Sometimes when Spike sleeps, he keens.
Silently at first.
Nearly soundless.
Later the keening gets louder.
And more often then not he starts sobbing and crying afterwards.
He tosses and turns around, too.
Sometimes
he struggles so much, that he ends up with all the blankets wrapped
around his legs and when he wakes up he needs several minutes to
untangle himself.
And sometimes he just lies there.
Doesn’t move.
Doesn’t make a sound.
Doesn’t even breathe.
And it’s that, what unnerves Xander.
He knows the nightmares are there.
He knows Spike doesn’t lie this quietly because he has a good night full of peaceful sleep.
Knows it because Spike brows furrow and his eyelids flutter.
Most of the time he can’t do anything about it.
Can’t wake Spike up.
Can’t comfort him by soothingly stroking his back.
Can’t help him.
But sometimes, when he strokes warm fingers over the furrows they even out and the soft keening turns into even softer purring.
And Xander sits beside Spike’s bed every night to see if tonight will be such a night.
And when it is, he’s there for him.