Tired
Xander stared at the computer screen, trying to process the erotic images being transmitted.//No... mine... why... WHY?!//
He didn't remember breaking into Buffy's trunk, didn't remember picking up the axe and a stake, never heard Willow calling after him, didn't remember storming down the street toward the Magic Box. All he knew was the breaking of his heart, the burning rage in his gut, the voice in his head keening and screaming, the pounding of his blood driving him on, moving him forward.
//Mine... how could you... I loved you... I still love you! Mine... why...//
He arrived just in time to see *him* step outside and close the door. His breath came in harsh pants, anger fuelling his every fibre, sparking down every nerve. He pulled the axe back, pain-filled eyes focused on the narrow line of flesh above the collar of that leather duster.
---
Spike turned at the faint whistling, jumping back as the gleaming metal sliced into empty air. He stared numbly at the embedded axe and wondered why he'd bothered to move out of the way. He'd known Xander was there, had heard him as he'd closed the door.
//Habit.//
He didn't know if he was referring to his instinct of survival or his grand way of fucking up everything he touched.
//Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.//
Spike didn't bother himself with concern that he was going batty as Dru. She had a method to her madness, a reason and a gift. He was just incapable of managing to get anything right. He stared into eyes black with rage and gave himself over to assault of fists and insults, glad that he was still capable of giving at least this back.
"I'm not going to fight you."
//Never wanted to, never meant to, so sorry.//
"Chip, remember?" It sounded hollow to his own ears, an empty, useless excuse for his own cowardice. He simply closed his eyes as another blow landed, secretly praying that Xander would finally end it, make it right again.
"Too bad." Xander tried to focus on the red haze, tried to use it to block out the images flicking through his mind's eye like a twisted photo album. Pictures of passion and tenderness, of desire and laughter, of pale white skin and pale blue eyes shining up at him.
//No! Stop! I don't want to see anymore!//
The memories shifted to the more recent: that same pale white skin and those same pale blue eyes leaning over someone else, someone that was not Xander but Xander's ex-fiancé.
He raised the stake high.
//How could you?//
Looked at the pain-wracked features.
//You were mine.//
Watched the slow trickle of blood at the corner of those soft lips.//You were MINE.//
Couldn't bring himself to look into those beloved eyes.
//You will always be mine.//
The screaming distracted him; the two sets of hands stilled the deadly intent.
Xander turned his rage to the woman he had tried fall in love with, had used to try and forget that cool flesh wrapped around that hard body, that sharp, bitter humour and rare smiles that he would have died for.
//Turn on her, make it her fault you couldn't hold onto him//
"I look at you and I feel sick."
//Why did you get what I had lost. He wasn't yours to have.//
Fighting back the tears now, trying to keep the anger and adrenaline close, use the pure, simple rage to fight the pain and betrayal.
"It was good enough for Buffy."
Spike would have been shocked at his own audacity if he wasn't so far gone, already drowning in the pain and guilt and hurt and love.
//Already destroyed him, why not destroy us all and let it all be done.//
It hurt even worse when Xander finally realized the full extent of his betrayal. The disgust and resignation that washed through those dark brown eyes leaving them empty and blank tore the rest of his defences away and left nothing but a raw, pulsing pain.
//Xander... it can't be better this way. This can't be the answer. This can't be the end.//
"I don't want to know any of this!"
Xander turned, unable to stand to be near the woman he couldn't marry. Unable to see the girl he could never have had. Unable to look at the vampire he never should have fallen in love with, the man he never should have let go.
//I'm just so tired.//
He wished Spike would come after him, would stop him in the street and confess everything; offer anything to make it right. Say those small words that had never passed between them and had ultimately driven them apart.
//We'll never be able to love each other now, never be together. I can't try and be angry anymore. I can't try to place blame. I can't pretend I'm not empty inside. I'm just so tired....//
~Fin~