The Book of Averted Prophecy: Chapter I

[madimpossibledreamer]

I reserve the right to return to this at some point, but I've been sitting on it unsure if I'm going to finish it for years, so filing it under alternative paths seemed the Thing to Do.  (There are a few chapters after this.)  I at least have plans of finishing the other things not under that tag, even if they might go on hiatus for a while.
So.  Catch-up.  Season 7, the First affecting Spike, established Spike/Xander.  You can see where I've been just playing around with ideas, because there are elements in common with some of the Giles' Detective Agency works.  The whole world restart thing is a little Echoes of Our Hearts, and you can see where I settled on a Demonform for Xander (technically, I call it Dragonborn, so he might be half-dragon, but it's there).
I confess I've never seen Rocky Horror Picture Show; I know the song because several Halloween mixtapes include it (and it is a catchy song).

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry
Chapter Summary: EDIT-The plan didn't quite go as Xander expected.
Word Count: 633
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Spike/Xander

         “Can you ‘ear me, luv?”  Xander blinks, but the world is fuzzy and spinning, and right now it doesn’t seem to be the place to be.  So he closes his eyes again instead, shivering.  Maybe the next time he opens his eyes, he thinks, the world will not be a bright, blurry place that scares him, and then he’ll be okay with actually interacting with it.
         “It’s me.  Please, luv, I know you’re there.  Open your eyes for me, sweet’eart.”  The English voice sounds kind of scared, pleading.  Maybe he should actually think about opening his eyes again.  After all, if someone’s worried about him, then there might be comfort and hot chocolate with marshmallows or edible goodies waiting.
         Think, Xander.  How come your head feels like splitting open this time?
         -stake me, I’ll kill again-The First, messing with our heads-oh, luv, you know how to make a vampire feel-He’s mine, Buff-The plan is I go in, he’ll never know what-a little scratch where Dragonborn are-trigger, Buffy, it’s not him-Xander, I know, and I’m sor-I’m lying on the floor and my insides are on fire and I never knew it could hurt like-started to think I was invincible, I mean, really, part dragon here, it takes a lot to kill a-what was I thinking, this-and not the good kind of fire, the Dragonborn basking kind of-because they really are just big lizard cats aren’t-Shh, luv-hand in his hair, even as he shudders and shakes and the world is-and Spike’s not going to make it okay, Spike hurt and oh g-I believed in you, Spike, I still believe-
         On the other hand, maybe he should just keep them closed and never open them again.
         “-don’t want to lose you, Xander.  If you can’t make your way out, doctors are sayin’…I can’t let ‘em, but please, please, if you ever loved-”
         And Xander opens his eyes, and this time the world’s clear.
         For some reason, he’s crouching, holding his stomach, backed into a corner, and Spike is staring at him.
         Least, he thinks it’s Spike.  It looks almost exactly like him, but there’s something lacking.  For some reason, the bad boy look, the danger he could always smell—it’s gone.  He’s wearing the duster, and the clothes-the clothes look right for the Big Bad that he’d always claimed he most definitely was.  But there’s no swagger, no smirk, no expression that matches the outfit.  The eyes are soft and blue and terrified.  He’s holding himself back.  It’s clear that he wants to reach out, to hold, but he doesn’t want to scare.  But hope’s come from somewhere, too, shining and pure, and his eyes really are pretty, aren’t they?  “You know ‘oo I am, sweet’eart?”
         Xander furrows his brow.  What sort of a question is that?  He’s pretty sure Spike is getting the ‘you’re completely stupid’ look, because he looks a mite confused, too.  “Your name, or your nickname?”
         The tiniest hint of a hopeful smile adds to the gentle, cute look.  It’s a far cry from the dressed in black, possessed and injecting him from liquid fire deal which is what happened the last time they saw each other.  He likes it better.  “Either, Xan.  Enough to tell me you’re really-” He chokes up, which just adds to the surreal nature of the situation.
         “Spike.  Or William.  Take your pick.”  He’s not expecting the vampire to throw himself into his arms, hugging him tightly and crying.  Except-everybody, stop, hold the phones, stop the presses, put the world on pause just for a sec.
         Holy fanged creatures of the night, Batman.  That body is warm.  The one holding him and crying him.  There’s breathing, and a heartbeat.
         Spike’s alive.