Broken--Parts 1,2,3
Disclaimer: New fandom for me, but darn it -- they still ain't mine! Do we have a union? I need to complain about this...
Notes: Ok, I've never actually seen the show, so if you happen to spot any glaring plot holes, please let me know. I really don't mind criticism. :) The first part is my interpretation of the scene where Spike is moving out. You'll notice that I fiddled with it slightly. It just gets worse from here. ::chuckles in an extremely evil manner::
Spike peered around the basement, smoking a cigarette as he searched. He ignored Xander, who had limped down the steps a few minutes earlier.
Xander collapsed into a chair, wincing as he inadvertently put pressure on an especially painful bruise. He watched the vampire's actions, closing his eyes briefly in relief. The last two weeks had proved to be a challenge. No way do I want him finding out about-- He cut that thought off sharply, then glared at Spike. "You own nothing. This shouldn't be taking so long."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Hang on. Let a fella get organized." Annoying little git. Like I wanted to be here or something. He snorted. Only good point the boy's got is he's a right demon magnet, he is. Can't manage to go an entire night without getting himself knocked about by one. Course, that'd be a bit more fun for me if it'd happen when I'm around. He smirked, contemplating going demon-fishing with Xander as live bait.
He cringed at the slight tingle in his brain. Soddin' chip! I wasn't planning on hurting him. Well, not really. Spotting a radio, he bent to pick it up.
Xander sat up straight. "Hey, that's my radio!"
Spike stared at him with a 'duh' look on his face. "And you're what? Shocked and disappointed? I'm evil!"
Xander gritted his teeth. "Not that I care, but where are you planning on moving?"
"I don't know. Maybe a crypt. Some place, you know, dark and dank." He looked around. "But not as dark and dank as this."
"It's not that bad!" Well, at least not when -- Nope, not gonna think about it!
"I've known corpses with a fresher smell. In fact, I've been one." He flicked his cigarette on the floor.
"That's it! Let's go!" Xander stood carefully, then marched over to Spike, trying not to jar his injuries too much.
Spike noticed his stiff movements. Again!? Why can't he ever tangle with a demon when I'm actually with him? Inconsiderate nonce. He backed away. "Hold up!" He darted across the basement and unpluged a lamp, picking it up with his empty hand..
Xander narrowed his eyes. Very calmly, he ground out, "That's my lamp." He snatched it away, replacing it in its former position.
Spike smirked. "Oi, I thought a housewarming gift was traditional!"
"That's among friends. With bitter enemies, I don't give them my lamp."
The vampire shrugged. "It's not gonna have electricity anyway. It's a crypt, they tend not to."
"Aw, no fridge to keep your blood fresh?" Xander asked in mock sympathy.
Spike paused at that. "No." He considered. "Maybe I should just get a hotel room or something. I need fresh blood. If I had a few bob for a room with an honor bar--"
Oh, now that's just too much! "Out! Before I get the Slayer over here to kick your ass out!"
Spike sighed and picked up his duster. "Don't know why she didn't come. Say good-bye, shed a few tears." Trip down the stairs, break her fool neck...
Xander couldn't resist. "Well, she has an appointment with somebody who's actually still scary!"
"That hurt, mate. It truly did. I am deeply wounded." Wanker. Just wait 'til I get this chip out...I'll show you and your damned Scooby friends scary!
"Out!" He ushered the vampire out quickly, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it, heaving a thankful sigh. Then his eyes popped open. "Hey! My radio!"
Buffy dropped onto a sofa, moaning. "Geez, you'd think the bad guys would take a night off here and there! But noooo. It's all 'Gotta kill the Slayer'...'Gotta wreak havoc on the population'...'Gotta take over the world!' Gimme a break already!"
"Well, yes, granted. Things have been a little...hectic this past week. But I'm-I'm sure it will calm down. Eventually." Giles cleared his throat and removed his glasses, polishing them absently.
Xander snorted as he took a chair for himself. "Hey, I know! Why don't we just ask the nasty demons real nicely if they'd cut us all some slack so the Slayer can get a well-deserved rest. I'm sure they'd be all understanding about it. Not!"
Willow cast a disapproving glance his way. "Ok, so we're all a little worn out." She ignored Buffy's muttered exclamation of "A little!" "We shouldn't take it out on each other. I mean, what if something big is going on? We need to figure it out before it gets really bad."
Tara, seated next to her on the other couch, brushed her hair behind her ear. Ducking her head shyly, she slipped her hand into Willow's, squeezing lightly. "May-maybe we should do some re-research tomorrow. After we get some-some rest."
"I would tend to agree with that course of action. We can get a reasonably good night's sleep, and start fresh in the morning." The Watcher nodded decisively, rubbing his hands together. "Right, then." He stood, staring pointedly at his charges.
Buffy rolled her eyes, but pulled herself up. "Ok, I can take a hint." She glanced around the room. "Anyone need an escort home?"
Willow and Tara shook their heads. Willow stood, pulling her girlfriend up with her. "Nah. We got it covered."
"Xander?"
Xander looked up at the clock on the wall, cringing when he noticed how late it was. At the strange look he received, he swallowed, then forced out a laugh. "Hey, this is me here! I can fend for myself." He gave Buffy one of his patented 'goofy grins' that seemed to work so well. Buffy shrugged and turned to leave. And we have a winner! Another dupe brought low by the powers of the Xanman! Stay tuned tomorrow for another exciting episode of 'Throwing off Suspicion in SunnyHell.'
Saying his good-byes, Xander hurried to the door, pausing briefly by Giles to comment, "Although I gotta say, subtleness was lacking there, G-man. You losing your touch?" Buffy and Willow snickered, and even Tara grinned briefly. Oooh! Extra bonus points for redirecting attention. Yay me!
Giles sighed. "I've asked you not to call me that, Xander. And I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Hey, whatever. Later guys." With another grin to ally any lingering suspicions Yeah, as if!, he left.
Xander stood outside his house, hands thrust in his pockets as he chewed his lip. No lights. Maybe they're asleep. Still, the darkness itself evoked a sense of dread. Bed things tended to hide in the dark. Duh...can we say vampires and other assorted demons?
Uh-huh. So why are you still out here with them instead of going inside?
Oh, shut up. You know why.
My point exactly.
You had a point? Funny, I must have missed it.
You are aware that you're standing here talking to yourself, don't you?
You have a problem with that?
Not at all. Always lovely chatting with you. But...stalling ain't gonna help.
I know. Just...enjoying this while it lasts.
He stared for a moment more, then took a deep breath. Creeping softly up to the door, he pushed it open gently. He stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a muted 'click'.
Nothing. Ok, so far so good. Moving as quickly and quietly as he could, Xander reached the basement door. Once inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. Flicking the light switch on, he walked down the stairs, pulling his shirt off over his head. Reaching the bottom, he tossed the shirt towards a pile of laundry, then headed for the bathroom.
He stopped.
He stared at the large man sitting on his bed.
He backed up, eyes wide, breath shortening to harsh panting. "Um, Dad. Hey."
His father stood and stalked over to him. Before Xander could react, a hand lashed out and belted him across the face. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet, and he landed on floor at his father's feet.
"What the Hell are you thinking, coming in this late? Waking your mother and me up with your infernal racket. Fucking worthless bastard!" He drew back a foot and kicked Xander, who curled up in a fetal ball. He sneered at the cringing figure, taking another swig from the bottle clutched in his other hand. He kicked again, drawing forth a grunt of pain, which made him grin in satisfaction.
It was not a nice grin.
Xander whimpered softly. Oh, god. This isn't happening...not again.
The man walked a circle around his son, kicking intermittently as he alternated drinking from the rapidly emptying bottle and 'lecturing'. "Stupid piece of shit." Pause for a drink. Kick. "Should have gotten rid of ya when when you were a brat." Kick. Lengthy swallow. Kick again. "Must've been outta my mind to keep ya around." Another drink, kicking at the same time for variation. "Not worth this hassle." He tilted the empty bottle toward his mouth, snarling when nothing came out. Furious, he flung the bottle on the floor, shattering it.
He bent and hauled Xander up by the throat, laughing cruelly as the boy struggled for breath. "Aw, poor baby. What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" He squeezed tighter, enjoying Xander's struggles as the boy's hands clawed at his own in an attempt to free himself.
With a final punch to the stomach that drove the air from lungs already deprived of oxygen, he tossed his son to the floor, earning himself a harsh cry as bare skin met broken glass. Drunkenly, he weaved his way to the stairs, starting up them. Nonchalantly, he tossed a final remark over his shoulder. "Don't forget, boy. Rent's due at the end of the week." The door slammed shut.
Xander squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall. He waited a few minutes to make sure his father wasn't planning on returning, then gingerly picked himself up. He took a deep breath, then began coughing harshly, jolting his bruised ribs painfully. He felt a warmth along his side, and looked down.
Oh...um, not good. Blood there. Definitely a bad thing. He haltingly made his way to his bathroom, hand cupped over the wound, blood running out through his fingers. He got the first-aid kit out of its handy little storage place in the cabinet over the sink. Turning the faucet on warm, he wet a washcloth and dabbed at his side.
His breath hissed out as the fabric caught on the glass still embedded there. He gritted his teeth, then prodded with his fingers, finding the jagged sliver and carefully pulling it out. More blood immediately flowed, and he quickly pressed the washcloth over the cut. A few minutes of pressure, and he cautiously lifted the now-red cloth away. Still a trickle of blood oozing out of the two-inch gash, but no gushing. Good. Great. Gushing is bad, trickle is...not so bad.
With an ease and quickness that spoke of great familiarity with the practice, Xander removed a square of gauze and some cloth tape along with some antibiotic cream, bandaging the wound after giving it a cursory washing. He then took stock of his remaining injuries.
Bruises. Lots and lots of pretty new bruises. Yippee. Well, not much I can do about them. He looked in the mirror, flinching a bit at the sight. Note to self: swollen cheek and black eye are not you.
Well, thank you for that terribly insightful little fact of life. Now, can we do something useful, like fix the lip?
Pushy, pushy. He pressed another wet washcloth against his mouth, where his teeth had split the skin of his bottom lip. Once he cleaned that bit of blood up, he put the cloth down, sighing.
He fingered the welts around his neck. Turtleneck?
This is Sunnydale...as in California. How could you possibly get away with a turtleneck, for crying out loud!?
You know, I hate it when you get logical. Scarf maybe?
The snarky voice rolled its mental (and figurative) eyes. Oh yeah, that look is any more 'you' than the bruises.
You know, a little help would be nice here! Cut the criticism already!
Ok. Positive thinking. Um...at least this time he didn't--
Shut up. Shut up! I am not thinking about that!
A bit sheepishly, Right. Sorry.
Xander limped out of the bathroom, sitting on his bed in order to slowly peel off his pants. Mission accomplished, he moved to turn off the light and lay down. Very...carefully.
Ouch
Major understatement. Why don't you just stay home tomorrow?
Hello? Scooby gang research fest? They need my help.
There was a conspicuous silence in his head. He tossed in his bed, trying to find a semi-comfortable position. Finally giving it up, he closed his eyes and groaned. Fine. I'll play hooky tomorrow. Happy?
Dumb question.
A painful gasp, then another moan. Yeah.
Spike hurried into his crypt just as the first rays of dawn broke over the cemetery. He slammed the door shut behind him, then walked over to the tomb. He stood there, patting down his pockets and pulling out a few wallets and some watches. Tossing them onto the tomb, he sat and began to pick through his spoils.
Junk. Junk. Not too bad. Junk. Oooh, Rolex! Niiice. He flung the rejected watches over his shoulder where they hit the wall with a clatter. Pushing up the sleeve of his duster, he strapped the Rolex on, tilting his head to admire it from an angle. Suits me.
He set the other watch back down and picked up the wallet belonging to the former owner of his new watch. He removed the cash, curling a lip at the meager offering, then began leafing through assorted photos and papers. He plucked out a driver's license. Ouch. bloody awful picture, that. He came upon another ID, and glanced between the two, comparing the birthdates. Uh-huh. Someone's been a naughty little boy, haven't they? He peered closer. Not even a good fake, at that. Tosser. Had a nice watch, could at least spring for a decent fake ID. He shrugged. Didn't matter now!
Spike examined the quality of the leather wallet, then set it down next to the watch. He then searched the rest of the wallets, his 'cash' and 'hock for a few quid' piles remaining pitifully small while the garbage pile behind him grew. Finished, he glared in frustration.
This is pathetic. Abso-bloody-lutely pathetic! Don't these wankers carry actual money around with 'em? Now how'm I s'posed to afford to eat? He snarled at the thought of having to pay - pay! - for blood. Can't get a decent meal like any self-respectin' vampire. God, that's just so...pathetic!
Wouldn't be so bad if you still had the Watcher's money.
That poof! Taking advantage of me when I was all injured like that.
And you'd never do that.
Hey, I earned the cash fair! He stuck his bottom lip out slightly, pouting.
Mental snort. Right. Keep telling yourself that.
Oh, sod off!
And I would go where, exactly?
Spike shoved his goodies into a pocket and lay down, refusing to acknowledge the snarky voice in his head. Getting about as bad as Dru here, what with the voices and such. Next thing, I'll be hearing the stars sing to me.
I can sing came the retort.
Spike growled. He pulled a ratty blanket over him and turned onto his side.
I bet the Watcher still has some blood stashed at his place.
He perked up a bit. He's got Weetabix, too.
You could...drop by. Maybe Nummy will be there.
Spike lurched up, spluttering. Num--! You mean the whelp? Why the fuck would I care if he's there!?
Yeah, Nummy. Who'd you think I was talking about?
You...are outta your bleedin' mind.
Actually, I'm in yours. What does that say to you?
It says, you should shut the hell up and lemme sleep! He pounded his head against the stone under him, snarling.
Two words...demon magnet. You know, demons? The things you can still hurt? Ring any bells here?
Spike stilled. His eyes glowed yellow and he smiled, baring his fangs. Oh, yeah. Violence. Yessss.
See? I have good plans.
You have your moments. Shut up now. Sleep.
Spike closed his eyes, still grinning.
Xander woke with a groan. He sat up slowly, stiff muscles screaming in protest. Without thinking, he reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes. As a hand came into contact with the swollen flesh of his bruised eye, he yelped in pain. "Shit!"
He covered his mouth as the echoes died down, staring in horror at the door at the top of the steps. After a few panicky moments, when no one appeared there, he sighed with relief. "Ok. You're...Ok. Just...relax."
He got up stiffly, took a deep breath, then began the painful trek to the bathroom. After using the toilet, he moved toward the tub, getting ready for a nice long soak. Happening to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he turned toward it.
Oh. Wow. That does not look good. Bruises had darkened overnight, shading most of his chest in an interesting clash of blue, green, and purple. One eye was swollen almost shut, and his lip was puffed up where the cut was. The shape of fingerprints was clearly discernable in the welts around his neck. Yep. Definitely staying home today.
He sighed, then filled the tub with hot water, removing the bandage on his side before stepping carefully in, immersing himself in the soothing heat. He closed his eyes, relaxing as gentle waves lapped at his skin.
Xander lay there until the water cooled too much to be comfortable any longer. Regretfully, he shifted forward and pulled out the plug, then got out of the tub, grabbing a towel to dry himself with. He tossed the damp towel on the counter, then reached for the first-aid kit that was still out. Swiftly, he re-bandaged the reddened gash and rubbed some ointment into the worst of the bruises.
Leaving the bathroom, he headed for the microwave, where he heated some tea, adding honey to it. Carrying the drink back to his bed, he sat and sipped at the sweet liquid. A weak smile flickered across the boy's face as the ache in his throat eased a bit. He soon finished the drink, and set the cup on the bedside table, next to the phone.
The phone.
He had to call the gang.
Fuck.
Ok, just...suck it in. You can do this.
Why do I have to? Can't you?
Pause. That was a really dumb question, you know?
Yeah, well...it's the morning after getting the crap beat out of me by dear ol' dad. I'm not exactly coherent, you know?
Just...call already.
Right. I'm calling. He stared at the phone.
He drummed his fingers on his thigh.
He stared at the phone some more.
He -- Oh, just do it!
Reluctantly, Xander picked up the phone and dialed Giles' number.
"Hey, um, Buffy? It's Xander." "Uh-huh." "Um, so like, is everyone there already?" "Yeah, I did notice I wasn't there. That's why I called actually." "Yeah, see, there's this--" "Uh-huh." "Actually, I'm not feeling all that well, so--" "No, I wasn't out drinking, I--" "I see." "Well, do you think you--" "Right." "So, anyway, I'm not going to be able to make it today, and--" "Oh, really? That's...very interesting. Look, could you just tell Giles and the rest that--" "I--" "You--" At the soft click, he pulled the receiver away from his ear. "Yeah, bye," he said in a whisper, hanging up the phone sadly.
He lay down, pulling a blanket up over his bare skin and rolling onto his (relatively) uninjured side. He hugged his pillow close, curling around it. As he fell back into a fitful slumber, he was unaware of the few tears which had escaped from behind tightly shut eyelids to gather in a moist patch on the pillowcase.
Spike stood outside Giles' door. Before he could reconsider, he knocked firmly. It opened to reveal an extremely annoyed Watcher.
"What are you doing here?"
Spike smirked, shouldering his way past the man and leaning insolently against a wall. "What, can't a bloke pay a visit to his chums?"
Giles snorted. "Alright, what do you want?"
"I am offended. Truly. To think that you hold such a low opinion of me." He made his lip quiver, and even managed to get a tear to pool up in his eye.
Giles took one look at his expression of wounded innocence and rolled his eyes. "Please. Do you really think I'm going to buy that?"
Spike shrugged. "Was worth a shot, wasn't it?" He shoved away from the wall and wandered into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Sticking his head inside, he rummaged around, ignoring the Watcher's indignant protests. With a crow of triumph, he emerged, victoriously holding up a packet of blood.
"Make yourself at home, why don't you?"
"Thanks, I will." He found a mug and poured the blood into it, then stuck it into the microwave. While he waited for it to heat up, he pulled open a cabinet and took out the box of Weetabix.
Giles walked over and snatched it away. "That's my Weetabix, thank you."
Spike snatched the box back. "Your point? 'Sides, bet you and your bunch could use a little inside track on what's going down tonight."
"You know what's happening?" Giles perked up, allowing the vampire to get his meal together.
Mouth full of blood-soaked cereal, Spike mumbled, "Yeah, sure, doesn't everyone?"
Giles gritted his teeth together, then spun around, striding back into the den.
Spike snickered, finishing his meal leisurely. He set the mug down on the counter, and sauntered out. Five heads turned as one to stare at him. He frowned, counting. Giles, Slutty, her boy-toy, and the witches.
Hey, where's Nummy!?
Would you shut the fuck up!? He sat on the arm of a chair. "So, where's the whelp?" At the blank looks he received, he clarified, "Xander?"
Buffy shrugged unconcernedly. "Why do you care?"
Spike snorted. "Hey, he makes good demon bait. I'm all for that...gives me somethin' to do."
Willow frowned at him. "Actually, he called earlier today. Said he wasn't feeling well, or something."
Well, shit.
I said, shut up! He sighed. "Pity. Less fun for me. Ah well."
Riley stalked over to where Spike had made himself comfortable. Glaring down at him, he snarled, "Well? Giles says you have information about the increase in hostile activity the last few nights."
"Yeah? So?"
"You've eaten, now tell us!" Giles snapped.
Spike shrugged casually. "Well, you know...I lied."
Within seconds, Buffy moved in front of him, grabbed his shirt, and thrust an extremely pointy stake against his chest. "What do you mean, 'lied'? Are you saying you don't know what's going on?"
Spike looked down. "You stretching my shirt." He looked back up at her, eyebrow raised.
With a snarl of frustration, she pushed him away. "You know, I am so ready to stake you. You have no idea." She paced around the room.
Riley grabbed Spike, pulling him upright. "I suggest you tell us what you know. You don't want me to get rough with you."
Spike went into game face, yellow eyes glittering with rage.
Riley scoffed. "What? You're going to hurt me? I don't think so. Talk!"
Spike briefly entertained the thought of roasting the commando alive. A nice spit through his arse to skewer him, maybe a slash across the stomach to spill his intestines, lovely smell of flesh sizzling, skin all -- ow! He winced at the throbbing pain in his skull. Joking! I was just kidding!
"Um, maybe if you pu-put him down...h-he could t-t-talk better." Willow beamed at Tara encouragingly.
Riley dropped Spike into the chair, but continued to stand over him, arms crossed.
"Oh, for--! Alright, fine. There's nothing going on. Happy?"
Giles assumed a stern, disapproving look. "What do you mean, 'nothing'?"
Spike groaned. "What d'you think I mean? Nothing! As in, not a thing. No demonic gatherings, no evil rituals, no over-ambitious vampire trying to take over the Hellmouth. N o t h i n g. Want it a bit slower?"
Willow shook her head, confused. "Wait a sec. If nothing big is happening, what's with all the activity we've been seeing lately? It can't be coincidence."
Buffy nodded. "I agree. I think you're hiding something. Not that that surprises me." She sneered at the vampire. "You'd do anything to get a free meal...especially since you can't your meals anywhere else!"
"Hey! I came here to help, I'll have you know!" Spike turned a deaf ear to the derisive snorts that met that comment. "Look, you've got a surplus of demons, I'm looking for a spot of violence. Work with me here!"
Riley backed up a step. "So, you're saying you came here so you could have a chance to pound on a few baddies?"
"Well, that and a free feed. And who said anythin' about poundin'? I wanna rip 'em to shreds! Get some nice blood and gore, maybe a few innards."
Willow went to Buffy's side and murmured in her ear, "Might as well take him along. We could use an extra pair of hands, and it's not like it matters if he gets hurt."
Buffy scowled, but gave in. "Fine. You can come with us." She motioned to her boyfriend, who left the vampire to help the Slayer get her equipment packed.
Spike just watched as the small group prepared for patrol. Not exactly the evening I'd planned, but not too bad.
I thought we were gonna see Nummy. Why do you want to hang with these losers?
I can still do a patrol with this bunch. Get some demon hunting in. Who needs the whelp?
But I wanna see Nummy!
Fag off! We're going to go pulverize some demons!
Can we go see Nummy after?
Spike growled softly.
You can take him back his radio. It needs new batteries, anyway.
A pause. Oh, fine! But just to get more batteries, hear?
Yeah, sure.
"Hello? Spike? You in there?" Buffy waved a hand in front of his face.
His eyes focused on her. "What!?"
"Hey, can it! I do not need your attitude. This week has sucked enough already. Let's go!"
Spike snarled, but followed the Slayer and her friends out.
I can't believe I'm doing this. Spike watched the house, clutching a radio under one arm, and using his other hand to flick a cigarette onto the lawn. He shook his head, then headed around to the back yard and knocked on the rear basement door.
After a couple of minutes, he heard footsteps, and the door cracked open about an inch. A dark eye peered out. "What?" came a scratchy whisper.
Spike grinned. "Gonna let me in? Got somethin' for you."
A heavy sigh. "Go away, Spike. It's three in the morning, and I'm really not in the mood."
He held up the radio. "Brought this back. Thought you might want it."
The door opened a bit farther, and a hand reached out. "So? Give it."
"Aw, let a vamp in, wouldja? Offer me a snack maybe; it's only polite."
"Fuck polite!" came the snarl. "Just give me back my radio and fuck off!"
Spike clicked his tongue. "Tut tut. Such language!" He held the radio out temptingly.
Another sigh, then the door opened. Xander stepped into the moonlight. "Well? Give it here."
Spike stared at him in shock. What, again!? What tha hell did he tangle with this time? In the faint light, he could make out a dark patch around the boy's neck, and his face looked swollen and bruised. "What happened to you, mate?"
Xander shrugged. "Tough time patrolling with Buffy earlier. It happens. I'll live." With that terse reply, he again held his hand out, waiting expectantly. "You're not coming in. Might as well forget about it."
Spike couldn't believe. He's lying to me! Why's he bloody lying? While he was vaguely willing to accept that Xander had been injured patrolling, he knew for a fact that it hadn't been with Buffy. And he's supposed to be sick. What's he doing out patrolling anyway? It didn't make sense. He knew only one thing.
Something hurt my Nummy. Kill it!
Don't start that again! Ok, so the whelp was lying to him. Not his problem.
As he continued to just stand there, Xander reached out and grabbed the radio. He then went back inside, and Spike tried to follow.
The door slammed shut in his face. Spike stared at it. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. Something's not right here. Why'd he lie? He refused to acknowledge the feeling in his stomach at the thought of someone someone else hurting the boy. He hurried away, headed back to his crypt to indulge in some deep thinking.
Spike paced across his crypt. The sun would be setting soon, and he was still undecided as to what his plans for the evening would include. Damn it! I'm hungry! He growled, kicking an unfortunate rat that had made the mistake of skittering across the floor too close to him. I want blood. Human blood! Want to sink my fangs deep into warm flesh. Taste hot, thick, salty blood as it floods my mouth when I drain my struggling pre--OW!
He grabbed his head, cursing. Chip. Chip, chip, chip. Fuck! I wasn't gonna hurt anyone! Just...drain 'em dry a little bit. He winced at the warning jolt in his brain, standing still until the throbbing died down.
Ok, so feeding directly from humans was out. Like that's news. An' the bleedin' Watcher only stocks pig's blood. He shuddered. Besides, haven't been around Slutty and her little do-gooder lackeys in a couple of weeks now, and I'd like to continue with that trend, thanks!
Except for Nummy. Let's go see Nummy. I like him!
Spike frowned. Something was up with Xander. He was...hiding something. And Spike had the feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't good. That made him scowl harder. And since when is that a bad thing? I'm evil--I'm William the Bloody, for crying out loud! I like it when bad stuff happens to people!
He pushed that thought far from his mind, not wanting to deal with it at the moment. Still...What to do tonight?
Don't worry, I've got everything figured out. Just three easy steps.
Oh goody. I can't wait. Enlighten me.
Terrorize some people, steal their money.
Spike nodded. All right, good. I know just the place...easy pickings.
Then, go get some dinner.
Liking this. Hopefully I can scrape together enough quid to spring for some human blood.
Last, go visit Nummy.
Right. Drop in on Num--what!?
Oh, come on! You know you want to.
Bloody annoying little voice. Obviously at least part of me has gone 'round the bend.
So, you're saying you don't like my plan?
No, I don't like your soddin' plan! He paced around some more. Besides, Num--the whelp probably won't even be at home.
A little mental snigger. You could always drop in on Slutty. See if the group is doing the patrol thing tonight.
Spike considered. He stalked for a bit more, then sighed heavily. Oh, fine. But only to get some blood from the Watcher!
Uh-huh. Whatever you say.
Shut up.
Spike glanced warily across the room at Xander. The boy sat alone on a couch, isolated from the rest of the group, who cheerfully ignored him, caught up in their own concerns. Spike frowned.
Xander didn't look near as bad as he had two weeks ago. Still, his movements were careful, measured. And going by the dark circles under his eyes, Spike figured it had been a while since he'd gotten any real sleep.
Bloody Hell! Now I'm worryin' about the whelp? I am goin' as loony as Dru!
He looks sick. I don't want Nummy to be sick. Fix him!
Don't you start! Spike shuffled a bit, then sighed and strolled as casually as possible over to Xander. Sprawling on the couch next to him, he stared intently until the human lifted listless eyes to meet his gaze.
Xander looked at the vampire, then groaned wearily. "Spike. I'm not really up for one of our little verbal sparring sessions tonight, so just say what you want and go away."
Spike just continued to stare, making the boy shift uncomfortably.
"What!?" A spark of life had come back into his eyes, and Spike grinned. The vampire moved a bit closer, and Xander flinched almost imperceptibly.
"You don't look so good, pet."
"Gee, thanks. And here I went to all that trouble primping, just for you." The sarcasm was thick enough to be spread with a knife.
Spike snorted. "No, something's not right with you. I wanna know what it is."
"Nothing, Spike. Nothing's wrong. Now go bug someone else before I stake you."
Spike ignored the half-hearted threat. "I don't think so." He brushed a finger lightly across Xander's arm. "You're hiding something. I'll figure it out eventually."
Xander snatched his arm away. "Look--" He glanced across the room, then lowered his voice. "Look, it's none of your business, ok? It doesn't concern you."
"So there is something," Spike stated flatly.
Xander frowned. "I didn't say that."
"Yes you did. You sad 'it' doesn't concern me. So there is an 'it' to be concerned about."
"I--" Xander looked confused.
Spike moved in a little closer. "Tell me about it," he whispered. He watched as a lost expression came over the human's face.
After opening and closing his mouth a few times, Xander asked in a hushed, childlike voice, "Why do you care?" He looked at the vampire, wide-eyed.
Spike groaned softly as he felt himself falling into those dark, vulnerable pools. Oh, fuck! Finally giving in to the obviously demented half of his brain, he reached out and laid a hand on Xander's thigh. "Because I...I like you, sod it all!"
"Like me?" Xander gaped at him in disbelief. "You stole my radio!"
Spike let go of the boy, leaning back on the couch. "Gave it back, didn't I?" he muttered petulantly.
"Yeah, because the batteries were dead," Xander crossed his arms over his chest.
"S'not the point. Point is, I gave it back. Anyone else's, and I'd've hocked it."
Xander rolled his eyes, then opened his mouth to retort.
"Hey! Hello? Anyone over here listening to me?"
Both heads whipped around to face the intruder. There stood Buffy, hands on hips, tapping her foot impatiently.
Spike growled. "Slayer. What the bloody hell do you want?"
"Excuse me? Who invited you here, Mr. 'I'm-so-pathetic-I-can't-even-bite-a-human'? Wanna get up close and personal with my pointy friend?" She held up a stake meaningfully.
"No thanks. Commando-boy's not really my type. Besides, isn't he your toy? And really, anyone with bad enough taste to shag you...gotta wonder about 'em." He looked at the Slayer with feigned innocence.
Buffy glared, lip curling in anger. She took a threatening step forward, stopped only by a meek voice behind her.
"Um, Buffy? We're, uh, getting ready to leave." Willow shuffled nervously, eyes darting between the two blondes.
The tension was unbearable thick for a long moment, until Buffy wheeled around and stalked out the door. Willow gave Xander a half-grin and followed.
Xander rose from his seat, walking slowly after the rest of the gang. He didn't notice when Spike closed in on him.
As everyone else left the room, Spike moved quickly. He snuck up behind Xander and brushed up against him, leaning to whisper in his ear, "We haven't finished our little chat yet. Don't think you're getting out of it."
Not looking at him, Xander swallowed hard, then hurried out of the room.
Spike followed, leaving enough distance between them so he could have an unobstructed view of the boy's ass, shifting enticingly beneath his baggy pants..
"Ouch!"
"Oh, shut up and stop being such a baby!"
Spike snarled at Buffy, eyes flaring golden. "You try having a few hunks of wood embedded in your back, see how you like it!"
The Slayer rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. I thought you were supposed to be this big bad vampire. What's wrong, can't handle a little bit of pain?" She watched as Giles dug into pale flesh, withdrawing sliver after sliver of brittle wood.
"Hold still. This one's in quite deep." Giles bent over the blood splattered back, using a scalpel to slice deftly, exposing jagged pieces of wood.
Buffy snickered as Spike flinched, his growls increasing.
Giles glanced up at her. "Really, Buffy. There's no call for that kind behavior."
Buffy pouted. "But it's funny!" She sat on the arm of a chair next to her boyfriend, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger. "You think it's funny, don't you Riley?"
Riley's eyes glazed over as a wet tongue darted into his ear. "...um, yeah...sure."
Spike made retching sounds. "Oi, give a vamp a break, wouldja? It's bad enough I got one of you blokes hacking into m' tender self without havin' to be subjected to that too!"
Buffy glared. "Well, you were the one dumb enough to get in the way of a charging Vithrell demon."
"Right, and that had nothing whatsoever to do with some bint being stupid enough to toss me there in the first place!"
"Hey, it's not my fault you ran into me. I just...get a little caught up in my work." She grinned, adding under her breath, "Although, I kinda enjoyed watching it smash you into that stack of wooden crates."
Spike snorted. "I didn't bloody well run into you! I was trying, for some reason that escapes me entirely at the moment, t' keep one of your witches from bein' stuck through by a tentacle. A barbed, poisonous tentacle, I might add. You just got in m' way." An un-needed breath hissed out through bared teeth. "Careful, Watcher!" he snarled, gritting his teeth.
"I think--" Giles extracted a blood covered shard, holding it up triumphantly. "Got it! That was the last."
Willow came to stand beside Giles as Spike sat up. She wrinkled her nose, peering into the bucket by the table. "Eeew. That's...kinda gross." As they were removed, the bits of wood had been dropped into the container, and now it looked like some morbid fleet of little boats were floating on a tiny sea of blood.
Her stomach churned. "I...think I'm gonna go sit down." She made her way over to the couch next to Tara, who patted her hand sympathetically.
Spike rolled his shoulders experimentally, giving the redhead a quizzical look. "What? Wouldn't think a little blood would phase you. I mean, what with you messin' about with frog innards an' lizard guts an' such." He picked up his now well-ventilated shirt, giving it a critical once over. He shrugged, putting it on.
Willow shuddered. "You're not gonna wear that, are you? It's all...bloodstained -- not that that probably bugs you much...I mean, you are too. But it's kinda...hole-y and...icky."
Spike snapped his head around and fixed her with a baleful glare. "Bite your tongue, missy!"
"What? What did I say?"
Tara leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I think he meant about th-the 'hole-y' thing. Hole-y...holy? 'Cause he's...he's a v-vampire."
"Oh. Whatever." Her eyes sparked. "And I do not mess around with frog innards!"
The vampire let out a snicker. "Didn't deny the bit about the lizard guts, though, didja?" He finished dressing, voice muffled through the cloth. "Not much I can do 'bout meself, either." He patted his duster off, then slid into it. "I'd take a shower here, but..." he shivered dramatically. "Bad memories, an' all that, you know?"
"I'll give you a few bad memories," Buffy muttered, watching the vampire with narrowed eyes.
Spike tossed her sneer. "Got enough of those to last an unlife, thanks." Yeah, like kissing her...disgusting Buffy taste in my mouth...gah! Note to self -- wash tongue off as soon as possible.
Buffy tossed her hair, snuggling closer to the dazed Riley. "Oh, go away! I'd add 'find somewhere you're actually wanted', but this is you we're talking about."
"I'm hurt. Really." Spike rolled his eyes. "Hey Watcher!" Giles looked up from cleaning the table. "Think I put enough sincerity in that?"
Giles frowned. "I do wish you wouldn't persist in baiting each other like this."
"Hmm. I'll take that as a 'yes', thanks." Something struck the vampire, and he glanced around the room to make sure. "Hey, where'd the Harris boy get to?"
Willow gave him a strange look. "Why do you care?"
Question is, why don't you? "He was hurt, wasn't he? Weren't you going to nurse him back to health?"
All he received were confused looks.
"Um, Spike?" Tara shuffled timidly. "Xan-Xander wasn't hurt. He said he was fine, and w-went home earlier."
"Yeah, when Giles started slicing and dicing. Lucky guy." Buffy pouted.
Willow nodded in agreement. "That's right. I mean, he looked a little tired, but noting was wrong with him."
Spike was dumbfounded. "Excuse me, but was I the only one who noticed him limping on the way back here?" No way even this group was dense enough to miss that...I don't think.
Willow smiled gently, like she was humoring a small child. "Of course we noticed. But he told me earlier that he'd pulled a muscle in his leg, so it was kinda stiff."
Spike shook his head, reviewing the evening in his mind. All right, I'm not completely bonkers, and I know I say the boy get knocked up against a wall.
I could smell blood on him. Not a lot, but it was there.
An' he had some bruises. Saw 'em when his shirt slid up. So why are these gits insistin' he's ok?
I don't like them. We should kill 'em all. Rip 'em to shreds. Bloody messes...
Ow! Stop that! Chip, remember? He backed slowly out of the room, giving the group a scathing look of contempt. "The whole lot of you are blind. You can't see there's somethin' goin' on right in front of your noses. Some friends. Don't know why the boy still hangs around you." He spun on his heel and strode out, disgusted with the so-called 'good guys'. An' they wonder why I'd rather be bad!
Giles winced as his door slammed shut. "If that broke anything..." He moved to examine the frame, muttering softly.
Tara nudged Willow. "Don't you think he was acting a little...strange?"
Buffy stood, stretching. "He's Spike. He's always strange. I find life is much easier if you just ignore those little...annoyances." She coaxed Riley up, rubbing against him. "Well, we're gone. Need to go home and get some, um, sleep." She giggled, dragging the all-too-willing Riley behind her on her way out.
Willow yawned. "Mmmm. Yeah, guess we should get going too." She led Tara away, being careful to make a wide path around the still-present bucket. "Night, Giles!"
"Yes, quite. Good-night." Giles gave the door a last look, then headed up to bed.
Xander sighed wearily as he followed the group back to Giles' place. God, I ache! Just...gotta rest a minute. Then I'll go home. When they arrived, he dropped into a chair, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back.
"Watch it!"
He peeled an eyelid up to watch as an irritated blonde vampire walked carefully in, snarling at Buffy who had just brushed up against his back. Spike removed his shirt and lay down on the table.
"Well? Get on with it."
"You know, Spike. You might not want to be so pushy when you're vulnerable like this." Buffy sneered at the wounded vampire, tossing her stake up and down.
Xander tuned them out, zoning a bit as his body stilled and he sunk farther and farther into a warm, soft, cozy--
"Hey!"
Xander groaned softly, opening his eyes to see a beaming Willow standing in front of him. He forced out a smile. "Hey, Wills."
"Pretty interesting tonight, huh? Those things had a lot of tentacles."
"Yeah. Interesting." He lurched up out of the chair. "Look, I'm gonna get going. Home calls, you know?"
"You do look a little tired. Go home and rest, ok? I think you need the sleep."
"I'll do that. Later, Wills."
Willow, already moving away toward Tara, didn't hear.
Xander snorted. "Right. Nice talking to you, too." No one paid any attention. Giles was busy over the complaining Spike, while Buffy and Riley were busy with...each other. Tara gave him a small wave, then focused entirely on Willow. He shook his head and left, moving stiffly.
As he stepped back outside, the cool night air struck his face. He inhaled deeply, then started the walk home. Passing by dark alleys, he held tight to his stake with one hand, the other clutching a vial of holy water that was in his pocket. He walked quickly, not wanting to be caught out alone this late at night.
Right. As if actually getting home is any better.
Look on the bright side -- you may get killed at home, but at least you aren't undead.
He blinked. That was the bright side? God, now I'm really depressed.
Well, at least I tried.
Do me a favor. Stop trying.
Geez, try to help a guy...all I get are complaints!
Well, if you were ever actually helpful...
Um...lemme try again. How about -- oooh, got one. Maybe the old man will be so drunk he passed out and we can skip the late night 'entertainment'. How was that?
Xander just shivered, hunching forward. Gritting his teeth, he quickened his pace.
Xander crept though the yard toward the basement, easing the back door open gently. He slipped quietly inside, waiting with bated breath until his eyes adjusted to the dimness. He scanned the room for anything out of place, sighing with relief when he encountered no looming shadows that might possibly indicate something sinister was lurking.
He flicked on the light and trudged down the steps, eyeing his bed with longing. Then he looked down at himself. Yick. Why are things with tentacles always slimy? And why am I the one who seems to get slimed? He picked at the crust that had formed on his shirt when the mucus had dried. Ew...gross. With a last wistful glance at his bed, he peeled the shirt off, tossing it in general direction of the laundry basket.
Walking toward the bathroom, he paused and leaned against the wall, using it to brace himself as he pulled off his pants. He winced as the muscle in his leg protested, along with his bruised ribs. He examined his calf. The cut there was superficial, but the pants were most likely ruined. Damn it! I liked this pair, too!
Xander groaned and dropped the pants on the floor. He scowled at them, then kicked them across the floor. Don't know how I'm supposed to afford a new pair...considering the fact that I just lost my job -again!- and most of what I do happen to make goes to pay for the privilege of living in this dump. Fuck. To weary to even think about it anymore, he stepped boxer-clad into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He reached into the shower and turned the water on, adjusting the controls until the temperature was just right.
Removing his boxers, he stepped under the almost scalding spray, moaning contentedly as the water coursed over sore, tired muscles, soothing away the aches. He stood and simply enjoyed the sensation for a few minutes. Eventually, he grabbed a washcloth and soap and began to scrub his chest, glad to be rid of the gunk there, which had dried into a very itchy and irritating patch.
His body clean, he soaked his hair and shampooed the dust out. Finished, he remained under the soothing warmth, eyes closed in ecstasy. Caught up in the welcome sensation, he never heard the bathroom door creak open.
Spike began the trek back to his crypt. As he walked, he pulled a battered, half-full pack of cigarettes from a pocket, extracting one and lighting it. He inhaled deeply, relishing how the nicotine coursed through his system.
Spike stopped. He looked around, frowning. "Where the--?" This is not the way home. He took stock of his surroundings, trying to figure out where his feet had taken him. When realization hit, he groaned, thumping his head against a convenient wall.
Bloody rot. I am not doing this. Someone tell me I'm not doing this. He gave another thump.
What!? I wanna go see Nummy. You promised.
I didn't! What th' Hell are you thinking?
Oh, c'mon. You want to see him...admit it!
Spike's lower lip poked out. Don't.
Do too.
Do not.
Do -- look, let's not start this tonight.
I didn't start anythin'. He folded his arms over his chest.
Mental silence for a bit. Then...Look. How about you just drop by, maybe see if you can watch the telly. The one at the crypt is busted, and Passions is comin' on.
Spike hesitated, shuffling his feet.
And he was bleedin' some. Maybe he'll let you lick 'im
If he could have, the vampire would have flushed. An unexpected bolt of desire flashed through him, as visions of a naked, wiggling Xander pinned under him and being licked all over paraded through his mind.
Not quite what I meant, but it'll do. So? How 'bout it?
Eyes dilated until they were nothing more than blue- and gold-rimmed spheres, Spike continued on his original path -- away from his crypt and toward Xander's house.
Xander's eyes flew open in shock as a hand latched onto his arm in a vice-like grip. Slipping on the shower floor, he was about to fall when the hand yanked him out, pulling him flush against a large, sweaty body that smelled as if it had been liberally doused in whiskey. He stared up into bloodshot eyes, panic pounding through his body.
"So, finally decided to show your face, huh boy?"
The sour stench of alcohol blasted Xander's nose as his father leaned in close. Eyes watering, he turned his head away.
"Don' you ignore me!" He backed out of the small room, dragging his son with him.
Xander struggled futilely against the action. He may not have been a small person, but his father was even larger. And even in this drunken state, could easily overpower him. Xander could attest to that fact...repeatedly. He gasped painfully as he was flung down, his knee slamming with jarring force against the hard floor.
Whimpering, he rolled onto his back, curling slightly and pushing himself into a somewhat upright position. Looking up at his father's face, he paled at what he saw there.
Lust. Lust and fury.
Xander felt himself grow cold with horror. He knew what that meant. Frantically, he scuttled backward.
Bellowing in rage, Xander's father leapt after him, grabbing an ankle and hauling him forcibly back. He pinned the boy down, leering into a panic-stricken face. "Y' little whore. Struttin' around here, tauntin' decent folks with yer pretty little ass. Well, lemme show you what that ass is good fer."
Nononononono!! Xander bucked up, struggling wildly, but was unable to break free.
His father laughed wickedly. "Yeah. You wan' it, doncha? Just beggin' fer it." He bent to plant a sloppy kiss on plump lips, hissing in frustration as Xander twisted his head to avoid it. He lurched up, straddling his son, and lashed out. His hand connected with Xander's jaw, the crack of flesh resounding in the relative quiet of the night.
"Don' you toy with me, boy. Know y' wan' it." His hand flew again, and Xander's head snapped back and forth as each strike landed.
Dazed, his head pounding, Xander blinked in confusion as the blows ceased. He could barely focus, seeing nothing but a blur of movement over him. He felt himself turned roughly, his legs spread.
The elder Harris looked down at his son's pale flesh, marred by an assortment of bruises and scrapes. Licking his lips hungrily, he spread the boy's legs and parted soft cheeks, gazing at the tiny pucker revealed there. "Been a while, huh boy? Should be nice an' tight fer me. Yeah, jus' like y' used t'be. Been too long." His breathing quickened as he remembered the first time he'd taken his son like this. "Mmmm. You were such a pretty little boy. So tight an' hot. Never fucked a ten-year-old before. Didn' know what I was missin' out on."
He ran his hands over trembling flesh, pinching cruelly and raising vicious red welts. He leaned forward, using his weight to hold Xander down. Lacing his fingers through dark hair, he pressed the boy's face into the floor, licking lewdly at an ear, then biting down on the side of his neck hard enough to draw blood. He smiled at the hitching breaths Xander was dragging in. "Oh yeah, you wan' it."
He shifted his hips up, still pressing his son's body down with one hand, and using the other to unzip his pants, pulling out his stiff, purpled erection. He held onto Xander through a flurry of renewed struggles, moving his hand to squeeze the boy's throat warningly. Shifting slightly, he plunged inside.
Xander gasped for air as spots danced before his eyes. He could feel something stiff poking at his back before moving down wetly. White-hot pain speared through him as he was impaled, and his hoarse cry echoed through the basement. He howled as something inside him tore, and he could feel a flood of warmth trickling out his ass and down between his thighs.
Xander's father groaned in ecstasy as he felt himself surrounded by tight, burning heat. He looked down at where they were joined, reveling in the sight of the scarlet fluid that rushed out to stain his own skin. He set up a pounding pace, not even noticing as his son's struggles grew weaker, his cries fading away.
As his father's length invaded him repeatedly, Xander began to drift. Don't...wanna stay. Wanna...go away.
Shh. Come on. It's safe in here. No one can hurt you here.
Safe? He sank farther into himself, blocking out what was happening to his body.
Yeah. He can't get in here. It's ok. You'll be ok.
He shut down completely, retreating as far from his father's actions as he possibly could.
Meanwhile, his father continued his strokes relentlessly. The muscles surrounding him went into a series of spasms, trying to expel the intruder. The vibrations merely spurred him on, and his pace increased. He transferred his grasp to his son's hips, pulling them up brutally as he forced himself into the loosening channel over and over.
After what seemed an eternity, he flung his head back, letting out howl of triumph. He spilled his seed deep inside his son's ravaged body, then collapsed on the still back, panting. For a while, that was the only sound in the room.
Having caught his breath, he lifted himself with a grunt, pulling out of the boy with an obscene slurping noise. He stood and stuffed his limp, sticky flesh back into blood-soaked jeans, stumbling up the stairs and out of the basement. Having gotten what he wanted, he didn't even spare a glance for the still, bloody form of his own child.
Xander swam back up through a fog, blinking rapidly to clear blurred vision. Gone? Is he--?
Yeah. He's gone.
Xander pushed himself up, trying to regain his feet. After several unsuccessful attempts that left him sprawled back on the floor, he finally managed to make it to his hands and knees, although the one throbbed dully. He stared fuzzily at the sticky mess under him. He shuddered, then began to crawl slowly back to the bathroom, the only thought in his mind a desperate desire to be clean.
Painfully, he levered himself back into the still-running shower, huddling on the floor as icy streams of water pelted him. He sat, knees drawn up to his chest, arms clutched tightly around them. He rocked gently, eyes wide and staring at nothing.
Spike turned onto Xander's street, steps slowing. He came to a halt in front of the human's house, glaring intently at it as he smoked his last cigarette down to a stub. Flicking it away in disgust, he shook his head. What the bleedin' Hell am I doin'?
Hello? Telly? And maybe a little snack?
Those're just excuses and you know it. This is pathetic. I'm a 126 year old master vampire, for fuck's sake!
Well then, have that talk with him you threatened. At least that way you'll come over more like you're in control.
Spike sighed. He shuffled a bit longer, then made his way around back. He rapped at the door, tapping a foot impatiently. When no one answered, he knocked louder. Still nothing. Annoyed, he was about to leave when something tickled at him. Some...smell.
He sniffed, tilting his head. Curious now, he pushed the door open, reasoning that he'd been invited before, and since the whelp had never bothered with an uninvite spell, he was obviously still welcome. He stepped inside the dimly lit basement, reeling as the scent assaulted him.
Blood.
Blood? Too much...he wasn't hurt that bad!
As he moved farther inside, his eyes were drawn to the dark stain on the throw rug in the center of the room. The blood, still wet, beckoned him. The size of the stain concerned him, although he was loath to admit that. And the smell -- blood, yes, but something was...off about it. He looked around the rest of the room.
"Xander? You in here?" No one answered. Closing his eyes, he concentrated.
There. A heartbeat. But...so slow. He followed the sluggish sound into the bathroom.
If he'd still had a beating heart himself, it would have stopped at the sight of Xander curled up on the floor of the shower, eyes gazing blankly out into space, lips tinged blue with cold and shudders wracking his body, as pink-tinged water slowly swirled down the drain.
Panic surged through the vampire, and he rushed forward. Kneeling beside the shower, he forced his voice into calmness. "Xander? Pet? You ok?"
Xander didn't respond, continuing to stare blindly, his battered face taking the brunt of the icy spray.
Spike frowned as cold water splashed out onto his skin. "Pet? That must be cold. Why don't you come out?" When he still received no answer, he nibbled on his lower lip, then shifted up to turn off the taps. Worried about the human's unresponsiveness, he reached out a hand.
Before it could come into contact, Xander jerked away violently. Spike watched in shock as the boy scrabbled at the wall in a desperate attempt at retreat. The wild look in his eyes gave evidence to the fact that he was still mostly unaware of his surroundings.
A fresh wave of scent reached Spike, and he looked down to see a rush of crimson swirl out from under Xander to empty down the drain with the last of the water. Where...? Where's it comin' from? Suddenly, the odd smell in the blood from the rug registered, and realization swept over him, leaving him stiff with horror.
Semen.
There'd been semen in the blood. That meant...
No! Spike's demon raged, crying out for revenge. Someone had violated what was his! Someone was going to pay...dearly.
Watching as the terrified boy curled into a bruised, whimpering ball, Spike forced his fury down. Time enough for revenge later...right now, his Nummy needed help.
Making his voice as calming a possible, he began to croon softly to the boy. "Xan? Xan, look at me. It's ok. It's Spike. You know me...I can't hurt you, right? No one's gonna hurt you. He's not here. The bastard who touched you isn't here. Just me, ok? Xan? Luv? Lemme help you out of there. We'll get you dried off and fixed up in no time."
Tentatively, he reached out toward the cringing mortal once more. He stroked tenderly along a trembling arm, trying not to spook Xander again. "Luv? I gotta get you to a doctor or something. There's too much blood. I...I think you got hurt real bad. Xan? Can you hear me?"
Xander lifted his head timidly, unused to receiving such non-violent contact. Who--? His eyes cleared slightly, focusing on white-blonde hair and a golden stare that seemed...worried? "s-s-spike?"
The sound was so slight that, even with his vampire hearing, Spike almost missed it. He smiled weakly. "Yeah, pet, it's me."
Xander's mind latched onto this unexpected salvation, not registering the fact that Spike was a soulless, unfeeling creature of the night, just that he was being gentle and soft, almost like he...cared.
He launched himself out, wrapping his shivering form around Spike, who cradled him gently. "spike...so dirty...c-c-can't get clean. can...feel h-h-him, all over." The small, childlike voice wavered, battering at the vampire's last defenses.
Spike held the boy close. "Shh, it's ok. Spike's got ya now. Gonna get you to a doc, get you all fixed up. You with me, pet?"
Xander gave a shaky nod.
Spike let out a soft sigh of relief and stood, easily hefting the human's weight. He cursed to himself as he felt liquid warmth drip down his arm. Moving quickly, he strode out of the bathroom. Gently prying the clinging limbs away from him, he eased Xander onto the bed. In seconds, he had a blanket wrapped around clammy skin, and lifted the boy once more
He strode up the stairs and out into the night. Frowning he glanced around, edging out toward the street. An evil grin crossed his face as he saw the pinprick of headlights moving steadily toward them.
He set his fragile burden down, murmuring softly to soothe whimpered protests. He then stepped away from Xander and, timing himself carefully, lurched out into the street, causing the car to screech to a halt bare inches away from him.
The door opened, and the driver stepped out. "Man, what the Hell are you thinking!? I couldda hit you! Geez, some people!" He stalked over to Spike, face red with anger, arms gesticulating wildly. He opened his mouth to continue with his tirade, but stuttered to a stop as the blonde's features seemed to melt, morphing into a fierce mask set off by furious yellow eyes and...Shit! Those were fangs!
Spike growled at the idiot human, displaying those fangs prominently. "Run." His voice hissed out into the night.
Utterly terrified, the driver turned tail and ran down the street.
Spike smirked. Walking around the abandoned car, he leaned inside and across, unlocking the passenger side door, pushing it open. He swiftly returned to the blanked-wrapped figure, hoisting him and moving to lay him inside the vehicle, shutting the door carefully. Getting into the driver's seat, he flipped the heater on full blast and put the car into gear, sparing a quick mental cheer when he noticed the former driver's wallet laying on the dashboard. Stupid human. He snagged it and deposited it in one of his pockets, roaring off down the deserted street.
His mind whirled as he tried to remember were the clinic he'd heard about was. Discrete, no unnecessary questions, and used to dealing with patients who weren't quite human. The location came to him, and he wheeled the car sharply.
Steering one handed, he let the other drift down to the head that had made itself at home against his thigh. Patting the damp hair softly, he frowned as he encountered skin even more devoid of warmth than his own. Stealing a glance, he was met with the sight of pale skin that had taken on a sickly, bluish tone. The smell of blood grew stronger in the enclosed space, and his hearing picked up on the slowing heartbeat.
He slammed his foot down on the gas, tearing through the streets. Damn it! Where the Hell--?
He slammed on the brakes as the building he wanted finally came into view. Skidding to a halt, he darted from the car, lifting Xander carefully and marching quickly up the steps with him. He gave a wry smirk at the sign on the door that proclaimed 'Come In' in bold, stylish script, and took the proprietors up on their invitation.
Bursting into the quiet building, Spike hurried over to the front desk, looming over the young woman there. She looked up at him, startled.
"I need a doc. Quick!"
Taking one glance at the still form in the blonde's arms, the woman rushed out, returning in minutes with two men wheeling a gurney.
Spike carefully arranged Xander on the gurney, moving to follow when the men began to wheel him away. He felt a small hand rest itself on his arm and he spun around, demon raging to the fore as his face shifted to its vampiric planes.
Calm green eyes regarded him steadily, unflinching. "They'll take care of him, don't worry. But I'm going to need to get some information from you, to help the doctor out."
Clenching his jaw, Spike watched as Xander disappeared down the hallway, then nodded reluctantly. "Right. What d'you need?"
The woman, Karen as her nametag proclaimed, sat down back at her computer. "Just some basic background about the patient. Not too much. First, what name would you like the patient listed under?"
Spike blinked. Right. Discrete. Um, how about-- "William. You need a last name, too?"
Karen smiled softly. "No, William is just fine. Species?"
"Human."
"Your relationship to William?"
"He's mine!" Spikes' eyes flashed as he snarled that out.
Karen quirked an eyebrow delicately, merely nodding and typing the information into her computer.
"Could you tell me what you know of William's injuries: when he sustained them, how, where he was at the time, if relevant? Anything you can think of."
"Dunno exactly. We...parted ways about two hours ago, then I dropped by his place and found him like that. He was..." Spike swallowed, then went on shakily. "There was a lot of blood, an' he was sittin' in this freezing shower, an' some bastard had ra--" He closed his eyes, leaning against a wall and thumping his head back.
After a moment, he calmed. Very quietly, he continued. "Someone beat him, and raped him, and left him to bleed." A lone tear made it's way down his cheek as he stood there.
A soft brush against his arm made his eyes fly open. He stared at the slight woman, scowling. He hadn't even heard he move toward him.
"It'll be all right. We have a very good doctor here tonight, he'll do everything possible for your William." She stepped away, gesturing to another door. "We have a waiting room available, you're welcome to stay there. Doctor Fredericks will be out to see you as soon as possible. He'll let you know what's going on."
Spike hesitated, then nodded weakly, shuffling slowly over to the indicated room.
Spike's head shot up as he heard footsteps approaching. Karen stood in front of him, cup in hand.
"I thought you might want something to eat while you waited." She held the cup out.
Spike took it, sniffing appreciatively. He took a sip of the warm blood, and his eyebrow shot up. "This is human!" He stared at the woman incredulously.
She simply smiled, then left the room again.
Before the blood could cool off, Spike drained the cup, licking his lips. Damn, been too long since I had any of that! He placed the empty cup on the table beside his chair. Tapping a foot, he glared impatiently at the clock. The minutes slowly ticked away.
Snarling, the vampire stood and began to pace. After what seemed like ages, he wheeled and fixed his gaze on the clock again. Five minutes. Five bloody minutes!? What's taking 'em so soddin' long? They'd better not be hurtin' my Nummy!
He paced some more. The door behind him opened, and he spun, yellow eyes burning.
A dark-haired man of about 35 stood there, dressed in blue scrubs, clipboard in hand. "I'm Dr. Fredericks. You're here with William?" he asked, consulting the sheet he held.
Spike nodded tersely. "He ok? You fixed him up?"
The doctor smiled gently. "Not quite yet. I did an initial examination, and he's currently being prepped for surgery."
"Surgery? But...he's gonna be fine, though. Right?"
Dr. Fredericks sighed, rubbing his thumb across his forehead. "William...sustained extensive injuries, and suffered massive blood loss. Plus, with the mental trauma involved in this kind of assault..." he trailed off with a sigh. "I can assure you, however, that I will do everything in my power to help."
Spike growled softly, golden eyes flashing, and flung himself back into the chair.
"William will probably be in surgery for a while, and with the amount of anesthesia he'll be under, it'll be a few hours before he wakes. You're welcome to wait here if you like, Karen will get you whatever you need." He flicked his eyes toward the cup on the table.
"A few hours, huh?" He pictured the basement where he'd found Xander. "I've got some...business to take care of first, mate. Shouldn't take too long, I'll be back before then."
Dr. Fredericks nodded, feeling little sympathy for whoever was going to bear the brunt of the vampire's wrath.
"Can I...can I see him before I go? Don't want him gettin' worried or nothing."
The doctor hesitated a moment, then motioned for Spike to follow him. He led the vampire into a room where the boy lay, pale and shivering.
Spike barely glanced at the IV that was steadily renewing Xander's supply of blood. He moved close, a hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair. "Luv? It's me."
Xander's eyes fluttered open, the pain in them clearly discernable. "h-h-hurts. make...stop."
"Hush, pet. It'll be ok. The doc here is gonna give you somethin', make you sleep, an' he'll fix you up. I'll be here when you wake up, ok?"
"promise?"
Spike kissed his finger, stroking it tenderly down Xander's nose. "Course, pet. I'd never lie to you."
Xander sighed weakly, eyes closing. Spike took hold of one of his hands, petting it as the anesthesia was administered. He then folded the hand gently over Xander's chest. Fixing the doctor with a glare, he hissed, "Take care of him," then turned and stalked out.
Leaving the clinic, he got back into his misappropriated vehicle. He gunned the engine, pulling out with a squeal of the tires. Tearing through near-empty streets, he soon pulled up outside of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Slamming the car into park, he left it running and strode up to a door, knocking loudly.
The door cracked open. "Yeah? What?"
"Open up, mate. Got a prezzie for you."
"Spike?"
"Got it in one. Come on now Gr'thek, you want?"
The door closed and a shuffling sound could be heard inside. Spike got back into the car, edging it forward through the opening that had appeared in the side of the building. Parking it, he got out again.
A light blue, scaly Hk'mel demon was walking around it, examining it in detail. His tail swung back and forth as he pondered.
"Well?" Spike pulled out a cigarette from the pack he'd found tucked into the seat of the car, lighting it.
"Hmm. New. Not very in demand, but the parts could be worth a bit. Good quality." Glowing red eyes peered over at him. "$200."
Spike snorted. "Not bloody likely! $650."
Gr'thek sniffed, tapping the trunk with a claw. "Too much. $250."
"You gotta be kidding me. $500."
More muttering and tail twitching. "No good. I can maybe give you $300. That's it."
Spike growled. "Look, $400 and a ride back to my car. That's as low as I'll get."
Gr'thek snorted, then nodded shortly. "Deal." He sighed. "Only for you would I do this, Spike."
Beaming, Spike walked over and clapped the demon heartily on the back. "Ta, mate. Well, let's get to it."
A wad of bills was pulled from some hidden pocket, and Gr'thek silently counted off the correct amount. Spike thrust the cash into a pocket of his own, then followed the other demon to another car. Getting in, they drove off, with a brief stop to close and lock the warehouse up.
Spike gave directions, then fell to taking deep drags from his cigarette.
After watching Spike work his way through a few of them, Gr'thek asked quietly, "Trouble?"
Spike flicked the butt out the window. "Personal."
"The Slayer?"
Spike snarled, baring his teeth. "Much as I hate the bint and would love to rip her apart and bathe in her blood...no. Not her."
Silence for a bit. Then, "Wanna talk?"
The vampire drummed his fingers on the armrest. Sighing, he tilted his head back against the seat. "Someone got hurt."
"Someone?"
"A human."
Gr'thek frowned. "That's bad?"
Another sigh. "I claimed him."
The Hk'mel demon turned to stare at him, stunned. He cleared his throat. "A human. That's...unusual."
Spike merely growled.
"Hey, no offense. I mean, if that's your thing." They drove on. "So, how you gonna handle it?"
Spike shrugged, removing the last cigarette from the pack and lighting it. "I'll manage."
There was a rather noncommittal 'hmmm' from Gr'thek in response, then the two were silent once more. After another few minutes of driving, they pulled up near a dimly lit lot that contained a single vehicle.
Spike stepped out of Gr'thek's car, heading for his DeSoto.
"Spike?"
He turned, quirking an eyebrow inquiringly at the other demon.
Gr'thek offered him a half-smile. "Good luck with your human."
Spike snorted softly. "Ta, mate." Yeah, you'll need it too, once Xander finds out about this little arrangement. Squashing that though down, he turned and got into his own car, driving back toward the boy's house. Time for a spot of investigation.
Part 4,5,6
Back To Broken Main Page
