bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

5 Days More

TITLE: 5 Days More
4/46
AUTHOR: BmblBee
RATING: Adult entertainment due to m/m sexual activity
and language.
PARING: S/X
DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction. Conceived in the warped
hive of the BmblBee. She owns none of the characters
or products named and makes no money from their use.
WARNINGS: Character death. Boys playing with boys.
Vampire/human contact.

SUMMARY: Xander Harris is dead. Drained by a vampire in the
Longview Cemetery. When his body is discovered
his friends realize that no one has seen or heard from him
in the last five days. Willow comes up with a spell to send
someone back in time to find out how he ended up there
and possibly save his life. Spike is reluctantly recruited.




Thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner and patient preread.


Spike took the last swallow from the stolen bottle of Jack Daniels
and tossed it to the side, gaining small satisfaction from the sound
of it smashing into glass shards against the crypt wall.

Looking around, he sneered at the filth and mess he had contented
himself to live in. The carcasses of small dead animals lay scattered
among the piles of trash and garbage stacked in every corner of the
crypt he now called home.

When it all got to be too much, or when he sobered up enough to
realize just how bad it had really gotten, he would move. By his
estimation, he had ten more crypts in this particular cemetery to
inhabit before he would have to move across town.

He had once tried finding a cleaning lady, but by the time he had
dragged her, kicking and screaming, from the park where she had
been jogging, he realized she probably wouldn't do a very good job.
So, he ate her.
Bitch turned out to be one of those health nuts.
Fuckin' blood tasted like wheat grass.

Spike shuddered at the memory.
He then chuckled when the irony of it struck him that now instead of
having a cleaner place to live, he just had another body to dispose of.

Luckily a clan of Fer-truffles were passing through the city in the sewer
system. They had the body devoured within minutes and Spike's
problem was solved. They had also sent him a lovely thank you basket
of mice and rabbits.
The cycle of clutter was never ending.

Spike sat in the broken easy chair in the center of the crypt.
One leg was thrown over the arm, the other stretched out straight.
He ran his hand down over the front of his worn, black t-shirt to
his tight, black, signature jeans and squeezed his soft cock.
It had been days since he had sported decent wood.

Spike was miserable.
He had walked the earth for 120 and was tired.
He was tired of being alone, tired of being lonely, and tired of the
boredom of having experienced all there was in the world to do.
He had come to realize that there was nothing new waiting round
the corner to surprise him and the depressing idea of "why go on"
had begun to simmer and slide around the back of his brain.

He was nowhere near the facing the rising sun point yet,
but he also knew if things didn't change soon, he was on the
fast track to round the same bend Dru had travelled.
Not a trip he really wanted to pack a valise for.

'Maybe a little danger would liven things up a bit.' He mused.
'What is the most dangerous thing I can do that won't require
me to actually haul my white arse up out of this chair?'

Spike lowered his right leg from the chair arm and flopped the left one
over. He tapped his fingers on his chin as he thought. A task made
more difficult considering his advanced drunken state.
He missed his face on the first two tries.

"I've got it!"
Spike leaped to his feet and, with his hands clasped behind his back,
began pacing the room. This was Sunnydale and what was the most
dangerous thing a resident of the fine city of Sunnydale could do?

"I'll make a wish. I'll make a wish and then sit down and wait for
some bizarre, catastrophic consequence to befall me."

Spike scratched his head trying to clear the alcoholic haze from his
brain but only succeeding in cracking the top layer of gel causing wild
blond tufts to sick up like horns.

Now came the real dilemma. What to wish for? It wasn't a decision
that could be taken lightly. Once the words left his lips they couldn't
be taken back. The fates rarely allowed do overs.

Spike walked purposefully, stomping his Doc Martins over the litter and
broken glass that covered an inch thick layer of the dirt floor of the tomb.

He considered and rejected a hundred possible scenarios. Some as
'been there done that' and some because they just left too much wriggle
room for fate to deal him a hand he might not recover from.

He paused as he began another circle around the stone slab that
filled the space in the middle of the room. He knew what he really
wanted. He knew his own hearts desire. Maybe that is what he
should toss out there and see what boomerangs back.

He wanted adventure. He wanted excitement and most of all, he
wanted someone to share that with.

Suddenly, he knew. He knew what he should wish for and even if he
didn't get it, he was bound to break his boredom, at least for an hour
or so.

He had made a decision and was ready to commit to it. He only
regretted that he didn't have the candles on a birthday cake to blow
out. It only seemed right.

Spike pulled the trusty lighter from his pocket and flicked it till the flame
blazed high and steady. He held it up to his face, closed his eyes, and
made the wish.

With a big puff of air, he blew it out.

Cautiously he opened his eyes, slightly surprised to see everything still
the same as before. With a frown and a shrug, Spike stuck a cigarette
in his mouth, lit it and staggered backwards till his legs hit the lazy chair
and he dropped back down.

'Maybe it takes a while.' He pondered. 'Maybe there is a time lock
on wishes tonight.'

Reaching under his chair, Spike pulled out a bottle of cheap wine
and took a deep gulp. He wondered how long he would have to wait.
He wondered how he would know.

Before he could count to ten, a small size six shoe slammed itself into
the heavy stone door of the crypt and the slayer stormed in.

"SPIKE! You in here? Get your ass up and come with me. I'll do
you a blow job but only after you let us send you back. Hurry up
we are short on time and he is already dead."

Spike flicked the still burning cigarette butt across the room and took
one more swallow. Apparently he didn't have to wait long at all
and if all of the incoherent babbling meant anything, this was the answer
to his wish exactly.

"You'll do me a whot?"

Buffy snatched him by the back of the collar of his beloved black duster
and dragged him to his feet. She had him out the door before his feet
touched the ground.

"See here now. Whot's all this about? You can't be molesting a bloke
like this without good reason. Now I believe we have us a blow job
to discuss. Who's dead?"

Buffy continued to drag Spike through the graveyard at a speed only
a vampire or a slayer could match, his tippy toes barely skimming the
surface.

Ordinarily, at this point, Spike would have dug in his heels, causing
them both to skid to an ungainly stop, and demanded a full explanation
of where she was going and just why the fuck he was being hauled along.

He would have forced her to beg, bargain and barter.
This time, however, his reaction was entirely different. Unexpected and
surprisingly cooperative.

'After all' He thought with a smile. 'Why fight it? It was my wish, wasn't it?'
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