bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Night Terrors

TITLE: Night Terrors
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
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 amazing Purpledodah for the wonderful banner.


"Good morning. A.I. Angel Investigations. To speak to an investigator in
English, please press #1. All demon languages, press #2.
If this involves an infestation, press #1. Vampire attack, press #2. All
wereanimals, press #3. Other dimensional projection, press #4.

Giles fingers waggled unsurely over the telephone keypad. He wasn't
sure what the problem, if there was one, was. What were those
options again?

"Oh, for heavens sake, Harmony, just pick up the receiver."
"Hey, hi, Giles. Why didn't you pick a number? You know I spent
a lot of time researching the set up of this phone system to be the
most efficient possible."

Giles sighed. After the recovery from the great fall of Wolfram and Hart,
Angel had gone back to the basics. A simple agency that investigated
and dispatched problems of the paranormal and demon variety.
Helping the helpless he called it.

Unfortunately, some remnants of the huge conglomerate had survived.
Harmony had been one of them and Angel wisely felt it was smarter to
keep her around where he could watch her and keep her evil activities
to overshopping and clubbing rather than mass murder.

Wesley was the other survivor but, for reasons he won't discuss, he
chose two years ago to join the rebuilt Council in London rather than
remain with Angel. Giles, of course, never queried him. It wouldn't
have been proper.

"Harmony, dear, wouldn't it be better to just answer the phone and ask
the caller what they want?"

Harmony's silence indicated she was trying to reason that one out.
Something that may take more time than Giles had.
This week.

"Harmony? Look, is Angel around? I need to speak to him."
"Huh? Oh, yes, sure."

Harmony pressed the intercom button then tipped her head back in the
direction of the inner office door way and shouted.
"Hey, Boss. Pick up line #1. It's Giles. Rupert Giles from the Council."

Angel's enhanced hearing cringed at the double assault of the booming
voice over the intercom and shouting from just outside the doorway.
He resolved to again try to explain to her how it all worked.
Something he knew would be a waste of time.

Instead, he simply picked up the phone.
"Rupert. It's good to hear from you. How is everyone? How's the
Council coming along? Um, how's Wesley?"

"We are all well, thank you. The establishment of the new Watcher's
Council has gone better than we could have hoped. The past few
years have been difficult one's but things are now very methodical and
demon activity kept, for the most part, in check. We are, as they say,
a well oiled machine."

"So, Wes is good?"

"What? Oh, yes, we are all fine. So kind of you to be concerned.
Angel, the reason I called is more of a personal nature than professional.
We have a possible situation in Oxnard and as your agency is the closest,
I wondered if you could do some checking into it for us."

Angel became momentarily distracted at the thought of a well oiled
Wes, and it took him a minute to return to track.

"Oxnard? Isn't that where Xander Harris is? Is something wrong
with the boy? Has he finally contacted you?"

"No. We haven't spoken to him. The thing is, one of our delegates
reported some strange disappearances there. All the victims were men,
apparently gay men. and all disappeared without a trace. It could be
nothing, it could be a human legal matter. However, under the

"Yes, yes or course. Tell you what Rupert, I'll have the matter checked
on immediately and get back with you within the hour. Um, if I can't
reach you, will someone else, like maybe Wes, be there to take my call?"

"No, no. This is too important. I will wait by the phone. I promise
you that I will be here till I hear from you. Thank you, Angel. Thank
you very much."

Angel slumped in his over sized, plush leather chair. He checked the small
clock on his huge desk. He was late. An hour late to be exact. He always
like to start his daily brooding by 11:00 am and here it was almost noon.

Glancing up, Angel rolled his eyes and shook his head as he saw the man
leaning on the door frame. Hoping against hope that he would just walk
away, Angel turned his back to the figure and waited.

Spike chuckled, pushed off and sauntered in.
"What's the matter, Peaches? That doesn't look like your usual "woe is me"
face. Something up? Somethin' Old Spikey can do for you? Suck your
dick? Lift my legs and air out the old prick pipe?"

Angel flinched and spun in his chair till he faced his obnoxious childe.
"Shut up, Spike. You disgust me, you know that? I told you before,
anything that happened between us was a fucked up mistake and will
NEVER happen again."

Spike snorted. His eyes couldn't meet his sire's and hard as he tried to
cover it up, his voice carried that twinge of sadness that he hated so much.
"Yeah, I hear you. Never again. Not until hell freezes over, or you get
drunk enough. Or lonely enough Or maybe just when you get to thinkin'
about Buffy again. Isn't that who you pretend you're with when you're
puttin' it to me?"

Angel opened his mouth then closed it again. What was the point? What
would they gain by having the same argument they had every day. Besides,
as disgusted as it made him feel, Angel knew Spike was not entirely wrong.

Angel would inevitably fuck Spike again, but not while visions of Buffy
danced in his head. No, the naked images would be male. English and
very proper.
The fantasy would be Wes.

Angel missed Wes. He wanted him back. He wanted him in his bed
with his legs tossed over Angel's shoulder's making that cute little piggy
grunt every time Angel slammed it home.

Angel couldn't believe Wes had actually left him. Walked out over a
stupid disagreement. Left because Angel refused to be public about
their relationship.
Abandoned ship because Angel refused to let him go along on demon
hunts. He never did appreciate Angel's efforts to keep him safe.

At first, he was sure Wes would be back. He had waited. Hell, he was
still waiting it was just that sometimes the waiting got too hard, the
loneliness to deep.
And that's when he gives in. That's when all the borrowed blood in
his body floods to his groin and fucking Spike up the ass begins to
look like a good idea.

Unfortunately, after pumping copious amounts of cum into him, the brain
functions resume and the self loathing kicks in.

"Why do you stay here, Spike? If you hate me so much, why do you stay?"

Spike shrugged and looked down at the chipped black nail polish.
"I dunno to tell you the truth. Got no place else to go, and sides, always
plenty of demons need killing. Always a dangerous new case comin'
cross your desk that need's that special Spikey touch."

Suddenly, Angel's eyes lit up and he had the perfect solution.
Talk about killing two birds with one stone, Angel held a rock that could
flatten about five of the little bastards.

"You're right! Sit tight, buddy boy, I have the perfect case for you."

Snatching up the phone, Angel hit speed dial and within seconds
Giles had picked up.

"Watcher's Council. Rupert Giles speaking."
"Giles, Angel here. I made some phone calls....."
Angel crossed his fingers at the lie.
"........but can't find out anything specific about that situation we
discussed. I know how vital this is so I am sending someone there
immediately. A field agent who can get the whole story and report back."

"Fine, fine. Thank you Angel. We will keep in close contact until
we know, yes?"

Angel had climbed aboard the 'how does this benefit me most' train
and figured if he was going for a ride, he might as well travel first class.

"Yes, of course. Now I have found that in an operation like this, it works
best if I have one contact there that I work with. Oh, I know. Why
don't you give me Wesley's number and I can call him immediately as
soon as my agent arrives there."

Spike sat scowling in his seat. He had a fairly good idea that he was the
field agent being sent who-knows-where for the Council of Wanker's,
but Angel's nervous fidgeting was a bad sign.

Spike had an inkling that Angel was just about to fuck him up the arse
again, and not in the good way.

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