Sins Series

Title: Pride (1/1)
Author: Tisienne Blue
Series: Sins (#2)
Rating: Possibly R-ish for language
Disclaimer: Joss owns the boys and such. I have no rights to them and make no money from their illicit use.
Summary: Someone’s not as oblivious as Spike thinks.
POV: Xander’s.

* * * * *

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box before… just before. But that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot, right?

I’ve seen how he watches me. I know what he wants. And maybe-- maybe-- some part of me wants that too.

But I’m not gonna have it. No matter how much the watching says he wants… me.

Hell, fuck the watching. Kinda figured out what he was after when I woke up here to soft sheets and clean skin and hair that wasn’t crawling with a colony or two of lice and nits.

He should have left me there. Should have just… walked away. I mean, shit. He’s a vampire, right? Even with a soul, he should have just left me. It’s not like we were ever really friends or anything, and even if we had been, well… I didn’t-- don’t-- deserve friends. Not now. Not after what I did. It would have been totally fair if he’d left me there.

Then again, I shouldn’t expect the world to be fair, should I? Why would it be, and especially to a creature like me. A monster. A former white hat whose soul is so dark that he didn’t even think twice about…

No. Better not to think about that. Better to pretend I don’t remember it. Remember them.

I can’t let him see me. Can’t let him recognize what I am inside.

He thinks he’s helping me. Thinks he’s saving me. Hell, he probably thinks I was depressed or something and that that’s why I was trying to… die.

It’s okay, though. I’ll let him believe it, let him think he’s making me better… healing me, for fuck’s sake. And then, when he’s convinced…?

Another city, another place with a dark, seamy underbelly where a thing like me can get lost so easily that nobody even notices. And when I sink, fall, turn to nothing and just exist until this body fades, fails and finally dies, it’ll be over. Finished. No more Xander Harris. No more monster.

I’ll become forever what I already am.

A warning. One of the scary things.

So I pretend.

I smile and he doesn’t notice that it doesn’t reach my eyes.

I laugh and he doesn’t hear the bitterness.

I eat and I talk and I act like the kid he remembers, and somehow… he buys it.

And that’s good.

I don’t have the strength to try any harder. I’m just glad he’s not making me.

So when he swats at my arm and says something about having things to do, I roll from the bed and find my clothes… the clothes he bought for me.

I dress, entirely sure that he isn’t watching me now. He never does when I’m dressing; I don’t know why.

Maybe he’s afraid I’ll see how much he wants me. Wants my body, I mean, because if he knew… Jesus-fuck, if he knew what I’ve become, he’d kill me himself and as much as I might deserve that, he doesn’t. He wants to believe I’m still a good man… and a part of him would go on believing it, even as he ripped my head off.

Whatever else I’ve done, I’ll never deliberately hurt him like that. Not when he thinks he’s helping me, anyway.

* * * * *

“Need ta get ya fed,” he says. “Goin’ ta need your strength if we’re goin’ ta hit th’ streets, yah?”

I’ve got plenty of that kind of strength, but he doesn’t want to know that. More to the point, I don’t want to tell him. As much as I’m ready to be gone from this life, there’s something kinda… nice… about the time we’ve spent together. It’s almost like…

No. It doesn’t matter. I won’t let him make me think about the future. There is no future. And even if there was, it for damned sure wouldn’t involve Spike. He really is a white hat these days. I won’t take that away from him.

So I just shrug and follow him when he says to ‘come on’.

* * * * *

He takes me for steak and I can’t help asking for it extra rare, and I pretend not to see the raised brows the order gets from him. I guess he remembers how much I hated meat with even a little pink before… everything.

But I don’t say a word because then he’d know I noticed and that might make him wonder what else I’ve noticed about him and that way leads to a world of bad, bad, badness.

I ignore him while I eat. Okay, I ignore him as much as I can, considering the way he’s staring at me. Finally, though…

“Just about done there, mate?” he demands, and I nod, putting down the silverware.

“Yeah, Spike,” I say slowly, my voice thick from some bizarre reaction to that gaze, “I think I’ve done all the damage I can do for tonight. You said something about hunting?”

And thank God he’s standing up. I can only take so much of that yearning stare.

I almost rethink not letting him close once we leave the restaurant, though.

“Never wanted ta be a steak so bad in my life,” he says, so quiet I know I’m not supposed to hear it, but years in Africa, listening to the sounds of wind and the dry sand racing before it… the sounds of wild animals in the distance, chasing and fleeing, howling and whimpering, roaring and crying sharply as life is taken…?

I guess all that made my hearing sharper because I do hear him.

I hear him and the wanting, wistful, despairing tone makes me… shiver.

God, it’s been so long since I’ve had a fuck and Spike wants that. Wants it so bad it’s like he’s wearing a sign lately, but I don’t think he knows it.

But no. I won’t do that to him. Won’t let him think I’m something… worthy. I’m not. Hell, I don’t even deserve to be looked at like that. Not by someone like him. He’s… way too good for me. And I won’t let myself be that weak. Won’t have him and watch him unravel and become something… less… because of me.

“Well?” I finally demand, forcing myself to look curious and unknowing, “Where are we off to, Fang?”

He give me a look. Like he isn’t sure of whether he wants to laugh at the nickname or punch me. Then he shrugs.

“Somethin’ on th’ news earlier ‘bout a rash of stabbin’s ‘round Central Park North, yah?”

“So?” Yeah, I’m confused. “It’s New York, for fuck’s sake. Stabbings are kinda a dime a dozen, y’know?”

And damn. He raises that scarred brow and gives me look number fifty-three from the Spike-arsenal. “Stabbin’s with a livin’ bone knife, pet?”

I pretend yet again, this time that I didn’t hear him call me ‘pet’, and I frown. “Living bone…? Like… like some demon-part, huh?”

“Got it in one, Sherlock. Now let’s get goin’, yah? Can’t be sure ‘bout th’ sort of demon part, but… someone’s either usin’ their natural… bits… ta mug folks or tryin’ ta mate. Either way, ‘s not rightly a good thing, is it?”

I make a face and he relaxes a little. “Okay, and that’s just… gross, Spike. Christ! Now I’m having all sorts of disgusting mental images. Thanks a lot!”

He smirks, those pale pink lips twisting at the corners and if I wasn’t so determined to let him stay pure, I’d kiss him long and hard until he...

No. No, I wouldn’t. I don’t want… won’t want him. He’s… not for me, no matter how many times he looks at me like he wants me. He just doesn’t know any better, is all, and fuck me if I’m gonna tell him.

“How disgustin’, mate?” he says, his voice low and rumbling and I will not be affected by it.

So I remind myself of what I am. I replay the memories of what I’ve done. And even though it’s a long-ass film, it only takes a moment.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Spike,” I say slowly. “I mean, demons mating with humans? Hell, even without the whole force issue, the idea alone is repulsive, right? Like… Deadboy and Bu… the Slayer. Gah.”

Yeah. Another nail in the coffin. Another rejection from a so-called Scooby for Spike. Good.

I see it hit him, see the tiny frown line appear between his eyes. I hear the small, hurt breath he takes, and… I’m glad.

I’m glad his feelings are hurt. I’m glad he thinks I’d never even consider something like that.

Maybe it’ll keep him from pushing, keep him from looking at me that way.

Maybe it’ll make him leave, and if it does… he’ll be safe.

Safe from me. Safe from what I am.

Safe from the darkness in me that would… consume him.

I owe him that much for trying to help me, and… it doesn’t matter what I want.

Other than the death thing. That’s what I… need. Yeah. I need it as much as I want it. I want to forget, and nobody will care, anyway. Good riddance, they’ll think. Hell, they’ll most likely just say it out loud. Assuming they even bother to find out.

I see Spike’s hand rising, see it moving towards my shoulder and I… move. I step aside, avoiding the touch ‘accidentally’. I don’t let him touch me often, and never like that. Never as comfort or some sort of connection. I’m resolved to never having him, but… monster that I am, I’m still human and…

I’m proud of my restraint, but it’s not unlimited.

I take one more step, shifting away from him a little more.

“So are we going?” I add, giving him my most innocent look, and he nods.

And we go.

~End.
~Next: Anger

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Thanks to nulinka for reviewing the first part and not being put off by the angst. Trust me, it gets worse before it gets better. *snerk*