NOBODY: Prologue
by Trixx


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.

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.

  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?...” Willow barely paused for breath but it was long enough for Xander to break in.

"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.

  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.

  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
Willow.  Sighing at the inevitability of the girls showing up, they seemed to be doing that an awful lot lately, you could almost smell the concern wafting in from the hallway off of them.  They worried that he was wasting away since Sunnydale, wasting his life between nameless women’s thighs.  Snorting as he slipped on his boxers, wondering how they'd react if they knew the truth.  He could just see that conversation.  *Really, you guys don't need to worry about the Xandman!  I'm fine!  Not wasting my life, honest... I'm just randomly sleeping with men and women before going out and killing a few vamps all on my blind lonesome... you shouldn't worry.*  Oh that would go over so well.  They'd probably tie him up and test for possession again.

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..."
Willow tried to get her words out, compassion lacing her voice, but Xander still heard only pity, regret, longing for the way things used to be.  The way they couldn't ever be again.

"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."


NOBODY: Chapter One






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