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.
Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful artwork
Xander had been restless all night. Unable to
leave the house he just knew the Demon would be
furious. He tried to think of all the things he could
say to placate him. But really beyond the fear of
retribution Xander was shocked to realize that he
just missed him.
The demon was a fascinating person.
Like no one Xander had ever known. He had lived
so long and seen so much, he could talk forever on
any subject. And he obviously loved to talk.
Xander even had to admit that if he had known the
Demon when he was still a human, they would
have had much in common. Maybe even been friends.
Xander checked himself before he allowed his thinking
to go beyond that.
So he tossed and turned and waited for morning to come
when he could return to the barn.
Maybe the Demon got angry because he was not there
for their evening talk and he left. Traveled on to another
farm and another boy to test.
Xander surprised himself at how depressing that thought
was. 'No, no. That would really be the best thing. That
was the whole point wasn't it. Resist falling victim to the
Demon's evil plans and wait till he leaves.'
Xander flopped over on his other side and continued to
think. 'Actually the Demon didn't have any demands other
than wanting me to spend time with him.
Entertain him, he called it.'
Xander chuckled and flipped on to his back with his hands
under his head. 'How could one night be so long?'
Just when he was beginning to think time had stopped
moving, he realized it was breaking dawn.
The milking needed done and the eggs collected.
Jumping from the bed Xander pulled on his clothes and
said his morning devotional.
He couldn't remember the last time he was this excited
to get started on chores.
Racing down the steps he passed his Mother
on her way to the kitchen. Kissing her quickly on the cheek
he flew out the door.
Still dark out he now wished he had taken the time to light
an oil lamp. Pushing open the barn door he stuck his head
in gingerly to see what sort of temper tantrum would greet
him, dismally, there was nothing but silence.
"Demon? You in here? I'm sorry I couldn't
come last night. My Father said....."
When he saw the crumpled figure on the floor, Xander fell
to his knees, his empty stomach retching up nothing but water
and stomach acid.
Xander had never seen anything like that before in his
life. The blood and damage that covered the Demon's body
left no area untouched. Spitting out what was left in his
mouth, Xander crept closer.
Was he dead? Could a hundred year old Demon die like that?
Xander reached down to place his fingertips on the Demon's
neck to try to find a pulse. There was none, but he didn't
know if there should be or not.
When the heat of his fingers connected with the cold skin
Spike moaned. Startled, Xander fell back on his ass and
scrambled, crab like, away. Painfully opening the one eye
that was not swollen shut, Spike looked over at Xander and
reached out his hand. That small amount of effort was
all he had in him and Spike again slipped into unconsciousness.
Forcing himself to calm, Xander crawled back toward the
broken body. Lightning fast his mind sifted and sorted the
facts. The demon was covered in blood, obviously had
several broken bones, his clothes were torn from his body
and from the mess on his backside he knew he had been
Tears of sympathy welled in Xander's eyes.
'Not even a Demon deserves this. Who would do
such a thing?'
Xander had always been taught that a hand is never raised
in anger. No matter what happens you always turn a way
from violence and vengeance.
It is only God's place to exact punishment for the sins
committed against another.
For the first time in Xander's life he did not agree.
He wanted nothing more than to find the evil demon and
rip him to shreds.
He also realized these thoughts were not helping the demon
who was bleeding out in front of him.
Xander immediately sprang into action. He collected
some clean rags and water. He needed to clean him up
before he could assess the true damage.
Gently he washed off Spike's back and legs, cleaning off
what was clearly spent seed mixed with the blood.
His stomach was more than grateful that he had not yet eaten.
Spike's coat was thrown to the side. His shirt was rucked
up and his pants torn and crumpled.
Xander carefully rolled him onto his back and was somewhat
relieved to see the majority of the injuries were to his face.
That once beautiful face.
Using a clean rag he washed the forehead and cheeks,
trying to avoid the crushed nose.
He finished wiping everything off and tried to decide what
to do next.
Looking down at the bare legs, try as he may, Xander could
not stop himself from gazing at the demon's sex. He had
never actually seen another man's penis and it was
He scooted closer. It was absolutely beautiful, pale and
even flaccid it was much longer and thicker than his own.
The nest of soft dark blond curls around it framed it perfectly.
Xander itched to touch it, but knew it was wrong.
Probably wronger than wrong.
Possibly the wrongest thing he had ever done.
Xander looked up at Spike's face for any sign of awareness,
but saw none.
Taking a deep breath he slowly blew it out and decided an
extra prayer of forgiveness would be more than worth it.
Reaching down with just the back of the fingers on his left
hand, Xander lightly brushed down the wonderful length.
The touch was lighter than a feather in the wind.
It felt like the cool satin of the lining of his Father's good
Sunday church hat.
Turning his hand over, he ran a firmer touch this time.
Lifting it with an easy grip, he laid it restfully on the Demon's
By now, Xander was aware that his own cock was hardening
painfully. The rush of want and need coursing through him
was like nothing he had ever experienced, and it scared the
very stuffing out of him.
He would have wondered why he never felt this way with
Anya if Anya even entered his mind, but she didn't.
Quickly he jumped to his feet. This must stop, and he needed
help. He was dancing with the devil and dancing was a sin.
Scooping up Spike's limp body he carried it to the far end
of the barn away from the streams of sunlight that came in
He carried it to a clean stall with fresh hay on the floor.
There he covered him from head to toe with a horse blanket
and ran back to the house.
He knew just who could help him, and he prayed she