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Cleaving (Spike/Xander)
Title: Cleaving
Author: baudown
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Disclaimer: Don't own them
Written for: open_on_sunday
Word count: 100
Prompt: French
Warning: Character death

Friends come to call, with red-rimmed eyes.  Xander would have wanted this -- for them to mourn together -- but Spike's not one to share.  His grief is his.  And Xander isn't here to disappoint.

He locks the door, he shuts his eyes.  Look, another vision!   Perhaps it's just a conjured dream.  Or is it memory?

Did they dance in a ruined garden?  Sing lullabies in French?  Rise, like spirits, from the ashes?  Walk with heroes, arm-in-arm?

And did he love a dark-eyed boy?

And also: was he loved?

It's only ghosts that live here now.  There's no one left to answer.

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No! What happened to Xander? Can't anything end well? *weeps*
(Another lovely drabble, my dear.)

Thank you! And I'm sorry!

(Deleted comment)
Thanks! I'm happy you did.

Oh hell, you made me all teary!

Oh god. This is gorgeous, mysterious, and so tragic. Brilliant work, as always.


See, I'm back! And thank you so much for this wonderful feedback.

Thanks very much.

Edited at 2014-06-15 09:29 am (UTC)

*broken hearted*

But what a beautiful drabble!

Thank you, and apologies for the heartbreak. *g*

Love that middle line.
Love all the lines.
Spike's inner poet resurfaces and is not bloody awful.

Oh, thank you.

The poet's always there, isn't he?

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