Title: Smell of Home Part 6

Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Homepage: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/

Author: Velvet Crypt

Disclaimer: Joss is God. I own nothing.

Spoilers: Around season 4 or 5

Summary: A change of heart.

Warnings: Possible squicky torture moment. More of an implied thing, actually.

Dedication: To Cassy. Cause I got her reading HP slash. *giggles wildly*

Spike stared at the door. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Xander had just walked out of it. That Xander had just told him he wanted nothing to do with the overprotective vampire. That Xander had dressed him down in front of the other demons. His body caught up to his brain and he blushed at the smirks coming from the Shur-hod and the Drokken.

Straightening his shoulders, he glared at them. “Something funny, gents?” he asked icily.

Dhal shook his head and opened his eyes very wide. “Is this the standard of your relationship with the boy? Because if it is, perhaps we could just send him off to do away with B’Thaaug by himself.” The innocent eyes gave away to a crafty squint. “He seems to have backed you down quite nicely.”

Spike gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, but he wouldn’t give the bloody Shur-hod the pleasure of seeing him lose it again. “He is my mate,” Spike reiterated clearly. “He has the right to back me down as often as he likes.” Spike leaned in closer to the Shur-hod. “You, on the other hand, do not have that luxury. Do not push me, Dhal.”

The other demon just smiled beatifically and raised his hands in surrender. Spike rolled his eyes and turned to the girls. “I’m going out to have a look-see for the boy. Mivka will keep an eye on you two.” He glanced around the room, eyes narrowed in observation. “Don’t leave the room and don’t let the Shur-hod touch you. Stay away from the Serparvo while you’re at it.”

He stopped his gaze on the Brachen. “You. K’eivan, was it?”

K’eivan smiled in return and bounced up on the toes of his feet. “Yes, sir?” he chirped.

Spike almost rolled his eyes again, and then thought better of it. What was worse? A chirping, chipper demon that acted like an overeager puppy? Or the quivering mass of cock-whipped flesh that Spike had become? He sighed. “Help Mivka watch over the girls.”

K’eivan eyes widened and his smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. “Really? I mean—of course! I’d love to! Thank you!” Spike managed to step out of the way before the Brachen could grasp his hand in thanks, or worse…fling his arms around the vampire.

“Yeah, whatever,” Spike grabbed up his own coat. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, he pushed past the other demons and exited the room.

He closed his eyes as soon as the door shut behind him and took a deep breath through his nose. Ah, yes. There it was. The slight tang of Xander’s sweat lingered in the hallway. Spike followed it, opening his eyes only at brief intervals to make sure he wasn’t wandering into an errant sunbeam or into an off limits corridor. Soon, another smell, still wholly Xander…but much more so, overpowered the hint of sweat.

Spike frowned as he opened his eyes again. He sniffed carefully and his gaze was drawn like a magnet to the few drips of red fluid on the floor. He dropped to his knees in front of the tiny jewels and let his fingers hover over them in fear. There wasn’t enough to merit Xander’s death. But the very fact that they were here at all suggested something untoward had happened to the boy.

He shut his eyes again and choked down a howl. He concentrated on the scents of the hall, trying—unsuccessfully at first—to block out the tantalizing aroma of Xander’s blood. It took a few minutes, but eventually he caught a musky charnel house smell that he recognized. Fyarl. And if a Fyarl had attacked his boy and a few drops of Xander’s blood was the only evidence of its passing…then the demon must have been acting on another’s orders.

And the only other person in this building that would take Xander rather than kill him or eat him…was B’Thaaug.

________________________________________________________________________________

“We should call Buffy,” Willow argued.

“What do we need the Slayer for?” hissed the Serparvo.

“Well, maybe because she’s the Slayer?” Willow returned sarcastically. The Serparvo growled and K’eivan stepped between it and Willow with a warning glare. The toothy demon snorted in disgust and flung its hands into the air. “Besides,” Willow continued, flashing a thankful smile at K’eivan, “Xander is Buffy’s friend and she should know about this.”

“Little witch,” the Pockla intervened, bowing slightly. “Your concern over your friend is admirable, surely though, you are aware that the inclusion of the Slayer at this juncture could only serve to inflame B’Thaaug and his minions?”

Willow sighed and opened her mouth to continue her argument. Tara allowed her attention to drift away. Her girl was a shy, reserved flower when it came to socializing…but hand her a problem that required research or organization and Willow shined. Spike, on the other hand…

Tara bit her lip as she watched the morose vampire. He’d come back to the room, calmly informed them all that B’Thaaug had Xander and then collapsed on the bed he’d shared with Xander. He hadn’t offered any solutions. He hadn’t made any arguments. He just laid there, eyes glazed over as though he were drugged. Tara had never seen the hyper vamp look more defeated.

She imagined it was very difficult to move from the snarky, angry hate-embracing killer he had been to the man that lay before her. He’d lost so much; his ability to hunt, to hurt humans, to be self-reliant. However, he’d replaced all of those urges with just one: the need to keep his new family—the Scoobies and Xander—safe. His entire being had been focused on that lately. He was always at the Magick Box, warning them of nasties, or fighting at their side out in the field.

He’d kept them safe and in doing so had fulfilled a basic need in himself. But look at us now, Tara sighed. Buffy, unable to come to the rescue for fear she’d be torn to shreds. Willow and Tara, forced to work closely with demons that would rather be sucking their brains out than helping humans, much less the friends of the Slayer. And Xander…Spike’s Xander; captured and hurt, no way to tell how badly and no way currently feasible to get him out.

It must burn like sunlight to the vampire…his inability to keep his family safe. Tara wanted to go to him, hug him and tell him that no one was blaming him for any of this. But she knew that was impossible. First, she was pretty sure that the last thing Spike needed was to have a human comforting him in a roomful of demons. Second, he was blaming himself. It didn’t matter what Tara or Willow thought. Xander was gone and Spike blamed himself.

She dropped her head and stared at her hands. Now they just had to stop arguing long enough to get him back.

_________________________________________________________________________

Xander opened his eyes to the same stars he’d seen as he hit the ground. He moaned when the shooting pain came back into his nose. ~What the hell happened? ~ He eased himself into a sitting position and took stock of the room. ~Wow. Fancy. ~ He scanned the fine furnishings, realizing that he was in a suite of some kind and that he was alone.

He reached up and felt his face. ~Great. ~ He winced as his fingers came in contact with his overly swollen nose. ~Fucking Fyarl demon. ~ He moved to swing his legs over the edge of the bed when the door opened. His eyes widened and he scooted back into the headboard as the Ghrestian came into site, bending to get in through the door.

“Well, hello handsome,” B’Thaaug smiled toothily. Xander repressed a shudder at the idea of being called handsome by this repugnant thing. “Feeling better?”

“Er, yeah,” Xander managed, noting he sounded a bit congested from his bruised nose. “I’m just dandy.”

B’Thaaug chuckled, sounding more like rocks grinding together than someone amused. “I was quite surprised to see you alive today. How did you manage to remove the effects of my pheromones?”

Xander glared. Actually, to be honest with himself…he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended that he was glaring. “Spike saved me.”

The Ghrestian looked interested. “Really? How did he manage that?” He smiled again and seated himself on the bed; very near Xander’s curled up form. “Did he kiss your boo boos better?” He trailed a claw down Xander’s trouser covered leg, teeth baring in a feral smile as Xander shivered and scrambled back. “Did he have his little witches magic you all better?”

He leaned in close and Xander held his breath, hoping he would pass out from lack of oxygen before he got another whiff of pheromone boy here. No such luck. B’Thaaug flicked out a pointed tongue and ran it across Xander’s lips. Xander yelped and in doing so, inhaled. He felt the effects immediately. The smell of rot came back. The smell of fear filled his nose. Only this time, he didn’t have death to look forward to. He could tell that the Ghrestian used a different combination this time. The heat was gone. The fire never filled his veins. Just the smell of lust. Sex, rape, pain. That was all he smelled.

“Do you imagine your precious William will come save you again, little toy?”

Xander shook his head, tears falling down his face unnoticed. “W-we had a f-fight,” he whimpered. “I left.”

B’Thaaug tsk tsk’d and drew his questing claw up to flick over Xander’s material covered nipple. ‘So, you left. To be alone. Unattended in a hotel full of demons. Really, little toy. A tasty treat like yourself shouldn’t be allowed to run about alone. If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.” His tongue slithered over Xander’s bared neck, leaving a moist trail that felt like ice as the Ghrestian breathed on it.

“Have you given any more thought to my offer, little toy?” the demon whispered into his ear.

Xander shook his head fiercely. “I won’t become your next boy toy,” he cried, his nerves almost at a breaking point.

B’Thaaug smiled and blew into Xander’s ear. Xander shuddered in disgust. “Well, my little toy, if you aren’t prepared to serve in the capacity originally offered, then I suppose I’ll have to find another suitable purpose for you.” He widened his eyes in false astonishment. “Why, I know! How about I use you for bargaining material to bring about the destruction of William the Bloody?”

Xander felt real fear take hold of his guts at the demon’s comment. Not the fear generated by the pheromones…true, honest fear that rocked him with its intensity. He shook his head. “That won’t work,” he bluffed. “Spike hates me now. He won’t come for me. He won’t believe you even have me. He thinks I’ve left the hotel and gone home.”

B’Thaaug leered. “But you did. You came home to me. To your new permanent home.” Xander cringed away from that flicking tongue again. “And I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how much William will do to get you back, little bargaining chip.” He cupped Xander’s groin in a huge, clawed hand. “I know I’d be tempted to do something very stupid to get you back if you belonged to me.”

Xander moaned again, trying not to vomit, and attempted to shove himself through the headboard. He couldn’t see the ugly demon in front of him for the tears spilling out of his eyes. B’Thaaug chuckled. “So very sweet, you are. It’s too bad I have send William some proof that you’re actually in my possession. I do hate breaking my own toys.” Xander cried out as B’Thaaug jerked him down to lay flat on the bed. The large demon straddled him, pinning Xander’s arms to his sides, and bent over him with a smile that spoke of coming pain.

Xander’s screams echoed down the hall.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Tara realized that she would have to calm Willow down quickly. The air around the redheaded witch was beginning to crackle. She stood, preparing to step in-between Willow and the Shur-hod demon, when a knock came at the door. Everyone froze. A moment later, the demons moved as a unit further into the room, stepping behind the bathroom wall to hide from view.

Spike finally came to life, making his way to the door. He waited a moment to see that everyone was hidden and then opened the door. His growl began immediately. A 7-foot Fyarl demon stood in the doorway, holding out a small wooden box. Spike snatched it from the demon’s claws and made to shut the door in its face.

It grinned and shook its head slowly. Letting another growl loose, Spike opened the box and stared down at the contents. Tara hadn’t thought that vampires could get any paler. She was wrong. All color drained from Spike’s face and she could hear his breath catch. He looked into the box for a long minute and then stepped back into the room. He closed the box and reverently placed it on the desk near the door.

As his fingers came off of the box, his features slid away to be replaced with the ridges and yellow eyes of the demon. He launched himself at the Fyarl, reaching up to grasp the demon by the set of curled horns. With a roar, he snapped its neck. Another jerk and a horrible ripping noise and he’d yanked the demon’s head from its body. He threw the head down the hallway and began to kick the lifeless body at his feet, screaming obscenities in Fyarl.

Mivka moved out from behind the wall as soon as he heard the snapping of the demon’s neck. He plucked the box up and cracked it open. Tara inched up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

“Spike! What the hell are you doing?” Willow screamed. “This is exactly what I was arguing with your demon friends about! You can’t just…just rip the head off of delivery peo-demons!”

Tara finally got a good look at the contents of the small box. She quickly threw her hand up over her mouth and turned away, stumbling slightly. K’eivan caught her and cradled her carefully, avoiding pressing her into his spines even as he smoothed her hair back out of her face. “What is it?” he whispered. Tara just shook her head; her eyes squeezed shut in horror.

“Willow, stop,” she begged soundlessly.

“You disgust me, Spike! Haven’t you learned anything from us at all?”

“Willow, please,” Tara tried again. “Please, stop!”

“You know, we could have dusted you a dozen times over for barging into our meetings! But we didn’t. Why? Cause it’s wrong!”

“Willow! Enough!” K’eivan yelled. Willow turned shocked eyes on him, only then registering Tara’s condition.

“Oh, baby!” she stopped haranguing Spike and moved towards her girlfriend. “What is it, baby?” Tara waved to the box in Mivka’s hands. Willow narrowed her eyes. “What’s in the box, baby?” she demanded. Tara just shook her head and buried her face further into K’eivan’s shirt. Willow stepped to Mivka and reached for the box.

“No! Red, don’t! Don’t open that box!” Spike stopped kicking the dead demon long enough to yell at her.

Willow glared at him and snatched the box. “I am a fully grown woman, thank you very much,” she snapped. “And anything in this box can’t be half as bad as watching you rip some creature’s head off in front of me!” She opened the box with a defiant expression that quickly faded as she took in what stared back at her.

Literally.

Two blood-encrusted orbs, white with red veins, lay nestled in tissue paper as though they were some sick gift. Two slightly shiny unblinking eyes. Eyes that were familiar. Eyes that had watched her with concern when she cried over a stupid crayon in kindergarten. Chocolate brown eyes that she had stared into with longing for most of her high school career. Eyes that had wept with her when Jesse died. Eyes that flashed in anger not two hours ago before their owner had slammed out of this very room.

“Oh, God,” she choked. “Oh, Xander.” She closed the lid and placed the box carefully back into Mivka’s hands. With measured steps, she crossed the room and pushed open the bathroom door. Dropping to her knees, she hurled up everything in her stomach until she was dry heaving. She felt a set of warm hands on her back and knew that Tara had followed her into the room. But she didn’t care.

She stood and brushed Tara’s helping hands away. Moving out into the main room, she threw herself down next to the demon corpse and began pummeling it madly with closed fists. She couldn’t tell when she started crying, she had no idea what words flew out of her mouth. She just hurt. And in her hurt, she needed to make others hurt.

More arms wrapped around her, these cooler than Tara’s. Unlike Tara’s, however, they didn’t stop at a comforting pat. They tightened and lifted her, screaming, away from the Fyarl. She fought, legs kicking, head thrashing, body twisting. The arms just held her. Held her until a wash of weakness flew over her, draining away the rage and leaving in its place a cold sorrow.

She felt the floor under her feet again and was spun around and pressed into a leather-covered chest. Those restraining arms now held her gently, rubbing her back, providing her with a haven to just cry. And she did. Briefly, the arms opened and she felt another body join her in her pain. The new body wrapped arms around her as well. They created a barrier between her and the rest of the world, these two sets of arms; one sweet and soft and warm, the other strong and caring and protecting.

When the last shudder went through her body, the strong arms eased her into the sweet-smelling soft ones, gently pushing their two bodies together.

Spike lifted an eyebrow in question to Tara, who nodded at him over Willow’s shoulder. He nodded back and moved to the phone. He punched numbers in by memory and waited impatiently for the other end to pick up.

“Watcher. Gear up. Get your Slayer down here,” he said coldly into the mouthpiece. “I’ll have someone meet you at the gate.”

Pause.

“No, Watcher, I don’t intend to do anything foolish. What I intend to do is get my boy back from that Ghrestian fuck and then burn this fucking building to the ground along with every last thing that isn’t human inside of it.”

The recruited demons looked from the still-shuddering witches to the unreadable face of the vampire calmly describing the explosives and weaponry he required.

Perhaps William the Bloody was not so dead as they’d thought.