bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

5 Days More

TITLE: 5 Days More
43/46
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 Purpledodah for the wonderful banner.


5:55 am Saturday morning
Xander Harris has been dead nearly 7 hours.

If Xander could have moved, the first muscles that he would have
flexed would be the ones in his face with the biggest fang bearing
grin he could manage. The pins and needles tingling throughout his
body told him that things were about to change. Drastically.

He had no memory of his life or his death. All he knew was that
he was about to be freed from the paralyzing restraints that held
him and that he did not intend to play well with others.

Unencumbered by the hardships of morality, illegalities and rational
thought, Xander operated on the basics of want, need, take and
right now what he wanted, no needed, was to slaughter and drain
any creature that crossed his path with a drop of blood flowing
through their veins.

Acutely aware of his surroundings, Xander felt comfortable and safe
in the environment of cool, dark, dank and musty. Instinctively he
knew that this was his world and the creature that tortured him
here did not belong.
No problem, he would eat her first.

Adding to his fury was the pain that wracked his body. Everything
hurt from the feel of the fabric of the unneeded clothes that rubbed
nerve endings raw, to his mouth as the razor sharp fangs cut through
his gums.

But deeper than that was an agony of need that translated to a
migraine of pain that shot from his head to his toes and back again.
It was an emptiness, a black hole that he knew would kill him if
it weren't answered and filled.

The worst part was that it was unnamed.
A memory just out of reach that he couldn't quite put an understanding
to. It was frustration and fear. It was the blind pup searching for a tit
just out of reach as hunger burned it's belly.
It fed his fury. It drove him and gave him purpose.
Humanity would die, slaughtered in his search for fulfillment.

Even though the room was dark, Xander knew the burning rays of the
sun would soon start climbing over the horizon. It was unnecessary to
think about it. Avoiding the daylight was imperative.

He knew as long as he stayed here, in this cave, he was safe. He
would protect his hiding place against all intruders. It was what his base
instinct told him. Others must die so that he could survive.

Focusing his senses on the disgusting, blood filled creature that hung
on him, Xander could hear the steady, slow, thumping of her heart as
the blood coursed through her body. The thought of all that filling his
mouth and stomach caused a strange tingling in his cock.

His mind allowed the idea to grow and he knew that his cock would
be as engrossed in the killing as his fangs were. A joint partnership
in penetrating, punishing and butchering.

His fingers twitched in their straining to reach down and bring
satisfaction to himself.

THEY TWITCHED! They moved!
It was just ever so slightly and still unnoticed by the sleeping creature
that pressed her head on his chest, but Xander's brain squealed in glee.
Immediately he checked himself. He knew showing movement
before he was fully functional would reveal vulnerability.

It would give the enemy an edge. It would risk his survivability.
Xander checked himself and laid perfectly still.
It wouldn't be long.

Willow jerked awake. For one confusing moment she floundered,
fearful in the strange darkness, she nearly tumbled backwards off the
upside down crate she had spent the long night sitting on.

Quickly everything came back to her and the familiar sorrow flooded
her with misery. She wasn't sure what had wakened her. It could have
been the dream of her and Xander running through a park. He wanted
to stay and swing, she wanted to move on to the slides. When she went
back for him he was gone. She had searched everywhere and awakened
when his body washed ashore on a fisherman's pier.

It could have been the ache in her body that now matched the one in her heart.
The muscles in her back, legs and neck all felt twisted, knotted and pulled into
unnatural directions from spending the night sitting in the damp on small
crate that was never designed for comfort.

Checking her watch, Willow sadly had to admit she would be relieved
when this was all over. She wanted a hot bath, a warm soft bed, and away
from this thing that now bore very little resemblance to the friend she
once knew.

Standing, she stretched her arms high over her head, bending her small
body first to the left then to the right. Her entire being screamed in protest.
She reached down and touched her toes, a small fart popping out of her
empty, morning intestinal tract.

Embarrassed, and before she could consider the pointlessness of it, Willow
glanced over to see if Xander had heard, smelled or was planning one of his
classic sarcastic remarks.
Nothing. No response. Willow wiped a tear from her cheek.

Xander flinched as the wave of rotting food swamped him. It almost
caused him to rethink his plan on eating her.
Almost.

Xander held steady and did not move.
Concentrating internally, he felt the cracking of his joints as the rigor
mortis released itself and retreated in the same progression it had, just
hours ago, overtaken him. His feet, legs, hips back and arms, all relaxed
smoothly, like boiling water poured on ice, the rigidity simply melted away.

He was free.

Willow frowned. She could have sworn she had seen a twitch in Xander
fingertips. A movement so minute it may easily been imagined. She shook
her head as her brain sought a point of reason. The room was dark, she
was in here with a dead body and the shadows could easily play tricks
on your mind.

She walked all the way around the table, staring, watching intently for any
indication that she wasn't seeing things. She placed her hand on his cold
legs and wondered why they didn't seem as stiff and plastic as they
had earlier.

Willow looked again at the time on her watch and knew that her shift was over.
The time had come and gone and all of their fears were, thank God, unfounded.
It was time to go upstairs and leave this part of her past behind her. She
would wake Buffy and Giles and they could go on with the arrangements.
She could go on with her life.
Sad but necessary.

Finally, she circled around and stopped at his head. She looked down
at him and needed to say one last good bye. He looked so peaceful, like
he had just fallen asleep and Willow decided that was the way she wanted to
remember him.

Leaning down, with her lips just inches above his, she prepared for
one last good night kiss.

"Sleep well, Xander. I love you"

The response was not what she expected.
The piercing yellow eyes flew open, glowing in the dark, they locked on her
as the beloved face slid away, replaced by the ridged fierce, terrifying
face of a demon.

Disbelief and horror flooded her senses and she did the only thing her
body knew to do.
She screamed.

"AAAHHHH!!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

It was a sound, magnified and painful that sliced into his eardrums
like a knife and Xander's hands flew up, clamping around the throat of
the weak, disgusting creature that was hanging threateningly in his face.

The iron grip cut off her wind and silenced the noise.
Instantly, and never releasing his hold, Xander leaped gracefully from the
table to the cold floor below.

Willow's eyes bugged like saucers as her hands clawed desperately at the
cold steel fingers. Her lungs burned and struggled for air as her feet slowly
felt the floor disappearing beneath them.

She strained, trying to not pass out. She prayed not to die.
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