Wants.

What a strange word. It sounds almost too simple to describe the emotion behind it. To want something, to really want something and not have it can be painful. Almost to the point of torture.

Xander wants a lot of things he can’t have. He wants love, friends, a real family, a decent car, a bigger apartment, a date with Miss July, a second chance to go back and fix things with Anya - he never should have proposed, he wants his friends to respect him… The list is ongoing.

His friends. Hmm. He wonders sometimes if that is what they really are. A lot of the time they don’t feel like friends, more like… superiors. They tell him what to do, how to do it, and when to have it done by. It’s always “Xander, put that over there” or “Xander can you fix that?” and of course who can forget “Xander, don’t forget the jellies.” Ah yes, fond high-school memories.

They don’t love him. Not really. How could they, and still treat him the way they do? Like a pet, or a possession. Willow used to love him, before the magic took control of her life. Before Oz, before Tara, before they knew about what went bump in the night. Buffy has never loved him. She likes him well enough to keep him around but it’s more for what he can do for her than anything else. Anya, Anya loved the idea of being in love. She wanted the dream. The perfect marriage, perfect children, perfect house with the perfect little white picket fence. Oh, and the orgasms. Can’t forget the orgasms, but she never really loved him - Xander - she just thought she was supposed to because they were together.

Some days, all Xander wants is an escape. He wants to be anything other than the good little slayerette who always does what he should. He wants to laugh at the old woman who slipped on the banana peel and lost all of her oranges, instead of helping her to her feet and picking up the afore mentioned fruit.

Xander wants to hurt someone, several someones in fact. A certain blonde someone who has never looked at him the way he wanted her to, a red haired someone who’s constant reminders of his non-super hero status make him constantly think less of himself, and of course, his now brunette again ex-fiancée who tried to have his friends - his friends - make a wish so she could curse him. He wants to hurt them. But he’s Xander. So he won’t.

That’s where Spike comes in.

Spike wants what Xander can give him. He wants to be hurt, punished, used and abused. He craves the beatings, the humiliation, the chance to atone himself by enduring the very acts he himself committed. Not all of them of course. Xander isn’t that cruel.

But with Spike, he can take out his frustrations of not being good enough, of not being special. With Spike, he is everything. He is the only one who can give Spike what he needs, what he craves. And seeing him, when he’s all submissive, makes Xander want to hurt him. He wants to make Spike pay for being stronger than he is, for having Buffy when he knows he never will, for making him feel things for him that he shouldn’t.

He picks up the paddle and brings it down hard on Spikes exposed rear end. The chaps were a good idea on his part. He figured if Spike was going to act like a sub, he should look the part as well. It makes Spike feel ashamed, which he seems to like, so it’s all good.

After the paddle, when Spike is begging, Xander throws him to the floor and mounts him quickly. He doesn’t bother to prepare the vampire, just pushes in savagely. He knows that it hurts him. But he also knows that Spike enjoys the pain. He’ll have to hit him again when he’s finished, Spike isn’t supposed to get off on this. He’ll have to be punished.

The first time it happened was an accident. Xander had had a bad day at work followed by a bad night patrolling. Both Buffy and Willow had told him to go home, that he’d only be in the way. Then he saw them take Dawn with them when they left the house. DAWN! So he did what any man would do after being tossed aside for a fifteen year old girl. He went out on his own.

He was of course, utterly humiliated to have to be rescued by said fifteen year old girl. It was a lucky shot on her part, but still very damaging to Xander’s ego. When his ‘friends’ were done berating him for not going home when they told him to, he left. But he still didn’t go home. Not until he’d stopped by the bronze and had a beer… or five.

Spike was more annoying than usual that night. Or perhaps Xander just had less patience? Either way, it led to the same thing. Xander beat Spike bloody and took him - brutally - over the back of the sofa.

Of course Xander was horrified when he realized what he’d done. Tony Harris would have been proud to know his boy was following in his footsteps. He spent an hour in the shower scrubbing himself raw and sobbing until the hot water ran out. Spike slept without nightmares that night for the first time since getting his soul.

It didn’t happen again for almost two weeks. But when it did, it was just as good - or bad, depending on who you asked. Spike figured out after the first time that he needed this. So he went about taunting and annoying Xander until it happened again. Afterwards, they talked.

So now, Xander knows why Spike wants this, the act of submission for him is therapeutic. It makes a weird kind of sense to him. He tries to tell himself that he’s only doing this because Spike needs it. He knows it’s a lie.

The truth is, Xander wants. He wants to dominate Spike. Wants to hurt him. Wants to humiliate him and torture him. He wants to bury himself so deep inside the cold hard body that he won’t feel anything anymore. Won’t feel the pain of being rejected by his friends. Won’t feel the frustration of being stuck in this God forsaken town because of his sense of duty. Won’t feel the sting of rejection from the next failed relationship he’s doomed to have. Won’t have to think about why he cares if this makes Spike feel better.

He wants to stop being the zeppo, the doughnut boy. He wants to be seen for who is really is. He wants to be respected. He wants someone to love him for him. All of him. The loser, the science-fiction geek, the noble white-knight, the insecure little boy who still hides his pain behind lame jokes and loud clothing, and the man he has become. The man that he so called friends don’t see.

When it’s all over, when Spike is once again broken and bleeding and laying on the cold cement floor, he picks him up, cradles him to his chest and tells him he’s sorry. He is. He’s sorry that he does this, that he wants this, that Spike wants this. He cuts himself, like he always does, and closes his eyes as Spike feeds.

He wants this too. He wants to feel Spikes mouth on his flesh, feel him draw his blood from his veins. He wants to know that a part of him is inside with Spike even after they are finished. He wants to remember that he is giving life to Spike. It makes him feel better about the pain he has caused him. It makes him feel important. For this moment, at least, Spike needs him. Xander wants that feeling. Being needed.

He helps Spike back upstairs to his apartment. Then he undresses him and puts him in the bath. Spike is always quiet after these sessions. But it’s good, Xander doesn’t want him to speak while he bathes him, dries him and puts him to bed.

In the darkness of his own bedroom, Xander thinks about other things that he wants. The things he knows he can never have. He wants, just once, to touch Spike in passion instead of anger. To kiss him, softly, like a lover. He wants to see Spike look at him with love, he wants to love him in return.

He wants to, but he can’t. Spike doesn’t want Xander, he wants Buffy. Spike doesn’t want love from him, he wants redemption. He doesn’t want affection, he wants humiliation and pain.

Spike wants what Xander can give him. Xander wants what he can never have.