ROAD TRIP 2
by Maz

It was 8:00pm and Xander knelt before Spike, his eyes lowered to Spike's feet. He lifted the padlock out on the palm of his hand and Spike took it from him. Squatting down, Spike tilted his head back with one hand and fastened the padlock onto his collar.

"And there you go, Luv. All back in place now." He ran his hands around Xander's neck and pulled him forward into a kiss. "You look beautiful, Pet," he said. "Your neck looked naked without that." He stood up again and circled Xander, trailing one hand over his hair. "Hmm," he mused. "There's an idea." Xander could hear the amusement in his voice. He shifted slightly, feeling the heavy silver chain at his waist, the bands of leather around his wrists and ankles and the weight of the leash lying against his chest. His erection was tied up flat against his belly by a leather thong, barely hidden by the black silk loincloth which flapped loosely front and back, Tarzan style, which was already stained by a slowly spreading wet patch. Apart from that he was naked. They had plundered their play box to come up with this costume. He was a fetishist's dream, so stereotyped he feared they would be mistaken for parody.

As Spike came around to face him again, he raised his head. "You don't think that maybe this is a bit too much?" he asked dubiously. "Or maybe a bit too little?"

Spike's hand on his head pulled him in and he nuzzled his cheek against Spike's silk clad belly and belt buckle. Spike's erection rubbed against his chin as his hand stroked through Xander's hair. "No, Pet. I think this is, just, about, right."

Xander's imagination, so much more informed now than it had been in Sunnydale, went into hyper-drive. "Just about...?" he prompted.

"Yeah. Just about. I'm going to do one more thing. To really put my scent on you. Where we're going, I don't think there's such a thing as over-kill." Spike stepped back, unzipping and pulling his cock free again. He began to stroke himself. Xander watched, his mouth watering and opened his lips in offering. "No, Pet." His eyes darted up to Spike's face, and he saw an unusual expression of mixed embarrassment and glee. "Look down, Luv," Spike said. "Bow your head. This is going in your hair."

"My hair?" he gasped. "Won't it be all sticky?"

Spike laughed. "Think of it as styling gel," he said.

Xander shook his head slightly in horrified resignation, but obediently looked down, listening to the sound of flesh on flesh as he fixed his eyes on the carpet between Spike's feet.

* * * * *

They were walking down a back alley, Xander alternating between watching the swing of the leash Spike held in his right hand and wishing for more than just moonlight to light the way. The occasional splash of light from the upper windows of the buildings just made the shadows in between more impenetrable. The ground he could see showed deep cracks in the clay suggesting that in the rainy season, if they had one here, this alley would be a quagmire, but for now the ground was dusty and hard baked. Xander padded along behind Spike, placing each foot down carefully flat, after the first time he stepped heel first on a sharp stone. Accustomed as he was to being out in the dark, there was still something about the atmosphere here that brought back his earlier disquiet, like a threatened trap. The walls on either side were tall, with barbed wire along the tops. They enclosed the alley, making it feel narrower than it was. At least the stars shone brightly above, reminding him that there was a world out there. The air smelt of dust and diesel oil. He lifted his eyes to Spike's back as he stalked along, all swagger and arrogance, big bad persona firmly in place, protected from the dangers threatening Xander by virtue of vampiric sight and his solid Doc Martens.

In contrast to Xander's costume, Spike was dressed like his old Sunnydale self: tight black jeans, black silk shirt and his duster. His hair was gelled down into a tight cap, using real gel Xander had noted with some slight resentment, and his open collar framed the gold key hanging from the chain around his neck. He had gone out alone earlier and spoken to Wendy, he said. He certainly seemed to know exactly where he was going and Xander followed obediently at his heels. In the back of Xander's mind was the fear that someone would come out of one of the back doors and see them, since in a town like this that was certain to lead to a fight – if the sight of Spike in gameface didn't induce a heart attack. But, he reasoned, a town like this – people probably didn't go out much after sunset. As his eyes strained into the darkness, he thought about what Spike had told him of his conversation with Wendy, of this town and of the house they were heading for.

Spike had waited for her outside the diner when she finished work. Wendy had recognised him for what he was at once and tried to get away, but Spike had cornered her in the street outside her apartment above the closed up hardware store, before she was able to open the door and escape into the safety of her own home. She had been terrified, he said, but not of him as it turned out. She knew the rules - knew he couldn't drain her. Her fear was all directed inwards. When he realised that, he had stepped away. Maybe it never occurred to her that he could still snap her neck.

*****

He could sense her terror and tried to reassure her fears, without actually allowing her to escape. "Don't worry, I won't bite you," he said, his human face radiating the charm that had always been one of his most successful tools in the days when he hunted her kind. But he still barred her approach to the door with one arm braced against the jam. "Even if you did want it, I wouldn't bite you. I have my boy, I don't want anyone else. I just want to ask you some questions."

He watched her expression shift as she put at two and two together. The scent of physical fear seemed to lessen slightly, but it was replaced by something else. Something nervous and tight. "The guy who came into the diner today," she said. "He's yours?"

Spike smiled. "Yeah, he's mine. My only. And I'm his only, too. What you'd call exclusive." He softened his voice further, allowing his pride to show and volunteered more. "We've been together for three years. Known each other longer. I would never hurt him. Not physically, and not by taking someone else. Not ever." With his free hand he reached out and gently touched her face. She froze. "But you... you weren't so lucky, were you, Ducks?" He pushed her hair away from her neck. "I can't smell anyone on you. But you've got the scars on your neck and I know there are others." Her eyes darted up to meet his, then fell again. "Will you tell me? Tell me your story? I need to know what is going on here. It doesn't feel right. This town... It smells wrong somehow. I know about the House." He stroked the back of one finger down her neck, a deliberately seductive move designed to undermine her guard. "You seem to have kicked the habit, but I know you were there once. Will you talk to me? Just talk."

She slumped against the door. "Let me go inside," she pleaded. "Then I'll talk to you." Looking up into his face and seeing his raised eyebrow, she added more defiantly, "You're not invited."

Spike didn't move and she slumped further, admitting his strength and her helplessness in the face of it. He stared into her eyes, watching them widen and darken, the fear gradually changing to despair as she began to bow her head, offering her neck. With a wrench he pulled his eyes away from the temptation, so sweetly offered and took three paces back into the street. She froze for a moment, then seemed to pull herself together and straightened. Unlocking the door with shaking hands she slipped inside. He expected her to run, so she surprised him when she propped the door open and sat down on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to her rooms. Raising her face but not quite looking at him, her voice flat and resigned, she asked, "What you want to know?"

Spike came forwards again and she flinched as he leaned against the door jamb. He smiled at her. "Don't worry. I can't come in," he reassured, charm back in place and directed fully towards her.

Wendy stiffened. "I know that. I'm not stupid," she snapped. "But I'm not stupid either. I know what you are and I don't like it." She paused, thinking. "There's something different about you. But you're still one of them." Finally, she met his eyes, taking a long moment to look him over. "You're exclusive?" she mused, sadly. " I guess that's what it is. I never felt that, but I've seen it before. Or something like it." She lowered her head into her hands, elbows resting on her knees as she scrubbed her face, pushing her hands back over her head to rest on the nape of her neck. Wearily she looked back up. "There was a time I craved that, too. More than anything." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "He's healthy," she observed. "I never saw that before. Even the ones who had bonded, they were still tired and drained. Their owners still took too much, too often, even if they didn't kill them. And then they did - tired of them, or turned them in the end. I saw that once or twice." She grimaced. "Saw a friend come back as a customer..." There was a world of sorrow and regret in her tone. "It's not common though, the single bond. At least, not so far as I saw. Usually it was a whole harem." Taking another deep breath, she seemed to come to a decision and her voice hardened. "Ten years ago she threw me out. Ten years and I still crave it. I fight it every day, and I've never been back. I won't let that happen to me again. I won't."

"You're strong, Ducks." He allowed his admiration to show. "No doubt 'bout it. To have survived at all, let alone ten years. You'd have to be strong. How long she have you?"

"Two years."

"And she threw you out? I s'pose she thought you'd go find someone else, or die trying."

"Maybe. Yes, I suppose so. But I didn't. I had family then - my Mom and Dad. They helped me." She trailed off.

Spike felt compassion stir in him for this brave, strong woman. "Why do you stay?" he asked. "Why don't you leave here? Get far away? Somewhere that doesn't remind you.... This town is dying on its feet. You could..."

"No," she said bleakly. "No. I grew up here." Her smile was as bitter as absinthe. "It was never a good place. It was dying long before she came. But it's my home. My husband and my parents are buried here. And I don't want to go somewhere else. Somewhere where I don't know anyone. It may not be much, but it's my home. I keep out of their way and they leave me alone." She shrugged, relaxing slightly. "She spends a lot of money locally. There are a few people who've got rich as a result. And the rest know to stay away from the actual house, even if they don't know why. The visitors don't do any damage to the town, or to the people. We get along. Most of the townsfolk are grateful, I suppose. If they think about it at all. It's only the few like me, who got caught up in it and survived, who talk like this."

"Were there many who didn't survive?" he asked.

She snorted with false amusement. "What d'you think?"

Spike nodded, acknowledging the stupidity of the question. He thought of Sunnydale, and the attitude of the townsfolk there, and he smiled in sympathy. She smiled back, grimly realistic. "If we cleared them out, we'd be worse off, wouldn't we?" she said, not really asking. "The place would be wide open without continued protection. We'd have a civil war, until someone strong took over and then it would be just the same again, but worse. No, we get along. This town exists for demons to feed on. At least this way it's under control." With sudden alarm she seemed to remember what she was talking to. "Please?" she pleaded, her eyes wide with renewed fear. "Promise, you'll not do anything to mess things up. Please?"

Spike left her then, after getting directions. He even promised, as she asked. Promised to just go and look, see for himself how it worked. Promised not to touch. He knew she didn't believe he'd keep his promise, if he didn't want to, but he made it anyway.

*****

They came at last to a metal door set into a large, blank section of wall. There was a spy hole, but no handle. Spike raised his fist and banged, the sound echoing loudly in the enclosed space. There was a pause, then a grating sound as the spy hole was opened.

Spike spoke before he could be asked a question. "William The Bloody" he said arrogantly and loudly, as if that would be enough to gain them entrance.

And apparently it was because the spy hole closed again. There were scraping sounds as a heavy latch was pushed aside and the door swung open. Spike swaggered forwards and Xander perforce followed meekly behind. Once through, Spike stepped to the side and waited, still and straight, for the menial task of closing the door to be completed. Xander dared to raise his eyes beneath his lashes and glance discreetly around. The room was large and bare of furnishings and although the walls were smoothly plastered and painted, the floor was raw timber. Another door was set into the opposite wall.

Behind them the door closed with a clang of finality and a large, well dressed vampire with a heavy brow, dark stained skin and small feral eyes, stepped backwards across the room. He bowed slightly. "Master Spike," he said, his voice oozing obsequious respect as he wrung his hands together in front of his chest. "We are honoured by your presence. Please, to follow me?" Opening the inner door wide he stepped through, bowing again. 'Buffer zone' Xander thought, half-forgotten military logistics springing to mind. Spike grunted softly and straightened his back further as they followed the demon into the main part of the House.

This time, as soon as Spike stopped, Xander sank to his knees by his side and leaned his head into Spike's thigh. Spike's hand came down to stroke his hair and play over his face, allowing him to look around more easily, as he nuzzled into the petting. They where in the middle of a large room, very different from the entrance. Here, a rich oriental carpet covered most of the highly polished, wood block floor. Elegant couches and occasional tables were scattered around the walls and opposite them a wide staircase led up to another floor, lit by crystal chandeliers. The walls were painted a delicate cream with plaster details picked out in gold and large framed paintings hung at intervals. The doorman walked over to a delicate writing desk against the far wall and picked up what looked like a guest book, or ledger. Spike's hand tugged gently at Xander's hair and he quickly lowered his head again, fixing his gaze on the floor. A strong feminine chuckle sounded from the top of the stairs. "My goodness," exclaimed a voice. "It really is you." Quick footsteps and Xander's leash was dropped as Spike received an armful of fragrant, silk gowned femininity.

He shook his head back into human face and his answering laugh was sheer delight. "Venetia," he cried. "I heard stories, but I never thought to see you here. I should have known. Let me look at you? My God, you look wonderful. Not a day older." They both laughed.

Xander sat carefully back on his heels and peaked up from under his brows. Spike was standing with his hands on the woman's shoulders as she gazed up into his eyes, her own sparkling with pleasure. She was small and slim, in a classic way, like the women in the historical movies Willow used to make him watch, having given up hope of him reading the books. Her golden hair was piled up in a complex arrangement on top of her head, a single ringlet draped forward over her shoulder and her dress was ivory, with gold embroidery, fitted closely under her breasts. With the education he had acquired since Sunnydale, Xander recognised it as Empire style - like the dresses Drusilla wore, the few times he saw her. Grimly, he wondered if Spike had a preference for that particular look, because he just knew it would never suit him. She was beautiful. As Xander watched she took a step back, sweeping an elegant curtsy before dancing forwards again to throw her arms around his neck. Spike hugged her close and swung her around, but he caught Xander's eyes over her shoulder for a moment and Xander, receiving the silent message of reassurance, bowed his head again.

The couple stopped spinning and pulled slightly apart, but she left her arms around his neck and his remained at her waist. "Venetia. It is so good to see you." Even his voice had changed. The accent dropped to reveal the purer tones that Xander had only ever heard occasionally, when they were alone together. "You really must show me around. And tell me everything. It's been an age. I don't think I've seen you since Berlin. How long have you been in the US? Is all this yours? Oh, we have some catching up to do. Come on, girl, give me a drink and tell me your story."

"William, William," she laughed. "Of course I will. And you'll tell me yours, too. Where's Dru? Is she with you?" He shook his head. "Oh, wicked boy" she scolded, archly. "Did you run away to come and see my house?"

Spike smiled regretfully. "No, My Dear. She's off gallivanting somewhere. I haven't seen her, these six years. She'll be back. But in the meantime, I'm having to make my own fun." As she began to lead him towards the stairs, he turned his head. "Boy! Heel!" he commanded, and Xander scrambled to his feet, picked up the loose end of the leash and trotted quickly over to them.

The Venetia woman paused, as if noticing him for the first time. As he sank to his knees again, lifting the leash in offering, he could feel her eyes on him, appraising him like so much live stock. Her voice purred as she observed, "Very pretty, Spike. Very pretty. Making your own fun, indeed. My, my. And he looks very well trained. Where did you find him?"

Spike apparently decided to clearly signal his ownership, since his voice was both smug and proud as he replied. "I picked him up at the Hellmouth. He came to heel like he was bred to it. My Geisha boy. I show him a little 'human' affection and he'll do anything for me. I think it's something in the air of the place." He sighed, nostalgically. "I spent a few years there. It's amazing. You really must try it, if you haven't been there before. The story is, it was designed as a food store. The humans are beautifully oblivious. Very rich pickings, even with a Slayer in town."

Her laugh was pure as a bell, and irritated Xander beyond all measure. "Oh, come upstairs. Let me find you a drink and you can tell me all about it. And let me show you around. There's not many come here with their own pet in tow, but I'm sure I can find something to tempt you, even so." She paused. "In fact, if you have a particular taste for Hellmouth boys, I might just have something you will really enjoy."

Xander tensed in alarm and Spike's hand came down to rest firmly on his head, pulling him in so his cheek rested against Spike's leg and holding him still for a moment. Then he was pulled away as she took him by the hand and led him up the stairs. Xander once again followed to heel.

Road Trip 3