Wide open arms of hell 1/2 Giles/Xander

[drsquidlove]

Wide open arms of hell
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove@livejournal.com

It's the end of the world. Xander could probably handle that, if he didn't have to face it alone.

Giles/Xander. Serious angstitude. Apocalypse-fic. Set post-Chosen. Written for spring_with_xan.

This is taken from one of the 'ever after's in my 2007 fic Coming Home. This is the 'ever after' that stuck in my head. So the first two scenes may be familiar to regular readers of the squidlove.

Rated PG-13, for mature themes, of an 'everybody's dead' kind of nature. Sadly lacking in sex. No 'onscreen' violence. I don't warn for anything else.

6314 words


Giles, Xander, and all the characters of Buffy are the property of Mutant Enemy. I abuse them with love. The title is taken from the exquisite Into Temptation by Crowded House.

Huge thanks to lunabee34, for valuable advice.

Less-than-amusing side-note: this poor story almost had its own early end a year ago, when the original handwritten draft was blown out of my hands into a mangrove swamp, and I stood helplessly by as a couple of thousand words sank beneath the water. One of the most gutting moments of my life. But I made you again, little fic, 'cos I loved you.

Archive at No One Knows, please Sofy. In fact, I'm happy for this to be archived anywhere as long as the header, most particularly my e-mail address & website, are kept intact *on* the story. (Intact, please, not as a weird-arse link that will disappear with c+p.)


Wide open arms of hell
by Dr Squidlove

Xander closed his duffle and pushed it against the wall beside his shoes. He wandered back to the kitchen, took one last swig of cocoa and set it in the sink. Not long, now.

Last cup of cocoa. Weird.

He was looking around as he headed out of the kitchen, through the front room, up the stairs, like he was gonna remember it all better from these two minutes than from the last six months. No lingering down here, though.

Xander quietly pushed the door open and leaned in the jam. This is where he'd linger.

Giles had rolled onto his back, head flopped sideways, jaw shadowed lightly with stubble. His hair was squashed flat on the back, spiking weirdly everywhere else. This was the image he wanted to take with him; so much he almost could have stayed right here, until it was time to head back downstairs.

Only almost. He wasn't stupid.

Xander padded across the carpet to sit on the edge of the mattress, breathed the smell of him, stroked from shoulder to elbow before resting his hand on Giles' arm and squeezing, shaking softly. "Giles."

Eyes opened slowly, foggy green, closed and opened again. "Xander?"

"Hey."

Giles twisted his head to see the clock and stiffened, staggered up on his elbows. "I slept in! I'm so sorry, why didn't you-"

"I turned off the alarm."

He frowned, uncomprehending. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"I liked watching you sleep." Xander pushed his shoulder until he lay back on the bed. "Don't get up."

Giles rubbed his eyes, and squinted towards the clock again. "But you're leaving in-"

"All the more reason to keep you there." He pushed aside the sheet and laid his head on Giles' chest. It was hot and a little sticky, hair scratching his cheek, heart thumping slow and steady in his ear. Giles' hands felt good, as one settled on his back and one rubbed his neck where his muscles knotted when he read too long.

It was reassuring, and it was terrifying because he didn't know how he'd do without it. He didn't know how he was gonna do this.

"Don't go."

Xander slid a finger over the slick bumps of Giles' ribs. "This was your idea."

"That was the Giles who thinks about what's good for you." Giles' chest vibrated under his cheek as he spoke.

"Who am I talking to now?"

"The Giles who wants what's best for him." The hand on Xander's back squeezed, and then softened.

They'd already had all the conversations and arguments they needed. They'd marked maps and scheduled phone calls. Xander had yelled when Giles suggested it was okay to sleep around in Africa, and Giles had frozen him out for a week when Xander insisted on visas for Tanzania and Burundi.

The trip been Giles' idea in the first place, but there'd been plenty of times when it was ascended-mayor-in-the-room obvious that Giles wished he could take it back. Too late: the moment it was out there, Xander had known he had to go. He had to do something that was his, alone.

The fingers stroking Xander's neck threatened to send him back to sleep, until a horn honked outside, and they both froze.

Xander was petrified. Of Africa, of the languages, of the girls he was going there to find, of what would happen here, without him. He knew how Giles felt, but this was going to be months. Their relationship was still measured in months.

He pushed up, and got a look at Giles' face. Beautiful. "Kiss me."

Giles did, hot and deep, hand fisting in Xander's hair like he might try to leave halfway through. Xander tried to store it in his memory, the taste and shape and need of him. Last Giles kiss.

"Stay here," he whispered, when they finally parted. "Go back to sleep."

Giles stayed as Xander pulled away, but he didn't close his eyes. He watched Xander straighten up and slip on his eye patch with the same pouty expression he had when Xander got up early on Sunday mornings. This was how Xander wanted to see him for the last time, not pressed at the window or huddled in his ratty knee-length robe on the front step.

Last look at Giles, and this one Xander knew he would remember, in perfect detail. Satisfied, he slipped out the door, and headed down the stairs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Xander hated Marseilles already. Stupid dark, narrow alleys. He was sure it was the right street, but he couldn't find a fucking number anywhere, and he really, really needed to get inside. It was too dark to see anything coming, and the stench from the bodies was turning his stomach, and he was about one minute away from sitting on the kerb for a good, hard cry. Something creaked, and Xander almost tripped over backwards.

"Xander!"

"Will!"

God. Thank god. He threw himself inside, into her arms, but she shoved him along and turned back to the door, chanting a fresh charm on it.

"Where's-"

"He's in there."

Xander's knees wobbled, but he stayed on his feet and staggered into chaos. The room was jammed with strangers wrapped in blankets, some wide-eyed and silent, some crashed out asleep while a bunch of girls argued. No one stirred at the new arrival.

It took a second to find Giles, crouched over near the side wall, still whole, thank god. He was frowning into the book in his arms, talking to Dawn as she wrapped someone's shoulder. She saw him first, and Giles followed her gaze, relief slackening his face. "The book?"

"Sorry."

"Dammit, Xander." He slammed the book shut.

Xander hadn't felt this much like the Zeppo in a long time. Contribution: zero. "I lost my bag."

"You *lost* it?"

"I didn't leave it on a fucking bus, Giles. They caught up with me on the Medjerda, and my bag got eaten along with most of the crew."

He'd been running for a week, hadn't eaten since Niger or slept since Chad and his eye patch was somewhere on the bottom of the Medjerda River. None of it mattered, because half of Europe was gone and now they were just fighting for days.

Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It's fine. Buffy will be back soon, we'll think of something."

It was Dawn, not Giles, who clambered over the sleeping bodies to pat him down for injuries. Giles just stood there, looking like the refugee he was, until Shannon and Vi dragged him into their argument.

Xander had known since Willow's little 'grab the book and get to France' brain-o-gram that he was sliding in on the end of whatever was left, and he'd run all the faster for it, wanting every hour, every minute he could get. He'd forgotten that in the last days, Giles would belong to them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty." Faith.

Had he slept? Xander rolled onto his back and wiped a hand across his face. Just enough sleep to realise how gross he was. He still stank of the river, under a few layers of sweat.

Faith hauled him up by his arm. "Rise and shine, Xander."

All the other bodies were gone, blankets and bags disappeared while he slept.

Suddenly Buffy's arms were around him, lifting him up and turning them around. "Xander! I was starting to think they lied to me about you making it here alive!" She put him down and laid her hands on his cheeks, glowing. It was the first welcome he'd got, and he hugged her again, just to hide his burning eyes. She pushed him back. "Neva's got a bowl for you. We're out of here in ten minutes."

"Spicy garlic rat?"

Faith snorted. "If you catch the rat. And the spices. And the garlic."

"And share, and do it in the next thirty seconds," Buffy added. She pointed to another door. "Eat fast. Seriously, Xander - seeing you okay's the best thing that's happened in weeks."

He could have stood to hug her again, but they were already on their way out.

Ten minutes. Xander almost sat down again. He'd been running forever and he'd fallen through that door thinking he'd found somewhere to rest, until the end came. Thought he'd be with Giles, until the end came.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

People were milling when he came out, bags on shoulders, looking worried. There must have been fifty people, a little UN band like the last days of Sunnydale but a better gender balance. The half-cup of thin oatmeal he'd forced down rolled in his stomach. He wished he hadn't thought of the last days of Sunnydale. He couldn't survive that again.

He wasn't going to. Nobody was going to.

He knew about a dozen faces here, and every face he didn't see was dead. His parents and Robin Wood and Mrs Andersson from apartment B and the President. They weren't coming back, because the book that could have turned it all back was being digested in Algeria.

Xander headed for the centre of the room, where more bags were stacked, but a hand fell on his shoulder. Giles. He hadn't even recognised the touch.

"They'll carry the supplies. Fighters need their hands free."

So Xander was a fighter. Desperate times. "Giles-"

Giles was already gone, back to the slayers.

"Sword or arrows?" Dawn held up each.

Xander waved at his not-eye. "Not so good with the distant aim."

"Sword it is."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They lost people. Xander didn't know how many, but there were fewer of them, as they rushed around barricading doors in the school they'd reached outside Berne. Schools weren't places that made Xander feel safe, but this one had a mystical library for Giles, and Buffy and Faith liked the towers for lookouts.

Xander had been posted in the musty south tower, watching fields lit silver by the waxing moon. He'd counted forty two trees and run through the lyrics of every song he'd ever learned. He'd counted off the people he knew who were dead, and the places he'd been to that weren't there anymore. Sometimes he didn't know if he was staring out at the hills or if the view was just stamped on the back of his mind, when he closed his eye.

He knew for a fact, now, you couldn't fall asleep while your legs were pumping. And if you fell over you'd be okay as long as you got straight back up again, didn't let yourself feel the dirt under your cheek or just how right it was not to be vertical.

Death was out there, somewhere, but it wasn't behind him. Jogging on the spot didn't do it. Keeping upright wasn't enough as long as there was a wall to lean against. You had to keep telling yourself that Giles was waiting. Stay awake and you'd get to see Giles. Stay on your feet and at the end there'd be a bed with soft sheets and Giles' arms. Xander rubbed his eye, and stared out into the night.

"Xander!"

Xander jerked upright, head spinning, no idea where he was.

"You're sleeping?" Giles was in the doorway, furious.

Xander blinked, dizzy. Had he? He didn't-

"They're the last people in the world, downstairs. If we can't keep them safe a few more days, then we're nothing at all."

The room tipped, and righted. Giles was here. This was France. No, it was Switzerland.

Giles peeled off his glasses and Xander muddily followed the white handkerchief as it was dragged out of a pocket to clean them. The glasses were thicker than when Xander left. "We're all tired. You need to hold on a little longer."

Xander stayed awake just fine, until Caridad came up to replace him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was dark, downstairs. They'd consolidated pretty much into one room, refugees sleeping against the walls, Giles and the slayers around a couple of pushed-together tables in the middle, flashlight strung from the ceiling.

"Xander." Faith again. She was working the redemption pretty hard. The others all looked up, faces unreadable in the shadowed light of the flashlight. Xander didn't come closer. "There's a town near here, we're gonna try a supply run. You want in?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Giles said before Xander could open his mouth, to say the same thing.

Xander's gut twisted. He walked over. "I can do it."

Buffy looked back and forth between them. She caught something in Giles' look, and shrank a little. "Maybe you should stay here. Keep an eye on things."

Xander rubbed his eye, wanting to stomp his foot and throw something.

"You okay, Xand?" Faith took a step closer. "When's the last time you slept?"

Xander didn't look at Giles. "I slept in Marseilles."

She snorted. "Not lay down for half an hour. Slept. Four hours or more."

Chad, Xander thought. God, how many days ago was that? Four? Five?

"Jesus, Xander. Get some sleep. There'll be plenty more supply-gathering adventures."

"Fine." Xander walked away. Knowing she was right didn't help, at all.

"Xander." Giles.

Xander wasn't waiting for whatever he had to say. He turned for the makeshift bathroom, and shut the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Xander felt like he'd melted into the ground. It felt good, which was about as foreign as feelings got, these days. Carpet growing through his cheek, bones shaped around the floor. He was good, as long as he never had to move again.

The room was dark, near-black, except for the far corner. Candlelight flickered behind the silhouette of a man hunched over books. Pages flicked back and forth, glasses catching and bending the flame.

Xander used to curl up on the couch in Giles' study, half-dozing, half-watching him frown and mutter. If he lay still long enough, Giles would sometimes forget he was there and talk to himself. If he stretched until his body arched and then slid a hand down his body, over his crotch, he'd always have Giles' undivided attention.

They were all tired. Xander twisted up onto his knees, clumsily untangling himself from the blanket someone had dropped over him, pressed himself up onto his feet. He picked his way through sleeping bodies, paranoid about landing on stray fingers or toes. Most of the strangers had packs of some kind, used as pillows or clutched in their arms.

He reached Giles before he knew what to say, and he stood dumb, as Giles continued to pore over the books.

He needed to tell him about Umrana, who'd been clawed open just hours after Xander promised her they'd make it to France together. Or the full day he spent crouched in the boathouse in Algeria, paralysed with fear.

Giles rubbed his jaw, bristles rasping under his fingers.

"Can I help?"

Giles jumped, startled. "Oh. Xander. I didn't see you." Their eyes held, though Giles' weren't much more than a gleam in his shadowed face. His hair picked up the candlelight, sparkling like something otherworldly.

Xander's gut burned. They could fix this

"Uh, no, I'm afraid." Giles turned back to the desk, and Xander swallowed.

"I may not have your big brain, but I used to be trusted with flicking through the pictures."

Their low voices seemed loud over all the people sleeping behind them.

Giles hunched a little further. "Did you by any chance pick up Ishtktk in Zaire?" He waved at the book in front of him, rough parchment pages loosely bound, with a new language, not human. It wasn't even in lines; it looked like brown-inked bugs had been rolling around the page.

Fingers and thumb slid up under Giles' glasses, rubbing his eyes too hard. That never helped. The only cure for Giles' headaches was Xander's fingers on his temples, slow circles until Giles relaxed in his hands. If Giles asked, or just looked back with that sheepish smile... but he didn't.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faith appeared beside him. "What do you say, Xand? Ready for some scrumping?"

There was something reassuring about Faith. Rock-solid in the face of anything, occasionally homicidal but never flustered, never the slightest bit inclined to quit. Xander could use some of that. "Lead me to the Tree of Good and Evil."

Leaves had started to fall, and apples were already rotting on the ground, but there was enough still on the trees to make it worth the trip. It was cold, in Munchen. It was getting colder every day, but nobody mentioned it.

Caridad and Dawn were at the south end of the orchard checking out what Caridad swore were plum trees. Rona and Vi were a couple of rows over. The six of them worked their way through, picking fruit by moonlight, pulling everything in reach into bags. The night was crisp enough to sting Xander's cheeks but it felt good being outside with something to do other than wait for monsters to come. It felt normal.

Giles had tried to join them when Xander signed up, but Buffy had reminded him he was the only one who could read the instructions on getting out of here, and ordered him back to the books. Hooray for Buffy.

Off in the next row, Faith moaned in pleasure. "Damn, Xand, have you tasted one? Like the best sex you've ever had." She peeked around the tree. "Aside from me, of course."

Xander couldn't help smiling, as he contemplated the apple he'd been about to throw in his bag. "Sorry, Faith. I've had way better sex than you." He bit in and sweet tart juice exploded over his tongue, so much sensation it burned, watering his eyes. God, fruit. Nothing had ever tasted like this. Ripe flesh crunched in his back teeth and impossibly more flavour burst forward, filling him like he'd just discovered another ten senses. Faith's moan hadn't been just for show.

"So the watcher's a stud. I always suspected."

That cleared the smile off Xander's face. He was.

"Buck up, my friend. Soon we'll be through the portal into the land of the demon-free and you'll have all the private time you could want. You know, in between building a new world and re-founding the human race."

Xander stopped short of his next bite. "New world?"

"Where we're going."

"We're going somewhere?"

Faith came through the trees to stand a couple of feet away, bulging bag slung over her shoulder. "You mean, nobody told you?"

"Faith, I have no earthly idea what you're talking about."

"Well, shit." She looked around, like someone else might step out from the shadows to explain it to him. "We're clearing out. Rats off the sinking ship. Giles is finding the lifeboat to the next dimension. Don't you guys, like, talk?"

No. They didn't.

So it turned out they were back on the big yellow school bus, but this time it wasn't Sunnydale cratering behind them. It was the world. The whole fucking planet.

"But what if there are other people? We're just leaving them?"

She pulled back, folding her arms. "What if there are? I hate to go all sociopath on you, especially considering my history, but do you want to wander the world, looking for survivors that probably don't exist, waiting for the world to ice over while that lot we've got gets picked off? There's nobody left, Xander. We lost touch with Angel's crew two weeks ago, and we haven't found a living person since a couple of days past that."

"But-"

"You think we didn't already have this argument, while we were kicking back in Marseilles, waiting for you to show up? Best we know, there are forty-six people left alive. I'm planning on saving them." She sounded like she'd been part of that argument.

Xander didn't know what had been going on while he fought his way north. He'd got to Marseilles and then he'd just gone where he was told, grateful just to be a passenger. He threw his half-eaten apple down the row, as the taste went sour in the back of his throat.

Someone whistled and Xander and Faith froze. Vi, Xander was pretty sure, and that was a 'be quiet, don't know if I heard something' whistle. Xander strained all his senses for a rustle in the leaves, or a shifting shadow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Continued in part 2

Dr Squidlove fondles all varieties of feedback.

Comments

[sparrow2000.livejournal.com]

Rushing off to part 2 now, but I just had to say that this line killed me.
"He'd forgotten that in the last days, Giles would belong to them."

[drsquidlove.livejournal.com]

Thank you sparrow!

That's the line that stuck with me, too, that made me want to expand the little scene into the bigger fic.

S.

[cordelianne.livejournal.com]

Oooh, this is awesome!!! I'm totally captivated by this story. The setting is great and enthralling but aw, Xander and Giles, you really need to talk.

I'm rushing off to read the 2nd part but am about to go out for dinner soon but may have to wait till later to read! :D

[drsquidlove.livejournal.com]

Hee!

Thanks, cord. I'm a sucker for stories where all the angst and confusion could be solved if the two men in question would just sit the hell down and talk.

S.