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Very short, but I don't think this is the end yet.

They get into the first car that will start, and drive. Twice, Xander has to roll down the window and throw up, even when there's nothing left in his stomach to get rid of. Spike complains about the smell, which sets off another round of dry heaves because it reminds Xander of the smell of all that blood, like being in a slaughterhouse. Seeing Doyle like that...

The fact that part of Xander had wanted to believe that Doyle could make everything okay just makes it worse.

"We shouldn't have gone back," he says bleakly, looking out the window.

"Told you that more than once," Spike says, driving.

It doesn't sound reproachful, but Xander can hear the echo of what he said in his own head. "I didn't mean it like that."

Spike frowns. "It doesn't matter."

Xander's tempted to let it go, but he decides not to. "Yeah, it does," he says. "I just meant... it's like I took him to his grave, you know?" It's melodramatic, but it feel true.

"You didn't know," Spike says.

"Maybe I didn't know that exact thing was going to happen," Xander says, swallowing. His throat burns from stomach acid. "But I knew something could."

Spike glances at him. "Don't think you'd have been able to talk him out of doing what he did," he says.

Xander looks out the window. Everything going by is dark, shadowed. There are fires and thick smokes. It's all gone to hell. "Yeah, I guess," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say.

He keeps watching as they drive; he doesn't know what he's looking for.

Date: 2005-09-10 02:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] princess-s.livejournal.com
Poor guys!! are they never going to get a break?!?

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