Broken

by Kayla

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.