Full Circle 1 – 5
(~) at the start and finish of sentences mean that Spike is thinking to himself.
Pre–dawn, Spike´s Crypt
~Arseholes, pricks and fuck the military!~
All those words and much more offensive ones in even more offensive languages were running through Spike´s agony.
~Oh, ha–bloody–ha! I´ve already been fucked over by the sodding military. Bloody well more than once. My life can only get better from here~
Trying to ignore the burning light from behind his eyes as best as he was currently able, Spike wearily watched the last of the ex–Initiative grunts walk up the crumbling steps of the crypt and into the dawning light of a new day. Spike fancied that he could almost see the stench of alcohol, cum, sweat and blood follow the Mexican through the doorway.
The vampire lay awkwardly on the bitterly cold crypt floor, bending an ear to the sound of laughter and five heartbeats as the men made their way out of the cemetery and away from his crypt. With a shudder that he didn´t even try to suppress, Spike thanked all the Gods that he could currently think of that his lucky night of ´bonding´, courtesy of Riley and his friends, was now over.
~Until the next time. After all, Slaggy´s bump and grind toy knows where I live. Hell, what´s to stop them from coming for seconds?~
The pain from the previous hours of fun and games was starting to grab hold at his battered body with a vengeance that the demon bint, Anya, would probably be proud of. Wincing as he let out a deep sigh of relief, Spike found that he couldn´t isolate any particular feeling of pain in his body. The fact was that he hurt all over. He hurt *badly*. However, the pain radiating out of every pore in his body was nothing compared to the intense, sharp ache that was coming from the chipped side of his head. Spike knew that his skull was fractured, if not completely cracked open, just above his ear. He´d had numerous head injuries over the years, but never had he ever experienced such pain as he was currently feeling. As he tried to think back to the last time he had been bashed around the head, Spike dry retched as the pain in his skull swelled in intensity just as his stomach decided to protest at how much cum he had been forced to swallow in the previous few hours.
~Christ, what a *good* boy I am. Not a drop spilled from any of the cunts!~
Well, at least not after the first few blowjobs. When Graham had first pulled out his cock and had demanded Spike suck it, the vampire had laughed and sneered at the gathered men even while they had all lashed out, kicking and punching him. Finally, after a mind numbing blow to his crotch, Spike had opened up for the well built ex–army man. With a few half hearted licks and a deplorable attempt at sucking, he had spat Graham´s cum straight back at the blond. Something that had earned him two broken ribs and another cock shoved down his throat.
It had been another five–on–one beating after he had spat the second soldier´s cum out that had persuaded him to swallow everyone else´s rank tasting residue. Let no–one tell him that cum tasted good; as far as he was concerned, it tasted like salty sour fish and after five different lots, it really tasted no better. And that was only round one of ´let´s demean the disabled little vampire´.
~I wonder when the board game of that comes into the shops?~
Spike could feel the sticky residue of cum and blood congealing underneath him. Shit, it wasn´t only underneath him, it was covering most of his body. Buttocks, the insides of his thighs, and he imagined that he could feel it leaking out of his torn and aching hole.
In a stiff gesture, he traced his broken fingers along his bruised and finger marked jaw line, gingerly wiping at the drying blood and cum that stained his lips and the sides of his mouth. Reaching up a little farther, Spike awkwardly brushed at the tears of shame and humiliation that were slowly coming to a halt. He was ashamed that he had once again been in a subservient position to a male that wasn´t his rightful Sire; the humiliation stemmed from the fact that Spike, as a Master Vampire, had been unable to stop his attackers. His at first defiant and finally, frightened ´No´ proving ever so ineffective in keeping him safe from harm.
He had cried almost constantly during the last few assaults, his pain and feelings of helplessness overwhelming him like never before. Bad enough that he had cried at all, but to cry in front of those arseholes, those *human* arseholes, was just too much to think about.
~Well then, just colour me the great broody Poof, I´m soft. Peaches did worse than this to me as a Fledge and I still didn´t give up as easily as this. Then again, one chip and a frigg´n pig´s blood diet make for one not so well vamp~
With as much effort as he was currently able to muster, Spike slowly started to draw his knees up to his chest, choking on an agonised gasp as sharp shocks of pain coursed through his hips and upper thighs. A flare of nausea causing his stomach to rebel even more.
~Fuck, I think me hips are dislocated~
Snorting in disgust at himself for being so weak, he turned his attention to his back and the fire that was raging from the nape to the base of his spine. Every one of the welts dealt to him by Cornfed was standing to attention and clambering to be known. Dealt to him with remarkable accuracy by a human using Spike´s once favoured belt.
In an attempt to forget about his pitiful situation for just a moment or two, Spike allowed his mind to wander back to the day that Dru had seen the belt on one of the locals, in some little Midwestern town they had relaxed in for a few days so many years ago. On seeing it, his Princess had decided that only her Spikey could do the belt justice by being the one to wear it, and who was he to deny his love? Smiling as much as his torn lips would allow at that distant memory, he carefully let his tongue probe and investigate the ragged insides of his bruised mouth, all the while wishing he had a cool drink of something... anything really, to soothe his sore throat.
"FUCK!"
Or at least, that´s what should have come out.
Not a sound, bar a dry wheeze issued forth into the chilly air. Waiting for a moment, Spike tried again.
"CHRIST!"
Nothing.
Spike knew that he was saying it right, forming the correct movements for that particular speech pattern, but what came out was barely a whispered grunt. What the hell was happening? The nausea grew worse with every second that he tried to think about what this could mean. Moving his head from the protective cocoon of his bruised arms, Spike noticed that the light from behind his eyes was starting to dull. With effort, he rolled from his relatively undamaged right side to a position on his front so that the cool breeze coming from the open doorway of the crypt could at least soothe some of his back. It was a move that he immediately regretted.
The tears that had slowly ceased as he had counted the welts on his battered body burst forth as he jarred his aching neck on the cold, uneven floor. Although the numerous hands that had held him across the marble slab were gone, his protesting muscles shrieked that it was all a lie and that the five men were still there, holding him in place. Ensuring that he was ready for another of his ´new found friend´s´ cocks to tear him apart.
~I wonder if Bitchy knows what Cornfed and the pricks do on a weekend off?~
With a gut–wrenching sob of self–pity that did nothing in the way of quelling the persistant nausea, Spike wondered when help would arrive, or even if it ever would. It wasn´t as if he was going to be able to get very far with the broken ankle and his hips in the condition they were in. He doubted very much that sitting up would be on the agenda for at least a few more days. Even with the quick healing that vampires were blessed with, a steady diet of pig´s blood had left him feeling physically weaker than normal. He was still stronger than at least three strapping humans, but what good was that with the stupid chip in his head?
Too exhausted to even bother cursing it, Spike lay in the dust and urine, shivering as the cool morning breeze drifted over him.
~At least I´ll be out of the way of the sun later today~
~Ahhh fuck! What if Harm finds me?~
The night before...
Giles´ front door slammed hard enough for the windows to rattle in their frames, and Xander grumbled to himself as he wondered why he and only *he* got the honour of locating the Bleached Wonder and making sure that the vampire attended the next Scooby Meeting. The next meeting being tomorrow night, of course, which meant that Xander would have to spend his hard earned hours off from work trolling through Sunnydale´s numerous cemeteries until he stumbled upon Spike´s latest hidey hole.
Shaking his head as he continued to lament his situation, Xander grimaced at the thought of the newest ´Big Bad´ that had descended upon Sunnydale. Apparently, some sort of three–armed, liver eating weirdo of a demon had decided to make Sunnydale its private playground. Something that didn´t bode well for the little town´s human residents. However, as Giles had soon discovered, thanks to rather large tome, there was a relatively simple way of getting the cloven footed demons to move on. According to the last person who´d had the chance to study the demons, they were pretty peaceable folk and would give up their claim on Sunnydale without a quibble or bloodshed if it was proven that someone else had staked a claim first. Someone like the Slayer for example?
Unfortunately, Sunnydale being situated on a Hellmouth, there was a down side. They would only relinquish their claim if spoken to in their native language. Snickering to himself as he recalled Giles sickened look as the older man had tried to pronounce the cat like purring sounds, Xander reluctantly acknowledged that Giles was more than likely right, and that Spike would probably have more success at being able to persuade the demons to give up their idea of turning Sunnydale into a buffet. So far, there had been nothing in the way of bloodshed from the demon clan but as Buffy had declared, sooner was always better when it concerned demons.
His snicker died down into a low groan as he recalled just how pissed Anya had been when faced with the thought of missing out on a morning and probably an early afternoon of orgasms. Xander had politely pointed out that there would be no orgasms for either of them. "So not the point!" had been the reply from the angry ex–demon. He had held his hands up in self–defence in an effort to placate her, all the while promising to make it up to his visibly steaming girlfriend.
Just his luck that Iowa Boy wasn´t coming back till tomorrow night from visiting his family down on the farm, meaning that Riley was unable to help him with his search for Spike. Buffy had declared that she couldn´t help Xander either, as she wanted to ´pretty herself up´ so that Riley would know in the future that farms weren´t the only thing that could inspire dreamy, sun filled memories. So, of course, no help from the Buffster. As for Wills and Tara, Xander couldn´t really fault the two witches for being unable to help, as they did have important classes in the morning which they couldn´t miss, no matter what they might say.
Giles had tactfully declined, stating that he was sure that stock take had to be done in his new shop. Snorting to himself, Xander picked up the pace on his way back home, sure that a shop as new as G–Man´s really didn´t need one so soon after opening. Then again, who was he to know what went on in a shop and after tasting the construction worker´s life, he really didn´t want to know, so he had let that one slide right by with a grateful look from Giles. Secure in the knowledge that he still had Anya to help him look, Xander had been content to let everyone dish out their various excuses.
Of course, that had been until his lovely girlfriend had jumped on to the excuse bandwagon by declaring that since her current ambition was to be a nightclub ´door bitch´, helping Giles in the shop would be invaluable experience for her. Listening to Anya badger Giles into letting her point at things in the shop for him had actually been funny, and Xander had been certain that the ex–librarian would stick to his guns and continue to say no. He had been disappointed when Giles, after cleaning his glasses thoroughly with the ever present handkerchief, had finally given in and said yes.
"So, let me guess?" he mused out loud to himself. "This means that the whole demon situation rests on my ability to find Spike?"
"Joy! I love being the dependable one," Xander added, with more than a snaky tone to his voice. Doing the buttons up on his thick jacket, he continued his walk home in the chilly night air. Winter couldn´t be too far away, Xander thought. Looking in the letter box beside his driveway, Xander briefly wondered why he still bothered to do it. He knew without a doubt that his parents would have already thrown away anything that wasn´t addressed to them, or that didn´t contain coupons to be swapped for groceries or better yet, giving them a discount on alcohol. Seeing that the box was empty, he made his way to the basement doorway and unlocked the door. Turning the light on so that he could see his way down the stairs, and hopefully avoid the rotten step that continually threatened to twist his ankle each time he encountered it, Xander descended down into his gloomy living quarters.
Idly, he wondered if it would be easier to just go straight back out and look for Spike that night, there–by ensuring that he was once again back in the good books with Anya.
Have a Twinkie and get sleep.
Or
Look for Fangless.
Or
Twinkie first, shower and then sleep.
Or
Look for Fangless and be tired and cranky the next day.
Or
Two Twinkies, shower and sleep.
Or
Look for Fangless, get tired and cranky and be unable to summon up enough energy to perform for a seriously pissed girlfriend the next day.
Or...
After a few rounds had rattled around his skull, Xander settled for eating two Twinkies, using all the hot water while suffering a sugar hyper and then crashing down into a hopefully dreamless sleep. Bleach Boy could wait until tomorrow to get his Boy Scout badge of Usefulness.
Turning the rapidly cooling water off, Xander gathered the wet Twinkie wrappers in his hand and leaned over the cramped shower recess to grab a towel. The coarse towelling prickling at his skin as he dried himself off, he walked from the bathroom to the small kitchenette to deposit the sticky wrappers in the bin. Towel wrapped around his waist, his more muscular waist now that he had been at his construction job for more than a month, Xander opened the plastic bag that he had placed on the kitchen bench and took out the blood packets, placing them in the fridge´s vegetable crisper right next to the carrots. The mouldy, gross looking carrots. Sighing, he threw the offending items into the bin, on top of the candy wrappers.
Only briefly wondering what had been so important that Spike hadn´t come to the weekly Scooby meeting, if only to pick up his week´s supply of blood, Xander walked across the basement´s threadbare carpet covering cold concrete to his inviting bed. The towel dropped onto the floor beside the bed, he rummaged through the various piles of clothes that decorated the basement floor in the hopes of finding a pair of not so smelly track pants and a long sleeved T–shirt. Once found, dutifully sniffed and approved, he wearily climbed into the thin, hole filled welcome of his sheets and blankets. Throwing himself around the squeaky mattress, Xander only succeeded in getting himself thoroughly tangled in the meagre warmth the bedclothes offered.
Making a mental note to get some better blankets or better yet, a thermal sleeping bag that zipped right out, he thumped his pillow into a more serviceable shape and closed his eyes. As he let himself drift off into a Twinkie induced dream of epic proportions, his last coherent thought was never to eat Twinkies in the shower again.
"FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!"
Scowling, Xander picked himself up from the basement floor onto which he had landed after tripping over his forgotten towel. With a few pats to his knees, he dusted off his new cargo pants, inspecting them for any rips and tears. Anya loved him in cargo pants and had repeatedly told him that his arse looked totally ´hot and biteable´ in them. Hopefully, just by wearing them, Xander would be making a good start in his efforts to make up the missed orgasms to Anya.
Really, why he had to look for the English wanker on his Rostered Day Off from work was still anybody´s guess. Anya had leapt onto Giles´ excuse with an amount of gusto that still surprised him. Even when he had pointed out to her that one of the benefits of having her help him look for Spike wouldbe that they would have more time for orgasms, it hadn´t been enough to dissuade her from wanting to hassle Giles all day.
The sound of ´Errrrrrkkkk!´ coming from Buffy hadn´t worried him, neither had the giggles from both Wills and Tara. Giles´ politely worded ´Ah!´ and inspection of the ceiling hadn´t bothered him either. What had annoyed him so much had been the unexpected response from his beloved. A response that had gone something like ´You´re the man, you do the dirty work. I´m not!´
Something that had Xander angrier than he had felt in a long time, hence the door slamming episode at Giles´ place the night before he had really lost his temper.
Once he made sure that his cargos were still in top shape, Xander checked the amount of money left in his wallet. An amount that pleasantly surprised him as he had been sure that he had overspent the day before on his afternoon chocolate attack. With ten dollars left, Xander found himself forming a search plan for Spike with the issue of a cooked breakfast foremost in mind. Even though he knew he was going to have to search every crypt in Sunnydale, Xander would make sure that he had breakfast at the little diner opposite Sunnydale´s oldest cemetery.
"Probably makes most of its money holding wakes," mused Xander, already dreaming of eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms...
Mmmmmm, he thought to himself, I´ll be good and save it till last. That way, if he ate breakfast close to lunchtime, he wouldn´t have to buy a separate lunch and that meant he both saved money and would have more stamina for Anya later that day.
"Wow, with that kind of thinking, I should be a shoe–in for Harvard," snickered Xander as he bounded up the stairs, being careful to land on the squeaky step and avoid the rotten one. He pushed the basement door open, and stepped out into the chilly but bright day.
Later the same day...
Not having moved from the neck jarring position that he had managed to roll himself into hours previously, Spike could feel the damp cold from the stone crypt floor creeping into his limbs, rendering them numb after hours of aching stillness. He had been afraid to move for fear of doing more damage to his lower thigh muscles, that had been torn when both The Slayer´s Pet and his arsehole buddy Graham had wrenched his knees apart so that they and the others could screw him like a woman as he had been forced to lay on his back.
Spike had hated it when Angelus had insisted on taking him like a woman and now, he hated it even more. Just thinking of the humiliating little practice was threatening to start the flood tide of tears again. With a hard snort, Spike was determined not to cry again as he took a break from mentally reciting all the punk rock songs he knew. Drawing in a deep shuddering breath, he stared at the weak shard of light coursing through the crypt´s half closed door. Something that was hard for him to do as he tried to see beyond the fireworks that were still exploding across his field of vision. As he took in the strength of the deadly beam, Spike took it to be around noon, if not just after.
His throat, though still tender and scratchy, was starting to feel better. "No thanks to that overgrown human cracker, Graham! I mean, who the fuck names their brat after a friggin biscuit?"
All that came from Spike was a wheezing cough.
Once again, Spike knew that he could speak not only perfect English but a few other languages as well. Giving a deep sigh that was broken only by a harsh grunting cough, he tried his hand at another language, as obviously English wasn´t going to be happening for him that day. His head rolled so that his bruised right cheek was no longer pressed into the paste of blood, dirt and urine that covered the ground under his head, he tried the same sentences in Varrsht, Breraxthor, XXanrgon and his personal favorite, Stuol.
Zilch...nada and yet again, nothing bar a minutes worth of grunting, coughing and gasping.
Feeling the ever–present nausea rise, Spike dry retched from both hunger and the pain in his head.
~Way to soothe a sore throat, Dickhead!~
As he admonished himself for being such a girl, and a right sniveling one at that, Spike found himself thinking that Dru would probably have gotten right off on the previous nights activities. Hell, probably wasn´t even the right word for it. Spike knew without a doubt that Dru would have taken a second round if offered and then come back and asked for a third. Twisting his bruised and swollen lips into more of a grimace than a smile, he thought back fondly on his Dark Princess. That girl had always loved cock and the nastier the fuck, the better.
~Me... I´ve had more than enough sodd´n cock for the time being. Thank you very much, you bunch of cunts!~
With a weary sigh, he tuned out the bittersweet memories of his long departed love and instead, turned his attention to the very uninteresting, cracked and dented ceiling above him. Concentrating on the scenery above him as much as the ongoing light show in front of his eyes would let him, Spike found himself turning an ear to the faint yet rapid heartbeats of the birds just outside the crypt door. Detecting a much larger, stronger heartbeat coming his way, Spike wondered if it was one of the grunts from the night before. One of them coming back to finish him off, something that he was actually looking forward to.
The footsteps stopped just outside the crypt door, causing Spike to awkwardly twist his stiff neck so that he had a better view of the shadow blocking the sunlight that he had been lucky to avoid so far.
~Just pure, dumb luck that I was pushed off that f´n slab as hard as I was to land over here. Fantastically... wonderfully lucky!~
As an overly loud and way too dramatic volley of coughing and snorting noises came from the open doorway, Spike wondered when whoever it was would either just get their arse in or sod right off. A choice that was quickly made as the shadow descended the stairs, revealing itself to be male.
~Well then, please just come right in~ Spike thought as sarcastically as his worsening migraine allowed.
~Fuck me! Of all people, its the bloody Whelp!~
Spike watched as Xander stepped down onto the floor of the crypt. All the while the younger human attempted to stop the foul odour of the damp space getting to his nose by covering his lower face with both his T–shirt and over shirt, quite obviously offended by the stench that permeated the surrounding air.
~Try lying in what caused it all night, Mate~
Xander didn´t see Spike lying on the floor right away due to his inability to see more than a few steps in front of him. Taking a few hesitant steps forward, Spike´s name on the tip of his tongue, Xander sharply whirled around to peer behind him when he heard the sound of someone or something trying to be sick and not succeeding.
"Who´s there?" the tense young man demanded, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually felt.
~Me, you fucking imbecile~
Spike sneered to himself as he tried to make more than the soft grunting noises and dry retching sounds that he was so far only capable of. Trying not to jar his fingers too much on the uneven floor, he scrabbled them towards a broken piece of mortar. He picked it up awkwardly and felt a lighting bolt of pain surge through his hand as one sharp edge caught on the bone sticking from his broken finger. His jaw clenched as tightly as he could manage, Spike ignored his shrieking muscles as they protested at being woken from their cold slumber in order to raise his arm to throw the jagged shard in the boy´s general direction.
PLOP...
Xander whirled around again, his head arching from side to side as he looked to find where the new noise had come from. Looking down, he saw a piece of crumbled stone lying in a puddle of what he could only presume was the cause of the dank odour in the chilly room. He shuddered at the thought of what was mixed with the blood on the floor. With a shake of his head, Xander knew that he had been hanging with Buffy for way too long for him automatically to know that it was blood. Letting his line of vision trail along the gloopy looking puddle to just beyond into the darker shadows, he caught a glimpse of something pale. Acting on instinct, Xander started to turn and run when another softer retching sound came from the shadowy corner.
"Spike?" came the hesitant question.
~To quote the pom–pom bint... well duh!~
Opening and closing his mouth in an effort to form words that he knew, Spike only succeeded in issuing forth a whispered grunt as Xander took a slow step towards him.
"What the hell happened to you?"
Closing the distance between them, Xander took in the obviously battered form of the stricken vampire, all the while continuing to hold his clothes between his nose and the foul air. Even though he was standing only a pace away from Spike, Xander still couldn´t make out much due to the darkness in the crypt; but one thing he did know was that, from the way Spike was lying and the sounds coming from him, the Bleached Wonder was hurt pretty badly. The last step towards Spike taken, Xander could see from the twisted angles of the pale body that quite a few bones were broken, and it looked as though there probably wasn´t an unbruised patch of skin anywhere on Spike. Whether that was from the shadows and being unable to see properly in the inadequate light, he wasn´t sure. Maybe Spike would look less damaged in better light, Xander mused to himself. With the clothes muffling his words, he got down to the more important task of asking How, Who, Why and so on.
Rolling his eyes at the idiot standing in front of him, an action that caused his stomach to protest even more, Spike mouthed the words that he thought he would never in his whole undead life ask of this particular slayerette.
"HELP ME"
"Wha...yeah... huh? Oh... yeah... yeah, of course," nodded Xander as he contemplated the figure he looked down on. "Hang on...how?"
Xander knew that he was staring at the prone figure on the floor; he knew it was rude but he was fascinated by what was in the vampire´s hair. The stuff that completely obliterated all the blond. What it was he didn´t know and he wasn´t sure that he wanted to know either. Taking a deep breath, he began to leave.
"I´ll go get the G–Man."
At Spike´s barely shaken head, Xander walked back to look yet again at the battered form lying on the floor. "What... no Giles?"
Slight nod.
"Well... who then?"
A painful looking broken finger punched the air, pointing towards him in a gesture that Xander knew without a doubt had to be causing the vampire considerable pain.
"Are you nuts?" Xander screamed at the rather nauseous looking vampire. "You want to just lie there in that puddle of only God knows what until you heal, is that it?"
Looking at Xander pacing up and down beside him, Spike closed his eyes as his stomach gurgled in reaction to the demanded question. Frustrated beyond all belief as a result of not being able to give voice to his plea, Spike made another pointed jab in what he hoped was Xander´s general direction. Grunting as he was pointing, Spike hoped that Xander was going to be a little quicker on the uptake this time than he usually was.
~Jesus, I knew the lad was stupid at times but this is taking the bloody cake!~
Xander caught the vicious gesture that was aimed towards him, slightly dazed that for once it wasn´t the usual two fingered salute. Suddenly, it dawned on him what the guttural grunts were trying to tell him.
"What, back to my place?"
This time, Xander saw a barely perceptible nod from the hurt blond. With arms crossed firmly across his chest, he glanced back down with disdain as his T–shirt slipped from covering his nose, ensuring that he copped the full force of the rancid aroma. Nose wrinkling, Xander groaned as he realised that with Spike back at his place, he wasn´t going to be able to make up Anya´s missed orgasms.
"You do know that Anya is gonna be totally pissed, don´t you?"
Another slight nod.
His nose wrinkling even more as the smell started to really get to him, Xander spun on his heel and headed towards the steps. With a backwards glance at Spike, Xander told him that he would be back in about an hour or so once he had found a tarp large enough to wrap Spike in.
"I´ll be back with Uncle Rory´s car. Lucky for you my parents have taken him to court again for his latest D.U.I." said Xander as he stepped into the clean fresh air of the cemetery.
Spike watched him go, a strangled grunt catching in his sore throat. Not bothering to wipe at the tear forming in the corner of his eye, he let his mind relax now that he knew he would get some sort of help.
Darkness was hurtling towards him and Spike leant into its embrace as it enveloped his tortured mind.
One hour and 11 minutes later...
His feet scuffling in the cemetery´s grey dirt, Xander hefted the heavy tarp higher into his arms to prevent it from continually dragging along the ground. He hoped to God that whatever it was that anointed Spike wouldn´t get on his uncle´s car interior. If anything got on Uncle Rory´s car, Xander knew that his uncle would complain to his dad and then his dad would ´complain´ to him whether or not it was actually his fault. Xander could already see his mother shaking her head at him while screeching that it was always *his* fault. Bitterly thinking that no matter what he did at home, it was always his fault in the end, Xander once again gathered up the edge of the light blue tarp as it dropped down onto the hard earth.
With his one free hand, he awkwardly pushed his backpack strap back up to his shoulder. In the bag was a large plastic bottle of water, a roll of gaffer tape, a bag of blood and a few old pillowcases that he hoped his mother wouldn´t miss. Reaching the doorway of Spike´s current crypt, Xander was almost overwhelmed by the powerful odour that emanated from inside the dank room.
Breathing deeply, he gathered his wits enough to encourage himself to ignore the vile air he was about to enter and walked carefully down the cracked, uneven steps, even as the tarp corner threatened to end his life by tripping him up as it dangled across his sneakers. The tarp and backpack he placed on top of the slab covering the stone coffin in the centre of the small room, and Xander took care to avoid placing them near the gelling blood and other unidentifiable substances that liberally coated one end of the cool stone.
Xander sighed as he thought of the task ahead of him. He *so* didn´t want to do this and in all reality, he had many more things that he should have been doing instead. He didn´t like having to clean anyone up, not even his mother or father, let alone a complete arsehole like Spike. However, if the vampire was going back to Xander´s place then he was going to have some of the muck washed off him before he was wrapped in the tarp.
Turning around so that he was looking down at the twitching figure on the crypt floor, Xander wondered whether or not he should have brought more cloths and water with him. He wasn´t sure that what he had brought with him would be enough to wash off even half of the filth covering the shaking body.
Spike lay on the cold floor, more or less on his relatively unmarked front. Shaking and twitching as much as his abused body would allow, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly behind tightly shut lids. Little breathy gasps were uttered every few moments amongst, what sounded to Xander, like deeper groans of pain.
With a grimace and a deep sigh, Xander leant down to roll Spike from the drying horror that he was currently lying in. After trying to find a patch of skin that wasn´t too battered, he placed his hands on the pale form as he decided that, wherever he touched Spike, it would hurt anyway. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Xander firmly rolled Spike from the sticky floor and onto an area just beyond that was dusty, but ultimately cleaner than what Spike had been lying in before.
Squealing in a strangled, whispered cry, Spike woke from his nightmare with a start, sobbing as his tortured hip took all his solid weight. His eyes opened a mere fraction, he saw that Harris had moved him from the puddle of piss and cum that he had been left in after the final round of ´Twister´ the night before. Only this game of ´Twister´ had involved his limbs and the five members of Arseholes Inc.
His grimace deepening in both annoyance and disgust as he ran his gaze over the once white body, Xander left Spike sobbing as he was for the moment, walking back to the bag waiting for him. Xander suspected what the flaky white substance was on the deeply bruised and welt covered buttocks, but it was a thought that he refused to entertain. Unzipping the backpack, he reached inside for the pillowcases and bottle of water. As he looked at the threadbare material in his hands, Xander acknowledged that he hadn´t brought enough of either with him. His annoyance growing by the minute, he walked back to the gasping vampire to get a closer look.
"Well. Someone or something did a good job on you."
~No shit, Einstein!~
Thought Spike as hot waves of pain radiated from the hip in contact with the uneven floor. He could feel tiny pieces of chipped mortar pressing themselves into the bruises that were still flowering into full bloom.
~Fuck! A few more hours and I´ll be able to beat that sodd´n git Barney in the purple awards!~
"Ummm...ahhh, I´m gonna wipe some of that *whatever* off you. It´s...umm...sorta going to hurt."
~Oh, just great...so bloody great. This is soooo what I need at the moment, more pain~
Was Spike´s thought during his efforts to quieten his choking sobs and fight his desire to cringe away from Xander´s presence. Something that he couldn´t quite understand, as he had never thought the whelp was any way intimidating. Ever.
~Wonder what I´ll get for not crying this time? Knowing my luck, a great big Peachy smelling soul~
Kneeling down on the rough stone surface of the crypt floor and immediately regretting wearing his new cargo´s, Xander took one of the pink and green striped pillowcases in both hands and, with fast, vicious motions, tore along the frayed edges. One of the resulting three strips taken up, he took the cap off the bottle of water and pressed the cloth to the open end. The bottle tipped up, and Xander made sure the old material was thoroughly wet.
Spike gritted his teeth, choking off the sobs as he tried not to cry out in reaction to the agony he felt when Xander started to dab at one of the welts on the small of his back. Still trembling from the shock that had set in when he realised what had been going to happen last night, the former Big Bad tried to turn his thoughts to other things that what his mind was determined to throw at him.
He was *not* going to think of all the names he had been called and the humiliating laughter they had caused when any of the five bastards had come up with a wittier one than the previous. And he was definitely not thinking of the great whoops of delight and the congratulatory backslapping that had gone on when Martinez–something–or–other had breeched the tight ring of muscle in his arse, causing Spike to bark out in pain. Neither was he re–living the feeling of the remaining four arseholes that had gone rutting into him after the first cock had emptied itself deep within him. All the while Spike had been forced onto his hands and knees. Just to make it easier for them.
He had known, as soon as he had let out the shocked yelp, that he had sealed his own fate of being the favoured form of entertainment that night. Spike had been so sure that Bunny´s fuck toy would put a stop to it way before it had even reached that point, but nothing had prepared him for the look of both venom and dangerous arousal on Iowa´s face when he´d had both of his arms stretched out over the tomb slab. Ready for a second round. He had been pushed into that position by a dark haired soldier, one who had wanted to ´have a go´ while standing. Both Graham and Riley had held his arms while Martinez and some other one that Spike had never caught the name of, held both of his legs for Corey.
As he had been shorter than the other men, they´d had to lift him slightly, their large blunt fingers digging into his already heavily bruised flesh. With a groan, Spike could feel his stomach muscles protest as he thought of the bruises he had gotten across his middle from being in contact with the edge of the heavy slab as they had alternately pounded into him from behind. All his struggles, the game faced snapping and snarling, his growled threats of revenge and finally, his promise to tell Buffy, had only earned him a head bashing on one solid corner of the old tomb. Something that was most likely the cause of the intense pain on the chipped side of his head.
The ever–present nausea grew stronger as Xander dabbed none too gently at the numerous welts that decorated his upper buttocks. Spike closed his eyes in a flood of shame when he felt the boy´s hands hesitate as they came to rest just above the crevice.
"Ummmm. Do...do you...ahhh...want me to...you know...go there?"
With a slight nod of his head, Spike choked back a hiss of agony as callused hands parted him and lukewarm water stung the much abused flesh and muscle.
"Ok...but just for the record, I´m not doing this again. Next time it´s gonna be Giles, whether you like it or not."
Shaking his head, the vampire felt tears well up at the very thought of anything like this happening to him again.
"Why not the G–man?"
~Because this is bloody well humiliating enough with you seeing me like this, let alone that wanker of a Watcher~
All Spike could do was shake his head as strongly as his protesting neck muscles would allow.
Fifty–eight minutes later...
With a weary sigh, Xander gave silent thanks that he was just about finished wrapping Spike, much like a Egyptian mummy, in the torn and tattered tarp he had found in the garage at home. A few minutes later and he was closing over the last of the smaller tears with black gaffer tape, ensuring that Spike wouldn´t suddenly burst into flames the minute Xander managed to carry the vampire up the crypt stairs and outside. Xander knew for a fact that Giles would be more than just pissed off that he would have to do the demon translating should the taped up light blue tarp become home to a pile of vampire ashes.
At the memory of the expression on the ex–librarians face as Giles had tried to work out just which purr went before what meow, Xander couldn´t help but chuckle a little as he gathered up the filth coated rags and remnants of Spike´s shredded clothing, shoving them into his bag. Thinking better of it, he rolled them up into a disjointed ball and with one hurl, threw the soiled cloth into the furthest dark corner. The empty water bottle closely following.
"Score!" shouted Xander, a wide smile gracing his face until he suddenly grimaced in distaste as he remembered what was lying on the floor in front of him. Looking down at the motionless form, Xander was somewhat relieved that Spike had eventually passed out when he had started to wrap the thin plastic around the shivering vampire. As the echo of his words died down, Xander made sure that his knees were bent and his back was straight, as he had been taught at work, so that he didn´t damage his back as he braced himself to try and lift Spike into his arms. Lucky for him that he had a good boss who liked to make sure that his workers did their job correctly, even if it was just to save on the insurance claims. Xander knew that all the extra strength he seemed to be gathering at his demanding job was now going to come in handy.
Teeth gritted, Xander slid one hand under what he hoped were the vampire´s knees and his other hand under Spike´s shoulder blades. With one swift movement, he lifted and rose to his full height, stumbling at the sudden weight in his arms. It wasn´t that Spike was heavy, it was the fact that the smaller man was a lot lighter than Xander had thought.
"Jesus, I bet Wills is heavier than you and on that note, I so hope she never hears that from me! Actually, I hope she never hears it all," wryly admitted Xander as he jiggled the awkward bundle into an easier position.
His head shaken at the thought of what could happen to him if his best friend ever found out just what Xander had implied about her weight, even if it had been said accidentally, Xander regarded the bulky object hugged close to his chest. Obviously, it wasn´t going to be so difficult after all.
"The only thing I have to worry about is getting busted for grave robbing. I mean, technically, you are a corpse, Bleach Boy."
Getting no answer and not really expecting one, Xander slowly climbed the crypt´s crumbling steps and made his way across the dusty little graveyard, after making sure that no–one else was in the yard besides them. He continued to walk to the car that he had parked as close as possible to the cemetery´s main gates. Only pausing the once so that he could re–adjust the bundle in his arms, Xander stepped through the iron gates without managing to bang the blond´s legs or head on the iron fence surrounding the over crowded cemetery.
The walk to the car made with the minimum of effort, Xander balanced the limp figure awkwardly against the car with one hand while he opened the driver´s side back door. Both lifting and sliding at the same time, he slid the quiet form into the back seat with just a little fuss.
"Yep, thankful indeed, I´m glad that all that heavy lifting is finally paying off."
Careful to push Spike´s legs out of the way of the car door, Xander shut the door and made his way to the driver´s side. Sliding the key into the ignition, Xander zoned out, staring unseeing into the street ahead of him as he wondered just how pissed off Anya was going to be now that it was late afternoon. Beyond pissed and out for blood was probably the best way to describe how Anya was more than likely feeling at the current moment. Not for the first time, he tried to decide if sex with Anya was worth all the tactless comments that were constantly directed his way, something that continually caused his temper to flare up. One of these days, Xander could just see his temper going beyond the realms of nasty.
With a sigh, Xander turned the ignition over, looking over his shoulder into the back seat as he checked for any motion from Spike. Not seeing any, he flicked the indicator on and pulled away from the kerb, setting off slowly down the street. "I hope the olds are still out with Uncle Rory. Hmmph, they´re probably down at the closest bar, celebrating his latest triumph over justice."
Shaking his head, Xander knew he wouldn´t be surprised if his Uncle had once again gotten out of one of his numerous D.U.I´s, as he turned into his street. Sure enough, his parent´s car wasn´t parked in its usual spot on the front lawn. His heart beating faster than normal, Xander knew he had to get Spike into the basement before any of the neighbours noticed. Taking advantage of his parents´ absence, he parked as close as he could to the basement door.
Seat belt thrown off, Xander stepped out of the car, looking in all directions to see if anyone had come out of their houses so they could stare at what the weird Harris kid was doing this time. With no one else around, he raced to the basement door, unlocking it and turning on the lights before bounding down the steps. Lights turned on in both the kitchen and bathroom, Xander made the decision to unwrap Spike under the brighter light of the bathroom, as the high wattage would make it easier to see how many of Spike´s bones were broken. Besides, the white tiles would be easier to clean any dirt and blood from, as Xander knew he had barely made a dent in the congealed mess covering the vampire.
Avoiding the mouldy step as he ran back upstairs, Xander skidded to a halt in front of his Uncle´s car and opened the back door. Careful not to jiggle Spike around too much, he slowly tugged the bulky tarp from the car´s back seat, pausing a few times to better his grip on the slick plastic. With one heft, Xander got Spike into his arms once more. As he struggled not to drop Spike onto the ground, Xander backed up against the car door, pushing it half shut before taking a breath and slamming it all the way closed with his backside.
Still concerned that one of the neighbours had seen him, Xander covered the short distance to the basement door wondering how he was going to explain a dead blond guy in his room to both his Dad and Uncle Rory.
"Wow," he half sneered to himself, "wouldn´t that go down a treat. Hey, Dad... Mom... Uncle Rory, I´ve decided that I´m gay and, not only that, but I´m into necrophilia and on that note, allow me to present my boyfriend, Spike."
Making his way down the basement steps as carefully as possible, Xander mentally slapped himself as he reached the bottom of the steps as he remembered that he had left his bag in Spike´s crypt. "Damn, now I suppose I´ll have to go and get it? Can´t wait to face that lovely aroma again... mmmmm, bring it on!"
Muttering curses to himself, Xander set Spike down on the cool, chipped tiles of the bathroom floor before walking back into the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors to unwrap the vampire. The sooner the unpleasant job was done, the sooner Xander could concentrate on the even more unpleasant job of apologising to Anya for the loss of that afternoon´s orgasms, and explain to her that she couldn´t come over later that night. With a grimace, Xander thought he could almost see the air around him begin to shake at the thought of an Anya hissy fit.
Shaking his head, he clutched tightly at the scissors in his hand as pulled open the fridge and looked at the numerous blood filled plastic bags. Xander wondered if he should heat up some blood for Spike just in case the vampire was hungry. His grimace deepened into a frown when he looked down at his once clean cargo pants, wincing as he breathed in the aroma of the blood vomit that covered both the front of his shirt and most of his now, not so beige, cargo pants.
Maybe Spike wouldn´t vomit over him this time? Maybe it had been the cold blood that had caused Spike to be sick, Xander thought to himself, unable to help himself from feeling more annoyed than sorry for Spike. Then again, knowing Spike, he had probably just sicked up over Xander because he could. Groaning at what had to be his favourite memory of the day so far, Xander recalled how stupid he had been to give Spike the cold blood earlier that afternoon. He should have known better, but he had seen how hungry Spike had looked, taken notice of how Spike had kept glancing over at the blood packet lying on top of the coffin´s stone slab. The hint taken, Xander had ripped it open, tipping the bag so that the blood trickled into Spike´s mouth. Spike had choked down a few mouthfuls and had been in the middle of swallowing another when he had suddenly closed his eyes and pursed his lips together tightly.
Xander had been about to ask Spike if he´d had enough when Spike had snapped his eyes open, staring at Xander with fearful blue eyes before proceeding to vomit forth a bright red wave of blood. All the while Xander clutched an almost full blood bag to Spike´s lips.
"On second thoughts..." pushing the memory to one side, Xander hastily closed the fridge door and walked into the bathroom, determined to get the issue of unwrapping Spike over and done with so that he could get on with the task of placating Anya. Xander knelt on the cool tiles, leaning over the plastic clad form as he started to attack the tape that held the tarp together. With less than gentle tugs, he pulled the blue covering away from Spike´s still body.
"Oh Jesus!" breathed Xander as he suddenly stood up and stepped back. Choking back his own urge to vomit, Xander stared at the gory scene before him. "I don´t give a flying fuck about you not wanting Giles, I´m calling right now!"
