The night was still and silent, broken only by the occasional car horn, or the
whisper of the wind through the trees, before all was still once more. Dark gothic buildings stood high against the
backdrop of the night sky, lights flashing dimly from covered windows, the moon
and stars the only witness to the scene playing out on the rooftops far below.
A dark shadow clung to the edge of the rooftop, remarkably similar to the
gargoyle he was crouching next to as still as death, waiting for a sign,
something on the streets far below that would move him into action. His head cocked to the side as at last he
heard it, faint in the night, footsteps, pounding roughly down a street, running
away from something, a heartbeat thudding in fear, the scent of it, acrid and
nauseating, wafting to him on the night breeze.
He slowly uncurled his body, stretching, before diving off the edge of
the building. He held his body arrow
straight, sleek and aerodynamic against the wind battering at his muscular
form, reaching out at the last possible moment to grab hold of a flagpole
jutting out from the side of the building and slowing his momentum before
landing firmly with his feet on the ground, twelve stories below the roof from
which he had jumped.
His feet flew across the pavement,
matching the echoing footsteps of the innocent running for her life. He knew without a doubt it was a woman, he
could hear the clack of her heels now, loud and sharp, hitting the pavement
with every fear-laced step. He could
practically feel the thud of her heart, trying to escape the confines of her
chest as she ran… her frightened gasping, fighting for breath, fighting for
life… he picked up his pace.
He could feel them, knew it wasn’t far now, knew he would arrive too late. He could hear the short sharp burst of sound
as she was caught from behind, the startled sound breaking from her throat as
she was spun around to face her attacker… could hear her shuddering breath as
she saw it, the demon that was about to make a meal out of her. An extra burst
of speed and he could feel them getting closer, the demon just about to sink
his fangs deep into the blood flushed skin of her throat.
He leapt at them, leaving the ground with a soft whoosh of air, his leather
encased feet barely making a sound on the rough pavement before he was
airborne, connecting with a sickening thud, knocking attacker and victim both
to the ground. The vampire scrambled
back, away from his attacker, watching as the leather-clad man helped his meal
to her feet, eyes widening in shock as he heard the dark scratchy whisper
emerge from the shadowy man. “Run,” was
all he said to the woman before her eyes got huge, and her feet took flight. She was gone within seconds. The man turned back to the vampire and
smirked, waiting for it to regain its feet.
The vampire drew himself up straighter, higher, prouder, before attacking,
raining a flurry of blows upon the man, who fluidly parried, landing a few
blows of his own before spinning and kicking the vampire firmly in the chest,
sending it crashing into the wall of the building behind him. It didn't bother to get up, instead
whispering, “What are you?”
A smirk still graced the lower half of the shadow’s mouth, and with the twitch
of a hand a stake was being held between bruised fingers. A deadly smoky voice
broke from the man's mouth, as he grated out over unused vocal cords, “Me.. I'm
nobody.” The stake thrust forward before the words had finished leaving his
mouth, a look of surprise gracing the vampire's face as he turned to dust that
drifted away on the wind.
”OH GROSS, vampire dust in the mouth,” he complained, spitting the vile dust
out of his mouth. Xander wiped the back
of his hand across his tongue, trying to get rid of the taste. “That’s it… I’m making a lower half to this
mask… with a dust mask built right in.”
Shaking his head, he limped back into the shadows, disappearing into the
night.
********************
When all is said and done, Xander
understood. He realized that he wasn’t
totally alone in the world. He believed
that his friends loved him and cared about him, and that they wanted him to be
happy. Just because he understood,
didn’t mean that he felt he deserved
happiness. He’d spent the better
part of his life being good, fighting the fight of the righteous, and what had
he gotten for it? Stepped on, trod down,
kicked when he hit the floor, and no one noticed. They continued to believe that he fought
because he had some choice in the matter.
That he fought because it was the right thing to do. That wasn't it. On more than one occasion he
could remember being perilously close to death, staring down that long tunnel
as his life came to an end, only to be yanked back into this godforsaken
world. Xander understood that it wasn’t
about fighting the good fight, it wasn’t about winning or losing, life or
death. It was about being alone, and not
having any choice at all.
The girls had come over for a night of reminiscing. There had been sodas and popcorn, laughter
and tears, before they’d said goodbye for the evening. Xander had tried to sleep after the girls
left, but it eluded him. Lost to the
shadows creeping through his apartment, lost to the nameless people crying out
as their orgasms overtook them. He’d gotten
out of his cold bed, dressed, and once more disappeared into the night.
One in the morning found Xander standing outside another anonymous club, one of
the loud outrageously-colored ones that seemed to be a dime a dozen in this
city, the surrounding streets rampant with drunks and partygoers. Just the kind of place he was looking for.
Slipping past the bouncers, who were dealing with an obnoxious woman, he found
himself immersed in wet heat, pounding bass, and the smell of sex. It was perfect. Letting his senses reach out, he searched for
someone, anyone to lose himself in, just for a little while, someone to sink
below the surface with, someone to drown in.
Taking a deep breath he sensed movement around him, a man by the smell,
approaching him with one intent on his mind.
Shaking his head, Xander moved further into the club, looking for
something softer tonight, gentle curves, and long luxurious hair. A strong smell of arousal made him turn his
head, and there she was.
Leaning against the bar, scanning the crowd with the same desperation he was,
searching for something to ease her pain.
One more deep breath to calm his nerves and he moved over to take the
place next to her at the bar, ordering a whiskey neat from the bartender. He inhaled deeply, taking the essence of her
into himself. Sweet smells, desperation,
loneliness, and just a hint of jasmine.
She was perfect.
Xander
looked down on the woman with his unseeing eyes, seeing more than any other
person in the room. She was cute, in an
unconventional way, but inside... she was just as damaged as he. "You want to get out of here?" Xander's voice whispered softly into her ear,
just managing to be heard over the raucous music.
He could feel her look at him, feel her eyes moving down his body, just before
her hand grabbed hold of his and started pulling him through the sea of
bodies. He managed to toss back the
drink, shoving the empty glass onto a table as they made it to the front doors. Breaking through into the slightly chillier
night air, he finally heard her speak.
"Yours or mine?" She
spoke softly, her voice a low breathy caress across his skin.
"Yours," and once again they were moving through the crowd of people,
her pulling him along behind her, a firm grip on his hand, as if afraid that if
she let go, he would leave.
Making it to the street, she hailed a taxi, and ushered him in. Xander took one last deep breath of the night
air before he clambered in, letting himself get lost in her.
****************
Standing in the middle of her living room,
arms akimbo, Xander spun in a slow circle, letting his senses reach out to
encompass the space. Useless eyes closed
for no other reason than to help him attune himself to his surroundings, relaxing
into the sensations, he touched the furnishings in the room, stopping when he
came to the entertainment center.
Focusing on his breathing, he stepped towards it, one foot in front of
the other, careful not to trip on anything he couldn't sense, unaware that his
stealthy movements had a catlike grace.
Turning the stereo on, he changed it to his favorite radio station,
soothing sultry sounds filled the small apartment. It wasn't terribly small,
more... cozy and homey. The type of home
he and Anya...
Letting his senses waft around the room, he stood taking in the little things
he'd missed on the first pass. The lack of plant life, the slightly moving
curtains leading out onto a balcony or patio, the coffee table he'd barely
avoided walking into on his trek to the stereo, the number of stains in the
carpet... she wasn't a very good housekeeper.
The stack of magazines on the coffee table... would have been nice to be
able to read the covers, you could tell a lot about people by the magazines
they read... Anya always read... Shaking
his head he cleared thoughts of Anya from his mind, twice in one night, he
berated himself, must need this more than I'd realized.
He let his thoughts trail off as he smelled the hint of jasmine drifting
through the air; he turned towards where she stood, soft and hesitant. His senses washed over her, taking in the
softly tumbled hair, the lack of clothing, and the musky scent of arousal
permeating the air. Inhaling the spicy
fragrance deeply, he moved slowly towards her without saying a word.
Taking her gently into his arms, his rough clothing scraping against her pale
sensitive skin, he let his hands travel down the expanse of her gently rounded
curves, dipping into every soft imperfection, skimming under her breasts,
barely brushing the curves. Tenderly
brushing across her swollen nipples, listening to her harsh indrawn breath,
feeling the tremors wrack her body as she pressed closer, pushing into his
rough hands, begging without words for more.
He bent his head closer to her ear, brushing his lips against the
sensitive lobe, letting her feel his breath as one hand moved around to cup her
dimpled posterior, and the other moved down her front to bury itself in her
curls. Her heavy panting gasps ruffled
his hair with each exhalation, tickling his ear. His fingers traced her wetness, flicking back
and forth across her hardened nub, dipping inside her wet folds, before
slipping back out, slow teasing touches across the center of her womanhood.
Xander drew in a deep breath as the smell of musk increased in the air, making
his sensitive nose hurt, his eyes ache, and his cock get impossibly
harder. Breathing hard against her ear
his voice came out hard and cold, "I'll fuck you, but you can't bite me. Bite me and I'll dust you while my cock's
pounding away at your dead and useless body, got it?" Xander's sightless eyes opened to stare down
at the vampire, giving the perfect impression of sight.
"You knew? And you still came home
with me?" The vampire questioned,
shivering slightly under his pitiless gaze.
"Course I knew, would have to be blind not to tell." A small smirk
graced the corner of his mouth, before turning into a straight hard line. "Deal?"
Mouth turned down in a pout, her eyes raked over him one more time before she
nodded. "Would have been better
with a fuck and feed, but a fuck will do.
I can go out later to eat."
A small Cheshire cat grin flitted across her lips as she took his hand
and led him into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind them.
************
Dawn's seeking fingers lazily wiggled
through the blackout curtains, tracing swirling patterns in the sex heavy air,
gently touching dressers, caressing carpet, before creeping into bed with the
slow moving lovers. Their naked forms
entwined, fingers tangled in her bedraggled hair, holding her head back as he
bit gently on her neck. The muscles of
his back expanding and contracting as he thrust sedately into the warm wet
sheath beneath him. Her lips pressed
against the tendon in his neck, stifling her moans, elongated fangs scraping
over the tender skin, feral yellow eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to
control herself as her orgasm overtook her.
Small wisps of smoke began to slowly rise up from her arm as ticklish
fingers of light danced across her skin.
The pain only making her cum harder, back arching, hands scrabbling down
Xander's back, clawing, trying to get free, as he pinned her down to the bed,
thrusting harder within her, reaching for his own orgasm. Words broke from her mouth, screams for
mercy, to let her go, to let her live, promises, threats, streaming from her
twisted lips. Feeling his refusal in the
brutal thrusting of his hips, she bit down on his shoulder, hard and deep,
before dissolving in a shower of dust, cum splattering through the dust to land
in sticky messy gobs as Xander flopped down into the now empty bed.
"Well... that was certainly interesting." Xander sighed as he dropped the stake he'd
been clutching through the whole night onto the dusty bed. "Won't try that again." Rising from the dust he walked toward the
bathroom intent on cleansing himself of the sticky mess. "But fuck... she was one hell of a good
lay."
Standing in the shower, his head bowed low,
hands resting on the tiles, Xander let the water beat down on him, rinsing away
the nights exertions, the grey dust staining the already dirty bathtub a darker
shade of mud. One hand wiped the water
away from his tired sockets. Too long
with the eyes in. Time to get home, take
them out, crawl into bed, and die for a little while. While everyone else is at work, not at home
fucking in their beds, loud and obnoxious, so loud that half the time the TV
couldn't dull the sound, couldn't dull the pain the sounds inflicted.
Stepping out of the stall dripping onto the cold floor, Xander looked into the
mirror. Or at least gave the appearance
of looking into the mirror. He tried to
sense his reflection, wanting more than anything to know... to know if he
looked like as big a freak as he felt.
To know if his eyes were blaring neon signs of fakehood, where anyone
could see the falseness in them, the wrongness in him. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, at his
own frailty, he knew if he asked the girls they'd tell him... but they just
didn't see. Didn't see who and what he
was... not that they didn't try, he just couldn't let them. Couldn't stand to feel their disappointment
wash over him. Shivering in the cool
air, he shook his head, flinging drops of water off his wavy brown hair, flying
in every direction, hitting the mirror and sliding down, distorting the image
he couldn't see, cutting it in half.
Xander would have laughed at how fitting it seemed to be.
Padding naked back into the bedroom, he slipped into the slightly ripe clothes
from the previous night. Taking one last
look around the apartment, he grabbed her wallet off the kitchen table,
pocketing the money from it, before slipping out into the dark hallway, locking
the door behind him.
A short taxi ride found Xander standing on the curb outside his apartment
building. Dread stole its way up his
body from his toes to his shoulders, making the muscles tighten and the release
he'd gotten repeatedly through the night seem like nothing, feel like
nothing. Like him.
Walking through the lobby to the elevator seemed to take hours, and waiting for
the elevator seemed to take longer... the long ride up to his 8th floor
apartment took a lifetime, before the doors whooshed open to the sound of
excited chatter.
"Xan! You're finally home! We've been waiting here for hours! We went patrolling last night... well Buffy
went patrolling last night and she was so wired she couldn't sleep and we know
you never sleep at night so we thought we'd come keep you company, but you
weren't here, and where were you? Did you meet a girl? OHHHH did you get some
Xander lovin' last night? Was it good?
What was her name?...”
"Breathe girl!" Xander
laughed. "Let's see if I can
remember how to do this..." Xander paused for breath before letting the
words tumble out of his mouth, tripping together, "Yes I'm home, sorry
you've been waiting, I went to a club, I met a girl, I got some lovin’, yes it
was good, I never asked her name."
Finally coming up for air Xander winked at the girls.
"Now if you'll excuse me ladies... I haven't slept a wink all
night, and the Xandman needs sleep.
You're welcome to crash in the spare room if you think you can sleep,
and then we can discuss my lack of morality later." Grinning widely as they hugged his sides,
both agreeing to spend the day, Xander reached around them to let them all into
the apartment.
Xander sighed. It was going to be
another long day.
*************
Late in the evening found Xander crouched
on the edge of a building. He felt the
people passing by below him, a swirl of faces in the crowd, a cacophony of
sound reaching his sensitive ears, body tense and waiting for anything that
seemed wrong. The bright lights were
reflected from the mirrored panels of the eyes on his mask, giving no hint that
he stood alone high above the mass of people, a silent voyeur to their
lives. The recently added piece of
leather concealing the lower half of his face, made of dull black leather, with
a red X sewn over the mouth. Xander's
dark sense of humour reared its ugly head as he was sewing it together. His initial... but a convenient way to keep
the dust out of his mouth when one of his opponents suddenly went up in cloud
of dust. He knew he looked like some
kinky pervert, a perfect gimp buried beneath the layers of leather.
His cape fluttered behind him, a nod to the better times with Dawn, when they'd
sit around joking over his superhero status and how every superhero needed a
cape. Special cape though. Unlike Superman who could leap over tall
buildings in a single bound, or Spiderman who could sling web and swing from
building to building, Xander was for all intents and purposes a human
being. No superpowers... unless you
counted his senses. He'd made the cape
himself, to remind him of those simpler times when all he'd had to worry about
was the coming apocalypse, before taking it to a witch he'd met while out
carousing the bars. She'd spelled it...
given him the gift of flight. Xander
snorted at that memory. She hadn't so
much gifted him with it, as taken it out of his hide. He'd had to ride her for nearly two days
straight before she'd been satisfied enough to do the spell. It hadn't worked quite the way he'd wanted,
he couldn't fly, but he could glide, enough so that when he jumped off
buildings he didn't land on his head and crack like a six month old egg. Came in handy when his senses failed him.
Xander's lips twitched behind the mask, remembering the long aching hours he'd
put into making this outfit, the countless bleeding fingers when he'd stuck
himself with the needle, the countless crooked seams he'd had to re-stitch
before he'd gotten it right. That needle
had been so thick and sturdy, able to punch through the leather on the first
try, sharp as a blade, at times tearing into his skin. The pain had felt good, like a release all in
its own, but the explanations to the girls had taken it all away again. The lies tumbling from his lips as he told
them he'd taken up needlepoint to pass the time, the smell of their disbelief
as they stared at his scarred face and swollen fingers. The sense of loss as they let it go. There was a time when they would have hounded
him till they got the truth... but they just didn't seem to care anymore.
Black leather he'd finally decided on. Thick, sturdy, tough enough that it acted as
armor most nights. The red strapping had
been a brilliant idea. Too many years
fighting, too many dislocated joints, broken bones, bruises, torn ligaments and
muscles. His body hadn't been able to
keep up with his new senses, so he'd invented the straps. There was moldable metal in the straps, they
acted like braces for his shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, and knees, keeping
everything in joint, and supporting the weaker areas so he could move as he
pleased. The whole outfit fit like a
second skin, moving with him, keeping him together, providing the anonymity he
craved. Plus as an added bonus, he knew
he looked super cool.
Sensing movement in the alley to his left, Xander inhaled deeply, taking in the
scent of the vampire below him, the musky scent of arousal of the human
following the vampire into the alley.
Shaking the thoughts of his beginnings from his head, Xander let his
senses reach out, feeling the lips suckling on the human neck below, before
taking a running leap off that side of the building, landing with grace on the
rock covered alley below, his knee high boots barely making a sound as the
rocks shifted under his weight. This was
just what he needed. He could lose
himself again. No more memories
tonight.
"Hey!
Mind if I join in?" Xander's
voice was muffled through the mask, but the vampire heard him just fine.
"Mine, get your own," was pushed out against bloody skin, the body
already limp in its arms.
"I think you misunderstood me. Don't want that... want you." Xander's silky tone was almost lost inside
the leather, but that wonderful vampire hearing prevailed once again. Dropping the body to the alley floor, the
vampire turned slowly towards Xander, taking in the leather, the red, what looked
like a bloody X across where the mouth should be.
"What are you? Some gimp looking
for a good ride?" The vampire
sneered out, distaste twisting the gore smeared mouth.
"Nope. I'm Nobody. I'm just gonna have fun dancing in your
dust." Xander quipped before doing
a quick spinning kick catching the vampire across the face with the side of his
boot, sending the creature spinning to the alley ground beside his victim. Twirling a stake in his fingers, Xander plunged
it down in a swift arc, embedding it neatly in the vampire's chest, dead center
over the heart. A shower of dust flew up
into Xander’s face.
"Oh wow the mask works!"
Xander did a little snoopy dance in the shower of dust. "Wouldn't want him to call me a
liar." Reaching down to feel for a
pulse in the victim lying on the ground, Xander jumped back startled as the man
opened his eyes.
"Who are you?" The man croaked
out between dry lips, his vision twisted by blood loss, seeing only a dark
shadow hovering over him.
"Nobody." He heard whispered
just before losing consciousness.
************************
Xander sat
on his lumpy sofa staring blindly at the television, listening to the late
night news. He'd made the
headlines. "Masked Avenger Swoops
Down and Saves Reporter." Xander sighed. He'd have to learn to ask for names and
occupations before saving anyone from now on.
They'd made him sound like a hero, like Batman swooping in to save the
day. Rising slowly off the couch, he
turned the TV off, shaking his head at the absurdity of a blind man being
anybody’s hero, even though nobody knew he was a blind man... nobody knew it
was him at all. They'd dubbed him
Odysseus after some Greek guy... all because of his wisecrack about being
Nobody; seems the guy he'd saved had been into obscure mythology. Mentally smacking himself, he vowed to learn
how to keep his mouth shut, snorting at the impossibility of not making
comments in times of stress.
Xander made
his way slowly into his bedroom and to the closet, selecting his leathers and laying
them on the bed before heading into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Soft muttered words, whispered into the hot
spray, an incantation to mask his scent while he was hunting, couldn't have a
nosy vampire following his scent to his home, finding out who he was, letting
slip who he was. The way Buffy liked to
talk during slaying, you never know what the heck those vamps said in return.
Turning off the faucets he stepped out onto the fluffy bathmat, letting it
absorb the falling water from his body, fingers roving down tanned skin,
finding every scar he'd earned since losing his sight. He couldn't see, but he knew he must resemble
a patchwork quilt by now. Snickering lowly
to himself, he imagined himself to look more like Frankenstein, pieced together
with leftover body parts.
Grabbing a towel off the rack he draped it around his slim hips, cinching it at
the waist when he heard a knock at the door, listening intently he picked up
the eager chatter of Buffy and
Xander felt carefully along the door for the doorknob before opening it. He never understood why he couldn't sense the
damn thing. Keeping his friendly smile
firmly in place as the girls pushed passed him and into the apartment
chattering about movies, and popcorn, and how they just didn't spend enough
time together anymore. Once inside with
their backs to him, Xander felt his smile slip, he didn't want company today.
"Ladies... I hate to disappoint two such beautiful women when they want a
piece of the Xandman... but I have plans this fine and beautiful evening. You'll have to find some other studly man to
entertain you." Smiling the
patented Xander goofy grin in their general direction, he could feel their
disapproving stares.
"Xan..." Buffy started slowly, before taking a deep breath. "We're worried about you. You never want to spend time with us... and
when you do... you're not really 'here'."
Buffy's concern was strong in her voice, no hint of pity anywhere to be
found. Xander still heard the pity, the
remorse of a time long past... heard the regrets shading her voice, and she
wondered why he wasn't always here with them?
"Xan... you know we love you..."
"Look, I'm a grown man, fully capable of taking care of myself. I don't need you two around to babysit
me. As much as I love you both, you
don't put out on a regular basis. Now if
you'll excuse me?" Xander made his
way into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him, before leaning back
against it. They just didn't
understand. He stayed there until he
heard the apartment door open and close quietly before going to the bed and
getting dressed. Time to work out some
aggression using old-fashioned violence.
**************
Xander whirled in a flurry of limbs, raining blow after blow down upon his
opponent. Panting into the cold night
air, sweat soaking the inside of his leathers, making his skin cold and clammy,
uncomfortable, he just wanted to finish off this last vampire and then call it
a night, find a club, pick up someone, anyone, perfect ending to a perfect
evening.
Xander snorted at the thought of his 'perfect' evening. A fight with the girls, a fight with a
stranger, and finish it all off with an anonymous fuck from a stranger. Hell, for all Xander knew this could be last
week's fuck of the moment, but he doubted it.
He could feel the sinewy muscles moving beneath tight clothing, smell the
acrid tobacco that clung to the vampire's skin and hair. He smelled like Spike, like home, like
everything that was lost in the rubble.
It made Xander fight harder, more determined, landing solid hits in a
flurry of confusion and pain. Drowning
in memories, he failed to sense the flip kick to the side of his head before it
connected and sent him spinning to the ground, where he landed with a low grunt
of pain.
Xander lay there stunned for a moment, shaking his head to clear it, before
letting his senses extend outwards once again, trying to find the movement
before it came crashing down on him. He
went completely motionless in confusion as he felt the vampire standing only a
few feet away, staring down at him. He
could feel the fierce yellow eyes burning a hole into him with their
intensity. Flipping quickly to his feet,
Xander went back on the offensive.
They were well matched, parry and thrust, kick and dodge, neither one managing
to land many blows now, learning each other's styles as they twisted and
danced, a blur of motion in the shadowed alley.
Xander ducked a blow coming towards his face, bringing his fist up into
the vampire's midsection. Doubling over
with the force of the blow, the vampire went down into Xander's raised knee,
letting out a low groan of pain as Xander felt wetness splatter across his
leathers. Xander moaned in satisfaction,
the garbled noise reaching the bent vampire's ears.
"You like that hmm? Like the smell
of blood? The feel of it bathing your
body?" British accent came across
strong and clear, causing Xander to freeze where he stood, still as a
statue. "I used to fancy bathing in
blood... I hear it's good for the complexion, don't really know seeing as I
can't see myself in a mirror anymore, some prat robbed me of that
privilege. Such a shame really, right
handsome bloke like myself should be able to see the perfection that is
me." A deep sigh rent the air. "Don't suppose you have a light,
luv? I could really use a puff right
about now." The vampire sat down on
a crate just a few feet from where they'd been fighting only moments before,
searching through his duster pockets till he found an old, faded
matchbook. Striking a match against the
side of the crate, he lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply before looking back at
the still figure through the cloud of smoke he exhaled through his nose.
"Don't suppose you'd like to tell me your name?" The vampire's voice was low and rough, thick
with smoke, causing shivers to run down Xander's spine.
Xander shook his head slowly before whispering, "Nobody."
Snapping his fingers the vampire jumped off his seat. "Knew it! You're that bloody hero guy off the
telly!" Smirking lips wrapped once
more around the filter of his smoke, taking a drag before blowing it in Xander's
direction. "You'd get along
famously with Peaches. He's all into
that Batman image."
Xander inhaled sharply at that last confirmation. He'd known, he could smell it, feel it, hear
it... but he'd needed... Xander softly
exhaled the name, "Spike..."
Spike's head came up slowly at his softly whispered name. "I know you." Peering suspiciously
at the leather clad thing before him, Spike took a few steps closer, sniffing,
trying to make out the scent, but smelling nothing at all, not even blood. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood
on end. "Mojo? Hiding something are we?" Stepping
closer still, he invaded Xander's very personal space, until they were pressed
together from chest to thigh. Spike
inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the leather, before leaning in close to
where the thing’s ears should be.
"Who are you?"
Xander took a step back, saying more firmly, "Nobody," before he
panicked and turned and ran, his feet pounding the pavement before he used the
stacked crates to leap to the hanging ladder above him. Climbing swiftly, he leapt to the next
rooftop, quickly disappearing from sight.
Spike stood bemusedly in the alley, still smoking his cigarette, shaking his
head. "Geez, sensitive, I only
asked who you were." Snorting, he
turned around and disappeared into the shadows, unaware of the figure standing
on the rooftop above.
Xander stood at the edge of the building, his senses firmly wrapped around
Spike, feeling him walk away, feeling the gentle shake of his head, the way his
body was rushing with adrenaline after the fight, how hard he was, how achingly
hard he was right now. Xander knew he
could go down there, sink to his knees and wrap his lips around Spike's hard
cock, could suck him off till they both lost their minds, but not tonight.
"Spike..." Xander whispered again, feeling Spike pause below him.
Without turning around Spike spoke around his cigarette, "I know you, I
*feel* like I know you. Don't matter if
you run, I'll figure you out sooner or later." Inhaling deeply, head bowed, Spike made his
way out of the alley, moving slowly, until Xander couldn't sense him anymore.
Xander finally lowered his head, rough voice breaking the silence that had
descended with Spike's departure, "I hope so, Fangless, I hope so."