The City That Never Sleeps
Xander stands on the street corner, leaning pitifully against the lamp post, his hands buried deep in his pockets. His gaze is downward, ignoring the neon blur of headlights as the cars speed by, ignoring the few happy clubbers stumble out onto the sidewalks, making the night´s rounds in different raves.
And he ignores the fact that it´s almost 1 A.M and he´s standing outside in downtown New York. Who would mug a sad little wretch like him?
I hate you, he hears the words echo over and over in his head, like some sample of a techno song gone wrong. He´s wanted to say it for so long, but he hadn´t been able to decide whether it was true or not. There were only two reasons he could think of to hate him. And he knew Angelus hurt him; scars and bruises were testament to that. And he knew the vampire could mindfuck him; late night bouts with the toilet were testament to *that*.
But, those reasons were bullshit, because he liked being hurt didn´t he? That was how Angelus fucking found him, in the back of Club Douleur, being whipped by some buxom dominatrix.
He feels a blush creep over him at the memory. It was the first time he´d done anything remotely like that, and it wasn´t anything he really wanted to do again.
He´d decided hard–core kink was just a little too.. kinky.
And you don´t consider yourself kinky, Xander ´please rape me´ Harris?
Xander cringes inwardly at the thought. Feels his stomach twist.
Jesus, what was happening to him?
I´m supposed to be somewhere with Anya, in some nice little apartment, earning a nice little salary at a nice little job and having a nice fucking life. I´m supposed to be sitting in an easy chair, drinking beer, watching the game, and not wondering if you have to disinfect a vampire´s bite.
(Eh, well that whole plan went to hell, didn´t it?)
And I don´t hate him. This thought cuts through all the others, and Xander wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking with the sudden clarity.
I´m supposed to hate him.
Why can´t I hate him?
"Uh, excuse me?"
Xander looks up, startled, to see an attractive middle–aged man dressed in jeans and a dinner jacket watching him with the analytical eyes of an art critic, except more insidious, more intimate.
Xander knows that look too well.
"Yeah?" he asks, licking his lips nervously, now feeling a warmth play anxiously in his stomach, swirling his head. His heart has begun to beat faster; he knows what this guy wants. Can smell it a mile away.
(you´re not a mile away)
"I don´t normally do this–"
(that´s a good one buddy)
"–but you´re just so attractive, and I was wondering if you.." The man clears his throat, as if he were the nervous one.
Xander forces a coy smile, although he wants to turn away, run back up to the apartment, to Angelus. And with that thought, he glances up briefly.
Their bedroom´s balcony faces this side of the street. Although it´s too shadowed on that side to make out much, he sees with an odd sense of satisfaction, a glowing red cigarette tip, burning like a beacon.
He turns his attentions back to the man, sidles up to his side, and leans close, playing the innocently seductive nymph he knows this man wants.
"What did you have in mind?" he asks, in a sweetly husky voice, his pulse racing, feeling Angelus´ eyes burning into his back .
The man looks overwhelmed, smiles giddily.
"How much?"
Xander gives another flirtatious smile, looks away shyly, then back again. It´s amazing how this all comes back to him, as if he´s always been a vulnerable call boy.
(i don´t know about call boy, but you´ve always been a whore)
"Well, it´s usually fifty, but for you, I could go thirty."
The man grins, bright–eyed and with a faint gleam of something Xander also knows well.
(you could go back to Angelus for this–)
But Xander silences his inner monologue. Angelus doesn´t fucking care about him, so why should he amuse the vampire, by running back to his cold arms?
"That is terrific.. Listen, I have a hotel room around here. We could.. go back there."
Xander has to fight back the urge to shiver. But, he can´t stop himself from doing this. And with a sick fascination, he realizes he doesn´t want to stop.
"Okay, I´m game," he says softly, licking his lips again, wondering if this man can see how terrified he is. Chances are he can; he´s probably done this so many times that he can even sense Xander is completely faking this routine.
But neither one of them is going to end it.
And Xander finds himself walking around the corner, out of the sight of the balcony, where he glances back to see the red dot disappearing, presumably inside the apartment.
(think he´ll follow you?)
"Hey, I forgot, uh, I have a few friends over–"
"Plural?" Xander asks quickly, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice. They´re right outside the guy´s hotel room now, although that too was an intentional misleading because it seems more like a shitty motel. And it hits him, that the people in this place are probably used to screams.
"Yeah, but they´re cool guys. They can all chip in; regular price." The guy smiles and Xander is struck by how close a resemblance to Mickey Rourke he bears. Like this was Xander Harris´ own private 9 1/2 Weeks, except that´s not right, ´cause then Angelus would be Mickey and Xan would be Kim Basinger and the guy is staring at him–
"I.." he swallows, real anxiety shining through now. "I don´t know.."
"It´s alright, they don´t bite."
Oh, that´s a comfort. Fucker.
But Xander feels his lips curling upwards, even as his mind is screaming at him in disgust.
"Okay; shouldn´t pass up at a chance for more money."
The man smiles, opens the door.
"You´ll be paid in full, I assure you."
(youaregoingtoregretthisyouaregoingtoregretthis–)
The guy leads him into the main room, where three other younger men sit, playing poker without shirts. The tv is on to staticky fuzz, and the volume is off. The surreality of the situation hits Xander, and he begins to feel a sweat–inducing nausea.
I can´t do this. Why am I doing this?
Another man comes in from a bedroom off to Xander´s left, and gestures at the guy standing behind Xander with a vodka bottle.
"Where the bloody ´ell ´ave you been, Nick?" he asks, slurring slightly.
He would be British, Xander thinks. Now I get to be reminded of Spike and Giles and Wesley.
Ooh. Disconcerting thought. Being raped by Wesley.
The guy, Nick, claps Xander on the shoulder. Doesn´t seem to care about the flinch he recieves.
"I wanted a nice one," he answers, before walking away to a suitcase in the center of the room next to the three men on the floor, who have stopped their game and are beginning to rise.
"Well, he is that," the vodka–bottle guy says, walking to Xander, inspecting him.
Xander gives a half–smile.
"Thanks." He doesn´t even try to hide the sarcasm.
"Oh, and he´s got a sense of humour. I like this one." This one?
How many ones have they gone through?
Well, time to add one more, and Xander´s mind gives a sarcastic drum roll to that last clever thought.
"What´s your name, mate?" The guy asks.
"Um.. Xander." He has no reason to lie, and he doesn´t feel like it anyways. These people are going to know every inch of his body soon, why bother with a fake name?
"Alec," the guy points at himself, then gestures around the room with his bottle of Stolichnaya, tersely introducing Xander´s soon–to–be clients.
´Vince´ had a skinhead haircut, ´Sean´ was kinda cute in a disheveled way, and ´Jordan´ had a barbed tattoo encircling his upper arm. Xander noted these things all briefly, wondering what else he could tell the police after they found him half–dead on the street.
"So, whatcha doin´?" He finds himself asking Sean, who was stepping over a jumble of beer bottles on his way to Xander.
"Anything we can," the man responds, smiling slyly.
Xander scratches his wrist nervously, wanting to keep playing the hustler, but too overwhelmed by his sense of unease. Oh jesus, what am I doing? His whole body is kinda floating in a cloud of complete anxiety, more nervous here in this hotel room than he has ever been. This sickening air of wrongness, waiting for the real show to start.
Sean touches his face, and Xander can´t look up, can only stare at Sean´s chest, noticing the faint swell of strong muscles stretching beneath the skin. Well, at least the guys are cute.
(oh, nothing beats being raped by cuties, eh Xander?)
"You´ve never done this before, have you?" Sean asks softly, his fingers gently grazing Xander´s cheek, running down, over his lips, thumbs them soothingly.
"I–No.." Xander admits, finally looking up, wondering if maybe this one will end it before it all gets out of hand. Wondering if this one will save him.
"Hmm.. That´s okay." Sean´s expression is inscrutable, but Xander´s sinking feeling of foreboding doesn´t ease any.
Sean´s hair reaches his ears in a rock–n–roll kinda look, and that´s all Xander can see as the man leans in to kiss him, sees the few locks of hair dangling forward, and then his mouth is enveloped in that too familiar velvet sea of warmth.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the way he always does with Angelus
(thought about him lately?)
and Sean apparently likes that, because he deepens the kiss, putting his hands around Xander and holding him tightly. Now this is what Xander knows; action. Not waiting for some terrible unknown.
This is the game he can play. Every alert in his mind on full–blast, streaming adrenaline through him, aching for the pain and the tears, wanting to feel used and dirty.
I´m so sick, he thinks fleetingly, letting Sean push him up against the wall, soft hands crawling over his hips and his thighs. Spreading spider–like, to massage the now tight area of jean covering his crotch. And Xander moans into Sean´s mouth, arching himself against the other man, disappointed when the hands leave, then realizes they´re going to unzip his jeans.
Another rush of adrenaline stirs Xander; he has no idea who these men are, what they´ve done in the past. What they´re planning for him. And he´s still hard as a rock, resisting the urge to beg for Sean.
(you´re sick, Xander)
Probably true. Hey, I´ll go get some fucking therapy as soon as I´m done being gang–banged, how´s that for you?
(what happened to you?)
"Hey, hey, Sean. Easy mate, he´s not going anywhere." Alec slurs loudly, startling Xander.
Sean breaks the kiss reluctantly, smiling down at the youth in his arms.
"What are they going to do?" Xander asks quietly before he can stop himself. He hopes he doesn´t upset Sean; he doesn´t want to lose his only friendly touch, not in this room.
And Sean´s brow creases in conflict. He looks uneasy, and his eyes dart around to the rest of the room before he answers in a hushed breath, leaning close to Xander´s ear.
"Just play along and it won´t be too bad."
"Please–"
"Sshh.. I´ll try to help you. I only do this shit for the money–"
How can they get money for this?
And then Sean pulls away, a fixed smile on his face, letting Nick grab Xander´s wrist, and pull him unceremoniously over to the center of the room, where a camera perches on a professional–looking tripod..
"You´re taping this?" Xander asks, feigning the call–boy role again, even though he´s trembling imperceptibly, his heart pounding dully in his chest.
"We always tape them," Vince says, grinning lasciviously, looking for all intents and purposes like Brad Pitt in Fight Club turned into a twisted pervert.
(is that making it easier?)
"Oh.. Cool." Xander tries to say casually. "What is ´them´?"
And Vince laughs with Jordan, ignoring his question. Nick stands behind the camera, his eye squinted as he peers into the sight.
"We make these things, then sell ´em to Velvet Core.. Ever heard of ´em?" Alec says, settling down on the sofa, a lit cigarette dangling precariously from his lip.
"No.." Xander says hesitantly.
"That´s good."
Why is that good? You think I don´t know what type of shit they peddle? What you´re going to do? Christ, I was born for these fucking moments. Sliding on my own downward spiral, like the fucking masochist I am.
What happened to me?
Xander´s brain only realizes everything dimly, as Vince and Jordan sit him on the sofa, offer him a bottle of vodka, laugh when he refuses it. He´s floating, waiting for them to get down to business.
Then Vince and Jordan are kissing him, and he´s trying to pretend he likes it, but they´re nowhere near Sean. Or Angelus.
(you think he´ll want you after this?)
He doesn´t want me! Xander screams internally. I love him, and he doesn´t care! Do you think I give a fuck whether he´ll want me after this?
(yes)
It disgusts him; repulses him; and he hates himself for it, but of course he fucking cares about Angelus.
Because even when the vampire put on his coldest demonic air, Xan knew the older man would always want him. They played these love/hate games, sure, but it didn´t change their mutual obsession.
When did this happen to me? It wasn´t Anya leaving; it wasn´t the road trip; it wasn´t even Cordelia dying. I can´t use them as excuses anymore. I don´t want there to be something wrong with me.. I just want Angelus back.
Xander turns his face away from Vince, tries to put his hands up. He wants out of this room, wants out of this life; he wants to go back to Sunnydale with Angelus, to his apartment, where everything is bland and reassuring.
But Vince is grabbing him, and Xander knows this too, fighting uselessly, trying not to scream.
(just play along)
Now his mind clicks back into reality and he slaps at Vince, tries to crawl off the sofa.
"Where are you going?" Jordan throws him onto the floor, standing over him, and Xander feels himself mumbling half–coherent pleas, hoping they can´t see how hard he is. Jesus, why am I like this?
It´s like some shitty rape porno, although Xan´s never watched any of them, so he wouldn´t actually know how it´s supposed to go.
But it´s surprising how easy it was for all this turn violent. Like this was waiting for him as soon as he stepped outside the apartment.
Jordan straddles him, and Xander´s hitting at him with balled fists, trying to buck him off.
"Someone hold him," Jordan says, and Vince is there, pinning Xander´s wrists to the floor above his head, and he can feel someone, Alec, sitting on his legs.
"Please, please, don´t–"
"Shut up," Jordan hisses, sitting on his stomach, his rough hands tearing open Xander´s favorite shirt.
(that was Angelus´)
And then Jordan slides forward, unzipping his pants, pulling out his cock, so hard it almost looks swollen, and Xander knows this too. The mushroom head, with veins bulging lazily, deep blushing red, exuding a spicy heat.
He feels a tremor that is not unlike a nervous thrill, but refuses to open his mouth.
(play along)
Jordan grabs his mouth, says "open up" and Vince echoes the statement, staring upside down at Xander.
Xan can see Nick bringing the camera off it´s tripod, bringing it closer to the action, and he wonders faintly how much this will sell for. How much he´s worth.
And he opens his mouth, tears streaming down his face.
(If you survive this, you´ll probably get AIDS, wouldn´t that be a fucking riot–)
Jordan pumps once slowly, then abandons his caution and fucks Xander´s mouth recklessly, making the youth grunt in pain at the thick member stretching his jaw muscles. Jordan is huge; bigger than Angelus even, and Xander still hadn´t gotten a handle on his lover´s cock.
He is aware of Alec, fiddling with his half–open pants, and Xander realizes with a deep fear that they´re going to see how hard he is, how aroused this whole fucking mess is making him.
(They´re probably used to it)
Vince groans loudly, mumbling short sentences in a heady bliss as he thrusts himself into Xander´s wet mouth. Nick encourages him, zooming closer, and Xander has to shut his eyes in embarassment. Someone´s going to watch this and jerk off to it and the thought makes him more sick than excited.
He sucks without effort on Vince´s dick, and can feel the slight tremors as orgasm hits. A spasm followed by the salty liquid, and then Nick tells Vince to pull out, and so he does, wringing the rest of his cum out onto Xander´s face.
(ughh..)
Xander turns his head, but can´t escape the slimy worm feeling of it snake down his cheeks.
He´s never been this humiliated with Angelus; the vampire never stooped this low to abuse him.
(yeah, ´cause he respected you so much, didn´t he?)
He sobs bitterly, struggling again even though he knows it won´t matter. The sound of labored breathing fills his ears; he wonders if he´ll ever be able to go to sleep at night again without hearing that noise. The others step in for their close–ups, all fucking Xander´s mouth, not caring that he can barely move his jaw anymore. Alec replaces Nick while the man who picked Xander up proves you should never talk to strangers. And Nick whispers things to him to that effect, to spice up the video, to further degrade Xander. Maybe because it gets him off better. Doesn´t matter.
The only one who refuses is Sean. He ignores the jeers and goes into the kitchen to get a shot of whiskey from their fridge. And Xander can´t see him, but he grips the bottle tightly, closes his eyes, and wonders why the fuck they ever started doing this.
The minutes pass with agonizing slowness, as the thick smell of sex and blood and tears grows almost unbearable to Xander. He goes from the floor to bent over the side of the sofa, finally being raped, with no prelude or prepping. And he knows all that too, but it´s still never hurt as much.
The feeling of violation has never been this palpable, and the raw pain of being split open never this electric. He screams, but whoever´s fucking him puts a clammy hand over his mouth, and after a while, he loses interest in it anyway. Who´s going to care? Who´s going to care about hearing more screams in a place like this?
He wishes he could go numb, but he feels every penetration, every thrust. Etches them into his memory. He wants to vomit, hoping it will stop them, but he can´t even muster up the strength.
When they´re done, they clap each other on the back, like jocks in a locker room, and go into the kitchen for a break, taking the whiskey bottle from Sean.
Xander doesn´t move for a moment, terrified that if he moves they´ll kill him now.
But, hearing the muted voices in the next room, he carefully pushes himself off the arm of the sofa, thinking that maybe he can get to the door before they come back. He tries to stand and feels the blood and semen running down the inside of his legs; nothing new, but so much more horrific now.
(you think he´ll still want you?)
He has to, Xander breathes to himself.
He feels like he´s testing out a new pair of legs, and they refuse to carry his weight. He wipes a hand through his tousled hair, closing his eyes in effort, every nerve in his body screaming to get moving.
He grabs his pants from the floor, the simple act of bending setting off fireworks in his back, and then he stumbles slowly towards the door. Not so long ago he was walking out a door like this one, full of hateful energy and haughty insousiance.
"What´d I say?" Alec laughs suddenly, and Xander throws himself at the door, fumbling with the handle. I´m so close, please, let me have this.. Please.. He begs with whomever decides these matters.
But Alec is there, grabbing his arms and pulling him back to the sofa.
"No!" Xander yells with a brief shock of strength, and Alec punches him, straight in the face, dropping him on the same spot of the floor where he once was.
"I told you he´d try to run.. Feisty, this one. Daft, but feisty."
"Fuck you," Xander hisses in pain, rolling onto his back, wiping the blood trickling out of his nose.
Jordan chuckles at him, and Vince holds up a large vodka bottle, waves it suggestively.
"Is that a promise?"
Maryhadalittlelambandthelambwasverywhiteanditfollowedhereverywhereohgod–
Xander screams into his gag, and only a muffled noise comes out. But he keeps screaming because he forgets that he is, and there´s only the white–hot agony shaking him all over, ripping its claws into his body, tearing him open inside eating eating jesus christ please this isn´t happening
His stomach lurches, and he has to fight back the gorge rising in his throat. Doesn´t want to vomit with the gag in; doesn´t want to die like that. Coroner´s Report: Victim asphyxiated while being raped with an alcoholic beverage.
Angelus would never have done this he would never have done this why did I leave? why did he let me leave? please please
You´re going to regret this.
After the bottle, Nick zooms in with the camera, while Alec comments on how well that worked. Tells Xander that was the first time they´d tried that. But he was just so fucking cute, they had to do something special for him.
Xander looks at him through tear–filled eyes, the words being slotted away into some part of his brain that will activate only when he´s dreaming. Nightmares that will haunt him the rest of his life.
He mumbles something.
Jordan asks what, and Nick tells him to take the gag out.
Xander licks his lips, his throat dry and incredibly sore, and he tries to form words.
"You´re.. going.." he swallows, the guys watching him with great interest.
"to die.." he finishes tiredly, his voice a hollowed out shell of what it once was.
And Alec laughs delightedly, kneeling on the floor next to Xander and the pool of blood beneath the youth.
"That´s not the way this works," he informs Xander, his Cockney voice full of amusement.
"Do we really need to kill him?" Sean asks suddenly, watching Alec worriedly.
"Oh, you want to keep him? Or do you wanna fuck him before he goes?" Vince cooes, reaching down and grabbing Xander by the hair, pulling the teen up with a mewl of pain.
"I just don´t think we need to kill him."
"How much extra do you think you´d get for it? If you killed him?" A new voice breaks the atmosphere of the room, and everyone´s turns to the door.
Xander´s eyes widen, and he´s momentarily too stunned to do anything.
Angelus rests against the closed door, in his black jeans and long black duster, holding a cigarette to his lips, looking undeniably evil.
"Who the fuck are you?" Alec asks coldly, stepping towards the intruder, and Xander begins struggling again, but Vince holds him roughly.
"Help me–" a hand clamps over his mouth, cutting off his plea.
Angelus! his mind screams, looking at the vampire with begging eyes, hoping that he was right about them. That Angelus did care. He wouldn´t throw him to the wolves would he? He wouldn´t he wouldn´t
"No one you´ll ever know," Angelus says flatly to Alec, flicking his cigarette on the floor.
No one else says anything; they´re too shocked. What the hell was going on?
Jordan inches toward the bedroom, where they kept their security; a pump action shotgun.
"How´d you get in?" Alec asks, infuriated with this stranger´s calm nature. "You do know you´re going to be in a lot of fucking trouble?"
Angelus smiles grimly, and Xander watches this conversation with a growing relief. He knows that smile.
"Ooh.. Sounds scary."
"You bloody–"
"You didn´t change the ´come in´ to ´do not disturb´," Angelus says and Alec´s face twists in confusion.
"Wha–"
And then Angelus punches his hand forward almost casually and when he brings it back, he is clutching a lump of red muscle, pulsating slowly, and Alec tumbles backwards, his mouth open in a silent scream, dark blood fountaining from the hole in his chest.
Nick gags, drops to his knees and vomits on the side of the room, and Sean sways disgustedly, the color draining from his face.
Xander´s laughing hysterically, but to the rest of the room it looks like he´s having a seizure.
"Oh my god," Vince breathes, still keeping his grip on Xander. "You fucking fuck oh my god.."
"Let him go." Angelus says, perfectly imperturbed, strolling forward. He pauses to study the heart in his hand, covered in veins and dribbling juices onto the floor, and then bites it.
"Oh jesus.." Sean stumbles back against the wall, and Vince begins to retreat to the back of the room, muttering a steady mantra of ohmigod.
"Blech," the vampire tosses the heart to the side, swallows his one bite.
"Let him go, now." He repeats, and Xander´s eyes are fixed on the discarded heart, still pumping faintly. He´s never seen Angelus do that before.
Vince obeys automatically, releasing the teen, who turns around and without warning, brings his knee into the fucker´s crotch.
Then, he picks up his clothes, walks away from the horrified stares of his rapists, and over to Angelus. Can´t bring himself to meet his eyes.
"Go home." The vampire commands coldly.
And Xander doesn´t argue. He looks back as he leaves, at Sean, who watches him with fear in his eyes, and then he´s outside, in the hallway, taking deep breaths. Struggles into his torn clothes, and forces his feet to carry him out of the hallway before the noises start.
When Angelus enters the apartment, he´s immediately struck by the silence. An odd panic grips him and he checks the bedroom: no Xander. The kitchen: no Xander. And underneath the dining room table: no Xander.
He´s on the verge of screaming for the youth when he opens the door to the bathroom.
Xander doesn´t turn his head; doesn´t move at all. He´s curled in the bathtub, filled with water, his chin propped on the side, arms hugging his chest. Water has splashed onto the floor, clouded with red, glittering malignly on the linoleum. Xander could care less.
He´s waiting for the shock waves of pain to hit again.
Angelus doesn´t say anything to break the disorienting calm. He just steps inside carefully, and sits down on the toilet seat, feeling as if he has every right to make some sort of insulting comment or some crude joke, but not doing it.
What is happening to me?
A few hours ago he would have laughed to find Xander the victim of a snuff film, but now.. He would kill anyone who even looked at the teen the wrong way. Especially anyone who tried to hurt him.. or did hurt him.
And it shouldn´t be affecting him so much. The fact that is makes him feel worse. But he can´t stop thinking about what would´ve happened if he hadn´t gotten there in time. Can´t stop seeing Xander´s face, still beautiful, but wracked in pain, humiliation.
The vampire´s narrowed eyes take in the dirty water Xan´s sitting in, adulterated with diaphanous visions of red blood and the assorted stink of different semen. Should make him hungry. Should make him feel something other than angry. Possessive.
But it´s not, and he can´t decide what to do. So he just leans back on the toilet, crossing his legs out in front of him.
"What did you do?" Xander asks suddenly, his weak voice barely cutting through the oppressive silence. His brown eyes are lifted towards the vampire now, and the question is partly answered for him.
"Everything I could think of."
Angelus´ face is streaked with dark red smears, and had he not been wearing black, his clothes would have been mostly crimson. A few sticky gobbets of fat and skin adorn his duster. His right hand is covered in crumbly red tissue, and his left covered in a thin film of gray and pink.
Xander nods carefully, circumventing the inevitable pain that will come with any real movement.
"Why aren´t you teasing me, Angelus? I would if I were you."
The vampire doesn´t answer for a moment, then he sighs.
"You should´ve been a porn star." The sentence slices coldly through whatever sympathetic aura he had been giving off, and he stands up for no reason, looking down at the exquisitely pained glare he recieves from Xander.
"What do you want me to say? I´m sorry you picked the wrong guy to make me jealous with?"
Xander turns away and Angelus recognizes the gritted teeth look as the teen´s ´not–gonna–cry–face´. Kinda respects that.
"If you expect me to be sorry for you, then you´ve got me confused with someone with a soul."
"Don´t do this, Angelus–"
"Don´t do what?" The vampire sits back down quickly, leaning close to the fragile mess in the tub, his eyes cold and daring Xander to be brave.
The teen´s mouth quivers, his brow knitted in immense effort, fighting back tears.
"Why did you even come?" He finally whispers.
"Because you´re mine," Angelus states flatly, revelling in the flitter of pain that crosses Xan´s features.
"Did you think it was some other reason? Something more poetic?"
Xander doesn´t answer these questions, just stares at him with those wide brown eyes that are so close to fading out.
"Do you need to go the hospital?" Angelus finally asks, ignoring his previous questions, ignoring Xander´s eyes, burning into his mind. Wipes the dried blood off his face.
"I need you," Xander says softly, barely audible, appealing to Angelus´ possessive nature, the part that thrives on seeing his lover hurt and vulnerable. That, unbeknownst to Xander, wants to protect him. Like how Spike felt of his troubled Drusilla.
There is a long silence, and something breaks inside Angelus´ face, and the demon kicks out suddenly, at the towel rack on the wall opposite him, growling as he does it, and the steel bar snaps in two with the strength of his rage.
Xander´s terrified for a second, thinking maybe Angelus is finally going to kill him, for being an idiot and leaving and letting himself get taken advantage of.
But instead, Angelus begins to shrug off his duster. Unbuttons his black silk shirt.
Xander says nothing, but he has enough mind to blink back any tears. Doesn´t want Angelus to stop.
When the vampire is down to his jeans, Xander shifts in the tub, letting Angelus slide in behind him. He sits up as much as he can, the dim roar of pain in his back growing louder every moment.
Angelus helps him until he´s semi–curled in his lap, leaning his cheek on the vampire´s shoulder, still smelling of blood.
Water splashes haphazardly upon the floor, but it´s all part of the muted background. Angelus grabs the soap from next to him calmly and he begins to clean Xander´s bruised body for him, and the youth doesn´t do anything to stop him.
Doesn´t say anything.
His now placid lover treats him like a child, stroking his face with watery fingers everytime the throbbing pains got too bad.
And Xander wonders if this was how he treated the Drusilla after a brutal night. Wonders why Angelus is even capable of one moment of kindness. Wonders if there´ll be a price for this later.
And neither of them say a word.
