bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
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Night Terrors

TITLE: Night Terrors
43/46
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.


Xander ran now with determination and confidence.
This was familiar, this was a constant that all his previous
dreams had in common. He knew what to expect and the
sight of the dead, dismembered bodies of his friends and
families would not rattle him.

This brief amount of time also gave him a chance to think.
The demon wanted him It wanted to keep him like a pet
locked cruelly in a cage for its owners pleasure. It wanted
to torment and torture him for an eternity and in exchange,
his friends would be freed.

Truth was, Xander Harris had always been a bit of a prick
and to say that he was willing to lay his life down for that of
five men that he had known only long enough to fuck and
kick from his bed would have been a lie. To be honest, he could
hardly even remember their names.

Kim and Spike were another story all together. They were the
most important things in his life. A new friend who stood by his
side in both business and life, faithful, honest, the closest thing he
had ever had to a brother, and an old one, Spike, who without
his even being aware of it had been safely tucked away in the back
of his mind, stored on that memory shelf marked "Precious.
Handle with care."

The fact that they had been back together for only a few days meant
nothing. Spike was the love of his life as surely as if they had never
been apart, and Xander knew without a doubt that he would do
whatever he had to, to get the men out. Even if it meant handing
himself to the demon on a silver platter.

Turning the last familiar corner, Xander slowed to a cautious pace.
The solid double doors were directly in front of him and the noise
that blasted out sent shivers of fear down his spine with it normalcy.

Voices shouted and cheered, laughing and applauding. The repetitious
thud, thud, thud, of a basketball being dribbled down the floor echoed
out into the hall till finally, a buzzer sounded signaling the end of the
quarter, and Xander knew it was time. He took a deep breath and
slapped his hands against the swinging doors, pushing them open.

Spike was frantic. He knew it was pointless to keep running with no
destination in mind and one hallway looking identical to another,
but what else could he do? He realized the truth was he was probably
traveling in circles, being kept busy while the demon did what it
wanted to his Xander.

His throat was raw from nonstop screaming. Each corner, each hall,
constantly without needing to breath, he shouted Xander's name, hoping
against hope that the man would hear and find him.

In the end, all his efforts were met with disappointment and failure.
Finally, out of pure frustration, he stopped. He spun in a circle, his
hands in the air and he screamed, sliding to the floor in defeat.

"That's it."
Giles immediately began scribbling onto the paper. He rolled it into
a tight tube and slid it into the tall neck of the beer bottle.
The others held their breath as he aimed the brown bottle over the
orb of suspended water. At the last second he looked, not to Willow,
but to Andrew.
"Are there words? Am I supposed to say something?"

Andrew jumped up and snatched the bottle from his watcher's hand.
He poised it carefully and dropped it, shouting.
"Geronimo!"

The bottle fell. It left no ripple in the water and disappeared as soon
as it sank. Instantly, they all gathered around to see the result.

Spike sat with his back against the cold, solid cement wall and sobbed.
He was lost, he was frustrated, and he was threatening to kick Xander's
arse for letting go. He knew there was no point in continuing to run
through hallways that had no destination.

His only hope was to keep shouting and pray that Xander, wherever he
was would hear him. Spike sighed, he didn't think he even had the
strength to do that. He knew part of it was the dream. The
Nambulist demon feeding the negativity and drowning out any positive
emotion they had, but he couldn't help it. He had failed. Xander was gone.

Spike pulled his knees up to his chest. He had just put his face down
into his hands when, out of nowhere.

"SMACK"

The bottle landed squarely on the top of his head with a sharp pain and
a shock that snapped him out of his depressed self pity. Scrambling
to his feet, he rubbed the goose egg that was already starting to raise
and he stared at the offending object.

"What the fuck?!"

Cautiously he nudged it with the toe of his boot. When it didn't grow
teeth and bite him, he took a chance and picked it up. Seeing the note
that had slipped down inside, curiosity got the better of him and he
smashed the bottle to the floor, retrieving the note..

Spike,
Shut up and stop yelling. Xander is in the gymnasium.
Listen for the sound and follow it there. Hurry.
Giles.

Spike clutched the paper in his hand and whooped in glee.
He twirled all around, waving it in the air, shouting,
"Thanks. I owe you one."
and he took off like a rocket. This time, however, when he reached
the end of the hall, he stopped. He cocked his head to the side and
he listened.

Nothing. Dead silence. He switched to game face and slowly, stalkingly
he crept forward, stopping every few feet to again strain his ears.

Just as he was beginning to think the note was a hoax, a trick of the
Nambulist to give him false hope, he heard it. Far off, distant, weak
and indistinct, still it was there. Spike was charged! His fist punched
the air silently and he locked on to the sound.

Xander's palms paused, holding open the gym doors wide open and
he took a moment to look all around.
He then stepped inside and, as expected, all sound ceased. The silence
was deafening, deep and all consuming.

Looking around, he was almost disappointed at the Nambulist's lack
of originality. It was exactly what he expected. Forcing his breathing
to slow and willing his heartbeat to do the same, he put on his most
casual face and strolled in.

Past the body parts, stepping over the squished brains and eyeballs,
he bypassed the pools of foul smelling blood and calmly strolled
to the center of the gym floor. To the figure that stood there waiting
on him with a big smile and open arms.

He probably should have been shocked, stunned and dumbfounded,
but the fact was it made perfect sense. Xander slipped slightly as
his foot caught on a stray finger, but he quickly regained his composure
and he continued forward, stopping only when he was just far
enough away that the demon could not reach out and touch him.

He stood face to face with......himself.

Xander had to chuckle. He hadn't seen that garish, orange flowered
shirt since it, and everything else in his dirty clothes hamper had sunk
to the bottom of the huge pit that was now Sunnydale.

He was exactly as he remembered himself ten years past. Slightly
chubby, wild thatch of uncombed hair, an annoying zit on his forehead
and the slump shouldered stance of the insecure.

With a false confidence, Xander scratched his chin, leaned to the
side and laughed.
"Well, now, that really is scary."

Instinctively, his hand reached up and his fingers circled around the
bear tooth that hung at his neck. His thumb rubbed the smooth side
and felt the sharp tip.
If felt solid, real, and it gave him courage.
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