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I've fucked Xander.
Seen him gasp and moan and his eyes go wide like the virgin he was at the first feel of what it meant to be inside a woman. It's not something I think about often. There's not much reason. But in prison, watching, learning - first times took on a whole new meaning.
What they should be, could be, what people wished for when the choice was taken out of their hands. 'Uncle' Claude took that choice out of my hands when I was 14. Or was it 15 ? Hard to remember. It was all broken glass and too cold rooms and mom passed out with a bottle somewhere till someone got bored and wanted newer flesh.
But in prison, hearing what happened to other girls and hearing the older women get angry. Hearing what happened when the stupid ones went after someone innocent and tried to take away that special moment. I'd think of Xander. And how amazed he'd been by it all. And how I'd kicked him out, and then later tried to strangle him; because he dared to think he shared a connection with me.
Caleb was right. Xander did see things. He just didn't always say it; cause sometimes people weren't ready to hear.
Giles is up there, past the first floor, pacing in B's room. I guess he doesn't want to face the pimple patrol just yet. Plus they never really knew Xander. I'm not sure I count in the 'but we did'. But fucking a guy has to count somewhere in the intimacies of life.
The whole house is tense. It's annoying. I've had a few years now to get used to people getting scared and hurt and learning to live with it.
So B made a judgement call and things turned out wrong. This isn't the movies, kiddies. People get hurt. People die. There's a balance between determination and burning courage. Find it.
Angel found it.
The pacing gets to me after a while; all the silent shuffling back and forth upstairs until I have to step up and out and head to the back porch. And there's Spike.
I bum a cigarette off him, leaning against him, sprawled on the step, but he doesn't want to play anymore. He's tense, all his muscles bunched up under the leather.
"He'll be fine. He's strong."
Spikes turns his head slowly and nods. "Still makes a difference, don't it."
I shrug. He's not lying. "Yeah. Makes it personal. A fight's always better when it's personal."
Spike's eyes flash and he smiles, slowly, grimly. "Yeah."
Poor Caleb. That look says the son of a bitch is going down. Of course I'm still confused. Last I heard Blondie was chasing Blondie. And that look is pure possession.
When did I start seeing things no one else does ? When did we all get stained by Xander's blood ?