WARNING: m/m sexual activity. Adult language. Story is generally
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.
Xander laid perfectly still on the cold kitchen floor for a good ten
minutes, his eyes darting all around.
He knew he had dozed off at the table and the fact that he was
now curled on the tile floor, bathed in sweat, told him had one
of his night terrors. The kind that had held him in an iron grip
during the years after 'the old time'.
It had been a long time. He thought all that was over. He
was sure he had moved on and outgrown the ghosts of his past.
He had been wrong.
The second he woke, the dreams were fresh in his mind but faded
fast leaving only the emotional and physical aftershocks so that by
the time he was wide awake the details were like fog.
Gloomy and impossible to grasp.
What remained were the rapid heartbeat, the tight, tense muscles,
the tears and the sore throat from the screams his neighbors
had often complained about.
He didn't need to recall the particulars of this dream. The smaller
differences didn't matter because the big picture was always the
same. Sometimes the minor players changed, people he knew,
some he didn't think he did, but the horror never did.
What he could remember was that he was back in Sunnydale when
there still was a Sunnydale.
He was a kid and he was in high school. It seemed to be night time
which confused him. Why would he be at school after hours?
Xander recalled enough about his childhood to know he hated
school and didn't even want to be there during the day let alone
the night. The other constant was that something was after him.
He runs and tries to hide but there is nowhere to go. There are
others there but they can't help him and when he wakes he can never
recall their faces.
He races through the building, running to something. Running from
something. Knowing the worst horror he can imagine is closing in fast.
He always wakes at the last second. Just before the monster
pounces, he escapes the dream and returns to the safety of reality.
Xander read once that if you die in a dream, you die in real life.
Xander hoped to never personally know the truth of that statement.
Slowly, Xander stretched out the legs that were tucked up to his body
in a fetal position. He listened carefully for the sound of an intruder in
the house but heard only the low hum of the refrigerator.
All seemed ridiculously normal.
Reason and logic told him that he was fine. It was just another stupid
nightmare. God knew he had had enough of them to be intimately
familiar. He took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his face.
"It's because of those missing men."
Xander told himself in a raspy voice.
"I'm just upset over being involved in something terrible, but I'm
not. I didn't do anything. It doesn't concern me."
Xander pulled himself to his feet. He felt weak and wobbly.
The clock on the stove told him it was late and the smell of his
body indicated he needed a shower.
He knew from past experience that the rest of his night should be
safe. One gut wrenching night horror at a time seemed to be his limit.
Still, he made his way to the bathroom by passing through every
other room of the house. He turned on each light and checked in
all the closets and corners.
Xander secured the locks on all doors and windows and then, last but
not least, he dropped to his stomach on the floor and satisfied himself
that there was no monster hiding under his bed. Only then did he take
his hot, brief shower and lay down across the bed. Lights left on.
The clamor of the crowd was loud and raucous. Conversations
were shouted to be heard over others who were yelling to be
heard over all. Laughing, good natured arguing and drinks being
ordered all blended together making any one voice almost impossible
to distinguish over another.
Spike sat next to Bobby and two of his friends. The three of them
flirted shamelessly with him and each other passing time till the floor show
started. Spike flirted back knowing his attentions would go no further.
Finally after several beers and a couple shots of whisky, Spike was
well buzzed and happily drunk.
The lights dimmed.
A hush fell over the room and everyone without a table moved in
closer to the stage. Spike, who was seated directly in front of the
section of stage with the shiny silver pole, leaned forward.
The side of the heavy red drapes opened and a short, trim, very
attractive oriental man stepped out. His eyes sparkled and his smile
showed a row of perfect white teeth. He wore a neat black suit and
held a microphone in his hand.
"Ladies and Gentlemen and everything in between. Welcome to
He threw his arms in the air as the mob of people exploded into cheers,
feet stomping, and whistling catcalls.
Laughing, Kim gave them a couple minutes to settle down before
holding up both hands signaling he was about to introduce the
start of the show and the first performer.
"Our first dancer is a Fabulous favorite. A cowboy that knows
how to use a rope and wrangle his beef. Let's give a big welcome
to BILLY BOB!"
The roar of the room was deafening as the scantily dressed muscular
man stepped out front. Spike happily joined in, stomping his Doc
Martins on the floor in time with the music.
He could smell the scent of coconut oil that the dancer had used to
make his shaved, tanned body slick and shiny.
The dancer wore cowboy boots, a ten gallon hat, a bandanna at his
neck and opened back black chaps. And very little else. Each time
he turned his bare butt to the crowd, the noise level rose even higher.
Spike signaled the waiter to bring the table another round and put the
drinks on his tab. He had decided there was no sense in Angel having
to wank when Spike could use the company credit card and give him
a real screwing.
The music was booming and Spike could feel the vibration of it thumping
through his feet and up his legs where it settled in his half hard cock.
He watched, mesmerized as Billy, one hand on the pole, swung
around and dipped himself, legs wide apart.
From where he sat, Spike was just inches from the dancer each time
he crouched to the floor and his nostrils flaired as he smelled the heat
from the human's crotch.
Billy gyrated, humped, and ground his groin against the silver pole.
Using the friction of the metal, Billy could feel his cock fill and lengthen.
He knew it was a move that would quadruple his potential tips.
Marching to the edge of the stage, Billy smiled his best smile and
winked at the good looking blond in the front row. Removing his
neckerchief, Billy tossed it in to the audience. In a flash, Spike reached
up and snagged it before and of the other men had a chance.
He inhaled deeply smelling the sweat and oil. He hardened more
and his nuts became uncomfortable in their sac.
As the music started to conclude, Billy grabbed his chaps in both
hands and pulled.
The leather cowboy attire that had covered little was tossed to the
floor and Billy stood proudly in a VERY brief thong that clearly showed
the outline of an impressive, thick veined erection.
Immediately a tidal wave of horny humanity shoved forward, dozens of
hands clutching dollar bills reached for the waistband of Billy's Speedo.
Billy canted his hips forward and collected his pay.
Spike sat back and laughed as Bobby and the others sharing his table
attempted to climb on stage and were quickly tossed back down by
a hulking, grinning security guard.
Spike made no attempt to join them. He had decided when the dance
first started that he wanted more tonight than just a quick frot on the
backs of his knuckles as he jammed a buck into the man's briefs.
He tapped the Mastercard on the table and smiled.
Billy Bob caught the move and smiled back.