Comfortador 

by Kylia

Xander flopped down on his bed with a sigh. His eyes found the ceiling in a move that was not uncommon of late. He hadn't slept in three days, although exhaustion was starting to overtake him. He just couldn't bring himself to close his eyes and surrender to sleep.

He knew, if he did, the dream would come back. It would haunt him. Riddled with its bizarreties, and its accuracy's. Xander knew that the dreams had been brought about by the spell they performed to help Buffy fight Adam, but that didn't still his fear.

The knowledge that he couldn't hide behind his ignorance anymore. He had scene himself, and he couldn't hide anymore. He stared unwaveringly at the ceiling as his mind replayed every second of his dream. Much of it remained senseless, but equally as much pointed out things he hadn't wanted to admit. Some of which he wasn't ready to face.

He didn't want to analyze the place in his dream the woman in his life had appeared. Nor did he even begin to understand why he had envisioned Spike as a watcher of all things. But despite these confusing visions, other things were blaringly obvious.

Hid consistent and frequent return to his basement screamed at him the fact that he truly was going nowhere. Had never been anywhere, and wasn't likely to go anywhere in the future. He was running around in some sick and twisted circle, play acting that his life meant something, when in actually it had no more substance than the man with the cheese.

If the recurring basement theme wasn't enough, the feeling he had had at realizing that he was practically invisible, reminded him of just where he stood with those around him. No where. He had run from the creature that appeared to be stalking him, but when he had found his friends, they couldn't even bother to notice he was there. Not even Anya. She had seemed less concerned than anyone throughout the entire dream.

Xander wondered if his inability to understand Giles and Anya in the halls of the school was more systematic of not being understood himself. Not that it mattered. He never had been understood, and probably never would be. Knowing and admitting the truth, however, did not make it easier to deal with.

He took a deep shaky breath as he ran a hand through his hair. He had analyzed and reanalyzed every nuance of his dream, and still the conclusion he had come to was that he was a serious waste of more than just space. He was a waste of energy. Of life. Even his father could see that. But then his parents had always been able to see that, hadn't they?

A noise outside disturbed Xander's inward thoughts. For a moment he froze, wondering who was outside and if they had come to put him out of his misery. Then he chuckled morosely. No, that wasn't it. He wasn't even worth a demon trying to kill him. Even Spike didn't find him biteable. That realization just proved to depress him more.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the door open. He felt more than heard the presence, although he wasn't really sure how that was possible. Xander groaned silently at the intrusion on his melancholy move as the intruder moved farther into the room.

***** 

Spike entered the basement quietly, although he wasn't trying to keep his presence a secret. He wasn't even sure why he was there. He needed a place to crash that was one of the reasons, but not the only reason, he had to admit.

He had wanted to check on the boy. He had seemed a little shaky after the battle at the Initiative's base, and the soulless demon found himself in the unusual position of being concerned. So, here he was, in Xander's basement. Xander's darkened oppressive basement. He could feel this thickness in the air, weighing everything down.

"Xapper?" He called into the darkened room.

"Go away." Xander's voice was devoid of any emotion. No shock at Spike's presence. No irritation. Not even a hint of sarcasm. It was this lack of emotion, which alerted the vampire that something was wrong.

Spike made his way over to the bed and shrugged off his duster. He sat on the bed and took a good look at the boy, his superior eyesight seeing clearly in the dark.

Xander felt the bed shift but kept his gaze on the ceiling. "Why are you here Spike?"

"Need a place to crash." Spike answered as he took in the resigned way in which Xander stared at the ceiling.

"Help yourself." Xander moved his arm from behind his head and shifted his body over slightly.

Spike wasn't sure if Xander was offering him the bed or not, but he decided he would take it anyway. He took off his boots and jeans and pulled off his shirt and lay back in the bed. He was slightly surprised when Xander didn't complain.

Spike's eyes followed Xander's to the ceiling. "What are we watching, pet?" He asked, letting a slight hint of humor to creep into his voice.

Xander ignored him.

Spike was about to say something else when Xander turned to look at him for the first time since Spike had entered the room. Xander's dark brown eyes bore into Spike's blue, and if he had had breath, it would have been caught. It wasn't so much what he saw in their depths, but what he didn't. There was nothing. No humor, no sarcasm, no anger or anything else he had come to expect to see in the young man's eyes. It was just empty, devoid of any emotion.

"You need a place to sleep? You have it." Xander motioned around the bed they both occupied. "You need some blood, have at it." He pointed to the small refrigerator in one corner of the room. "You need somewhere to crash for the day..." He looked around the room pointedly before returning his gaze to the vampire. "But if it's conversation you want... you're in the wrong place."

Spike watched in something resembling shock as the Xander returned his gaze to the ceiling. Spike's eyes followed him, trying to gauge what was wrong, and failing miserably. After several long minutes, Spike noticed the young man's breathing become even as he fell into an exhausted slumber.

As he listened to Xander's heart beating rhythmically in his chest, Spike found himself staring at the ceiling. What he was looking at, he wasn't entirely sure. Nearly an hour later, he felt the bed move and heard the distinct sharp intake of breath as a whimper left the boys lips. Soon, his body stiffened in remembered pain. Pain of what, Spike wasn't entirely certain. He heard the rapid beating of his heart, which sounded like a wildly stampeding herd.

Spike did the only thing he could; he pulled the trembling youth into his cool arms, and wrapped himself tightly around him, showing him some small measure of comfort. After what seemed to be hours, Xander quieted down and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

Spike was hesitant to let him go. Partly because he didn't want the nightmare to start again. Partly because he was enjoying the feel of Xander's warm body snuggled against his cooler one. Soon, the vampire followed him into sleep.

***** 

Xander's mind was heavy with fog as he strained to gain consciousness. The first thing he noticed was he was not alone in his bed. He was snuggled against something cold, and hard, and decidedly dead. The previous night's memories came back to him in a rush. 

Spike, in his bed, comforting him. He wasn't sure if that was a dream or not, but considering the position he found himself in now, he didn't think so. Reluctantly, Xander climbed out of bed, trying not to wake the vampire. He wasn't ashamed of needed to be comforted by the demon, he wasn't even sorry it had happened. However, neither was he interested in having to deal with the blonde or explain why he had needed such comfort, in the arms of a killer.

Xander shook his head at the thoughts swirling through his head, and made his way into the bathroom. He had a job to get to, and a pretend little life to resume. He only hoped that Spike was gone when he came back. He had no desire to set himself up for mocking ridicule at the hands of the vampire.

*****