The cave, the living rock

Consciousness returned stubbornly, almost as stubbornly as the feeling in his limbs and the memory of his name. Spike. You’re Spike. Right. Good. Sorted that out, then. Where’s Xander? Careful sniff. Nowhere around. Not sure if that’s good or bad.

Shifting carefully, Spike determined that all his limbs were present and accounted for, including his head. Good God, his head. As soon as he remembered its existence, it started throbbing, pounding, aching. He would have groaned aloud, but he didn’t want the vibration to make his brain rupture and start leaking out his ears. He tried to lift one shaking hand, only to hit it against some kind of stone before he managed to bring it to his own face.

Okay, Spike thought patiently, through the jackhammer in his skull. He was prone, his muscles and other parts were really unwilling to make the effort to change that by getting up or moving in any way, and there was something unforgiving digging into his back. The air around him smelt stale, dusty, and the only sound he could hear was the occasional skittering of pebbles on stone.

And there was what felt like a very large rock sitting on his stomach.

There were very few possible explanations for this particular situation. None of them were good. No Xander, and there were one or two gaps in his memory that were making him a little uneasy. Spike stilled, playing dead and pushing the pain in his head to one side so he could listen. It was quiet, and he couldn’t feel the air move. Wherever he was, he was sealed in, and there was nothing else in there with him.

Thank heaven for small mercies.

A few very deep breaths, and a few very necessary minutes bracing himself, Spike risked the contact between light and his protesting brain, and cracked an eyelid.

No light. His brain didn’t explode. Call that a win, then.

Then, of course, once he’d rolled his eyeball around a little and creaked open the other eye, Spike realised that the no-light problem was apparently epidemic. There was no light anywhere. He blinked a few times, and was embarrassingly surprised when nothing happened. Still dark. For a creature with night vision, this was a little disconcerting.

Fuck it. Time to get moving and try to make sense of this. Getting stern with his arms, Spike managed to heave the rock off his belly. The effort left him gasping for a second, and the pain in his head increased to the point where he was actually afraid he might puke. Bloody hell, was he concussed? What the hell could concuss a vampire?

At that moment, it all came flooding back.

The bull

A little while later, Spike was almost as annoyed at his still-throbbing head as he was at the constellations and the universe in general. He pulled roughly at the stones blocking the way to the tunnel outside, cursing planetary alignment and cults.

After a few moments of coughing pathetically and feeling around in the dark, he’d remembered what had happened, and worked out where he was. The explosion had been a ripper, he’d been lucky not to be toasted. It was damn lucky Xander hadn’t been with him, too. Getting trapped alone in the chambers underneath the sodding temple had seemed like a fair compromise, until he’d stood and cracked his head on a concrete slab that’d fallen over the hole he’d tumbled down.

So yes, the slab had probably stopped the rest of the rubble from completely burying him, and, coupled with the caved-in tunnels, was probably the reason for the oppressive darkness he’d found himself in. But as grateful as he was that he wasn’t actually blind and hadn’t been completely tenderized by the avalanche, it meant he couldn’t just climb out the way he came.

So he was digging. And it was sodding annoying. The darkness was total, and he’d had to strain his ears to hear the faintest rush of wind, to find the tunnel entrance. He’d bashed his head on the slab again when he started towards the tunnel, tripped more times than he cared to think about, and around the time he’d realised the tunnel entrance had caved in, he’d also come to the conclusion that investigating the suspicious temple alone when he was supposed to be out stealing a Christmas tree wasn’t one of his better plans, even if he’d seen some weird lights and the temple had a history of ritual murders during the week after the winter solstice.

Xander was going to be furious when he missed Christmas Eve, again.

No, that wasn’t right. He wouldn’t be angry. He’d understand, and probably sympathise, be sorry that Spike had missed Christmas, and that was more bloody annoying than anything. Because Spike wanted to be home, not reorganizing a tunnel-full of rocks in the dark, and it’d be all the stupid bloody bull-worshipping cult’s fault if he wasn’t. Honestly, who raised a bull-god, only to trigger a massive explosion the second some random vampire stumbled across the ceremony after-party? And who the hell booby-trapped a temple, anyway?

Well, just about everyone, actually, he admitted internally, after a moment’s reflection. But still. Enough explosives to send the entire building, plus vampire, crashing down into the basement, apparently killing all the worshippers and possibly the god? Overkill.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled another few rocks out. His internal rant hadn’t distracted him from the fact that the darkness was really starting to bother him. It pressed on his back, spurring him to dig faster and be less careful with the rocks and rubble than he should be. Every rock he tossed back into the dark behind him risked another cave-in, but Spike couldn’t bring himself to care too much. He needed to be out of there.

 Three torn fingernails and what felt like hours later, slight glimmers of light were finally coming through.

More than glimmers. Sound, the sound of rocks getting pulled away and someone scraping something metal. Spike paused.

“Who’s out there?” he yelled sharply. There was a demonic bull-god on the loose, assuming it hadn’t been killed in the explosion, and he wasn’t interested in playing toad-in-the-hole. If it thought it was digging its way for a snack, he’d bloody well give it something to chew on. He’d had enough shite for one evening.

“Spike?” came a familiar voice, threading through the rock.

“Xander?” Spike’s heart skipped. “Get the hell out of here, love, there’s some rampant bull on the loose.”

“Took care of that already. Keep digging, alright? I want to get you out of there.” The sounds from the other side started up again, and Spike went back to pulling at stone, trying to ignore the way his heart lightened. By some miracle, the whole tunnel didn’t collapse around them, and Spike soon found himself staring at Xander’s face, lit by the flickering flame of a torch.

“Jesus, pet, am I ever glad to see you,” he rasped, feeling a little the worse for wear now that he could smell freedom and night air coming through the gap they’d made in the rocks.

“Climb out,” Xander instructed tersely, and Spike was grateful to lean on a strong shoulder as he climbed out of the darkness on shaky legs. The tunnel was bright by torchlight, and Xander – warm, worried, and armed a bloodied broadsword – held him up when he swayed, dark eyes taking in the cuts and scrapes that were just starting to sting.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, encouraging Spike to sling an arm over his shoulder so they could walk.

They weaved steadily out of the half-collapsed tunnel. When they reached the mithraeum’s roofless and rubble-strewn antechamber, Spike cast an admiring glance over the dead body of a bull-god, its slit throat leaking blood onto the cold stone ground.

The unconquered sun, light in the darkness

Spike leaned back in the bath, hot water and Willow’s herby bath soak gently easing the ache of his bruises. He listened drowsily to a shuffling and rustling noise, then after a minute shifted forwards. The water surged around him as Xander climbed in behind, one knee bumping Spike’s elbow as he edged his legs down the tub to make a vee around Spike. When Spike leaned back again, it was to the luxury of a strong body behind him.

“How does your head feel?” Xander asked softly, running his arms around Spike’s torso in comfortable embrace.

“Mmmm,” was all the answer Spike bothered to give. He’d tipped the head in question back against Xander’s shoulder, forehead resting against throat and jaw. The sound of Xander’s breath, the smell, the hum of life and warmth he could feel through the skin pressed against his own, all of it surrounded him, and the headache was gone.

For long moments, Xander was content to hold him, splash around a bit, and toe the hot water on every so often to keep them warm, while Spike practically slept on top of him.

“Hey, Spike?” he finally said.

“Yes, love?” Spike answered, voice low and clear. It’d just started to snow outside.

“I love you,” Xander said, after a pause.

He said it softly, intimately between them, but also like it was nothing, like it was just another daily fact, necessary and mundane. Like it was as easy as breathing, like it was a habit he was fond of but found completely unremarkable. Like it wasn’t the bravest thing in the world, to love.

 Spike didn’t have to breathe. He wasted a moment reminding himself of that. Didn’t have to cry, either.

He managed to keep the tears at bay, this time, anyway. And he thought he did a good job at keeping the sudden surge of panic, adoration and strange calm that welled up firmly internal as well.

Composure back in place, Spike lifted his hand from the water, and, dripping, reached for Xander’s where he’d stretched out his arm along the edge of the tub. Spike laced their fingers together, his palm against the back of Xander’s hand. He could feel Xander watching over his shoulder, feel his patience.

Feeling solemn and strangely not-silly, Spike pressed their hands against his chest. Xander’s palm was a solid, heavy warmth on the spot where there was once a heartbeat. Behind him, Xander’s breath quickened, and he curled closer around Spike, resting his chin on Spike’s shoulder.

Spike tipped his head back again, returning his nose to where it’d been resting on Xander’s jaw. He breathed deep, exhaled slowly, remembering darkness and the glimmers of light he’d been able to see.

“I love you, too,” he said softly. What little he could see of Xander’s smile from this angle was like the brightest light – so bright, it hurt his eyes.