Chapter 3
Spike lay on the cot, hands tucked behind his head, two different images of Xander juxtaposed in his mind’s eye. Reconciling the submissive human awaiting a demon’s pleasure with the stake-you-as-soon-as-look-at-you Harris he’d known for so long wasn’t easy.
In fact, it was downright impossible.
Sighing, knowing sleep would be a long time coming, Spike sat up and fumbled in his discarded duster for his smokes. He lit up and took a deep, calming drag.
He thought he was doing a good job of holding things together, having picked up the pieces in the wake of the Slayer’s death… but it was all a façade.
The incident with Harris just proved it.
They were all hanging on by a slim thread – himself included. Dawn, Tara, Red, Giles, Xander, even Anya, all of them were struggling to deal with the aftermath of having saved the world, but at such a great price.
Though, in Harris’ case, he had to wonder if the boy hadn’t already gone over the edge. The boy had loved the Slayer, unrequited though it was, had even saved her life once, if Angelus was to be believed. Losing her, being unable to save her this time…
Suddenly apprehensive, Spike sat up and extinguished his cigarette, grabbed his duster and left the basement.
The streets were deserted; humans were long since tucked up in their beds, and demons had moved on from feeding to other pleasures.
He wasn’t sure why he was walking back to Harris’ place, it was just a feeling he had, and he’d not lived as long as he had to start disregarding them now.
As Spike walked down the hallway, he knew right away that Harris wasn’t there. Still, he broke the lock off and did a cursory search of the place for some clue as to where he might have gone, his last stop being the bedroom.
The clothes he’d taken off Harris earlier were gone; the bed had been stripped and neatly remade with fresh sheets. Spike raised his eyebrow at that but couldn’t fathom why the boy would do such a thing.
Growling low and long, Spike kicked at the garbage that littered the floor out of his way as he stormed back out into the night. He didn’t want to be out rescuing Harris, especially when it was becoming obvious to Spike that the boy didn’t want to be saved.
An image of the Slayer, her expression solemn as she’d asked for his help, crystallized in his mind. The constant, heavy burden she shouldered had eased somewhat as he’d said yes. Made him now sniff the air and set out on what was probably a fool’s errand. Come hell or high water, he’d retrieve Xander, and if need be, lock him up and provide twenty-four hour surveillance until he got his crazy notions out of his head.
~*~*~*~*~
The one good thing in Spike’s favor was that Harris had still been oozing blood from the various marks on his back and would be fairly easy to track. The downside was that those same marks were like a neon sign to anything else still out and about. Combine that with the “hurt me” vibes he was giving off and it would take a miracle if the boy came out of his nighttime jaunt unscathed.
Luck appeared to be on his side – or on the side of good, at least – because he didn’t encounter Xander’s beaten and broken body in any alley. In fact, the boy’s trail was eerily unencumbered by any of the creatures that roamed the night.
When Xander’s scent once more led him out of town, Spike increased his pace until he was all but running.
Surely Harris wasn’t stupid enough to go back to—?
Apparently so.
Blood didn’t lie.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike broke the front door down with a violent roundhouse kick when he felt his summons wasn’t answered soon enough. Precious minutes were then wasted dealing with the Krit Ick when it wasn’t forthcoming with Xander’s whereabouts.
Deciding he’d get no answers from the demon, Spike broke the thing’s neck – not an easy task given the height difference – and strode down into the inner sanctum of the club.
Human servants were lined up like little pods on their knees outside each door. There were too many different scents to distinguish Harris’, and Spike was left with no choice but to check each room.
Halfway down Spike hit pay dirt, after having left anxious humans and disgruntled demons in his wake. The commotion was sure to bring reinforcements, and soon.
Spike didn’t care though; he was too intent on stopping what was about to happen.
“Touch the boy with that thing, and I’ll rip it off and shove it down your throat.”
The demon either didn’t hear the underlying menace in Spike’s tone, or figured his considerable bulk was more than enough match for him. “Piss off, vampire. This one here’s mine. Go find your own human to fuck.” He grabbed his dick and made to thrust it in the human’s hole but never got the chance.
Spike was a blur as he flew across the room, and true to his word, wrenched the demon’s cock from his body with an enraged roar, every bit the master vampire he was reputed as being. The demon howled in pain and clutched his hands to his crotch; his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, blood spilling out on the floor around him.
His agony was so great, he didn’t hear Spike whisper in his ear… right before he shoved the mutilated cock held in his hand down the demon’s throat.
“Wrong, mate. The boy is mine.”
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