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Ficlets: "Touching Death" Spike/Xander and "Sunrise" Giles/Wes, Death and Angst Themes, each 500 wds
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slashthedrabble Feb. 18th, 2005 11:20 pm)
phendog.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Feb. 18th, 2005 11:20 pm)Touching Death
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashthedrabble’s challenge of “Lost”
500 Words
Spike/Xander
PG-13, violence and death
Characters are Joss’ and others, not mine, obviously!
Spike saw it as it happened—claws slicing through clothing to sink deep into Xander’s flesh—and screamed helplessly as he fought his own battle, unable to overcome the demon in front of him long enough to do anything to save the other man. It wasn’t until a precious minute later that his blade found the nick in the creature’s armor and its throat was severed neatly, head almost lopped from the neck.
Running back, he found Willow was with him, cradling Xander’s head in her lap. The telltale stench of burned flesh and the smoldering demon beside them told Spike it was Willow who had rescued Xander from his attacker in the end.
“Xander, Xander,” Willow was shaking him, holding him in her arms and repeating his name in a panicked monotone.
Spike touched her shoulder as he knelt, and she looked up at him across their bleeding comrade with eyes that barely seemed to see. “Spike. He’s…he won’t,” she choked, unable to finish.
At the thought that Xander might already be gone, Spike felt the panic rush through him. Forcing it down, he forced himself to listen for the heartbeat and note the blood rushing out of the wounds steadily, attesting to Xander’s body’s struggle to continue on. Still, there was no doubt the boy was gravely injured.
Carefully, Spike took Xander from Willow, transferring the human so he could cradle him in his lap and against his chest.
Spike knew time was running out and tried to press against the wounds. He was rewarded with a flinch of pain. Xander’s eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved as if he was trying to say something, but any sound was lost by Willow’s sobs until the boy simply started coughing instead. It was when Spike saw the blood—bright red bubbles bursting out of Xander’s mouth and pinkish foam leaking from his nose—that he knew.
Xander had lost too much. He was bleeding on the inside, and this was a battle he was going to lose. It was then that the world seemed to melt away.
“Willow,” Spike said firmly, making sure she looked at him and understood. “You need to get whatever it’s going to take to bind his soul and then make a trip to the butcher.”
Her eyes widened, but to her credit she only nodded and swallowed hard, not making a single move to stop him as he slit his own wrist with a knife and began to feed his blood to Xander, starting the process that would turn human to vampire.
“When?”
“Less than a day,” he assured her, knowing he was powerful enough that Xander would wake soon.
He waited until she left them and then longer until he felt Xander’s heart begin to slow for the last time. Shaking, Spike withdrew his arm and turned the boy’s head, baring the translucent skin of the neck.
Mercifully, the chip didn’t activate when Spike let his fangs pierce the skin, even though he heard the barely audible mewed cry. Perhaps the circuitry knew as well as he that the bite wasn’t to injure or even to feed. As he completed the ritual, draining the last of what little blood had managed not to be lost onto the grass, Spike knew it was a bite to bring darkness and end the pain forever, bringing with it only the new sort of half-life available to those who had first touched death.
---------------------------
Sunrise
Written forslashthedrabble’s challenge of “Lost”
500 Words
Giles/Wesley
PG-13, angst and death
Characters are Joss’ and others’, not mine, obviously!
Already the horizon is glowing pink, and the features of city around him are starting to grey and become more focused as the night loses its battle with the day and begins to give way.
The L.A. air is crisp and sharp, just barely thick enough to hint at the smog that seems to have indelibly saturated the city as Giles sits atop the skyscraper, oblivious to the view and aware only of the impending morning and the head of his lover cradled softly in his lap.
“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” he says again, as futilely as before, whispering the words in a tortured voice as his fingers push the hair back away from the face, combing it gently in motions that have long ago become repetitive.
It is a race, Giles knows. A race between the sun and between the demon being newly born in the shell of the man he’d held as he lay dying. And with each passing second, he’s not sure which side is losing, only that the moment is coming inevitably closer.
At last the sun breaks through, first a single ray, then more, splitting the heavens with golden light and the promise of a sky that will later be of the purest blue. For an instant, when nothing happens, Giles lets himself hope he’s wrong. It’s a mistake—Angelus didn’t make him drink or perhaps Wesley was strong enough to resist.
But then where the light kisses his lover’s features more tenderly than even Giles knows how, the caress becomes violent as skin blisters and a wisp of smoke begins to rise, confirming his deepest fear. The demon may not have yet awoken, but it is there.
He holds Wes’ body tighter, knowing he’s doing so for the last time as more curls of smoke reach for the air. Wes’ skin grows red and hot as he literally appears to melt and steam in the cool morning air.
And then, in the split second before the first flame appears, the demon wins in the same second it is lost, opening its yellow eyes and morphing its face to greet the world that is already cruelly consuming it.
Giles gasps out a choked sob at the horror, knowing the second the monster begins to feel the agony, and deep down he wonders if it is Wes. If Wesley feels it too and is screaming as the demon screams, struggling in his grasp. All he knows is that he has to hold on until the end. He owes it to Wesley to ensure it’s over, though at the moment he’d give anything for the stake he foolishly had thought himself unable to use a mere hour before. Anything to end it.
The burning flames are biting and stinging his flesh as the monster’s nails tear at his arms. Still, Giles ignores the screams and holds on. Even when the creature ceases its struggles, he fights the pain to hold on until there is nothing to hold on to.
Gasping and sobbing, Giles knows he is injured and needs medical attention, but as the ash of his lover settles around him, dancing in the slight breeze, filling his lungs and making him cough, he knows he doesn’t much care.
Written for
slashthedrabble’s challenge of “Lost”500 Words
Spike/Xander
PG-13, violence and death
Characters are Joss’ and others, not mine, obviously!
Spike saw it as it happened—claws slicing through clothing to sink deep into Xander’s flesh—and screamed helplessly as he fought his own battle, unable to overcome the demon in front of him long enough to do anything to save the other man. It wasn’t until a precious minute later that his blade found the nick in the creature’s armor and its throat was severed neatly, head almost lopped from the neck.
Running back, he found Willow was with him, cradling Xander’s head in her lap. The telltale stench of burned flesh and the smoldering demon beside them told Spike it was Willow who had rescued Xander from his attacker in the end.
“Xander, Xander,” Willow was shaking him, holding him in her arms and repeating his name in a panicked monotone.
Spike touched her shoulder as he knelt, and she looked up at him across their bleeding comrade with eyes that barely seemed to see. “Spike. He’s…he won’t,” she choked, unable to finish.
At the thought that Xander might already be gone, Spike felt the panic rush through him. Forcing it down, he forced himself to listen for the heartbeat and note the blood rushing out of the wounds steadily, attesting to Xander’s body’s struggle to continue on. Still, there was no doubt the boy was gravely injured.
Carefully, Spike took Xander from Willow, transferring the human so he could cradle him in his lap and against his chest.
Spike knew time was running out and tried to press against the wounds. He was rewarded with a flinch of pain. Xander’s eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved as if he was trying to say something, but any sound was lost by Willow’s sobs until the boy simply started coughing instead. It was when Spike saw the blood—bright red bubbles bursting out of Xander’s mouth and pinkish foam leaking from his nose—that he knew.
Xander had lost too much. He was bleeding on the inside, and this was a battle he was going to lose. It was then that the world seemed to melt away.
“Willow,” Spike said firmly, making sure she looked at him and understood. “You need to get whatever it’s going to take to bind his soul and then make a trip to the butcher.”
Her eyes widened, but to her credit she only nodded and swallowed hard, not making a single move to stop him as he slit his own wrist with a knife and began to feed his blood to Xander, starting the process that would turn human to vampire.
“When?”
“Less than a day,” he assured her, knowing he was powerful enough that Xander would wake soon.
He waited until she left them and then longer until he felt Xander’s heart begin to slow for the last time. Shaking, Spike withdrew his arm and turned the boy’s head, baring the translucent skin of the neck.
Mercifully, the chip didn’t activate when Spike let his fangs pierce the skin, even though he heard the barely audible mewed cry. Perhaps the circuitry knew as well as he that the bite wasn’t to injure or even to feed. As he completed the ritual, draining the last of what little blood had managed not to be lost onto the grass, Spike knew it was a bite to bring darkness and end the pain forever, bringing with it only the new sort of half-life available to those who had first touched death.
---------------------------
Sunrise
Written for
slashthedrabble’s challenge of “Lost”500 Words
Giles/Wesley
PG-13, angst and death
Characters are Joss’ and others’, not mine, obviously!
Already the horizon is glowing pink, and the features of city around him are starting to grey and become more focused as the night loses its battle with the day and begins to give way.
The L.A. air is crisp and sharp, just barely thick enough to hint at the smog that seems to have indelibly saturated the city as Giles sits atop the skyscraper, oblivious to the view and aware only of the impending morning and the head of his lover cradled softly in his lap.
“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” he says again, as futilely as before, whispering the words in a tortured voice as his fingers push the hair back away from the face, combing it gently in motions that have long ago become repetitive.
It is a race, Giles knows. A race between the sun and between the demon being newly born in the shell of the man he’d held as he lay dying. And with each passing second, he’s not sure which side is losing, only that the moment is coming inevitably closer.
At last the sun breaks through, first a single ray, then more, splitting the heavens with golden light and the promise of a sky that will later be of the purest blue. For an instant, when nothing happens, Giles lets himself hope he’s wrong. It’s a mistake—Angelus didn’t make him drink or perhaps Wesley was strong enough to resist.
But then where the light kisses his lover’s features more tenderly than even Giles knows how, the caress becomes violent as skin blisters and a wisp of smoke begins to rise, confirming his deepest fear. The demon may not have yet awoken, but it is there.
He holds Wes’ body tighter, knowing he’s doing so for the last time as more curls of smoke reach for the air. Wes’ skin grows red and hot as he literally appears to melt and steam in the cool morning air.
And then, in the split second before the first flame appears, the demon wins in the same second it is lost, opening its yellow eyes and morphing its face to greet the world that is already cruelly consuming it.
Giles gasps out a choked sob at the horror, knowing the second the monster begins to feel the agony, and deep down he wonders if it is Wes. If Wesley feels it too and is screaming as the demon screams, struggling in his grasp. All he knows is that he has to hold on until the end. He owes it to Wesley to ensure it’s over, though at the moment he’d give anything for the stake he foolishly had thought himself unable to use a mere hour before. Anything to end it.
The burning flames are biting and stinging his flesh as the monster’s nails tear at his arms. Still, Giles ignores the screams and holds on. Even when the creature ceases its struggles, he fights the pain to hold on until there is nothing to hold on to.
Gasping and sobbing, Giles knows he is injured and needs medical attention, but as the ash of his lover settles around him, dancing in the slight breeze, filling his lungs and making him cough, he knows he doesn’t much care.
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From:
no subject
And is it wrong that I'm such a Spander whore I'm quite happy to watch Xander die if it means Spike gets to turn him and keep him forever? Hee! I always think that's so romantic. And an acquiescent Willow was a plus. She knows it's twoo lurve. *g*
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Sorry for making you cry, but I take that as a compliment!
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Oh, it is! I love a fic that makes me cry, just so long as my boys get a happy ending of some sort. *g*
The contrast between the two is definitely visible, though they both evoke the same basic thought - 'Oh, he really loves him', but of course, with different consequences.
And I can definitely see Willow as a Spanderfan. LOL!
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Lovely description. Willow as the Spander facilitator - nice!
I really liked these, both the contrast and the similarities. Very well done.
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*gr* thanks!
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Nooooo, you can't kill both Wes and Xander in one post - its too cruel.
*sniffs again*
Poor Spike and Giles *hugs them*
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Thanks!
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Thanks!
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*L* Yeah, me too. At least I don't feel as shitty this weekend as last.
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Wonderful, as always. But, poor Giles, you break my heart when you're so mean to him.
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I know...I really can be quite cruel, can't I?
Thanks, though!