a l i v e . a n d . d y i n g

Alive and Dying
[by victoria p.]

Rating: NC-17

Summary: "He's still alive. If you can call it that."

Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete.

Dedication: Pete, this is for you and Meg, since you threatened mush, I retaliate with angst and slash.

They are coming for him, but this time, he's ready. The demon scarabs -- each the size of his head -- attack, and he kills many of them before he lets them overwhelm him. He is dying, and he is happy...

Xander jolts awake and sighs. His dream has not come true. He is not dying. He's still alive.

If you can call it that.

He seeks the warmth of the body that was curled next to him when he fell asleep early this morning, but He's gone.

Everyone's gone.

Anya, dead of a vampire attack three weeks after their wedding. Willow and Tara, souls eaten out from within by the M'klir demon they summoned to help close the Hellmouth. Giles, poor Giles, he'd gone mad with grief and ended his own life in a puddle of scotch and a handful of pills after they got the news about Buffy.

Buffy.

Bright, brave Buffy, who'd died twice before and come back, only to be defeated this time by her own trusting nature. She'd believed Spike, believed he'd never harm her. When Spike and Dawn showed up that night, she'd let them in, never knowing that Dawn -- her own sister -- would be her killer, would take her neck and drink her blood until the three of them formed some unholy mockery of a family.

Xander had staked Dawn, staked Buffy, and barely survived Spike's attack before the sun rose and took care of the vampire who had no desire to live without the two women who'd come to mean everything to him.

So he's alone, again. Naturally.

He has skills -- he was a carpenter once, a good one. He built furniture for the apartment he and Anya shared, but that too is gone now. He no longer cares. He let himself go in a fury of grief and torment. Would have, could have, should have -- all just meaningless words now. He found relief at the bottom of the bottle, the sting of the needle. Would have followed the somnolent heroin rush all the way down if it hadn't been for Him.

Los Angeles is an easy place to get lost in. For everyone but Xander Harris.

He remembers clearly the day He came back into his life. Night. Yellow light like urine spilling across the alley. Not an easy mark, not someone who would help him get high.

Him. Naturally.

"Xander." His voice a soft murmur, lilting, still a touch of Eire in it, even after all these years. His hands, gentle and cool -- caressing. Asking for nothing Xander wasn't prepared to give. Not yet.

He took Xander home, cleaned him up, held him like a child cuddles a rag doll. Those soft, sculpted lips whispering in his ear, "It's all right. You're all right. I've got you now."

Days and weeks pass in a blur, he starts to feel again, feel the cold and the loneliness. He hates it. Hates that He has taken away the numbness and replaced it with the pain of remembering.

Every night, it is the same. "Drink me," he begs. "Kill me."

Every night, He says no. He can't. He won't.

Then one night, He does.

Just a little, just a taste -- the sharp puncture of the fangs into his arm, his good arm, where the veins haven't yet collapsed from too many blasts from the needle.

It was hell. It was heaven. It was the rush without the sickly aftertaste.

"Let me thank you," he managed, that first night, and his hand crept underneath His waistband, finding His cock, already engorged, warm and pulsing, and Xander was amazed -- his blood caused *this* reaction.

His lips and tongue soon followed his hand, licking the length of His shaft, then swirling his tongue around the head already moist with droplets of pre-come. His teeth scraped along the sensitive underside and He moaned with pleasure, his hands entwined in Xander's hair, urging him on.

When He came, Xander lay back, content and suddenly aware of his own raging erection. He rolled him over and said, "Xander, are you sure?"

And Xander thrust his hips into the air, offering himself to Him. He pressed kisses to Xander's neck, trailed His tongue down his broad back, the muscles just starting to slacken from lack of exercise.

His lips traced the path between Xander's cheeks and He spread them gently, blowing a little air into the sensitive cleft. Xander shivered and He smiled. Reaching into the drawer next to the bed, He took the tube of lubricant and slicked it on His fingers. His fingers slipped easily into Xander and Xander moaned softly. He smiled again, ferally this time -- a look of possession, mastery, crossed His handsome face. He moved His fingers in and out, and with His other hand He reached around and grasped Xander's hard cock, pumping it fiercely.

Xander cried out again as He entered him -- slowly, just the tip of His penis first, circling at the sensitive lip of the opening, then all the way in one swift thrust that caused Xander to buck his hips and bite his lip.

He thrust, slowly at first, rotating His hips until He's got the best angle and is repeatedly pressing up against Xander's prostate.

Xander moved with Him, his cock straining in His hand, and he was overwhelmed with pleasure. He came with a roar that surprised them both, and he took Him along for the ride. They shuddered as their world exploded, and drifted quietly off to sleep, sated.

Now, it is a routine. He fucks Xander every day and Xander begs Him for more. He drinks only rarely, and those are the best times, the times that Xander feels closest to dying, feels the most alive.

Every night he begs for death, but He is still withholding it.

Xander has found something better than alcohol, better than heroin, and he knows one day it will kill him. One day, He will drink a little too much, go a little too far during their passionate encounters, and give Xander the only consummation he truly desires.

Angel returns to the bed, and Xander hopes today is that day.

End

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Disclaimer: All Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, David Greenwalt, Greenwolf Productions, Sand Dollar, and the Kuzuis. I do not own them and do not intend any infringement on any copyrights.