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.

The man in the trim black suit tipped his nose in the air and
sniffed as though something distasteful has drifted in on the
cool night air.
"Good evening , Sir. May I help you?"

Angel stood in the lobby of the hotel, dumbfounded.
He had needed a room while he stayed in town so he thought
the best thing to do would be go to the same place that
he had Spike's blood delivered to.
The Oak Shadows hotel.

He looked up at the huge, stained glass, domed ceiling.
He looked down at the thick, rich, midnight blue carpet.
He gazed around at the affluent, professional looking people
nodding at the door man as the passed in and out.
Not a hooker in sight. A bad sign.

Angel's shoulder's slumped as his eyes slid back around to
the bored man standing patiently behind the high, marble topped
reception desk.

'Oh, hell.' He thought. 'How bad can it be?'
Angel reached into his inside pocket and withdrew one of his
business cards, slapping it down on the counter.
"I'm with Angel Investigations and I will be needing a room for
a few days."

Immediately, the bored, superior attitude of the desk clerk disappeared
and was replaced by a huge friendly smile. Angel had never seen so
many white teeth in one mouth. At least not in a human mouth.
He quickly took a step back for fear the man was about to leap over
the counter and kiss him.

"Oh, of course, Sir. Welcome. Welcome. Why didn't you say so?
Will you be staying with your associate, Mr. Blood in the penthouse
suite? We are all very fond of Mr. Blood. He is so charming, so witty,
and such a good........"
The clerk leaned in close, just inches from Angel's face and winked
".......tipper. Yes Siree. We are all very fond of Mr. Blood. No need
to arrange payment. We have the corporate card on file."

Without waiting for Angel's reply, the clerk threw both hands on the
air and snapped his fingers repeatedly causing a flurry of activity. Bell
hops from all directions came running. The first one there, then snatched
up the one small overnight bag Angel had brought and all six of them
in matching red, double breasted suits and little monkey hats headed
for the elevators.

Angel looked back at the desk clerk in shock. The clerk handed him a
key card and a winning grin.
"Enjoy your stay, Sir. No need to tip me, I'll just add it to the bill."

Angel took the key and dumbly followed the parade of uniforms as they
happily held the elevator door open for him. Angel stepped in and the
doors slid shut.

As soon as the plane touched down, it taxied to a remote area of the
Oxnard airport. Collecting together their things, the London based
group stayed in their seats and waited patiently. Wes wasn't sure
what they were waiting on, but the others seemed to know, so he
didn't ask.

Within minutes, and older official looking gentleman boarded the plane.
Giles smiled and handed him his passport.
"Good evening, Henry. It's been some time. How are the wife and
The Customs agent smiled back at the recognition. It always amazed him
that someone as important as Mr. Rupert Giles should remember him.
He efficiently signed, stamped and returned to documents.

"We are fine, Sir. The youngest is just about to graduate medical school.
The wife and I are looking forward to the empty nest."

Wesley caught, out of the corner of his eye, Andrew making a note to send
a card of congratulations to the boy on his success. Signed personally by
Rupert Giles.

In record time, the four were customes cleared, collected by
limousine and well on their way.
"Will we be staying at a hotel?"

Andrew glanced up at Wesley. Sometimes he forgot that the watcher had
only been with headquarters for two years and didn't understand security
and protocol.

"No, I've made arrangements with our agent here for the private, furnished
house we own to be readied. It is a three bedroom so we can all have
our privacy but it is imperative that we remain in close proximity while
we are on an assignment. Isn't that right Rupert?"

Giles beamed with pride at the efficiency and capability of his Andy Pandy.
No one in the group thought the division of four people into three
rooms was a mathematical inconsistency. He patted Andrew's knee.

"Well done, Andrew, As always, well done."

Wesley sat, silently staring out of the side window of the huge black
car. He didn't ever think he would be comfortable in this life style.
He didn't think he wanted to be. The only thing about this trip that gave
him reassurance was the knowledge that L.A. was quite a distance
from Oxnard and Angel was still in L.A.

Even after two years, Wes didn't trust himself around the knuckle dragger.
The break up had ripped his heart out and Wes did NOT want to do
something stupid.

For the first four hours, all Xander's time and attention were devoted to the
business of business. He faced the usual crisis of the dancers bitching
at each other, a last minute costume change, a short count on the liquor
delivery, the bouncer having to toss out a customer who repeatedly tried
to lick one of the dancer's crotch and the last minute call off of one
of the waiters.

Nothing that reached crisis level but plenty to keep him hopping till the
natural momentum of the night took over and things began, as they
always did, to fall into place.

Only then did he realize how late it was and there was still no sign of his
friend and manager. Now Xander was starting to worry. Kim had never
just not shown up for work. He had never gone this long without calling
at all.

Deciding to head back through the club to his office to phone, Xander
rushed past the bar only to be stopped dead in his tracks.
"In a bit of a hurry?"

Xander skidded to a stop. It didn't take him long to locate the source of
the accented voice. It was positioned directly underneath the shock
of florescent white hair.
"Spike. I thought I told you I didn't want to see you again."

Spike swiveled around on his stool to face the annoyed owner.
"You did indeed, Pet. You didn't say I couldn't come in for a drink or
five, you just said you didn't want to see me. But, now that you have
maybe we could talk."
Spike patted the empty seat next to him.

"Fuck off, Spike. I'm busy."
Without another word, Xander walked away, clearly uninterested in
bantering with the disappointed vampire. Spike was not used to being
ignored. He had hoped his appearance would cause the man's dark
eyes to flair in rage. He wanted to smell the blood as it boiled so near
the surface. He wanted Xander riled up.

Quickly, Spike grabbed the full bottle of whisky from where the bartender
had set it and he rushed after. He had no intention in letting Xander off the
hook that easily. Down the hall and around the corner, Spike remembered
the way to Xander's office. Just outside the door, he paused, listening
to see if he were alone.

He heard the phone dialed. He heard the ringing on the other end.
Harris paced, he kicked the leg of his chair and he muttered.
"Come on. Come on, Kim. Where the fuck are you?"

"Lose your little boyfriend? Very careless, Pet."
Spike stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Furious, Xander snapped shut his phone and tossed it down on the desk.
Without thinking, his hand automatically reached around to feel in the waist
band of the back of his pants. It was an action that caught them both totally
off guard.

"No stake? Old habits die hard, don't they Harris? How long since you
had a piece of pointy wood tucked in back there?"

Xander sat down defeated.
"Please, Spike just go away. I have my own problems and I just can't deal
with you right now."

Spike dropped down in the chair across from him.
"Sorry, pet, no can do. Got a demon to find and kill, remember? Now
why don't you tell old Spike what the problem is. Kim that oriental
fella I saw workin' round here? When was the last time you saw him?
And the big question is, is he gay? Cause I think you know where this is
going, don't you?"

A feeling of sick horror rushed through Xander's body and he feared he may
vomit. His brain shut down and nothing could get through other than a
constant flow of
"Not Kim. Not Kim. Please. Not Kim."

Slamming the bottle on the desk between them, Spike smiled.
"No sweat, Pet. You and I are going to figure all this out and rescue your
boyfriend before anything bad happens to him. But first, we are going
to have a couple of drinks while you tell me everything you know.
Then your old buddy, Spike is going to save the day."

Xander reached for the bottle.

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