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Cause and Effect	By : elizashaw Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 6461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Spike swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. He listened to the sounds of the retching tapering off, toilet flushing, and water running in the sink. Human sickness left him at a loss, so he walked to the bathroom door and knocked gently.

"You okay?" He grimaced at the idiocy of the question.

"Yeah," Xander's shaking voice belied his answer.

Spike stared at the door, wondering what to do next. He put his hand to the doorknob, but before he could fully turn it, Xander leaned against the door, discouraging his entry.

"Please," the whisper barely permeated through the door, "gimme a couple of minutes here. Okay?"

"Sure, pet." Spike stepped back from the door, unnerved by the terror and sadness that colored the barely there voice.

Inside the bathroom, Xander moved the hand braced against the door back to the sink. He struggled to still the shaking in his arms. Since that seemed to be a losing battle, he slid down to sit on the floor with arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He hung his head and squeezed his eye shut against the tears, but he couldn't shut out the dream images that streamed through his mind.

Spike paced, glancing occasionally at the bathroom door. He had promised patience for a couple of minutes. He snagged his cigarettes and lit one. Only when he finished it, he promised himself, would he approach Xander once more. Still, he couldn't keep himself from monitoring what he could hear. The pounding heart and ragged breaths bled through the apartment.

Had to be a sodding dream. Fucking hell. Told the wanker it wasn't safe with me. Spike took an angry drag at his cigarette, cursing himself for giving into the mortal's insistence at staying. As he turned in his pacing, his cursing turned on Xander for wanting to stay. Finally the cigarette flared down to the filter, and he tossed it into the sink. Still no sign of Xander leaving the bathroom, and the requested time was up.

He moved to stand in front of the bathroom door, debating the best approach.

"Fuck it," he growled softly to himself. He opened the door and slid inside. Seeing Xander curled into himself, shaking, chased the anger back.

"Xan?" Spike knelt carefully in front of his friend. He stroked a hand over the sweat-damp hair.

Xander flinched away at the touch, but the hand didn't draw back. He took a deep breath and mentally kicked himself in the ass, telling himself to get it together and get off the floor.

"Sorry," he muttered as he struggled to his feet. Spike stood with him, present but not crowding him. "Guess drugs really not the best idea for a good night's sleep." He risked a look at the vampire only to meet a gaze filled with compassion and concern, and he quickly looked away.

"Drugs." Spike repeated quietly.

"Yeah. Guess I really shoulda listened when they taught us ‘just say no' in school." Xander kept his eye averted as he shuffled past the vampire and into the main room. Once there, however, he seemed to be at a loss as to where to go. A firm hand on his elbow made the decision for him as he was steered back to the bed.

"Sit."

Xander sat. He stared at his knees.

Spike frowned. He remembered the disorientation and fear that followed his nightmare in the hospital. Those warm human hands had held him, grounded him. He had done the same thing for Dru hundreds of times after her visions. But could he do the same for Xander? Would it be accepted if he tried?

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself once more. He settled onto the bed leaning back against the headboard and manhandled Xander between his legs, pulling the stiff back against his chest.

In shock, Xander didn't struggle at first, but as his brain registered Spike holding him, stroking firm hands down his chest, he moved to get away. This was too close, too much, and he could feel himself breaking apart under the vampire's touch.

"Stay." Spike kept his grip gentle but immovable.

Xander snorted. "Sit. Stay. I'm not a fucking lapdog." He pulled away once more. "Let me go."

"Why?" One hand kept up the gentle petting while the other held him firmly in place.

"Huh?"

"Why?"

"Well," Xander sputtered, "because." He struggled for a reason other than the fear of emotions breaking loose and drowning them both.

Spike studied the tense neck muscles, scenting the fear, shame, and arousal that swirled around the man. He recognized the iron grip that Xander struggled to hold on his feelings, but remembering the terror and despair that overwhelmed him after encountering the slayer in his dreams, he wanted nothing more than to smash apart that grip. Despite Xander's casual redirection toward blaming the drugs, Spike had his suspicions that much more was at stake here, and it was that undefined more that had him pressing closer to Xander rather than letting him slide away.

"Not much of a reason, that. Because."

"Asking should be reason enough," Xander retorted.

"Why are you asking?"

Irritation flared at the quiet reasonableness of Spike's tone.

"Let me go, you asshole."

"No."

"Fucking vampire dickhead."

"No."

"Spike!"

"Tell me what happened."

"Told you." Xander answered shortly. "Drugs. Woke up sick."

"You think lying to me is going to get you free faster?" Spike asked the question in the same reasonable tone, as if he were truly curious.

"Don't fucking do this, Spike."

"Don't what? Don't ask? Don't hold you? Don't care?"

Don't care, Xander's brain screamed out in agreement, but he retreated into silence.

Spike continued to stroke the tense man, struggling with his own impulse to smack him around and make him answer.

Minutes passed in mutinous silence.

The gentle touches picked away at the walls Xander struggled to keep erected around his heart. As he envisioned those walls, the terror of the dream struck at him once more, and he shuddered in the vampire's arms.

Not my fault. Not my fault. Chanting internally, he tried to beat back the images of the First Slayer taunting him. I didn't know. Didn't ask for this. Don't want it.

Spike held him closer as he felt the shivering begin. He murmured comfort into the dark hair.

Caught between the threat of the dream and the concern of the vampire who held him, Xander felt himself drowning, and he renewed his struggles to get free.

Spike debated, but removed his arms. Xander shot off the bed and began pacing with his arms wrapped around himself protectively. Spike tilted his head and considered the next line of attack. He thought over other times that he had seen Xander lose control emotionally, and he realized that there weren't many. Anger. Sure, he'd seen that often enough, but this wasn't about anger.

"Feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Spike. Told you that."

"Uh huh." Spike slid off the bed in a fluid motion and wandered into the kitchen, affecting nonchalance. He began the preparations for tea, giving him something to focus on apart from the tense human.

"Rather you said nothin' than lie to me," Spike spoke quietly, not looking at Xander.

The soft voice pulled Xander up short, unsettled. He tried to relax, but found his heart further twisted up by the fact that he was lying to the vampire who had been open and handed over his own pain. Guilt began to bleed into the fear that gripped him.

"I get that you don't want to talk about it, pet." Spike turned on the electric kettle to heat the water and reached for the box of tea.

"It's just…" Xander trailed off. He rubbed his hands over his arms as if to warm himself.

Silence overtook the small apartment, broken only by the sounds of Spike pouring water over the tea to steep. He leaned back against the counter and took in the miserable figure before him.

"Tell me something, else then."

Xander flashed a look at him, emotions closed off, brown eye wary.

"When Joyce died," Spike stared directly at him, "what'd you do? Helped yer demon chit understand what mortality meant? Held her while she cried? Held Buffy? Let Dawn stay at your place, safely tucked away from reminders of her mum?"

Confusion began to replace the blank look.

"What about when Buffy flew off that tower? Or when you saw her hands all bloody from crawling out of her own grave?"

"What are you talking about?"

"D'ja swap between holding Anya, lettin' Willow cry on your shoulder?"

"Yeah, so?" Xander held still.

"What about when you walked out of yer wedding? When you saw me and your girl spread out on the table at the Magic Box? What about walking away from the Hellmouth, knowing she was buried underneath? What did you do?"

"I…"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. Got pissed off, got drunk, got back to business." Anger began to spark again underneath the woundedness. "None of your fucking business what I did. And is there a reason that you need to bring all that shit up now?"

"Hmmm," Spike pretended to consider him. "Just trying to figure what to do here. Mebbe I'm asking the wrong questions."

Spike moved from his position against the counter and crowded into Xander's personal space.

"Mebbe I should be asking," he trapped Xander against the counter with hands pressed against the countertop, one arm on either side of the tense figure, "who?"

Xander's eye narrowed.

"Who held you when Buffy died? Who let you cry when she came back?" Spike pressed closer, whispering in Xander's ear.

"Who wept with you when you walked out of the wedding? Who held your tears when demon girl bit it in the final battle?"

The shaking began again. Spike stepped back and slid his hands down the shivering arms.

"These the only arms that wrapped around you? The only ones that hold all that pain?"

Xander closed his eye and turned his face away.

"Doesn't have to be that way, pet. These aren't the only arms that want to hold you." To illustrate that point, Spike slid his arms around the man and pulled him close. "Wasn't there for all those things, but I'm here now. Gonna let me hold this with you?"

Xander felt the walls breaking again, and the dream images threatened to take him once more. Spike's words rattled his defenses and threatened to loose the emotion that could drown him, feelings so strong that no one else could withstand having to endure them with him. The conflict between need and fear swirled through his head and heart. He knew how to fight back, but it took all his courage to do it.

"Help me," he whispered brokenly.

In the next second, he found himself crushed to the vampire's chest, and he buried his face in the crook of Spike's neck. Tears fell hot and fast.

"She wants me. . . wants me to hurt. Hates me for what I did." Xander gasped out the words. "She said she won. I let her win. Like Lorne said. But it's my fault. ‘Cause I gave up. I gave up. No more heart."

"It's okay, pet. She can't hurt you now." Spike attempted to make sense of the mutterings, but his primary focus remained giving Xander the safety to feel and talk. He felt his suspicions confirmed about the isolation and loneliness in this human that matched his own. His own heart creaked at that, for Xander had been, more than any of them, the loyal knight who loved fiercely.

Emotion pounded through the broken man, fear, sorrow, but he felt grounded in Spike's arms. This realization scared him almost as much as the dream, and he startled Spike by stilling suddenly. He beat back at the feelings but couldn't bring himself to move from the encircling arms that had made him feel safe and seen. Stupid, fucking stupid. He blinked away the tears furiously.

Spike maneuvered them back to the bed, keeping Xander close.

"We'll figure this out, pet."

"She," Xander halted over the words.

"First Slayer?"

"Yeah. She was there, in the dream, along with all the new slayers."

"Tell me," Spike murmured quietly as he continued firm strokes over Xander's back and arms.

"They were all in this line. Standing in line to get into the new Council's front door." He shivered. "But they all had to get past me, and as each girl came up to me, I… Fuck, Spike, I ripped out her heart and dropped it in a fucking box." Terror pounded through him as the images replayed. "I took their hearts! And the First Slayer, she was there the whole time, smiling at me, encouraging me, and reaching in the box to squash the hearts with her bare hands, and then she'd lick the blood off her fingers." He shuddered violently.

"Shhh, pet. Just a dream. She can't get you here."

"Don't you get it?" Xander's voice broke with despair. "She is here. She's won. She's got me ripping out slayer's hearts! Lorne said that I have to let her stop winning, but I can't stand up to her. In the dream I knew that. She's stronger than me."

Spike snorted inelegantly. "Never met anyone with a stronger heart than you, Xan."

Xander stilled.

"There's a reason you were the heart in that spell way back when. Same reason she's after you now. And that's not weakness, luv, it's your strength."

"But I gave that up."

"Gave what up? Yer heart? Kinda hard to go on living without a heart."

"In the dream." Xander shuddered. "That's where it started."

"Tell me about where it started, then," Spike prompted after a long moment of silence.

"Sunnydale. Outside that fucking crater. We were all in the bus, and in the dream, it was just like it was. Slayers hurt, blood and triumph but a weird sort of lostness, too." Xander spoke in a hushed tone, pain bleeding through as the images played once again in his mind. "Only, it was the First Slayer driving the bus. And I walked up to her. I couldn't stop myself. I knew what she wanted from me. Because it wasn't her fight, ya know? We just barged in and took the slayer thing from her without asking her. Gave it to all those girls. So we owed her payment for that or something. I dunno." Xander sighed harshly. "Maybe that's all justification."

"What did you give her, pet?" Spike asked already dreading the answer.

"My heart. I reached in and ripped out my own fucking heart and handed it to her." Xander squeezed his eye shut against the memory.

Spike held him, absorbing the terror and despair.

"And you know what she did?" Xander gave a short, dark attempt at a laugh. "She tossed it out the window. Garbage. That's all it was to her. She left it lying on the road. Next thing I know, I'm at that fucking door to the Council yanking out slayers' hearts as the price of admission."

"Slayer bint didn't try to kill you, though, in this dream?" Spike asked the question cautiously. He didn't know what to expect of Xander's response, but the difference between all the other dreams that the First Slayer had made a guest appearance in and the one that Xander related tonight seemed too significant to let slide.

"She didn't have to." Xander spoke bitterly. "Don't you get it? She already won. She got what she wanted from me."

Thoughtful silence greeted that statement.

"I'm already dead." The mournful whisper snapped Spike's attention back to the broken man next to him.

"Yer not dead, Harris." He gripped Xander's shoulders. "Look at me, you git." He waited for Xander to make eye contact, and the despair there shone clearer and with a depth that the vampire knew was normally hidden. When he had Xander's attention, he moved one hand to press firmly on the warm chest, feeling the strong heartbeat.

"I can feel your heart. Here under my hand. Felt it in the hospital when you were there after that soddin' nightmare. Yer heart's still there. Bitch is lying to you, and that's all it is."

"I don't know what to do, Spike." Xander spoke low, but less despairing.

"We'll figure that out. Got the best evil detective firm on the case, don't we? We'll go back in the office tomorrow and see what they've have come up with, then go from there." Spike spoke reasonably.

"Will you…"

"What, luv. Just ask."

"Will you hold me tonight?"

The small voice swelled Spike's unbeating heart. He tightened his hold briefly. "Sure, pet."

"I know it's kinda stupid, but I feel like maybe you can keep me safe, away from her till tomorrow?" Xander sighed. "Shit. That's what I was supposed to be doing for you, not getting all wimpy on you."

"Shhh. None of that. Keep each other safe from that bitch. K?"

"K."

They shifted into a close embrace as Spike flicked the blankets up over them once more.

"Sleep, luv."

Exhausted from the terror of the dream and all that came after, Xander slid into an uneasy doze as Spike wrapped himself around the warm, fragile human and struggled against the worry that Wolfram & Hart might not have the resources that they would need when it came to slayers.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Cause and Effect