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Summary: This takes place late season 4 or sometime in 5. Xander is in more pain than anyone knew and tries to off himself... but it doesn't work... Spike and Giles work together to help him

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Xander-CenteredspaceyFR18512,31246327,01018 Oct 0421 Mar 05No

Trying to Leave

Work of fanfiction. All copyrighted material used w/o permission.

I guess this is a dark fic. I feel dark right now. I don't want people responding to this and telling me how sick I am or anything. I am depressed; I am medicated; I self-mutilate. And I'm having a hard time right now. I'm writing this to help me, to make me feel better. I'm posting it here because I adore this site and many times it has been finding new chapters to stories I like, or even new stories, that has kept me from reaching for the knife or sissors and cutting myself. Please, don;t read this if it will bother you. I'm just... I don;t write a lot so what I do write I am posting as a way of paying back all the authors whose stories have made me feel better. I will still update if no one reviews, or if people hate this fic, because like I said, it's more for me than for you. But if you do read it.... Thank you. And don't be shy about letting me know.

The Stargate part of the xover is not in this first chapter and I am not sure when I will bring it in. My goal is to set the story up in the Buffy 'verse and then join the two together.

Anyway, than you for reading my notes and I hope you enjoy the story!

Xander looked at Spike. The vampire was tied to a chair across the room. He had been there so long that there was plaster in his hair from the last time that Xander’s parents fought. It was a big deal, for a sober fight. The drunken fights got out of hand easily because neither Harris was fully aware of what it was doing. But the sober fights... Xander sighed.

He and Spike had both been in the basement bedroom when this last fight went down. Neither man was entirely sure what it was about; all they knew was that the Harris parents were fighting over whose fault Xander was.

Xander sighed again and walked over until he was about two feet in front of the bound vampire. Who the hell ever heard of a neutered vampire before? No matter. He was going to do the right thing.

“You know I really don’t like you, right?” he asked Spike. Before Spike could answer Xander continued, “But I also really don’t like what the Initiative did to you. It’s wrong. Just like me.” Xander paused and looked Spike right in the eye. “I cannot fix you,” he said. “I cannot help you. I can’t help anybody. I’m worse than a liability to Buffy. I’m dangerous, and I’m wrong. But I can fix it.”

“What the bloody hell are you going on about, whelp?” Spike asked.

Xander shook his head instead of answering. From...somewhere, Spike wasn’t sure where, Xander pulled a wicked sharp hunting knife. Before Spike could again demand to know what was going on the tip of the blade was buried in the soft flesh of Xander’s forearm.

“I’m not that hungry,” Spike said, thinking that Xander was about to offer Spike fresh human blood. Ohh, fresh human blood... Spike almost drooled despite himself. Then he saw Xander’s face crumble and, although he’d never show it, Spike felt like a right ass, as if he’d just found one of Dru’s pet birdies dead and she was crying over it. Totally irrationally, Spike wanted to assure the whelp that his blood was good.

By the time Spike uttered the entire sentence Xander had pulled the blade from his wrist to his elbow. At least one full inch of steel was buried in the boy’s arm still.

“I figured some good should come of my death,” Xander said. “So I didn’t do this until you were here. So you could eat. But even my blood is worthless, huh?” Xander snorted; figures he thought. I’m worth less than nothing. He pulled the bloodied steel from his forearm quickly enough that Spike’s face got showered in an arc of still-warm blood.

Xander was too busy trying to grip the knife in his left hand to see Spike struggling against the ropes that tied him to Xander’s crappy old chair. “I must have cut some tendony-ligamenty thingies,” he mused, finding his left hand slow to grip the hilt. Eventually it did, though, and Xander slashed his right forearm–not as neatly as the left, but still deeply enough to hurt so badly that there was no pain–at the exact same time Spike broke free of the ties holding him and lurched at the other man.

So much blood, Xander thought. He’d seen people die all sorts of terrible ways in his short life but somehow, knowing the blood he saw was his own, the amount of blood seemed significant. So wrapped up in these thoughts was he that Xander did not see Spike break free of the ties. He did not see the vampire lunge for the knife, nor did Xander realize until the vampire spoke that he was no longer holding the hunting knife.

“Good god, whelp, do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” Spike yelled, angrily shaking the other man as roughly as he could.

Xander smiled. “You can have as much of it as you want,” he said. “This wasn’t for you–“ Xander’s knees buckled and he sank, with Spike still holding his shoulders in a death grip, into the growing puddle of his own hot blood, “–but I want you to drink all you can. Might not ever get human blood again, otherwise.”

Spike’s eyes were wide, wild and wide, as he tried to process what just happened. He fell to his knees as Xander fell to his and kept the rest of Xander more or less upright. Frightened, the vampire clutched the other man to his chest and grabbed one slashed forearm in each of his hands. He made use of his vampyric strength, trying desperately to slow the flow of blood. He noticed in an instant that it was not working. Panicked but not realizing how odd it was for him to be feeling this way–hell, any way other than “yum, food,”–Spike stood up cradling Xander to his chest and, for the first time in a century, made full use of his devil-given gifts as he tore up the stairs, through the streets, and directly to Giles’ apartment.

Xander was confused. Part of him knew the blood loss was making it harder to think. But that didn’t explain what Spike was doing. If Xander didn’t know better he would swear the vampire was trying to save his life. As he was thinking this Spike caught his foot on something and rolled, still going at speeds Xander didn’t know could be run at, re-attained his balance and continued on his way to the Watcher’s house. Xander let out a short scream of pain. The jarring he received when Spike tripped was enough to suddenly bring him back down to Earth. No longer was the pain too far away to feel. All the pain of his self-inflicted mortal wounds assaulted Xander at once and he cried out again. It was enough to make Spike pause in his desperate flight for help and look down at the boy in his arms. Seeing the cold blue irises focused on him Xander cried, “It hurts so bad!”

“I know, pet,” Spike murmured, about to start running again when the whelp spoke once more.

“I almost don’t want to die! Years of thinking about this, of planning how to do it! I finally get the courage and.... Oh, gods, Spike, it hurts! It’s like my soul’s exploding! All the pain built up over all these years... it’s all still here! It was supposed to go away! I can’t take this pain with me! It can’t come!” Xander sobbed and tried to catch his breath.

Spike had to fight tears himself as the words touched deep, deep down inside him where he hid William from the night of his death. Burying thoughts of pain and Druscilla, Spike broke through the Watcher’s front door and screamed for him.

On tv people pass out so quickly but I’m still awake, Xander thought as the darkness of his blood loss finally took him.
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