Spoilers: none really
*Warnings*: Abuse, Cutting, Blood Play, Character Death, Suicide, Turning
Word Count: 2,651
Summary: That was the night he'd found out Xander's little secret. The night that it became their secret.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. And I'm totally not making a profit.
Thanks to ladycat777 and xanphibian for doing a couple of pre-reads and offering their opinions. And thanks to wesleysgirl for the beta!
This story is dark, and in all actuality I know nothing at all about cutting, so I hope I got it at least semi-right. Please don't read if anything in the Warnings squick you. This started out as a fic I wanted to write about how Xander was cutting himself for a chipped Spike, and then turned into something completely different.
The Things We Never Talk About
It was dark. Xander always turned out all the lights beforehand. Spike assumed it was more for the human's benefit than his. Either that or Xander just wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that Spike could still see even with just the filtered moonlight coming through the slats in the blinds.
It was probably a little bit of both.
They were both naked, though neither one of them was hard. Xander was lying sprawled against the bedsheets. Spike was a few feet away in the barcalounger, though sans ropes tonight.
That was another reason Spike was grateful for nights like this.
The first night it happened, he'd talked the entire time. Because it always took Xander nearly half an hour before the final event and he hadn't bothered to explain anything. Spike had no idea what was going on. Just that he was untied and Xander was stripping.
“What the fuck?” he'd said, watching as Xander spread himself on the bed, his legs wide, his cock soft against his thigh. “Whatever you think is about to happen here... Chip or no chip, I'll rip your fucking throat out.” Spike couldn't imagine the boy actually trying something. Hell, he wasn't even hard. And if he were going to try something, why hadn't he tied Spike up, made things easier?
The silence was deafening. Xander had been eerily quiet that night. His usual babble had dried up, and Spike found himself trying to fill the air with noise.
A glint of steel and Spike lurched out of his seat. “What the hell are you doing?” But Xander had ignored him, just as he'd done all night. Spike braced himself, ready to make a run for it, when the knife descended toward Xander's groin. He watched as Xander spread his legs even wider, pressing the sharp blade to the flesh of his inner thigh, high enough that Spike actually winced and felt the need to cross his legs.
Then the smell hit him.
Thick and spicy, the scent of Xander's blood began to permeate the air as he cut another long swathe across his other thigh. The blood was trickling down his leg, dripping onto the bed, and Spike thought, what a fucking waste.
Then Xander lifted his legs, pressing his feet to the mattress and spreading himself invitingly. Spike glanced up, watching Xander watch him. He stood frozen for half a second before practically lunging at Xander's crotch.
He lapped at the viscous fluid, moaning as his cock hardened instantly. The fact that Xander's balls were pressed against his cheek was only a passing thought. Xander didn't do anything but lift one leg over to rest atop Spike's back.
It was then that Spike noticed the other scars.
It didn't stop him, though, from taking every drop he could and then moving onto the other leg. By now he was thrusting, rubbing himself against the mattress, and he could feel Xander's erection, could hear the blood thrumming through the boy's veins. When the cut finally closed he didn't bother to say anything.
He just shimmied up Xander's body, pressing his clothed cock against Xander's. It probably hurt the boy like a son of a bitch, the harsh bite of his zipper against the wiry curls at the base of Xander's shaft, but Spike thought Xander probably enjoyed that. So he didn't stop. Just kept rutting against Xander, both of them grunting and groaning until Spike exploded in his jeans and Xander let loose a long, low moan as he shuddered and came.
That was the night he'd found out Xander's little secret.
The night that it became their secret.
But Spike didn't mind. He sat, waiting in the darkness, naked and hungry as he watched the glint of steel flash in the moonlight.
It wasn't every night. Sometimes Xander would go weeks without cutting. Once there'd been two and half months without even a trickle of a taste for Spike.
He'd moved out by then, gotten his own crypt. But he'd gotten good at watching the signs. Knowing when Xander would open the door for him. The others thought that he showed up for Scooby meetings because fighting demons was the only thing left that kept him from feeling completely impotent.
They were wrong.
Yeah, Spike had to supplement his food supply with butcher's blood, but he didn't entirely miss the tangy spice of fresh human either. Xander's blood was rich and thick and better than anything Spike could remember. It might be because it was the only thing left to him now. Like a long, cold glass of water to a man who's been wandering the desert.
It got so that just being in a room with Xander, smelling the salty bite of his sweat, was enough to make Spike hard.
Then Xander's father lost his job and things changed.
Spike was at Xander's every night after that. He'd practically moved back in with the boy. Most nights he fell asleep beside Xander after sating himself on blood and come. Most nights he ignored the dark bruises he found hidden beneath Xander's clothes.
The first night Spike fucked Xander it had been after a particularly boring patrol. There was nary a demon to be found and so Spike had plenty of time to watch Xander. The boy was moving slowly, letting the girls do most of the talking. It was obvious, too, that no one else noticed.
Xander's behavior wasn't exactly what Spike was used to seeing on nights Xander needed him. But it was different enough from his usual goofy humor that Spike paid attention. And when patrol had ended he was only a few steps behind Xander.
He waited, watching silently as Xander moved around the room, shedding his jacket and shoes and tossing them into a corner. It wasn't long before Xander was naked and the lights were off. Spike thought maybe he'd been wrong, and Xander just needed his usual but, no, something was off.
Xander's scent was desperate and needy but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the scent Spike had grown used to, the scent that made his cock ache with the same needy desperation Xander felt. But it was close.
Spike stripped his own clothes off, never taking his eyes off Xander. The knife glinted silver in the moonlight, clean and cold as Xander scraped the tip across his chest. And even though Xander never broke the skin, Spike's whole body tightened at the sight.
Instead of cutting across his thigh, Xander pierced the soft pad of his index finger. Spike watched, fascinated, as the blood welled into a fat, crimson bead before Xander dabbed it across the base of his throat and behind his ears. Almost as if it were some strange kind of perfume. A delicious scent that made Spike salivate as he made his way over to the bed.
Spike reached out, hand cupping the curve of Xander's hip. Xander let loose a slow breath and leaned into the touch. “Xander,” Spike said and Xander bared his throat, making Spike groan.
The blood was drying fast against Xander's skin and Spike dove quickly to press his mouth to Xander's throat. Everything inside him ached to let his fangs descend, to really taste Xander the way he was meant to. Spike rubbed himself against Xander, their cocks growing slippery and wet.
Spike went completely still at the sound of his name from Xander's lips. Xander never said anything during their rutting, had never said a word, let alone called out Spike's name.
Spike swallowed back a groan, nuzzling Xander's skin as he licked at the dab of blood behind Xander's left ear. “Won't.”
“Need,” Xander panted. “Need...”
“What?” Spike rocked his hips against Xander's. He didn't know when he'd gone from taking what Xander offered to giving what Xander needed. But somewhere along the way, he had. “What do you need, Xan?”?
Xander was gasping beneath him, arching against each of Spike's thrusts. “Spike,” Xander said again, this time pressing a small plastic tube into Spike's hand. The look on Xander's face was a mixture of arousal and a kind of hopeless vulnerability that drew Spike like a moth to flame.
Spike didn't ask if Xander was sure. He just popped the seal on the lube and squeezed half the tube onto his fingers. He knew that Xander liked the pain, that he craved it, but Spike wasn't taking any chances with the chip. So far it hadn't gone off during any of their sessions together, but Spike didn't know how far want and intention went as far as the chip was concerned.
He pressed one finger, then two in, faster than he would have if he didn't know for sure Xander wanted it that way, but not as quickly as he really wanted to go. His cock was so fucking sensitive even the air caressing his shaft made him groan.
Xander shifted, pressing the flats of his feet against the mattress and pushing back against Spike's probing fingers.
“Oh, fuck. Yes, Xan, work yourself on my fingers,” Spike moaned. Xander was tight and silky sweet, and Spike couldn't wait to get his dick inside all that solid heat. When he finally pulled free, his fingers came away with a wet pop, and Xander mewled in protest. “I know, luv,” Spike said, as Xander continued to whimper and writhe below him. He lined himself up, the head of his cock kissing Xander's entrance. “That's it. Push back against me. Take my cock, luv. Just like that.” Spike didn't know why he was whispering encouragements, why he wanted to make Xander feel something other than the numbness he knew usually drove Xander.
“Yes,” Xander hissed. Spike knew that his entrance must be burning, and that Xander was enjoying that as much as anything.
“Fuck.” Spike groaned, rolling his hips as the sensation of being completely inside Xander finally hit him. “Fuck, yes.”
“Spike.” Xander didn't seem capable of saying anything else.
Spike didn't care. He knew what Xander needed now. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out and slammed back in, hard enough to hurt, and Xander moaned as if he were dying. And the next time Xander said his name it was on a sob.
Spike fucked Xander hard. The bed squeaked like it was about to give out and the back of the sofa kept thudding against the wall. It felt good, letting his demon loose like that. He couldn't bite Xander, but Xander didn't mind, no, he wanted to be fucked like a demon.
When Xander suddenly brought the knife up, Spike winced. For about two seconds he thought maybe he'd read the whole situation wrong, but then Xander was pressing the point of his knife just above one of his own nipples. He made a small shallow cut there, and then above the other.
Spike lost it, grinding himself against Xander so hard that the pain made Spike cry out. He latched onto Xander's blood drenched nipple and sucked. Spicy heat slid down his tongue and his body jerked, every muscle tightening.
Xander was moaning, fingernails digging into Spike's shoulders as he rocked and thrust toward his own orgasm.
Spike moved to Xander's other nipple, licking at Xander's blood, teasing Xander's nub with the tip of his tongue. He used blunt teeth to bite down on the soft flesh, just hard enough to make it sting.
“Spike!” Xander arched and came beneath him, and Spike couldn't resist the tight heat constricting around him. He came, too, filling Xander with spurt after spurt of his come.
Xander had rolled away from him then, trembling and sticky. He didn't say a word, didn't explain why he'd needed what he had, and Spike thought maybe it was because he didn't know. The thought made Spike want to pull Xander to him, made him want to tell Xander that whatever it was didn't matter. That Spike was there to take care of things.
Instead of pulling Xander to him, he'd rolled away and off the bed. He'd taken a long shower that night and by the time he'd returned to the bed, Xander was fast asleep. He didn't even notice when Spike used a cool wet cloth to wash him down.
After that, it was easy to tell when Xander needed a fuck or just a normal suck. Either way, Spike made sure he was there.
Spike never found out what triggered their first session together. He honestly didn't care. But he did know what triggered their last.
“Always knew you were a fucking waste of space! Told your mother she should have gotten rid of you. That you'd be nothing but trouble. And look at you now. Fucking useless! Can't even pay your goddamn rent!”
Spike stood outside, seething with anger. He could hear the slap of flesh against flesh and knew that Xander's father had struck him. Had always known that Xander's father hit him.
Spike growled, shifting into game face.
“Christ, you're pathetic.”
He wanted to go in there and rip Harris Senior's fucking throat out. Wanted to gorge himself on the man's blood.
Instead Spike waited until he could hear the tread of footsteps stomping up the stairs and the slam of a door. He had to rein himself in, had to stop and take several unnecessary breaths to keep himself from running after the bastard.
By the time he made his way into the basement, the air was thick with the scent of Xander's blood. Spike snarled, thinking that Xander's sorry excuse for a father had beaten him so badly this time that he'd need to go to hospital. But when Spike finally caught sight of Xander he realized it wasn't his father that had made him bleed.
And by then it was too late.
The knife's shine was dulled by Xander's blood. The viscous fluid covered the entire blade, dripping down the handle and onto Xander's fingers.
Spike had known for months that Xander was on the thin edge. But he hadn't realized that just another routine encounter with his father would push him over.
“Spike.” His name wasn't even a whisper in the too silent room.
Spike knelt beside Xander's bed, reaching to take the blade away. Xander was still conscious, eyes tracking each of Spike's movements.
There was a long, deep cut at the base of Xander's neck. It wasn't across the throat, and probably wouldn't have been enough to kill Xander on its own, not if Spike got him help, but it wasn't the only cut. There was one other, a slice that was placed just right, over the femoral artery in Xander's thigh.
Xander blinked eyes that were quickly glazing over at him, watching solemnly.
Spike didn't say a word, didn't explain as he bent forward to suckle at Xander's throat. There was more blood gushing from his thigh, but the amount that had pooled along the base of Xander's neck was enough. Spike drank it down quickly, bringing the blade up to create a matching gash across his own throat.
He pressed Xander's mouth to his throat, cradling the back of his head as he felt the first tentative licks from Xander's tongue. He held him there until he felt all of the life drain from Xander's body, then he carefully laid him back down onto the pillow.
He went into the bathroom and wet down several towels, taking his time as he washed Xander's body clean. Then he laid down beside Xander, pulling him close. And as he waited for Xander to awaken, he told him what he hadn't been able to before.
Xander was his now. Spike would take care of him.
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