between today and tomorrow

[madimpossibledreamer]

DC actually is pretty strict about firearms laws. That’s probably a really good thing, considering it’s a capital.
This was just going to be a two-parter, but three fits better (and also mirrors The Conversation). Especially with the gore that decided to come in.
actually realized when getting this ready to post that this actually is more parallels between Leon and Xander, sure, but there are actually some parallels between Xander and Ada here and I think that's neat

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry/Resident Evil/Background NCIS Crossover (Hold My Heart)
Chapter Summary: Leon isn't going to let Xander go through this alone.
Word Count: 1572
Rating: Teen
Warning: some weird half-demon gore, wound care

        Leon had been only half expecting Xander to open the door. He hadn’t been sounding too aware, and it’s not the first time that Leon has had to get in through less than recommended means. Neither option is what happens, though. His eyes are drawn to the slight smear of blood against the doorknob, already nearly entirely dried. He swallows.
        The thoughts are back, nightmare indistinguishable from life, and it’s trying to convince him that this is a sight he’s seen in those hellish hours in Raccoon City. He shoves that aside. Even if the image is close, it’s not the same, and even if it was, this is Xander. It’d be agony, probably, but Xander wouldn’t turn, not with that heritage of his, and for the first time Leon fervently is grateful for the fact that his sweetheart has devil’s blood.
        And then the door’s unlocked, which is nothing of what he’d expected. Xander’s almost religious about making sure to lock his doors. Leon’s not sure if it has to do with some past event he wants to make sure to avoid repeating at all costs, or if it actually counts as an invitation for some kinds of demons. It fits the nightmare, though. Leon steps inside, more hesitant than he truly intends. It’s probably a good thing he didn’t have his gun on him. He’s tempted to draw it, and that would just mess up Xander’s head more.
        ...But it’s dark. He’d say that’s a sign of Xander’s mental state, too, but then his shoes squelch a little in the carpet, and he glances down to see a dark shape. In this light, it’s impossible to tell what it is just by a glance, but humans happen to have more than one sense, and Leon’s nose can identify that as even more blood, enough that your average human would have to go to the hospital. And a thought occurs to him that makes his blood run if anything even colder. He doesn’t bother holding his instincts back anymore. He draws the knife. 
        The thing is, he doesn’t know if demons can mimic voices. Probably. And if someone was trying to set up some kind of trap, this would be a perfect choice. He follows the trail of blood to the bathroom, opening the door as to take something inside by surprise, knife at the ready.
        There does happen to be a devil inside. It’s just the one Leon happens to know, curling in on himself a little, sitting on the countertop and trying to wrap a limply hanging arm one-handed. At Leon’s entrance, he tries to swap back to his human form, only to stifle a sob when it jostles the arm, switching back immediately. Leon sheathes the knife immediately, crossing to Xander’s side.
        “I can do that,” he offers.
        Xander averts his gaze, like he’s feeling guilty for not being able to do that on his own. Leon doesn’t know everything from Xander’s childhood, but he’s pretty sure that’s one of those things that just lingers, like the hypervigilance about zombies. Or maybe he’s feeling guilty about Leon ‘having to see’ him like this? He gets weird about it. Maybe because he thinks that Leon still feels guilty about stabbing him the first time Leon had seen this—and yeah, it wasn’t his finest hour, but he’s still learning to control his instincts, rather than letting them control him. He’s mostly gotten over that.
        Eventually, Xander makes the smallest gesture of holding out his arm for Leon, though it’s clear the hesitation and lack of a larger gesture is a mixture between vulnerability and pain.
        The snarl and fangs would probably be intimidating if Leon had any clue that Xander would die rather than hurt him. In this case, though, he’s guessing it’s a snarl of pain. The entire reason the arm is hanging limply is that tendons are severed. The bone is broken, though it’s hard to identify if it’s poking out of the skin or not, but the actual appearance of the flesh isn’t any more human-typical than the skin.
        Leon can’t even imagine what it took for something to actually manage to hurt Xander this thoroughly. And he wishes more than anything Xander wasn’t hurt—because it’s obvious that this is hurting him, however much he might want to retreat, like a wounded cat. Lick his wounds, re-emerge when his dignity is intact. Even though he doesn’t have to do that in front of Leon. But a twisted part of Leon is actually taking this as reassuring, because here’s this horrible scene he’s seen a hundred times from Raccoon City, and yet Xander’s alive on the other side of it.
        It takes him a little while to realize that Xander’s not sitting stiffly because he’s in pain, or even because the flesh is knitting itself back together around his ribs and even, to a slower degree, around the arm, though it becomes clear they’re going to have to set it or it’ll heal wrong. Strange how normal that is, in the sea of all of this. But Xander’s not treating this like it’s normal, like he always does, and he’s hesitant to touch Leon like this.
        Well. If it’s up to Leon, he can take the lead, sure. “This is going to hurt. Lean down—yeah, that’s it, you’re doing great, babe…” It takes a little coaxing with a hand on the back of Xander’s neck, but eventually he buries his face gingerly in Leon’s shoulder, every bit the furnace he appears. Leon feels more than he hears the roar when he pushes the bone back, Xander’s fangs catching a little in Leon’s leather jacket. Xander will probably feel bad about that later, like Leon wouldn’t wear it like a badge of pride. Better than getting snagged on something stupid. He’d earned it looking after the guy he loves. The demonic echo is a little harsher than normal, even, with Xander’s ragged breathing. He spots the Vital Stars in a glass container on the countertop, charmingly like a devil hunter’s pillbox, and decides that while the healing seems to be going pretty well, it could use a little hurrying along. Xander snarls but doesn’t even bother to complain.
        “You might not know the answer to this, but, uh. Did you have a plan with the ‘wrapping your arm’ thing?” Okay, judging by Xander’s even more obnoxious crunching, perhaps this isn’t exactly the time for teasing, but then, if he’s doing well enough to be an ass, then he’s feeling a little better himself.
        “I’ve reset bones that way before,” Xander admits. Maybe it’s not too much of a surprise that he’d actually managed that, but it had to have hurt more healing it that way than by doing it the right way. He hesitates again and then just rests his head against Leon’s shoulder again. It’s sweet. By the way the tension has disappeared and the accelerated healing and the way Xander’s going a little limp, he’s suddenly falling asleep. That answers Leon’s question whether Vital Stars act as painkillers too. Given that Xander guessed they were some sort of preparation of green herbs, he’d guessed so, but he hadn’t actually known for sure.
        “You can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt.” He’d been trying to respect Xander’s wishes that he ignore it, but he figures he might need it for this.
        “Not as much as you’d think.” Which is probably as close as Xander can come to actually admitting it. He’s being entirely truthful about the pain while still minimizing it, still suggesting that it’s not something Leon should concern himself about.
        So Leon leans in, overly telegraphing his movements like either of them aren’t observant enough to notice without help. Xander allows the kiss, slightly too searing in a way that’s simultaneously uncomfortable and going to feature in several of Leon’s fantasies, but he seems a little more bewildered than anything. He switches back into his human skin after the fact, though, this time firmly ignoring any discomfort or loss of healing ability. As if this side of him is a monster, only meant for fighting. (But then, isn’t that how Leon sees parts of himself, broken, dangerous to the ones he loves?) “They say kisses help with healing,” he offers, unsure if he’s being utterly, romantically sincere or if he’s using a line and complete uncaring which is which. The new version of him, the one forged by Krauser and the US Government, the naive police officer he’d thought had died long ago—it doesn’t matter which of them he is anymore, because both of them are here for Xander.
        Xander’s glance is skeptical. He’s not wearing his eyepatch—another casualty of the fight tonight, it seems. Leon’s kind of wondered since last time how one manages to survive the transformation at all, but his best guess is magic, courtesy of Willow, and this isn’t the time for that kind of thing, anyway.
        “We’re dating. I have a right to care. No matter what face you’re wearing at the moment,” he adds, and it turns out that’s all the prompting Xander needs. He leans in again, but this time it’s to hide his face, and before long his whole body is shaking from wracking sobs. Leon holds him, rubbing his arms, murmuring sweet nothings and letting him have this moment because he needs it.