Title: That Which Does Not Kill Us Makes Us Old and Cranky Before Our Time.
Disclaimer: I own none, all belong to Joss Whedon
Comments: Always welcomed!
Summary: The rain always agitates Xander's eye socket. Can Spike help?
Beta'd by: Unbeta'd
Prompt #322 from Tamingthemuse- That which does not kill us makes us old and cranky before our time.
Note: From now on most of my Tamingthemuse stories will be named as the challenge.
Every time it rained Xander's eye socket hurt. It didn't help that he lived in England and it rained. Every time that it rained and Xander was in pain he would be cranky and feel older than he really was. Who could blame him from all the near deaths he experienced from the past eight years?
Everyone seemed to have learned that when the weather was bad to stay away from Xander. Everyone except Spike. He would always be there in Xander's face during those horrible times. And today was no different.
"Down right pouring today, isn't it?" Spike commented as he stalked into the storage room where they kept the Aspirin.
"Yeah, I can tell by the throbbing in my eye socket," Xander replied snarkily before he swallowed three pain killers dry.
Spike ignored the comment. "Great time for vampires, the sun's all clouded over. Best thing about England. We can go out during the day."
"That's great, Spike. Why don't you fuck off then and leave me alone?" Xander asked. He rubbed his left temple hoping it would relieve some of the pain even though he knew it never worked.
"Was planning on it, but I thought maybe you'd want to go for a walk. Get some fresh air," Spike said as he leaned against the door frame preventing any sort of retreat from Xander.
Xander didn't know why Spike loved to torture him. "I have a headache, Spike. All I want to do is go lie down and hope to slip into a coma for the rest of the day." He managed to push passed Spike.
"It's not going to help," Spike said watching Xander's retreating back.
"What do you mean it's not going to help? How is sleep not going to help?" Xander asked annoyed.
Spike walked up to Xander. "All you're doing is trying to find a quick fix. Eventually the drugs aren't even going to help."
"Well, then what the hell am I supposed to do? It fucking hurts, Spike! It hurts almost as bad as the day Caleb stuck his thumb in and took it from me!" Tears prickled Xander's right eye. "You don't know what it's like to lose a piece of yourself."
Spike held up his arms. "Actually I do. That slayer Dana? The one that went crazy? She cut my hands off."
Xander mouth fell open. "But… how?"
"Wolfram and Hart, one of the nicer things they've ever done," Spike said bitterly. He flexed his arms before dropping them to his side.
"Does it still hurt?" Xander asked, timidly.
Spike's blue eyes met Xander hazel ones. "Every bloody day."
"How do you deal with the pain?" Xander asked, curious.
"I keep busy," Spike replied. "Patrol and training help."
Xander raised an eyebrow. "I'm kind of out of the patrolling business."
Spike nodded. "There is always pool or watching telly. I'm sure your shows will take your mind off the pain."
"Pool sounds like fun," Xander said as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets.
"Let's go play some pool then," Spike said with a smile.
Xander made his way to the front door. "Thanks, Spike."
"Happy to help," Spike murmured.