Title: Whisper on a scream...

Author: Scorpio

EMail: scorpiofic@aol.com

Archive: yes...

Fandom: BtVS

Pairing: Spike/Xander (implied Angel/Spike/Xander)

Rating: R (darkfic)

Category: future fic, *death!story*, angst

Disclaimer: Joss & Co own the boys... I'm just playing for fun, not profit. Lyrics by Kenny Wayne Shepard. (title from lyrics)

Warnings: Death fic...

Summary: Close to two hundred years in the future Xander is left alone...

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Whisper On A Scream...
by Scorpio
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Blue on Black

Night falls, I'm alone
Skin chilled to the bone
You turned and ran
Slipped right from my hands

(chorus)
Blue on black
Tears on a river
Push on a shove
Don't mean much
Joker on Jack
Match on a fire
Cold on ice
A dead man's touch
Whisper on a scream
Doesn't change a thing
Won't bring you back
Blue on black

Blind, now I see
Truth, lies, and in between
Wrong can't be undone
Slipped from the tip of your tongue

(chorus)

Xander stood still as only the undead can. His glowing yellow eyes could see every detail of the headstone before him. Each fissure and tiny flaw. Each miniscule crevice in the falsely smooth polished surface... a surface which reflected, not him, but the young red headed Slayer bound and gagged at his feet.

Kneeling, he reached out and traced the outline of the carved letters with one finger.


ANGEL
Childe, Sire, Human
Redemption is Yours
May you find eternal peace


With a whimper, Xander realized his sensitive fingertips could still feel the gritty dust of his Sire's ashes on the surface of his GrandSire's headstone. An icy cold wave of mind wrenching loss and
sorrow swept over him, leaving him shuddering. Tears of blood dripped unnoticed from his demonic eyes.

Lost in a torrent of memories, Xander once again heard the voice of his long dead best friend echo hollowly in his ears as her small fingers clenched painfully at his hand. "Don't... don't worry Xander. I'll... I'll do the soul restoration spell. I... I promise! But... you... you *have* to let Spike do this! You'll *die* if you don't." And it was true. His friends had all been crouched around his broken body as his blood seeped into the frozen winter grass. And then Spike was there and the world was washed in crimson lust and spiraling pain.

When he had awoken, he was undead, chained to a bed with his Sire trying to unshackle him before the Slayer and the Witch returned with the supplies needed for the spell. Alas... it wasn't to be. Buffy and Willow had returned and Willow completed the spell, even as Buffy physically held back a snarling and raging Spike who was trying to protect his only Childe.

That had been the beginning. What had followed was a whirlwind of conflicting needs and hungers. Guilt and conscience in a never ending battle with the hunger and the fierce joy of the kill. That had also been when his relationship with Spike first began making it's metamorphosis into what it was destined to become.

Sire and Childe.

Lovers.

Friends.

At first, it had been all about the physical. The need, the hunger, the lust. Spike had taught him what he needed to know to survive and everyone thought that he'd leave it at that, but they had been wrong. They hadn't counted on what *Spike* needed.

His Sire had been one of a kind. A chipped vampire. Unable to hurt humans, unable to kill them. Ostracized by his own kind and the only humans who were willing to put up with him were his greatest enemies, the ones he hated above all else. The ones he loved above all else... But now, he suddenly had a *Childe*. Someone who was drawn to and then bound to him by ties of blood. Someone who, not only knew about the details of his condition, but also accepted him anyway. Someone who *needed* him, and Spike had *always* needed to be needed.

So, they hunted demons in the dark of night. One vampire with a microchip and one with a soul. They hunted and fought side by side. They drank pig's blood from matching coffee mugs as they mercilessly teased Giles together. They moved into Spike's crypt and indulged their demonically inspired need for violent and blood-soaked sex in each other's arms.

Due to Xander's desire to talk to Angel about his soul and how Willow could modify *his* so that, like Xander's own, it wouldn't contain the nasty happiness clause, Spike and Angel enjoyed a respite from their habitual hostilities. After Willow had 'fixed' Angel, the older vampire resumed his love affair with Buffy and then they offered Xander a place to live and work if he ever wanted to leave Spike. Xander had refused to separate from his Sire. He had explained it to Angel in a way that made his GrandSire understand. "You keep acting like he's a soulless brute, but he's *not*. Yeah, sure, *we* got *our* souls courtesy of a beautiful red-headed witch with a heart of gold and as such, they're of a... mystical nature. But Spike's got one too. *His* just came courtesy of a mad scientist and her nasty little microchip. So, yeah, he *is* mean and crude and rough along the edges... but so are *lots* of souled beings. Take my father for instance..." And that had been that.

They continued to fight the good fight. Demons, vampires and evil forces of darkness found themselves going up against a Slayer, a Seer, two ex-Watchers, two Witches and a trio of Vampires who fought for the side of the angels and the PTB. Over the years, their mortal friends got married, grew old and died. Buffy's death nearly did Angel in, but still, they fought on. New mortal warriors came to them, each willing to pick up the weapons of a fallen comrade and carry on their work. Time passed and Xander fell hopelessly in love with the sarcastic and snarky Sire who had given him this unlife of danger, daring and lust-filled joy.

Angel flitted in and out of their bed over the course of the decades, depending on the state of his own personal love-life. No matter how many lovers the eldest vampire took, however, he was never again to be out of the live's or heart's of his Childe and GrandChilde. Xander had never known such happiness.

Then it happened. The long awaited day had finally come with a mixture of unparalleled joy and unspoken, but never diminishing sorrow. Angel had been granted his redemption. In a blinding flash of brilliant light and the scent of roses, the dark and ancient vampire was transformed into a living breathing human. The sound of his heartbeat echoing through their home had brought Xander to his knees even as Spike had clutched his, now mortal, Sire to his chest with tears streaming down his face.

The two remaining vampires had gone to *extreme* lengths to protect and coddle their beloved, and now frighteningly fragile, Angel. They had celebrated for a week. Plans upon plans had been made and Spike had threatened to invest in a fortune's worth of recording equipment to mark every change in the being that had been unchanged for a little over four centuries. Angel had promised to grow old with grace and dignity for the entertainment of his family.

But that was not to be.

Four months, *four* *short* *over-way-too-fast* *months* later, SHE destroyed Xander's entire world in five tiny little minutes.

Beverly Samantha Finn.

The Slayer.

Xander found it highly ironic that Riley Finn's descendant had been chosen as the Slayer by the PTB. Riley had never had a chance with Buffy once Angel's soul had been restored, but he *had* nurtured his hatred for the man... the demon... *Angel* in his children and his children's children. And Bev had that hatred rooted deep inside her, like a thorn amongst roses. Beautiful. Deadly.

She had burst into their home while Spike and he had been out hunting down a demon and found a mortal and vulnerable Angel alone and unguarded. The two vampires had returned victorious only to find a nastily worded message pinned to Angel's cold and still chest.

He had only had four months to enjoy his humanity, and then Beverly had stolen it away.

They had searched for her, but no one knew where she was. She had disappeared into the very air it seemed. No one had seen her and all paper trails led to carefully designed dead ends. She was gone... and so was Angel. Spike made all of the funeral arrangements with a deceptive calm and acceptance that worried Xander. Nothing he said or did seemed to get through to him, though.

Xander's Sire had waited until the last of the funeral goers had left into the deep of the night before he staked himself while kneeling over Angel's grave. Xander had tried to stop him, but the bleached blonde vampire had been too quick. Xander had been left standing over a newly turned grave with ash blowing into his grief ravaged face.

He had tipped his head back and howled out his pain to the uncaring stars. And then he had uncaged the demon which lived within him, gladly sacrificing the soul he had cherished for so very long.

Turning, he had stalked out of the cemetery. Forever changed, forever broken. And he hunted.

Now, three years later, he had returned. The red-headed Slayer who had destroyed his world lay at his feet, bound, gagged, helpless. He turned to her, his bloody tears drying on his cheeks in the cool wind. His glowing yellow eyes washed over her, cataloging, appraising, memorizing.

"I'm going to water their grave with your blood."

He watched as Beverly renewed her fruitless struggles and he reached out with one hand and ran it gently down the side of her beautiful face.

"Shhh.... no, no...don't struggle. It's just a whisper on a scream, doesn't change a thing..."