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Healing	By : addielogan Category: BtVS Crossovers > BtVS/X-Men Views: 2173 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Healing
- 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or �X-Men.
This is for fun and not profit.
Rating: NC-17 (for
m/m sexual situations)
Summary: Shattered
after Buffy�s death, Spike goes in search of healing and finds it with someone
who�s lost like he has. (BtVS/X-Men Movie
crossover; Wolverine/Spike)
Timeline: Takes place
shortly after �The Gift� for BtVS and post-X2
for X-Men.
Author's
Note:
I�ve never done m/m slash before, so please, be gentle.

Feedback and Archiving: Both are welcome, but if you haven't archived
one of my fics in the past, please ask permission before you do.

Contact Info: email: addie_logan@yahoo.com
website: http://www.dark-desire.org/blood updates list:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/addielogan/

*** *** ***
He
knew he�d made a promise. Knew he should keep it, too.
But
he couldn�t face her, couldn�t look her in the eye and know he�d let her down.
He�d made a promise to protect her, but he hadn�t been able to keep it when it
mattered.
He
hadn�t known where he was going when he�d gotten in the car, and honestly, he
didn�t know where he was now. He�d driven for days, barely stopping. He hadn�t
eaten; he hadn�t slept.
And
now, he was in a dive of a bar, nursing a bottle of Jack even when he knew no
matter how much he drank, it wouldn�t dull the pain.
The
cigarette clutched between the fingers of his left hand burned steadily, but he
didn�t bring it to his lips. The smoke curled up, adding to the staleness of
the air around him.
He
noticed the other man when he sat at the bar, watched as he nodded to the
bartender to bring him a bottle of his own. The other man fished a cigar out of
his jacket pocket and bit down on the end, though he didn�t light it. Instead,
he patted his jacket down, frowning.
Seeing
the problem, he took his own lighter out and slid it down the bar, earning him
a nod for his troubles.
But
when he turned to take his lighter back, he met the other man�s eyes. For the
first time in over a century, he saw himself reflected back to him.
Yet
how that led to the two of them in this dingy motel room, he wasn�t quite sure.
Maybe
it was because he couldn�t touch a woman. Not anymore. None of them were right.
None of them were her.
The
other man had called himself Wolverine, and he was willing to bet good kittens
that that wasn�t his given name. No more than Spike was his, anyway. But that
didn�t matter, not here, not now. He wasn�t William here anymore than Wolverine
was whoever he used to be.
There
was no preamble, no soft touches to flame the fire. But then again, that was
what he�d expected. Spike hadn�t come here to be seduced.
So
when Wolverine shoved him hard down to the ground, he knelt, not fighting for
dominance. He didn�t care who was on top. Not tonight.
Spike
unbuckled the other man�s belt, popped the buttons of his fly, and pulled his
cock out into his hands, the feel of it hot and pulsing taking him by surprise
for a moment, the sensation so different from stroking his own cool flesh.
A
strong, firm hand on the back of his head, pushing him forward, and Spike gave
in, pulled the other man�s cock into his mouth. He didn�t have to think to do
this, didn�t have to do anything but need.
He
sucked hard, tearing harsh, guttural moans from the other man. He didn�t have
to look up to know Wolverine�s eyes were closed.
Spike
closed his eyes, too.
He
lost himself in the motion, setting a rhythm and letting it flow. He didn�t
tease with shallow strokes or light flicks of his tongue. This was about
release. Get in, get out, make every touch count.
When
he felt Wolverine tugging him up, Spike didn�t have to ask any questions.
He
heard the rustle of the other man�s clothes as he undressed himself, black
denim and leather falling to the ground in a heap. A strong hand on his back,
pushing him onto the dirty mattress, and Spike let himself go.
Spike
turned his head to the side, away, looking at the wall. His breathing was
shallow, a reflex.
The
bedside table drawer opened, closed. The click of a bottle opening, and Spike
waited.
He
knew, in the past, he wouldn�t have been passive like this. Even when he�d been
a flegedling with Angelus, he�d battled for
dominance, for a piece of his own. Tonight, he didn�t try.
The
fight in him died with her.
He
lifted his hips, pushed back when he felt the other man�s cock against his
entrance. It went in hard, no pausing, no allowing Spike to get used to the
feel, but he welcomed the pain.
Wanted the pain.
All he
did these days was hurt, but this, this was different. This was the kind of
pain he could take. He clung to it, letting his focus narrow until all he felt
was the harsh, pounding strokes.
His
own cock hung between his legs, rubbing against the stained sheets, but Spike
didn�t reach for it, didn�t move to find more friction. He closed his eyes
again, gripped the sheets, clenched his jaw.
Wolverine
leaned down, panting heavy as he covered Spike�s back. The body on top of him
felt too heavy, enough to make it hard to breathe if he�d needed to, and he wrote
it off as being something he�d simply forgotten in the time since he�d last
shared a bed with a body that wasn�t small and softly curved.
A
grunt above him, and the cock inside of him jerked, filling him with unfamiliar
warmth. Spike opened his eyes, a soft puff of air escaping his lips.
He
didn�t expect to be rolled over, didn�t expect the strong hand that gripped his
cock. �I don�t need�� he started, only to be silenced
by dark eyes.
�Yeah,
boy, you do.�
Spike
didn�t fight it. Instead, he arched into a strong, calloused hand, for once not
distracted by the thought of what it would�ve been like to feel her touch. With
her, it never would�ve been like this.
He
found comfort in the thought.
Now,
he didn�t close his eyes. Spike watched the hand on his cock, watched it jerk
up and down, watched the large thumb as it pushed over
the tip, smearing fluid, easing the glide.
He
couldn�t hold back his heartfelt cry of release as he came, watching the ropy
spurts of his semen fall down, the hand on him milking him dry. When he
finished, he was panting, his eyes traveling up to the cracked ceiling.
He
heard rustling again as Wolverine moved around the room, but paid no attention
until his pack of cigarettes hit his bare chest. Spike looked up then, gave the
other man a nod. �Thanks, mate.�
They
both knew it was for more than the cigarettes, but Wolverine only nodded back.
Smoke
swirled in the air, mingling above the bed, and neither man spoke. Spike
expected it to stay that way, didn�t expect this to be a place for words.
So it
surprised him when he heard the gruff sound of Wolverine�s voice.
�What
was her name?�
He
turned, his head cocked, and he voiced his thoughts. �Didn�t
think you�d be the talking type.�
�I�m
not. But you look like you are, boy.�
Spike
chuckled, then said, �I am. But I�m not a boy. Haven�t been in a long time.�
Wolverine
started to ask what he meant, but when he turned his head, he noticed the
mirror across from the bed for the first time since they�d gotten into the
room�and that he was alone in it. �Well, shit.�
When
Spike opened his mouth to explain, Wolverine waved his hand, cutting him off.
�Don�t bother. I�ve seen weirder.�
Quiet
fell again as Spike mulled the question hanging over in his mind. He hadn�t
said her name since�
�Buffy.
Buffy Summers.�
Wolverine
responded with a half chuckle, though Spike heard no amusement in the sound.
�Mine was a Summers, too. Or
would�ve been. She was going to marry one.�
Spike
gave a slow nod, allowing them to share something�to share pain, share
emptiness.
�She
should�ve been the one to make it, not me,� Spike said, words barely above a
whisper as he spoke them more to himself than to the man on the other side of
the bed. But acute ears picked them up, and knew the ache behind them.
�I
know.�
Spike
flicked at his cigarette before he brought it back to his mouth and took a long
drag. �I don�t even know why I bloody care. It�s not the like the bitch loved
me back. Told me I was beneath her.�
�I got
some speech about how you don�t �marry the bad boy.��
Spike
chuckled, echoing the mirthless sound his current bedmate had made earlier.
A
whisper again. �Doesn�t make it hurt any less.�
�Nothing
does. Drinking�fighting�� A dark gaze raked over the pale, nude form beside
him. �Fucking.�
�Never
felt empty like this. Been around a long time�never felt like this.� Spike
sighed, bone weary. �Takes all I got not to end it.�
�Why
haven�t you?�
Spike
turned, met the dark eyes gazing at him intently, and saw the meaning behind
the question. Tell me what you do to keep going�
He
snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray beside the bed. �Made
a promise. Made a promise to�� Spike stopped,
his throat constricting as he remembered that night, that moment. �Made a promise to protect someone.�
Wolverine
responded with an almost smile, bittersweet, and without words, Spike knew they
shared that, too.
�You
should do that,� he said, cigar at his lips. �Running�it doesn�t get you
anywhere you want to be.�
�Don�t
know if I can. I let her down�� Spike trailed off, the words too hard to speak.
�Gotta face your demons sometime, boy.�
Spike
laughed low, shaking his head. �Never had a problem with
that.� He picked his pack of cigarettes up again, shook one into his
palm. �I got a feeling, though, that you�re giving me advice you don�t plan on takin� yourself.�
A
shrug.
�Never know. I might.� He leaned over, plucked the unlit cigarette from Spike�s
fingers. Spike looked up, saw the glint in the other man�s eyes, and grinned
slowly.

*** *** ***
The
sun sank over the horizon, the sky fading to black. Spike stood by his DeSoto, his hand on top of the open door.
He
turned, nodded. Partially hidden by the shadows, the other man nodded back.
Spike
got into the car, gunned the engine, and headed back towards Sunnydale.
He
had a promise to keep.

*** *** ***
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Healing