Disclaimer: I do not own any of the
characters in this story and make no
money off them.
Summary: AU. Xander is a young man
living in an Amish community when he
finds himself confronted by the evil of a
STRONG WARNING: although done in a respectful
manner, this story deals with religious issues. If you
find that offensive DO NOT READ. In addition,
this chapter contains thoughts of torture.
Scratching his beard, the older man stood and
squinted into the sun as he watched his boy, no,
young man, run toward him.
God had truly blessed him. Alexander was all
any man could hope for in a son.
Strong, good of heart, and a man who kept the faith.
He would make Anya Miller a good husband and hopefully
God would grace them with many sons of their own.
He was saddened when his wife had lost the last
infant and with it any hope of more children.
The midwife had said it was too soon after Willow, and
her body had not recovered enough, but he knew the
truth. It was simply God's will that they have only two
So two would be enough.
Out of breath, Xander bent over and rested his hands
on his knees.
"I'm here *wheeze* Father. *Puff* Where do we start?"
The old man leaned on his shovel handle and smiled.
"We start with you catching your breath. Then we dig the
post holes and start setting the fence row. Did I see you
put the cow to pasture?"
Xander gave a full body shiver. Old women would say
someone tread his grave.
He briefly thought of telling his father of his fears, but then
changed his mind.
It was foolish and he did not want to be seen as a fool.
He put great stock in his Father's opinion of him.
"Yes, sir. She had a strange mark on her neck. Some kind
of a bite I think. Until I have a chance to search the barn I
didn't want her in there."
His father nodded once.
"That's a good boy. You did right. Now let's get started.
Much to do today."
Nothing more was said, but Xander, ignoring the sin of it,
nearly burst with pride at the words of confidence
from his father.
Grabbing the digger he set to task.
By his internal clock Spike knew it must be late afternoon.
He stretched, yawned and peeked cautiously out from
under the hay stack he had covered himself with.
Despite the full stomach he went to sleep with,
Spike decided a quick bite was the way to start the day.
Sticking his head out fully, Spike saw that the stall below
The cow that had served as his evening meal was now
missing. Knowing it was still too early to step outside
unseen he flew into an instant murderous rage.
Shaking his fists wildly in the air, spit flew from
his lips and venomous fire from his eyes.
"Goddamn fuckin' cocksuckers! How dare they fuckin'
treat me like this. I ought to fuckin' burn this shithole of a
barn down and kill them all. Slit their fuckin' throats and
swim in their blood! I ought to....
Oh, what have we here?"
Spike's hand flashed out and in the blink of an eye he
snatched the two fat rats from the barn loft. Ripping
their heads off he efficiently drank them dry without
losing a drop.
He then casually tossed the body parts to the side,
belched and sucked his fangs clean.
As with all psychotics his moods could switch in an
instant. A snap of a finger, a blink of an eye.
Far from full, he was at least partially satisfied and therefore
Calm enough to recall the events of the night before
and chuckle darkly as his brain began it's plotting.
Spike prided himself on his ability to calculate and execute
elaborate plans and manipulations. The fact that they
seldom worked in the manner they should was of little
interest to him.
His arrogance simply chose to place the blame of failure
on outside forces.
The plans were flawless.
The universe was just out to get him.
But this time all would go perfectly. First he had to sort
out what it was exactly that he wanted from the boy.
His blood of course. That was a given.
But before shredding his body what type of torture would
his visit upon him?
Spike stretched out on his back and allowed his hand to
wander down the front of his pants.
Pressing the heel of his palm on the growing bulge he let
his mind draw pictures of the boy, now naked and tied
to a post in the barn.
Popping open the buttons on jeans that were much to
tight for even a flaccid penis, he released his hardened
flesh to the open air.
"Yessss" He hissed as he imagined the fear and unwilling
arousal pouring off his boy.
Taking a leather crop from the horse stall he would
crack down across the boys back and legs leaving stripes
of raised welts.
Not enough to break the skin just enough to show ownership.
Each snap of the whip would cause the boy to cry out
Spike gripped himself tightly and pulled back the foreskin
till the swollen head stuck out, purple and angry looking.
Ripping the ropes loose he would then pull the boy away
from his bindings and force him to his knees.
Never having sucked a vampire cock before he would
be terrified yet hot and achingly needy as he begged to
be allowed to taste it.
Spike's other hand scooped his balls and pulled and rolled
Grabbing his boy by the hair he would force open his mouth
and ram his cock in till it hit the back of his throat and
Spike squeezed his hand tighter and pumped his cock into
his fist faster.
'After making him suck me and get me nice and wet I would
bend him over, spread his ass and........SHIT!'
Spike jerked and shot thick spurts of cool cum over
his hand and into the hay.
Angry that he had cum before he was able to finish his fantasy
Spike resolved that someone should have to pay for that
misstep in timing.
Smiling wickedly, he had just the person in mind.