Title: Little Bit Strange, But Still Special
Fandom: Buffy/Anita Blake
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Anita Blake universe and its characters.
Sometimes it hurt so much he almost forgot to breathe. If he could have, he would have sunk into the silence and not let any of it touch him. It just wasn't fair.
For his entire life there had been so much he had wanted and never gotten to have. Love--that was something for other people. And now when he thought he might be feeling it himself, it wasn't reciprocated.
He was fucking pathetic. As usual.
It was pretty funny when he thought about it. All the times he talked shit to Buffy about her and Angel, yet here he was lusting after a vampire himself. He didn't even have the excuse of saying his lover had a soul, because he didn't.
Spike was a cold-blooded killer and a real asshole on a good day. And when he got into a mood... Xander was afraid of him. He still wanted him, but he was scared too. It was all just so stupid.
He didn't really know why he let Spike fuck him all the time. He should know better. He had been a Slayerette for two years already. He had helped save the world on innumerable occasions and was right now in the midst of helping the Slayer stop the Mayor with his evil plans... whatever they were.
Yet here he was in bed with Spike again in some no-name-all-shame motel.
If he wasn't such a coward he'd probably kill himself, just put himself out of his misery. But he was too lame to even do that much. Razor blades and poison were just too scary, way
more than vampires and demons.
I fucking suck, he thought, throwing his arm over his eyes. He was lying sprawled on the double bed. He didn't want to watch as Spike pulled his skintight jeans back on and walked away without a single backward glance.
"Thanks, pet, you're always a good shag," Spike said, patting his bare leg quickly before taking his hand back. Xander refused to want that touch back. There was the click of a lighter and the whiff of cigarette smoke.
"Yeah, thanks," Xander said, keeping his arm firmly in place.
There was the rustle of leather as Spike pulled his coat back on. "Gotta go, now, lots of evil for the Big Bad, you know how it is."
There was a moment of silence. "We do this again sometime?"
Xander wanted to say no, wanted to scream that this wasn't ever going to happen again. He wasn't going to let Spike fuck
him, not ever again. But he didn't, because he knew it wasn't true. Experience had taught him otherwise, because no matter how many times he had told himself this wasn't going to happen, here he was on the bed, the edge of the soggy spot soaking against his side. He didn't even have the will to shift and move.
"Call me," he finally said, "next time you're in town. Just don't expect me to cheer when you try and kill one of my best friends, all right?"
"Fair enough. Ta, luv, see you soon, promise. Kisses." And Spike was gone, the door closing with a dull thump, the breeze of its passage making Xander's skin prickle with goose bumps.
Lying there on the bed, Xander really had to wonder how things had gotten like this, when everything had gotten so weird. A part of him wanted to blame Angel for all of his problems. If Angel hadn't offered him to Spike at parent-teacher night, Spike wouldn’t have come back for him and he could have gone on with his life as Alexander Lavelle Harris, Slayerette and Zeppo.
Now things were different though. He was still a Zeppo, but he was also Spike's fuck-toy whenever the vampire came into town. And he couldn't even get up the force of will to try to change things because a part of him liked it, liked being able to touch and be touched by Spike, William the Bloody, one-fourth of the Scourge of Europe.
Xander knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help feeling a little special that the Big Bad found him worth the time to fuck. Spike sometimes came to Sunnydale just to meet with Xander, not even to cause trouble, just to spend a few hours with him. It somehow made Xander feel like less of a screw up, and he couldn’t even explain why.
What the hell is the matter with me? Xander thought. Tears trickled down the corners of his eyes and he didn't even have the strength of will to wipe them away.
His life was just so messed up.
I love Spike, he thought, and it tasted like truth. But he knew that Spike would never love him, because Spike was evil and there was no way that the vampire would ever let himself love a human. Spike had Drusilla for love, and Xander for an easy lay.
It's not fair.
* * *
For some strange reason he wanted to stay with the whelp a while longer, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to get back to Dru before she got herself into trouble. Ever since she'd gotten her strength back, she'd been acting out more and more.
He hated to admit it, but she had been much easier to deal with when she was weak. When Dru had been dependent on him for everything, she had been his perfect love, his dark princess, the object of his affectionate worship. He had taken care of her, kept her safe from the rest of the world, and she had been his and his alone. Sure, when Angelus had come back she'd dragged around after her Daddy, but Spike had shown her what was what, and in the process he'd gotten her back up to strength.
It was kind of ironic that now she was back to how she'd been before Prague and the mob, she'd drifted away from him. Once she was strong again in body, she didn't need him to be her protector and guide. She was his Sire again, and it was like he was supposed to go back to being weak William or something, dependent on her for everything.
Part of him wanted to grab her and force her to do what he wanted, but at the same time he was afraid of pushing her away, so he let her have the room to act on her own, no matter how much it hurt. He couldn’t help looking at her and remembering how weak she'd been, how soft and pliant, vulnerable to his will, though he had done everything in his power to make her happy.
It was like, as long as she was weak she was his. Now that she was strong again, she didn't need him as much, and she pushed him away and it hurt like a stake to the chest, nudging against his heart, not quite but almost piercing it through.
Sometimes he looked at his Dru and didn't know her. He would see her face, but he'd hear another voice in his head saying hurtful, hateful things and he could almost believe he was as crazy as his dark princess and he just wanted to run away from it all.
"...you're a good boy William, and Mummy loves you. Someday you'll meet a girl that will love you as much as I do
"...how can I love you? You are beneath me
Strangely, when he was burying himself balls deep into Xander Harris, all the voices were quiet and he could feel like himself again. He could gaze down at that rapturous face as he thrust, thrust, thrust
and know he was at the top of the food chain, that no one was ever going to bring him down again.
He didn't even question why he always had sex with Xander face to face. It would have been easier with Xander on his knees while he fucked him from behind... but they always ended up face-to-face, and he never let himself wonder why.
The boy was the last thing Angelus had ever given him, and it didn't even matter anymore that it hadn't really been Angelus at all, but the souled shadow he'd become. Xander was his now, and Spike was never going to give him back.
Stomping down the sidewalk toward his car, he growled silently at a fledgling lurking in the shadows. He smirked when the pathetic fledge ran away with what sounded like a whimper of fear.
Fucking Xander made him feel better in some way he didn't want to explain, but now he was going back to Dru, back where he belonged.
It only took a little effort to ignore the tiny voice inside him that screamed for him to walk back into that motel room and curl around the human warmth waiting for him, to just forget about everything else and let Drusilla get along her own way. She didn't need him anymore, was seeming to actively push him away.
And Xander would make a wonderful Childe...