Secret Rendezvous


by
Obsession_is



Part Twenty-One

Finally, Xander has enough of the country, enough of the sitting around and moping. He goes quietly into the night with nothing but a stake to protect him. Pain, anger, and anguish trail him in thick waves. He is a beacon to the creatures of the night.

Small rustles of trees and bushes greet him on his path, but nothing comes out. He stalks angrily through the nearest cemetery, silently daring anything to try to get him, to try to take him down.

Something takes him up on that offer.

"Just what I was looking for," a voice says from the shadows.

"So glad to be of service," Xander retorts. He stays where he is, playing with the stake in his hand, willing whatever it is to just come out and fight. He has not the energy for quips and banter tonight. Only the thirst for a kill fuels him, the thirst for violence.

The vampire laughs saying, "You think you can take me, human."

"No," Xander says truthfully. He has always been the sidekick, the helper, the donut-getter. He did not do the slaying thing much, and even on patrols with Spike, he helped more than did, but he does not care at this moment.

The vampire laughs and runs straight at Xander. The next few moments are a blur to Xander. He is sure he dodges the frontal attack, but everything else is flying fists and hard punches leaving him breathless. Suddenly he finds himself pinned to the ground looking straight into yellow eyes and fangs baring down upon him.





Part Twenty-Two

Xander feels the pain, the sharp prick of fangs. He feels the pull of his blood, his life's essence, before he blacks out. Or, he thinks he blacks out.

Abruptly, the weight is off him and he hears punches and cursing so quick and... British? It can't be, Xander thinks. He feels himself lifted up, but is too tired to care who or what is carrying him, too tired. If he could just sleep for a bit, he would feel better. He is certian of it.

"Don't you bloody close your eyes, Chubs," a voice says above him.

Xander tries to open his eyes, but they are heavy, as if laced with lead. Vaguely he sees white hair. The scent of whisky, cigarettes, and leather gradually encompass the human.

"Spike? Xander asks. His voice is thick, his tongue heavy, and his mouth dry.

"Yeah, Luv. It's me. Stay with me, okay? Spike says, trying to keep the frantic tone out of his voice. He listens closely to Xander's breathing as it comes labored from his lungs, his heart beating frantically.

"So tired," Xander manages to say.

"I know, Luv, I know. Just a little more, yeah? Have you fixed up soon," Spike says. Tears are in his eyes, but he blinks them away, headed as fast as he can to the hospital. He does not know how long the fledgling had been sucking on Xander, but by the sound of his vitals, Spike does not have time to worry about it.

Finally, Spike makes it to the hospital. He starts to tell them it was a vampire attack, but once they see Xander they immediately take the boy from his arms. He does not want to leave his side, argues with a nurse, curses in four demon languages, but ends up being sent to the waiting room.

Minutes tick by, seeming like hours and Spike paces. He blames himself for this, knowing if he had not left Xander would not have gone out inviting trouble like that. If had just...but it is no use. What is done is done and all Spike can do is pace and worry.





Part Twenty-Three

Xander wakes to find himself in a hospital. He can tell by the smell. You can always tell you are in a hospital by the smell. It is disinfectant of the over-done nature. He groans when he tries to see who is sitting beside his bed, his neck hurting. It all comes back to him then, the vampire, his bravado. How stupid he had been? He could have died. By the looks and feel of things, he almost did.

"'Bout time you woke up, Luv," Spike says, getting up to stand by the bed.

"What? Xander asks, still a bit groggy. He could have sworn Spike left - left him, left Dawn, left them.

"That was a bloody stupid stunt, Harris."

"Didn't ask you," Xander says his voice scratchy. Immediately there is a straw at his lips and he drinks gingerly of the water, thankful that it is there, pissed off that it is Spike giving it to him.

"You get let out tomorrow," Spike says, sitting back down. "I'm taking you home."

All Xander can do is nod. They gave him a sedative. He can feel it working its way through him, slowly. He tries to form words, but they do not make it to his lips, they die on his tongue. Slowly the lights fade from view and he is left blissfully painless, the medicine doing its job, but he does not want to sleep. He does not want the false dreamless sleep the drugs offer. He wants to rant and rave at Spike, but he just...does not have the energy.





Part Twenty-Four

He does not say a word to Spike as they check out, does not say anything when Spike leads him to the beat up DeSoto that is the only form of transportation Spike has, although he would rather drive himself in his own car. And Spike, well he does not force Xander to say anything, which is just fine with him.

Xander looks out the window as they drive, wishing to be anywhere but in the car with Spike. He still does not know what everything is about; the fight, the destruction of Spike's room...any of it.

They get back to the house and Xander just walks over the debris littering the foyer and straight for his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. Spike shakes his head and begins to clean. He gives Xander this time, to rest at least, but he plans to talk to the boy soon. Very soon.





Part Twenty-Five

Xander slips down from his room and out into the night. He thinks about lighting up, but does not. He is not sure if Spike is back for good or not, does not know what to think of everything. Gingerly he touches the bandage at his neck and shakes his head. It really had been a stupid thing to do he admits.

What would Dawn have done if he had died? He had not thought at the time, and maybe that was part of the problem. Xander does not think, not always. He acts or reacts. Not for the making of a good person, friend or parental guardian.

Spike comes out and Xander stiffens, watches as Spike walks down to the lawn and lights up, turning back to Xander. They stand there, staring at each other.

"So," Xander says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. This is suddenly more awkward than running out and fucking without talking.




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