bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

New Story

TITLE: Night Terrors
1/46
AUTHOR: BmblBee
PARING: S/X
RATING: Adult
WARNING: m/m sexual activity. Adult language. Story is generally
not worksafe.
SUMMARY: 10 Years after the fall of Sunnydale, Xander has
distanced himself from his past life until a demon forces him to look
back.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing including the characters and products
named in this story. I do, however own an unused treadmill. If you
want to sue for that, help yourself.




Thanks to the wonderful Petxnd for the excellent banner.

London.
An unmarked, unnoticed brick, three story building sat in the center
of the bustling city. It was innocuous and unremarkable on the
outside, concealing the vital, critical activity that took place within.

The first floor housed the offices of the less important figures of
the organization. As the level of importance of the employees moved up
so did their offices. The more vital employees with the stricter
security clearances were on the second floor.

The highest level was reserved for the most important few. Those who
ran the Council and in turn, controlled the world. Forget the Kings and
Presidents, it was the small group of humans on the third level of this
quiet building that really determined the future of the planet Earth.

The third floor also held the main conference room. The war room.
The space where plans, ideas and tactics were discussed. It was
where the head of the Watcher's Council met with the delegates
from the various sectors to receive their reports.

It was a room he himself had designed. Unbeknownst to most, it contained
things that meant a great deal to him. Tomes from the library in Sunnydale.
Pictures of old friends and family, most lost and long gone.
It contained his past and gave him strength for the future.

There was a long, solid mahogany table that dominated the richly
oak paneled conference room. Two of the walls were lined with book
shelves of reference books in all possible languages, both ancient
and modern.

One wall was tempered glass, flooding the room with light while, in respect
for the vampires as well as other demons allergic to the sun, spelled to be
strictly solar resistant.

It was an area designated for business.
There was no idle chit chat, no office gossip, and no employee
flirting and joking that took place here.

This was a room that daily decided the fate of the world.

It was early, 8 am, and all chairs, save one, were full.
The table was crowded, each seat occupied with it's
designated owner, human or demon, waiting in anticipation
for their leader to arrive.

Each one shuffled their papers, reviewed their notes, and
prepared for the short allotted time they would be given.
Expected to present their facts and figures in an efficient manner.
No one wanted to be caught short. No one wished to be singled
out and shown to be deficient.

The low murmur of conversation, the clatter of the water pitcher
as it was poured and passed, the muffled cough or rare yawn all
ceased and silence filled the room the moment the door opened
and closed.

It signaled the meeting was to begin.
Everyone immediately sat up straight.
"Good Morning Mr. Giles."
The voices in the room sounded like a group of kindergartners who
had been trained in the show of respect.

Giles gave no acknowledgement. He crossed the room quickly,
his perfectly fitted Armani suit moved with his trim body like
a silk glove. The flawless look completed with a $250.00
haircut and just a hint of cheap discount drugstore after shave
given to him by a certain assistant.

Giles went directly to his captain's chair and dropped down.
Directly on his heels was a small blond man who took his seat in
the corner and immediately flipped open his notepad, checked his
pen and began taking the notes of the morning meeting.

"Good morning, Members. I'm extremely busy this morning so this
meeting is going to have to be brief."

A chorus of muttered "Yes, Sir's" and "We understand. Sir's" quickly
filled the room. No one was surprised. It was the almost identical way
each morning meeting was started.

No one knew if Mr. Giles was really all that busy or if he just didn't
want to be fucking around, sitting at a table listening to a bunch of lackeys
whining.
No human or demon had enough courage to ask.

"Fine. Good then. Let's begin."
Giles polished the lenses of his glasses. He glanced back at his secretary
who nodded that he was prepared and he then turned to the first person
sitting directly to his left.

"Li Chang, what have you to report from the eastern sector?"

The older, oriental man dipped his head in a quick nod and gave his
very practiced report as efficiently as possible.

"We have squelched the yeti uprising with a territorial compromise.
There was a minor increase in vampire activity in Nepal which was
handled by the local slayer, and there is no sign of occupation around
the cave of the sealed hellmouth. We have no urgent situations to
report, Sir."

The report was completed with another nod and Li Chang relaxed.

"Excellent. Good job Mr. Chang. Melanie Numbers, what is the
status of that Zekel demon your office was dealing with in the norther
region of Antarctic?"

"We..." Ms. Number's voice cracked. It was a show of weakness she would
curse herself for during the next 20 years. "Sorry, we have him on ice, Sir
and are assured that as long as he doesn't thaw, he will remain dormant."

Giles glanced back, he wondered what snide comment Andrew would have
recorded about that blunder that they would chuckle over in bed.
Andrew dipped his head, a movement that appeared, to the other's as
an assurance that he was not missing anything important.
Giles knew better.

"That's fine, Ms. Numbers. Mr. Kl`^tkr, what is your office doing about
that jungle meercat possession?"

And so it went. On around the table. On around the world. Each
area, each continent, divided up into sectors, represented by an
ambassador of sorts who presented the daily report of the condition
of the demon activity in their part of the planet.

Upon the reorganization of the Council, Giles had been appointed
as the leader, unquestioned. It was a position earned and well deserved.
It was recognized as a new beginning. Something that even
the most argumentative factors respected and appreciated.

The few demons who had protested and threatened to cause a disruption
to the newly formed leadership were immediately dispatched.
It was a move that both eliminated the problem and sent a clear
message to the remaining delegates that Rupert Giles had no time for
bull shit.

One of the first orders he had given was that the huge pool of slayers
be immediately trained and dispatched, in groups of two or three to all
the corners of the world.

Willow, his right hand, had expertly matched the strength and individual
talents of the girls up with the area in which they could do the most good.
It was an extremely effective situation and for the first time in the
last two centuries, the Council was maintaining control and the negative
demon activity which, although it could never be stopped completely,
had been dramatically curtailed.

Giles led the Watcher's Council with an iron hand.

In turn, each delegate had given a curt abbreviated report which would
be followed up by a clear, concise, detailed, typed daily report
that would be dropped off in a basket on the side table by the door.
At that time they would all, with great relief, slip from the room and
the glare of the man they feared and respected.

The last man to give his report was a small, bony, nervous man with
a southern accent. His territory was North America. Always a problem
area. A situation that while not his fault, he considered his responsibility
and took with the utmost seriousness.

"Mr. Findley, has your California office been able to get a grip on that
vampire increase?"

Findley flinched under Giles scrutiny.
"Yes Sir. We can report a fourth quarter decrease of 21%, Sir. We do
however have another slight situation that has been brought to out attention.
It appears that there have been several disappearances that we consider
demon related. 6 so far. All reportedly gay men. Traces of Pectal slime
were detected at the point of disappearances. Nothing really important.
I'm sure whatever is doing this will either move on if we don't find it first."

Giles removed his eyeglasses and focused his piercing stare at the
middle aged man who was now praying the floor would open up and swallow
him whole.

"What city in California?"

Findley cursed his lack of preparation and immediately began frantically
fumbling through the pages of his written report, his hands shaking, his
fingers twitching. With a huge sigh of relief, he located what he needed.

"Oxnard, Sir. Oxnard, California."
His smile of success lasted only a second when he saw the look that passed
between Rupert Giles and his secretary Andrew and Andrew's worried
answering nod.

Giles instantly shoved back his chair and stood, looming over the cringing
group of delegates.

"OUT! Out, all of you! Meeting over! Get out!"

The room exploded in activity. It took less that 60 seconds for the
room to clear. Still, to their credit, each delegate dropped their report
in the basket before disappearing, thanking their lucky stars that they
were not responsible for the Northern sector and returning to the
safety of their own offices.

Andrew promptly rushed to Giles side.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Rupe. I'm sure he's fine. After all, this is
Xander we're talking about. He's too smart to...........shit."
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