Xander's Diary

Xander writes down what thoughts he can't keep inside his head...


Finished (3,500 words)


Fic content

This is a Spike/Xander fic from Xander's point of view since he is the one writing the diary entries. Mentioning of Xander/Anya.

It deals with mature themes, it contains descriptions of (homo)sexual actions. Therefore it is NC-17 in some parts. There will be no specific warnings or ratings, so keep away if you are not old enough or don't like this kind of fic.

Somewhere in Buffy Season 5.


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You can read this fic also at:
- Spander Files Archive


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Entry 1

Sometimes, the images my mind comes up with are too real.
When I spend the whole day at work fantasizing about Spike,
I feel myself living in these dreams.

I drift deeper and deeper into my little world
and after a long day I am too exhausted
to make the effort of differing dreams and reality.

The only thing that stops me
from throwing myself into his muscled arms is
the squealing annoying ex-vengeance demon
jumping into mine.
Tearing me out of the
loved and safe ambience
I conjured up.

And all I can give to him instead of
the possessing kiss to the pouting lips
is a look pregnant with forced hostility.

Shaking up the unwanted blond
I manage to sit down
without breaking into tears and
cry out my … yearning for the undead.

How can I go on like this?!
I simply go on.

At night, after I fulfilled my duty as a caring husband
to the never sated, too loud moaning, too much demanding
with the help of sex toys and excuses of exhaustion,
I lie awake and pretend to be with him.


No sweaty wank fantasies go around my head.
Just being with him would be fulfillment.
I wish to lie down with him,
side by side,
one hand entwined with one of his
and bask in content, trust, confidence.

Because these are the things
I never have
but will always desire.



Entry 2

So, congrats to myself.
I wrecked the fucking car.
MY fucking car.
Total destruction.

Don’t fucking ask!
But I will write it down anyway.
It’s not like I could talk about this with Anya.
She would just interrupt me
after a few words
and complain about money
we – she
lost through this.

It’s all Spike’s fault.
Okay, it’s not entirely right.
I was the one
by his long fingers
around the gear lever.

Yes, I was driving.
Yes, I should have shifted gears by myself.
Yes, I was telephoning whilst driving.
Yes, Spike was so kind to shift gears for me.

When his pale slim hand
the leather clad stick
working it
with short
I just lost it.

The mobile phone slid out of my
suddenly numb hands,
fell down between our seats,
we both tried to pick it up,
we knocked heads
and the last thing
I remember is
Spike pulling me towards him,
protecting me
with his own body.

When I woke up,
Spike’s scent was
overwhelming me.
Everything was silent,
the night air chilling.

Trembling, nearly sobbing
in fear
to just wake up from
another damn daydream of mine,
I opened my eyes.

dark as an ocean before dawn,
a wave crashing over - into me.

One hand held my head still,
the other was
over my torso,
I still pretend
it was not just a search for broken ribs.

I moaned.

“Ssh, Xan.” He whispered,
his thumb stroking my cheek.
My name in his rough timbre,
accent making it sound...

How was I supposed to stay silent?

Eyes still locked with his.
I moaned again,
in his ears,
begging in mine.

He smiled down at me,
mocking me good naturedly.
“Don’t be such a baby,
the Gask’ha demon last week
hit you harder than this
and you didn’t say anything!”
He remembers *that*?

Fuck, doctor’s comin’.
Hate hospitals.



Entry 3

„Home“ again.

At least I don’t have to wear the
embarrassing hospital gown anymore.
I just had to stay for one night there
“to make sure your brain isn’t damaged
or in any danger to get damaged by the concussion”.
Something about water and pressure in my head.

Kinda too late for preventing brain damage.
I can’t have an intact brain or much of it.
I am married to an ex-vengeance demon
lusting after a master vampire.
Two witches and a slayer as my
–no not anymore best, just –
friends, a watcher as a pseudo Daddy.

Anya visited me in the hospital.
As I’ve foreseen she was pretty angry
with me.
“Did you do it on purpose or were you drunk?”

was her greeting.
I shook my head no to both her assumptions,
stunned by her aggressive approach.
You would think, she would be worried
about my health or something.

She nodded,
a hard jerking motion,
“I will not support these little games you are playing.
You can have a new car when *you* have saved enough money
to buy one by yourself.”
Huh? Games? Playing? Me?
Crazy much, my ‘lovely’ wife?

I tried to say something against her accusations
but manage only a sound like “Hugrguh?”

She took that as a clue
that I actually relied on her
buying me a new car and
stomped out of the hospital room,
slamming the door.

Alone again after her sudden retreat.

No more visitors for me the whole day.

Just after sunset,
the nurse comes with the papers to sign
and I am allowed to go.
Well, allowed to be pushed to the exit in a wheelchair.

One of the most humiliating moments
in a man’s life.
Being wheeled by a elderly woman
when you are actually able to go.

Followed closely by the moment
you look up
and realize,
a beautiful master vampire,
leaning relaxed against something
which appears to have been a DeSoto once

is watching you
being wheeled by said elderly woman.

And it is not the
humiliating moment #1
because it was one of
the best moments in my life too.

I just couldn’t stop the
face splitting grin,
as blinding as my face allows,
from emerging.

The effect is ... marvelous.

Spike’s cool smirk
melted into a
warm smile.
A pure “welcome” smile.
Like the sun coming up.

And who thought,
I would ever associate
Spike and the sun?

My stomach did the funny
flopping thing
when he came towards me
and I think, I blushed
a nice shape of purple
when I took his outstretched hand.

I stumbled a little,
being my clumsy self,
when he pulled me out of the wheelchair.
The pressure of
his cool hand on mine
making me feel

And if I block out all the memories
and all my doubts,
I even felt loved.

Anya is back from work in a few.
Have to stop.



Entry 4

Paired with Spike as always.
Smoke. Leather. Copper.
Far too near to me.

I am thankful
that my want of him
is not the burning need
to fuck him.

Think, he dismisses the
always present arousal,
the bulge my semi hard cock
makes in my jeans,
explaining it with my youth
or just thinking,
I am a horny bastard.
Well, until tonight.

Stepping into the Magic Box,
a six pack of beer under my arm,
calling Spike names,
okay, more nicknames,
basking in his present.

A crying Anya,
wobbly chin stubborn set,
screamed out her frustration
to the girls, including Dawn
and the glasses scrubbing watcher,
screamed that
“Xander refuses for weeks now
to give me orgasms with
his cock or his mouth!”

The urge to just grab her
and snap her neck
- a satisfying sound –
was nearly overwhelming.
I suddenly felt for my father.
Sometimes you just lose patience.

My face is reddened more by
anger than embarrassment.

I now wonder,
if I would have simply snapped
her neck when she still was a
vengeance demon?
Demon. Not human.
Something I kill
without second thought
every night.
Something easy to get rid of.
Dust and gone.
Like Spike.
No, not like Spike.
He has more personality
than most of the humans.
More insight. More perception.
More beauty.

I am not angry
that Anya complained.
She just shouldn’t do it in public.
Not in front of other men,
not in front of customers.

I turned my head to look at Spike,
to get my daily dose of humiliation
from the person it hurts the most
to receive it from.
Cutting through bones with his accent,
shredding my heart with his sharp words.

I was prepared for a smirk,
even for barely contained laughter
or for a disgusted expression,
but never ever for the concerned look
in his dark blue eyes.

The anger for Anya forgotten,
totally confused
I just turned around
and flew out of the store.

On my way “home”
I had the creepy feeling
that someone was following me,
but I have seen no one.

So now I am lying on the couch,
the six pack missing four bottles already
and the two left will follow soon.
I am determined to sleep on the couch,
there is nothing Anya could do
to make me sleep in the bedroom.
And all I feel is relief.
Relief that I don’t need to pretend
to be too tired to get it up,
that I am okay with bringing her off
without getting off myself,
that I am okay with her.



Entry 5

When Anya came home last night
she woke me up.
She tried to coerce me into the bedroom,
promising sex.
Sorry babe, hot soft folds don't even get me up.
She saw the beer and thought
I had accidentally passed out on the couch.
If she had an idea how much I actually can drink...
Looks like resistance to alcohol is a family thing.
I grinned and she said I was a drunk
like my father.
She nearly got me to show her,
how my father really was,
nearly beat her
and I know I wouldn't have stopped
until she wasn't able to talk and walk for a while.

Instead I grabbed my jacket and
went out again.
Congratulating myself for not losing control.
I hadn't even closed the door behind me
when a zippo lighting up
made me aware of his presence.
Without a word he fell into step with me
and we went to the next store.
Spike is pretty good at stealing bottles.
I only paid for two six packs.
"Somewhere quiet." I said.
So that's how I got here.

We didn't talk about Anya.
Why should we?
She laid the cards on the table
for fucking everyone.
Spike doesn't ask for the why
I don't want to have sex with her.
He waits until I tell him deliberately.
When he thinks,
someone pretends something,
then he presses until that someone
just has to admit the truth.
I don't pretend anything
I just don't want to talk about it.
He knows that.
He respects that.

Pretty wasted
I passed out somewhere between
sunset and midday.
I vaguely remember grabbing Spike's hand
when he put a blanket over me.
His other hand stroked through my hair
when I begged him to never leave me.
Or something.
I hope I dreamed that.
Or that Spike was drunk enough to just ignore it.

I wonder where he is now.
Could need some more sleep
to get rid of
the sick feeling in my stomach
and the headache.
And I like Spike's bed and his blankets.
They smell of him.
Like Spike.



Entry 6

A whole week
of living in a crypt,
living with Spike.

A whole week
of passing out drunk,
of Spike waking me with food,
of showering in the sewers
under a damn cold water pipe.

A whole week
of temper tantrums,
and fighting with
even Giles.

A whole week
of easy companionship,
of peace,
of just being.

No expectations,
no duties,
no rules.

Two days
since having a raging hard-on
whenever Spike is around.
Not able to hide it.
No want to hide it.
No need to hide it.

Two days
since seeing Spike with a raging hard-on
whenever he is around me.
Not able to hide it.
No want to hide it.
No need to hide it.

One day
since Spike told me
that Anya smelled of Giles’ cum.

One day
since I believed him,
trusted him.
No need for him to lie.
No need for me to lie.

„Should make it even then.“
I said and kissed him.
And he devoured me.
Spike love.

Yeah, love.
We don’t say it
but we both know it.
No whining,
no fuzzy feelings,
no uncertainty.

Just plain and simple
me and him.
Want. Need. Take.

And god, did I take!
Everything he offered
was absorbed by me,
my rough hands
on every inch
of his forever young skin,
My mouth worshipping
that never ageing body
with words and kisses and licks.

Finally finding the fulfillment I longed for.

Fucking me through the mattress
again and again,
demon and man showing me
Spike love.
Demanding more.

Slow, long strokes, shallow moves, deep breaths,
stopping, starting all over again, stopping
holding his gaze every second, lazy pleasure,
unbreakable intimacy and... forever.
Xander love.
Offering more.

Needing more.



Entry 7

Wow, more than two years since my last entry.
So much has happened in the meantime.
I never moved back in with Anya,
I only went back once to get some of my things,
comic book collection and personal documents.
I didn’t take anything else,
I wanted a fresh start without any baggage.

I faced off with Giles that day,
as bluntly as I could I just asked:
„So you’re fucking Anya now?“
I didn’t know the watcher could blush,
or even stutter.
Frantically polishing his glasses
he got back some dignity
and told me he was in love with her.
I am still proud that my face stayed expressionless,
even when I just wanted to roll on the floor laughing.
When I told Spike, he did just that,
rolling on the bed laughing, that is
and in no time I joined his rolling
and the laughter died down to
moans and soft whimpering
when I took his balls in my mouth,
one at a time,
shifting them around with my tongue.

Giles and Anya left for London a week after Buffy’s funeral.
They were very relieved, I think,
they had big fights because of Anya’s pregnancy
and the chances of raising a child on the hellmouth.
They gifted us with the Magic Shop,
it’s good work, Spike and I enjoy it.
The training room is now my work room,
I work with wood,
build everything the customer requests.
Spike is totally in charge of the books
and there is no danger of
him getting ‘too involved’ with magic.
And he opened the shop to… hm…
slightly different customers.

Willow is still in custody,
a white wiccan something down under.
Tara and Dawn moved there,
they are a ... big support for each other.
Tara is allowed to visit her
every four weeks for a half day,
she always phones me then,
tired, sad and frustrated
and tells me the news,
well, actually she tells me the same every time:
Willow has still not got back her grip on reality,
she doesn’t acknowledge Tara’s presence
only the magic in her and talks to it,
tries to lure it out of her.
The visits always end after only one or two hours,
when Tara is too exhausted to hold her barriers up.
Dawn will not be allowed to visit Willow ever,
the energy contained inside her is without protection.
The wiccan tried to put a protection or a binding spell on her
but the key’s energy removes them immediately.
Looks like it has learned after the ‘tabula rasa’ incident.

Spike and I are mated since 37 days.
And Wesley hates me even more than before.
He nearly died of watcher-y curiosity and jealousy.
It’s not my fault that
the vampire lore limits the mating ritual
- a big orgy fuck actually –
to the members of the vampiric family
and the human to be mated.
Angel refuses to mate in general.
Sad really.
I nearly feel for Wesley.
But at least he has that huge dick every day.

I am so completely happy.
Spike is the fulfillment
- in any sense –
I hoped for in all my life.
Since we’re mated,
our relationship is even more intense.
To feel him embedded so deep inside me
- body, soul and heart –
leaves me at peace and smiling like an idiot.
But that’s just what having Spike does to you…




*happy ending*


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