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by
Night falls, I'm aloneSkin chilled to the boneYou turned and ranSlipped right from my hands
(chorus)Blue on blackTears on a riverPush on a shoveDon't mean muchJoker on JackMatch on a fireCold on iceA dead man's touchWhisper on a screamDoesn't change a thingWon't bring you backBlue on black
Blind, now I seeTruth, lies, and in betweenWrong can't be undoneSlipped from the tip of your tongue
(chorus)~~~
Xander stood still as only the undead can. His glowing yellow eyescould see every detail of the headstone before him. Each fissure andtiny flaw. Each miniscule crevice in the falsely smooth polishedsurface... a surface which reflected, not him, but the young red headedSlayer bound and gagged at his feet.
Kneeling, he reached out and traced the outline of the carved letterswith one finger.
ANGELChilde, Sire, HumanRedemption is YoursMay you find eternal peace
With a whimper, Xander realized his sensitive fingertips could stillfeel the gritty dust of his Sire's ashes on the surface of hisGrandSire's headstone. An icy cold wave of mind wrenching loss andsorrow swept over him, leaving him shuddering. Tears of blood drippedunnoticed from his demonic eyes.
Lost in a torrent of memories, Xander once again heard the voice of hislong dead best friend echo hollowly in his ears as her small fingersclenched painfully at his hand. "Don't... don't worry Xander. I'll...I'll do the soul restoration spell. I... I promise! But... you... you*have* to let Spike do this! You'll *die* if you don't." And it wastrue. His friends had all been crouched around his broken body as hisblood seeped into the frozen winter grass. And then Spike was there andthe world was washed in crimson lust and spiraling pain.
When he had awoken, he was undead, chained to a bed with his Siretrying to unshackle him before the Slayer and the Witch returned withthe supplies needed for the spell. Alas... it wasn't to be. Buffy andWillow had returned and Willow completed the spell, even as Buffyphysically held back a snarling and raging Spike who was trying toprotect his only Childe.
That had been the beginning. What had followed was a whirlwind ofconflicting needs and hungers. Guilt and conscience in a never endingbattle with the hunger and the fierce joy of the kill. That had alsobeen when his relationship with Spike first began making it'smetamorphosis into what it was destined to become.
Sire and Childe.
Lovers.
Friends.
At first, it had been all about the physical. The need, the hunger, thelust. Spike had taught him what he needed to know to survive andeveryone thought that he'd leave it at that, but they had been wrong.They hadn't counted on what *Spike* needed.
His Sire had been one of a kind. A chipped vampire. Unable to hurthumans, unable to kill them. Ostracized by his own kind and the onlyhumans who were willing to put up with him were his greatest enemies,the ones he hated above all else. The ones he loved above all else...But now, he suddenly had a *Childe*. Someone who was drawn to and thenbound to him by ties of blood. Someone who, not only knew about thedetails of his condition, but also accepted him anyway. Someone who*needed* him, and Spike had *always* needed to be needed.
So, they hunted demons in the dark of night. One vampire with amicrochip and one with a soul. They hunted and fought side by side.They drank pig's blood from matching coffee mugs as they mercilesslyteased Giles together. They moved into Spike's crypt and indulged theirdemonically inspired need for violent and blood-soaked sex in eachother's arms.
Due to Xander's desire to talk to Angel about his soul and how Willowcould modify *his* so that, like Xander's own, it wouldn't contain thenasty happiness clause, Spike and Angel enjoyed a respite from theirhabitual hostilities. After Willow had 'fixed' Angel, the older vampireresumed his love affair with Buffy and then they offered Xander a placeto live and work if he ever wanted to leave Spike. Xander had refusedto separate from his Sire. He had explained it to Angel in a way thatmade his GrandSire understand. "You keep acting like he's a soullessbrute, but he's *not*. Yeah, sure, *we* got *our* souls courtesy of abeautiful red-headed witch with a heart of gold and as such, they're ofa... mystical nature. But Spike's got one too. *His* just came courtesyof a mad scientist and her nasty little microchip. So, yeah, he *is*mean and crude and rough along the edges... but so are *lots* of souledbeings. Take my father for instance..." And that had been that.
They continued to fight the good fight. Demons, vampires and evilforces of darkness found themselves going up against a Slayer, a Seer,two ex-Watchers, two Witches and a trio of Vampires who fought for theside of the angels and the PTB. Over the years, their mortal friendsgot married, grew old and died. Buffy's death nearly did Angel in, butstill, they fought on. New mortal warriors came to them, each willingto pick up the weapons of a fallen comrade and carry on their work.Time passed and Xander fell hopelessly in love with the sarcastic andsnarky Sire who had given him this unlife of danger, daring andlust-filled joy.
Angel flitted in and out of their bed over the course of the decades,depending on the state of his own personal love-life. No matter howmany lovers the eldest vampire took, however, he was never again to beout of the live's or heart's of his Childe and GrandChilde. Xander hadnever known such happiness.
Then it happened. The long awaited day had finally come with a mixtureof unparalleled joy and unspoken, but never diminishing sorrow. Angelhad been granted his redemption. In a blinding flash of brilliant lightand the scent of roses, the dark and ancient vampire was transformedinto a living breathing human. The sound of his heartbeat echoingthrough their home had brought Xander to his knees even as Spike hadclutched his, now mortal, Sire to his chest with tears streaming downhis face.
The two remaining vampires had gone to *extreme* lengths to protect andcoddle their beloved, and now frighteningly fragile, Angel. They hadcelebrated for a week. Plans upon plans had been made and Spike hadthreatened to invest in a fortune's worth of recording equipment tomark every change in the being that had been unchanged for a littleover four centuries. Angel had promised to grow old with grace anddignity for the entertainment of his family.
But that was not to be.
Four months, *four* *short* *over-way-too-fast* *months* later, SHEdestroyed Xander's entire world in five tiny little minutes.
Beverly Samantha Finn.
The Slayer.
Xander found it highly ironic that Riley Finn's descendant had beenchosen as the Slayer by the PTB. Riley had never had a chance withBuffy once Angel's soul had been restored, but he *had* nurtured hishatred for the man... the demon... *Angel* in his children and hischildren's children. And Bev had that hatred rooted deep inside her,like a thorn amongst roses. Beautiful. Deadly.
She had burst into their home while Spike and he had been out huntingdown a demon and found a mortal and vulnerable Angel alone andunguarded. The two vampires had returned victorious only to find anastily worded message pinned to Angel's cold and still chest.
He had only had four months to enjoy his humanity, and then Beverly hadstolen it away.
They had searched for her, but no one knew where she was. She haddisappeared into the very air it seemed. No one had seen her and allpaper trails led to carefully designed dead ends. She was gone... andso was Angel. Spike made all of the funeral arrangements with adeceptive calm and acceptance that worried Xander. Nothing he said ordid seemed to get through to him, though.
Xander's Sire had waited until the last of the funeral goers had leftinto the deep of the night before he staked himself while kneeling overAngel's grave. Xander had tried to stop him, but the bleached blondevampire had been too quick. Xander had been left standing over a newlyturned grave with ash blowing into his grief ravaged face.
He had tipped his head back and howled out his pain to the uncaringstars. And then he had uncaged the demon which lived within him, gladlysacrificing the soul he had cherished for so very long.
Turning, he had stalked out of the cemetery. Forever changed, foreverbroken. And he hunted.
Now, three years later, he had returned. The red-headed Slayer who haddestroyed his world lay at his feet, bound, gagged, helpless. He turnedto her, his bloody tears drying on his cheeks in the cool wind. Hisglowing yellow eyes washed over her, cataloging, appraising,memorizing.
"I'm going to water their grave with your blood."
He watched as Beverly renewed her fruitless struggles and he reachedout with one hand and ran it gently down the side of her beautifulface.
"Shhh.... no, no...don't struggle. It's just a whisper on a scream,doesn't change a thing..."
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