Mischief and Porn: The Journals of Xander Harris

Title: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night... Go Screaming
Author: batmanvinnie
Fandom: BtVS
Pairings: Spander
Rating/Warnings: FR18, ANGST, Major Character death, and slash
Prompt: I made a mess of everything, even my death. ~ Edmond Rostand // Cyrano de Bergerac
Disclaimer: I hired a pack of ninjas to kidnap Joss; he was threatened with hot poker torture, chainsaws, and an exorcism. I now own all. Thank you. *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.

* * * * * * * * * * *

One of my favorite movies is "Back to School" with Rodney Dangerfield. That's how I learned about that Dylan Thomas poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night." I first watched it when I was 11, and I thought it was a good idea. So I vowed that I, one Xander Harris, would fight death. This became especially relevant once I met the Buffster and figured I'd be killed by vamps. So I was determined that if the bloodsuckers ever got me, I'd take out as many as I could.

I was wrong about that. After the Hellmouth closed and I returned from Africa (which, by the way, is REALLY FUCKING HOT), I settled into the mentor/teacher/repairman role at the new Watcher's Council. I didn't patrol anymore, so I figured I'd die of old age, shaking my fist at hooligan kids and gumming my steak. I was wrong about that, too. Last fall, I started getting pains in my stomach and felt cold all the time. I figured it was an ulcer induced by shepherding a teenage horde of Slayers. I was totally wrong about that that too. It was stomach cancer that spread everywhere before I got it check out. I ended up only having two months left. I lost weight quickly, turning into Skele-Boy in just a couple of weeks.

Willow started looking up spells like crazy and Buffy started beating up anything that moved, including human criminals. They had to cope somehow, the both of them so used to fixing things and saving me. Giles and Dawn spent the most time with me, talking about everything and nothing, Giles even going far enough to talk about his Ripper years to us, including a story involving a solstice, Ethan Rayne, and fertility statue spell. Andrew would come by my room and watch Star Trek, Star Wars, and every sci-fi DVD he could get. But every night, the Sunnydale gang got together and talked, ate take-out, and watched movies. Spike and Angel even came to London to say goodbye, having finally finished arranging things in LA.

That was when Willow got her bright idea and Giles had agreed to the plan. A spell and a tattoo using India ink mixed with Buffy and Willow's blood would anchor my soul. Angel had even volunteered to be guinea pig, getting the tattoo, then getting chained to a bed. Buffy never called the "Angelus-is-back" red alert, so apparently the soul stuck. And they didn't leave the room for a day. The tattoo worked, so I got it. Then when I was ready, I'd be gently drained and turned, a quiet, peaceful, death that didn't involve becoming thinner and screaming in pain as my body fell apart. But I messed up my death too.

Last month I sat on an English beach, watching the sunset. Once the sky was dark enough, Spike and Angel emerged from the car. I'd immediately shot down Angel as a sire, asking Spike instead. To my surprise, Spike had readily agreed without Dawn or Buffy begging him. He said he owed me after I'd put up with him as roomie and having shagged Anya. So there I was, sitting on a blanket, surrounded by Buffy, Wills, Giles, Dawn, Andrew and Angel. Spike sat down in front of me, pulling my jacket and blankets tighter around my shoulders. I was always so cold. Then he surprised me, running his hand gently down my cheek.

"Ready, Xander?" he'd whispered, smiling gently at me.

"Sure am... Sire." I weakly snickered at the last word, eliciting giggles from my friends.

"Watch it, Donut Boy, I'll be your sire; you'll have to treat me with respect."

Spike pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him. I remember thinking "Well hello, Spike Junior," as I settled against his groin. Spike must have felt me tense up (cuz you know, I was so not gay), because he started rubbing my back, telling me to relax. He lowered his head and nudged the blanket aside, nuzzling my neck. He dragged his tongue against my pulse before nibbling and sucking on it. It felt good and I moaned. I felt his lips curve into a smile against my skin; behind him, I could see the gang shifting around uncomfortably. I gasped as his teeth broke the skin. It hurt at first, but as he sucked my blood out, my mind drifted to the "repress" section of my brain. Strange images floated to the surface, memories of how Spike looked shirtless, of his grace while fighting, and his ass in general. I'd noticed guys in high school, but then I fell for Anya. Then between Africa and Slayer duty, I hadn't done much with either sex other than looking.

But cradled in Spike's arms, his lips at my throat, our groins pushed together, I felt that hidden desire surfacing again. As I started getting hard, Spike chuckled. He pulled away from my neck and started nibbling on my ear. "Knew it, Xander. And now you're mine."

Then he looked in my eyes and said something that took my dick from interested to harder than a rock. "Can't wait to fuck you, Childe. Make you scream." I heard a collective gasp and looked up as Spike returned to my neck. I'd never seen Willow's eyes so wide before- never. Buffy looked shocked, but amused, and Giles was polishing his glasses so hard he looked like he was going to break them. Andrew looked like he was going to start taking notes, while Angel looked a bit green. And Dawn- Dawn just had that lecherous look on her face that she got watching Brad Pitt shirtless in "Fight Club."

At this point, I started getting really lightheaded. Between the blood leaving my throat and going to my dick, there wasn't much in my brain. I remember one of Spike's hands going between us and opening our pants, I remember weakly trying to thrust my hips against his, and I remember Buffy squeaking before covering Dawn's eyes. He reached down, holding our cocks together with one hand, pumping us both as he drained me.

So in the end, I didn't go gentle into that good night; I came screaming.