Spike sets the pace; slow and gentle. He grips both their erections in his left hand, jerking them off at a leisurely pace while kissing Xander... always kissing Xander.
Xander groans into Spike's mouth, arching against his hand. This is perfect, this is about as much as Xander can take, still not too sure about actual sex. But really, he's not gonna break and he wishes Spike would move *faster*; this is too gentle even for him. He spreads his legs, trying to get some leverage to pump into Spike's hand, and Xander's gripping the vampire's back, nearly clawing at him.
It's too much for Spike. He buries his face in Xander's neck and begins to pull them off in earnest. Xander's still not satisfied, he doesn't want the kissing to stop, but that's too bad. Spike can't handle this moment, knows he doesn't deserve it, but also...
Xander's want is so powerful, so consuming, and Spike just wants to be gentle. Wants to pet the dark-haired man and be soft with him, wants to never ever hurt his lover, the thought literally making Spike sick. He pumps his hand faster, brutal now, despite his wishes, because he needs to get them both off and be done with it. Get it over with.
"Spike," Xander sighs prettily and a little wistfully when he comes, and it's all the vampire can do to follow him into orgasm.
They share one small, chaste kiss before Spike deliberately snuggles into Xander's arms and pretends to fall asleep. It's night and Spike should be up, out, but it's nice to hold his boyfriend as he sleeps. Their schedules don't allow them to share the bed very often.
Hours pass and Spike gets more and more restless, haunted now more than ever by what he's done, what he was, what he *is*. And the look on Xander's face today-- God, Spike's *hurting* him, and he never meant to do that. Never thought that Xander might be a little traumatized by having to rescue Spike every morning for months. Spike knows what he has to do, knows he can't inflict himself on Xander any longer.
So he rises and dresses and scribbles a quick note to leave by the bed. Feels bad about going back on his word, but he just can't stay. Doesn't deserve Xander, doesn't deserve life.
Spike drops the note on the pillow by Xander's face and quietly leaves the apartment.
He doesn't go to his usual spot. No, this time he doesn't want to be found. This time it's really the end.
Spike walks slowly toward the cemetery he used to call home. It's very nearly sunrise and he's not sure he'll get there in time. Doesn't really mind dying in the street instead of the graveyard, but picks up his pace anyway.
A part of him wishes it was yesterday. Yesterday he went out on his usual rounds; spoke to a few contacts to make sure nothing really dangerous was gaining strength in Sunnydale, killed a few vamps, had a couple of beers in one of the town's danker demon bars, and headed out for the cemetery near Xander's house to wait for the young man to finish patrolling.
That's the way he had allowed himself to become-- not actually wanting death, but settling for trying to make the world a better place and enjoying his boyfriend's company. Sure, he toyed with the sunrise every morning, but he'd stopped really wanting to die a while ago.
Remembers warm, soft lips under his, Xander's wet tongue darting out for a taste of Spike before disappearing again. The morning after that first kiss, Spike almost danced on his way to death. And when Xander arrived to stop his daily suicide attempt, Spike didn't complain, just followed the youth back to the apartment.
Yesterday Spike sat on his tombstone as the sky lightened and thought about what he planned to do the following night. But the sky grew lighter and lighter and Xander didn't come. After a while Spike began to worry, sure that Xander was through with him, was just gonna let him burn...
The pain inflicted by that thought was enough to keep Spike outside, watching for the final crack of pure light on the horizon. But Xander showed up after all. Offered no excuses, but he showed.
And he felt bad about being late, about worrying Spike.
The vampire growls to himself, practically stomping as he walks through the gates of his old cemetery. How dare he be so selfish? How dare he make Xander take care of him? The man deserves a normal friggin' relationship; he has no taste at all. Spike liked Anya just fine, but a vengeance demon was not the sort of person one ought to get involved with.
Of course, thoughts about Anya lead to all sorts of nastiness.
Spike doesn't try to spare himself that pain though. Lets himself dwell on the memories of what he's done so recently. He knows he deserves to have to remember it, deserves every moment of suffering. Xander once tried to exploit that belief, trying to convince Spike that he shouldn't let himself die because that would be like escaping from prison, skipping out on his punishment.
Xander's right, Spike knows that. He also knows that he is a monster-- even with a soul-- and the world will be much better off once he is dead.
He finds himself at his crypt and is tempted to go inside, have a last look around, but shrugs that impulse off, sitting down on the stoop to wait. Not long now.
Spike lets his mind drift some more and he doesn't hear the soft creak of the crypt door opening, doesn't hear the stunned feminine gasp. Can't help but hear his name though, when Buffy speaks it so harshly. "Spike?"
His head turns before he can stop himself, and there she is. Bright and glowing and strong and beautiful. The girl he fell for, the girl he got his soul for. "Buffy," he answers, and his voice cracks a little but he barely notices.
She looks torn between kicking his ass and hugging him in relief, which is really really sad, and Spike's glad the sun is almost up.
Buffy has a stake in her hand, ready to do what she knows she has to, despite some odd lingering feelings, but Spike's face is so sorrowful... Then something clicks. "The sun's gonna rise any second now," she states, seeing by his reaction that Spike already knows this. "You- you're killing yourself? For me?" Is weirdly pleased and also disgusted by her own pleasure-- not at all an unusual feeling when Spike is around.
The vampire bursts into laughter at that. Hysterical, doubled over, whole-body-shaking laughter.
Buffy frowns, sighs. "Get inside, Spike," she commands.
And he does, struggles to subdue himself and walks into the crypt, barely missing the sunrise for the second day in a row.
Buffy hesitates for a moment before following him. She wants answers and she wants revenge, but there's still a small part of her that just wants *Spike*, and she's not sure if she trusts herself around him. Purposely recalls the horror and gut-splitting *shame* of their last meeting, tries to hold on to that feeling. She walks into the darkness of crypt, full of false confidence and a healthy dose of anger. Says, a bit condescendingly, "So, what's new?"