Hellraiser: The Angels Beneath

Chapter 5


Blackness. Suffocating. A hand over his mouth.

Xander struggled against the heavy weight, his body bucking helplessly to free himself from an eternal grip.

No, no, no, no, no.

Twisting. Breaking. Turning. Pushing. A sharp pain and a grunt of agony.

Iron hands held him and Xander fought, knowing that it was useless. A hundred times before and it was always useless.

Faster. Slamming. Building. Coming. The hand released Xander’s mouth and he screamed for mercy.

“NOOOOOO!”

“Whoa, Xan! Wake up! *Wake up!*”

Xander struggled against a vice-like grip and kept his eyes closed against the torment.

“Xander, come on, luv. It’s me. It’s Spike. You’re dreaming, Xan. Please wake up. Love you, darling. Please.”

Xander’s eyes shot open and he gasped as his dream spun away and reality took its place. He panted breathlessly and stared up at his lover, his protector, his soul-mate, his Spike. He closed his eyes again and let the air slowly escape his lungs. “Spike.”

“Yeah, luv. It’s me. How you doing?”

“I’m…okay.”

“Was it the same one?”

Xander nodded, his eyes still closed.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Xander shook his head. “No. It was just a dream. I…It was just a dream.”

Spike settled back down beside Xander and stroked a calming hand over his chest. “You can tell me, you know. I’ll listen.”

Xander pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, knocking Spike’s hand aside. The nightmare had continued to plague him every night in the weeks since Riley’s death. The dream was always the same. He was back in his parent’s basement and he was being raped. It was so real. The pain, the suffocating, the helplessness. Even when he woke up he could still feel his wrists throbbing and his ass aching. In the dream, Xander had learned to keep his eyes closed, not wanting to see who was taking and abusing him. The few times, at the beginning, that he had looked up to see the face of his abuser, his heart had nearly stopped. He would rather suffer a thousand more rapes than have to look into those faces again. Once it had been Willow. The body and strength of a man but the face was clearly hers. It was not something that he ever wanted to see again. He had never told Spike about the nightmares.

“Xan?”

“I’m fine. Just groggy.”

“Xan, just tell…”

“Spike!” Xander shouted angrily, his nerves and patience in tatters. “I don’t want to talk about it! It’s just a stupid nightmare and I can’t remember half of it anyway.”

Spike chanced a small guess. “Is it them? The Cenobites? Is that what you dream about?”

Xander turned at the concern and regret in Spike’s voice. His expression softened and he leant over to brush his hand down Spike’s face. “Yeah, it’s them,” he lied. “Look, I gotta go get ready. I so can’t be late today. Big inspection day on the site.”

Spike forced a smile and nodded. Xander was lying. He’d lived with him long enough to know the signs. He also knew him well enough to know that Xander was not ready to face his fear. Spike leant back against the pillows and playfully waved his lover away. “Go on, then. Hurry up and shower. You can make me a cuppa before you head out.”

Xander laughed. “Oh, can I? What did your last slave die of?”

“You really want an answer to that, pet?” Spike answered in a tone that was edged in humour.

“Um, maybe not. Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna be my slave?”

Spike’s eyes widened and his cock grew suddenly heavy. “Fuck, yes.”

“Good. Then you can clear this place up while I’m at work.”

“Oi!”


**

Xander trudged into his house and threw his car keys onto the kitchen table. He made a bee-line for the couch and flopped into it with a heavy sigh. He carded his hand through his hair and slouched back into the comfortable cushions. He closed his eyes for a second and felt himself drifting. Work had been hard. Long and hard and completely demoralising. The inspection had not gone well. Someone higher up had fucked up big time and much of the already completed construction work would have to be completely re-built. Xander wouldn’t have minded so much -- it meant over-time, after all -- but what really pissed him off was that he’d pointed out the potential problem to his boss and had been completely ignored. Fucking typical, and it wasn’t like he could put his hand up and tell tales, not if he wanted to keep his job. So instead he was having to keep his mouth shut and play along like the dumb construction worker that he was expected to be.

Tiredness took its toll and Xander’s thoughts drifted from construction to blurry nothingness, a sure sign that sleep was creeping in. His eyes popped open in panic and he abruptly sat up. There was no way he was going to sleep without Spike. The nightmares came like clockwork, every night, every time he closed his eyes and it was always Spike that pulled him out, woke him up and ended the ordeal. Without Spike, Xander felt like he would be stuck in the nightmare forever.

Xander shuffled forward on the couch and leant his elbows on his knees. Talking of Spike, where was his more-beautiful-than-a-god vampire?

Xander lifted his heavy body from the couch and checked the refrigerator for messages. Sure enough, a small piece of pink paper was tacked to the fridge with a magnet. Xander took the note-paper and switched on the kettle. He squinted at Spike’s elaborate scrawl and made out two words. Call Me.

Xander grabbed an old chipped mug from the cupboard and with an absent mind he spooned far too much coffee into the receptacle. A tired hand grabbed at the phone and brought it to an ear that really didn’t really want to hear. A small sigh and tapping-of-feet later and Xander took the phone away from his ear and pushed at some buttons. Dialling really was a neat trick when you were trying to call someone.

The phone rang twice before the call connected and a soft British voice purred into Xander’s ear.

“Hey, you. Yeah, work was okay…well, actually it was all a big fuck-up…” Xander answered. “No, it’s no big deal, really. I’m just tired and I got a bit worked up over it earlier. How are you, sweetheart? Good day?”

The voice on the phone tensed up and Xander felt himself stiffen in response.

“Really?” he said in response to Spike’s information. “Are we sure that’s wise…well, I guess it is her decision…but…Spike, when are you coming home?”

The voice softened in concern.

“No, I’m fine. Do you need me…? Are you sure? I don’t have a problem with being there. Okay, then. How’s Joyce? That’s good. Yeah. Spike? You won’t be too late? No, no, it’s just that there’s that movie on.” Xander smiled at Spike’s promise to be home within the hour. He said a reluctant goodbye and hung up the phone.

Within the hour. That was good. Real good. Xander yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He looked back down at his, no, Spike’s favourite mug and decided it needed more coffee granules. Mmmm, caffeine.

**

“I don’t bloody believe I’m hearing this!”

“Butt out, Spike. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Maybe not, but it does have a lot to do with Dawn, doesn’t it?”

“Once again, Not. Your. Business.”

“Well, someone’s got to look out for the Bit and it clearly ain't gonna be you.”

“How dare you, Spike! You don’t know anything about what’s happening.”

“Don’t I? Well, let’s see, shall we? I know that your Mum’s sick. I know that she’s sicker than you lead us all to believe. I know that she might not make it. I know that she might never see the outside of that hospital again. And I fucking know that Dawn doesn’t need to be dragged out of her home, where she really needs to be, and be fucking forced to live in this house of fucking horrors.”

“Dawn doesn’t know what happened here.”

“No? So you still haven’t told her that Riley is dead?”

“No! Of course not! She doesn’t need to hear that right now.”

“And what is she going to think when he never comes back? What the fuck are you going to tell her?”

“I can’t think about that, Spike. Not now. I don’t want to think about Riley.”

“Why not? You can’t hide from it, Buffy. It’ll never go away. It’ll fucking haunt you. Talk about it. Get it out in the open. Deal with it.”

“I am dealing with it. In my own way.”

“Your own way? And your own way consists of dragging your little sister here when it should be you staying with her? Not good, Buffy. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. Nibblet needs you strong. She needs you at home. Moving her and disrupting her fucking life to bring her to this shit-hole ain’t fucking right and you know it.”

Buffy threw down the cardboard box she was carrying and stalked towards Spike. “*My* life, Spike. Mine. I’ll do what I think is best. And if you get in my way, I’ll crush you. *This* is my home. *My* home. *Riley’s* home. It’s where I belong. And it’s where Dawn belongs. I’m moving back in here whether you like it or not and Dawn *is* coming with me.”

“You’re taking her out of her home? Your mother isn’t even dead yet!!”

Buffy pulled back her arm and threw a slap that could have been heard three blocks away. Spike stumbled backwards and hit the wall. He rubbed gently at his throbbing cheek and quickly checked for signs of bleeding. None. An evil smile spread across his face and Spike moved forward until he was nose to nose with Buffy. “Truth hurts more than a slap, bitch. Just make sure you look after your sister, ‘cos I’m fucking watching.”

**

“Want some matchsticks to go in those eyes?”

Xander jumped and finally registered that Spike was standing beside him. “Geez, Spike. It’s not nice to sneak up on people.”

“Wasn’t sneaking, pet,” Spike replied. He looked thoughtfully at Xander and sat down next to him. “You look fucking exhausted, luv. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“Um, I just wanted to catch the end of this movie. I thought you said you’d only be an hour. Was starting to worry, here.”

Spike slung his arm around Xander’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “Sorry, luv. Walked about for a while. Needed to think.”

Xander nodded. “How’s Buffy?”

Spike stared forwards and thought about lying. No, there was enough lying going on already. He wasn’t going to add more to the mix. “She says she’s fine, but…”

“She’s not,” Xander guessed.

“No, she isn’t.”

“I can’t believe she wants to move back to that apartment, especially with Joyce so sick. Who’s taking care of Dawn? Willow?”

Spike shook his head. “No. She’s moving Dawn into the house.”

“What!? You're kidding?”

“’fraid not, pet.”

“But…what about Joyce? She’ll be home soon. Who’s gonna take care of her?”

Spike swallowed hard and turned Xander around in his arms. “Pet…”

“What? What is it?” Xander voice shook and his eyes filled with tears. Something was coming and he knew it.

“I…I don’t think she’ll make it. She ain’t got long. I don’t think she’ll be coming out of hospital.”

“What..? But…Buffy said…”

“I know what Buffy said, but it ain’t true. Joyce is dying.”

“How do you know? She can’t be. Buffy would have said.”

“Buffy doesn’t know what she’s saying right now. She’s not herself, luv. But, I *know* Joyce is dying.”

Tears spilled freely down Xander’s face and his expression pleaded with Spike to be wrong. “It’s not true,” he said.

“It is. That hospital room reeks of death. I can smell it a mile off. She ain’t got long, luv. I’m sorry.”

Xander nodded and wiped his eyes. “Who else knows?”

“No-one. Not even sure if the doctors know. But I know and somehow Buffy does too.”

“Oh, gods, Dawn. She…that’s her mother and…How can Buffy not tell her? How can she take her away from her home? What are we gonna do?”

Spike rested his head against Xander’s and let his own tears slip free. This was Joyce. Their adopted mother, their friend, their family and the thought that she would soon be gone ripped through both men like a raging fire.

“We’re going to be strong. For Buffy. For Dawn. Say it, luv,” Spike coaxed. “For Buffy. For Dawn.”

Xander lifted his head and they kissed with trembling lips.

Xander promised. “For Buffy. For Dawn.”


TBC…