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.
All the spectators cheered as though watching the winning touchdown
of the highly anticipated Super Bowl. Their contribution as well as
Spike's acknowledgement of it had them high fiving each other like
the game was in the bag.
Without thinking about it, Wes threw his arms around Angel's neck and
hugged him in celebration. Angel immediately pulled the smaller body
close, nuzzling his neck and nibbling his earlobe.
Wes's body began to respond and he nearly forgot why they were there.
Luckily, two things brought him back to himself. The firm length poking
him in the leg, and the strange round hard thing in Angel's pocket
combined with the loud "YES!" of the others in the room got him
back on track.
With a slap to Angel's chest, Wes again joined his friends who were
happily discussing their victory.
They knew, in their hearts that it wasn't over and that the two men still had
a long way to go and dangerous hurdles to leap, but they were buoyed
and after all, hope springs eternal.
Just ask Angel.
They took a moment to breathe, chat happily, pat Andrew on the back
and give their tense, over stressed muscles a bit of a stretch. They then
sat back down and watched as Spike picked up the sound, locked on
it and ran at a speed only a vampire could accomplish.
Spike was determined and focused. He had a goal, a destination
he could identify and he knew by the fact that it was getting louder, that he
was headed in the right direction. This was something he could deal
with. Something real in an unreal dimension.
Rushing forward, he suddenly slammed the brakes on his worn Doc Martins
when the one thing he feared, happened. The sound stopped. Spike strained,
he turned in all directions and he listened but there was nothing. No crowd
cheering, no balls bouncing, no buzzer sounding. Nothing.
He refused to wonder why.
Spike was crushed. He felt his confidence and good mood slip away.
He failed. His thoughts focused on everything he had done wrong. If
he hadn't let Xander step away. If he had run faster. If...if...
Suddenly, panic began to grow. Claustrophobia gripped him as the white
block walls and low, tile ceiling closed in on him. He wanted out! He wanted
to wake up! He wanted Xander! Throwing his head back, he screamed,
hoping Giles would somehow hear.
"Wake us the fuck up!"
Spike then sucked in a lung full of air in preparation of another fruitless
round of shouting, when something new caught his attention and his head
snapped up. He aimed his nose in the wind like a beagle in search of a
bitch in heat and sniffed.
He smelled blood, death and dismemberment. An odor he knew well
from his years as one fourth of the scourge of Europe. It was a stench
that brought him pleasure in the past and gave him new hope now.
Refusing to allow himself to think about what it might mean, Spike was again
on the move. Like the deadly predator he was, Spike rushed through the
unfamiliar terrain in search of his mate and the danger that threatened him.
Rounding the last bend, Spike stopped. The constant, seemingly unending
hallways finally reached a dead end in the form a set of large, solid,
wooden double doors.
Cautiously, he again sniffed the air and was certain that the odors of death were
coming from inside. Forcing himself to disregard the alluring, intoxicating
smell, he filtered through it looking for......XANDER!
The unmistakable, sweet, smell of home and love.
Spike charged forward, slamming his hands against the doors and
bolting in as they swung open. The sight that stunned him wasn't
the gore and overdone, unimaginative slaughter that surrounded him,
it was, instead, the sight of two Xander's squared off on center court.
It took less than a minute to know which one was his. His Xander was
older, leaner, more handsome. His Xander was the one that now filled
his arms and his senses with relief and love.
"Spike! Oh my God, Spike! Where were you? How did you find me?
I'm sorry I let go. You're here. You're safe."
Spike moaned and held on tight as each short sentence was ended with
a kiss. One to his neck, two to his cheek, one last long one to his mouth
that sought Xander's eagerly. As they kissed, Spike glanced over Xander's
shoulder at the furious demon and thought, for a second, that the image of
the slayer's donut boy flickered and faltered.
As wonderful as it was, Spike knew now was not the time for the two men to
get lost in the moment and forget the dangers around them. Gently, he
extracted himself from his lover's arms and shifted his attention to the
demon who stood angrily in the center of the polished gym floor, pointing
a dirty fingernail in Spike's direction.
"Get away from him, vampire! He lives here with me now! This is our
world, his and mine, and you don't belong here!"
Spike turned questioningly to the man at his side. All the love and warmth
he could feel rolling from the human was now gone and only sadness and
regret were left. Spike saw the demon's image become clearer, sharper,
and he knew it was gaining power from Xander's pain.
"Xander? Look at me. Love. What is the beasty here talking about?
Why does he think you are staying?"
Xander hung his head but before he could answer, the Nambulist,
now in the form of Angel, did it for him.
Under different circumstances, Spike would have found this tremendously
funny. He knew the demon drew his images of people from Xander's mind
and Angel's form was as Xander saw and remembered him.
His butt was huge, round and saggy and his hair spiked at least three
inches high, crowning an impossibly full forehead.
The real world Angel reached around to feel his ass. Was it really that big?
He needed to find one of those spelled mirrors he always heard about.
"The Dreamer and I were just making a business deal when you so rudely
Angel smiled. He was relaxed, strong and confident. This was going very
well. As soon as he had a verbal contract with the boy, he would be
strong enough to kill the vampire as well as the bug collection of humans.
He could then settle into an eternity of feeding off the nightmares the
dreamer could concoct. Or at least 50 years. The demon was unsure
of the life span of a pet human.
Spike stepped in front of Xander protectively.
"I won't let you kill him."
"Don't be silly. I need him alive. In your world, he will fall into an
irreversible coma and remain that way for the rest of his mortal life. His
mind and his soul will be here, with me."
Spike spun around and faced his love.
"Xander? Why the fuck would you even think of agreeing to such a thing?"
Finally, Xander lifted his head and looked into the beautiful, blue, confused
eyes of his vampire.
"Because I love you. It's an exchange. I stay here and he lets you and all
the others go free. He promised. It's the only way Spike."
Spike looked over at the smirking face of his sire. One demon recognizes
another and Spike knew the truth. No matter what Xander agreed to,
the Nambulist had no intention of freeing anyone. In fact, keeping and
torturing Spike would bring it years of pleasure through Xander's pain.
The demon was a liar.
The Nambulist had to die.
Willow jumped to her feet. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
"No, please, Giles, isn't there something we can do? We have to stop him.
I know! I'll go wake him up. That's it! I'll wake him up!"
Giles caught her as she tried to rush by, holding her tightly in his arms as
he whispered in her ear.
"No, Willow, no. You know that isn't the answer. We can't intervene now.
The demon is too strong. If this isn't stopped it will be out in the world.
It's up to Xander."
"To what? Offer himself up as a sacrifice? He has lived a perfectly
happy life all these years without us and now we come back and do
this to him? Sometimes I hate you Giles!"
Giles continued to hold her close as she trembled in his arms.
"Sometimes I hate me too."