He'd have given a lot not to witness it. Finally Spike asked him what he could do to prove he loved him, prove that he and Angel were history and a tired heart answered.....
"Not a fucking thing Spike but bring me Angel's ashes."
That was three days ago. Three days since he'd walked out of the apartment and checked into this little, seedy hotel room. He'd finally stopped crying.
Xander looked into the glass of amber liquid and the empty bottle it came from. He'd have to get more. He looked at the window, it was dark out. He could walk to the liquor store on the corner. With his luck he's get eaten by a vamp. He chuckled, now that'd be damned funny.
A sharp knock on the door pulled him from his drunken amusement and he levered off the bed and staggered toward it.
"Who's there?" He swayed and slurred.
"Open the door Pet it's Spike."
"Don't wanna. Fucking go away Spike." He spoke in a voice warped with whisky.
"Not leaving Xan." He banged harder. "Open up or I'll wake up this whole fucking flea pit." The vampire growled.
Xander fumbled with the door and got it open. "I said fucking go away!"
Spike recoiled from the whisky breath blasted in his face. He drew his eyes up and down the drunken man in front of him. Unshaven, unwashed, red-eyed, vest and sweats, bare feet. "You look like shit. .... Invite me in."
"Why should I?" Xander jutted out his chin defiantly.
Spike looked at him his face tight, set, inscrutable." "Because I've brought you a prezzie."
"Prezzie, for me?" Xander cocked his head and thought for a moment. "Come in Spike."
Spike stepped inside and shut the door.
"I'd offer you a drink." Xander swayed unsteadily. "But I seem to have drunk it all. He tipped the bottle upside down and a drop of whisky fell to the threadbare rug.
Spike reached into the cavernous pocket of his duster and pulled out a small cardboard box, the lid secured with an elastic band.
"Catch." He tossed it to Xander.
Xander instinctively dropped the bottle which thudded to the rug and rolled and caught the box.
"What is it?" He asked with a frown.
Spike put his hands into his pockets.
"The Pouf's ashes."