Warnings: HAU, M/M sex, violence, swearing, possible humor, blatant use of movie misquotes, OOC, varying chapter lengths. UNBETA'D
Rating:Overall NC17 Individual Chapters PG to NC17
Pairing: 100% S/X (Is there any other?)
Comments: Comment if you want to, though it would be nice to know someone is reading it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to someone who is not me. I write for fun not profit.
Note 1: This was written for the Film challenge on Ultimate_Xander
Note2: This follows the general plot of the film with a few important deviations!
Note 3: My heartfelt thanks go out to my dear friend Bmblbee, for kicking me up the ass into writing this and holding my hand through the writing and posting process. Without her it would never have been written. *Hugs*
Summary: Alexander Harris is a highly successful author of romantic novels under the pen name Xander Harris. His stories have a twist, his hero is a 500 year old, ensouled vampire called Angel and the love interest is always male. Shy and retiring he lives a quiet, orderly life in the town of Sunnydale where he was born and raised. In contrast his younger step brother Lindsey McDonald lives an exciting life traveling the world and lurching from crisis to crisis. When Lindsey lands in a spot of bother Xander's money can't solve, it's up to Xander to launch a rescue mission. Along the way he meets the handsome, roguish, soldier of fortune William Stone. Question is, is it the best or worst thing to ever happen to him?
Oz twitched anxiously. O'Connor had made him drive to some kind of police compound, leapt out of the car and began barking orders to some bewildered and startled cops.
Now he was stood in the Police Station nervously dialing Warren's number. He could hear O'Connor issuing orders in fluent Spanish in the back room. Cops went back and fourth so that he spent most of his time twisting and turning, ducking his head and wondering if now wouldn't be a good time for the floor to give way and swallow him up.
Outside several jeeps were lined up behind the Lada.
The phone rang. Warren answered.
"Warren," He hissed. "it's me, Oz."
"Oz you little twerp, where are you?"
O'Connor came out of the back room and gave Oz a hard stare. Oz turned his back.
"Yeah Ma, it's me. Calm down Ma. Sorry I haven't phoned." Oz said loudly.
"Oz, are you drunk? Cos if you are I'm gonna kill you."
O'Connor shrugged and disappeared from view. Oz breathed.
"Yeah go ahead, kill me only take me back to Queens and do it. Don't let me die in this miserable jungle like some fucking snake. Listen to me cousin, as usual you've landed us in some deep shit. The stupid brother got on the wrong bus."
Warren gave an exasperated sigh. " I ask you to do one simple thing Oz. One thing. Meet Harris off the plane and make sure he gets on the right fucking bus and you can't even do that."
"Is it my fault he's retarded?" Oz snapped. "Anyway I'm stuck in some kind of police compound, they're mobilizing for World War Three here. Another tidbit, guess whose here.?"
There was a pause. "O'Connor."
"Oh, oh, give the man a fucking Cupie Doll. Yeah I'm chasing after the bus and suddenly O'Connor appears waving a rocket launcher and hijacks the car. Makes me drive him here. I offered him the car but guess what? He refused to take it. Not only are we antique thieves and kidnappers, but I'm about to have a close encounter with a cattle prod!" Oz was getting increasingly agitated.
"Oz, calm down. Do they know who you are?"
"Oh yeah, yeah. What? You think I'm going up to every cop and handing out business cards?" He hissed. "No you dummy, I think O'Connor suspects something but he seems kinda distracted."
"Has O'Connor got his goons with him?"
Oz blanched as he noticed a crude drawing of himself pinned to a notice board with the word 'WANTED' underneath. "Nah, nah. He seems to be making nice with the local yo yo's."
"Goddamnit Oz!" Warren yelled. "Get Harris or better still just get that fucking map before O'Connor."
"Don't yell at me Warren. I'm hanging on by a thread here."
"I don't care what you have to do, or how you fucking do it. Get that map!" Warren ordered.
The phone went dead. Oz sighed and put the phone back on the receiver. He looked around. The Police Station was empty, silent. The jeeps were gone, not a soul in sight.
His mouth fell open. "Fuck me. Where'd everyone go?"
Warren looked at Lindsey. "Your stupid brother got on the wrong fucking bus."
Lindsey's eyes narrowed. "Don't call him stupid. He just doesn't get out much."
"Whatever. Now he's somewhere in the jungle playing Cowboys and Indians with O'Connor." Warren smirked.
Lindsey jerked upright and leaned forward in his seat. "O'Connor's after Xander?"
"Yeah. Whether he calls himself The Minister of Antiquities, Chief of Police, or Colonel O'Connor Head of The Secret Police, he's bad news. You better pray Oz gets to your brother before O'Connor."
The rain had stopped. Spike helped Xander onto dry land and sat him on a fallen tree trunk. "Wait there. I need to get my backpack and stuff."
Xander nodded and used some leaves to try and scrape the mud off his shoulder bag. Spike frowned. Through thick and thin Xander hug on to that damned bag. What had he in it that was so important? He shrugged and went to retrieve his backpack.
When he came back, he stopped dead. Xander was laid on his stomach over the tree trunk his head out of sight. Spike dropped his pack and rushed forward. "Are you hurt? Are you sick?"
Xander's head popped up. "No. I lost a button."
Spike staggered back and his mouth fell open. "You lost a but........ Bloody hell Xander, just what are you doing in Colombia, never mind in the jungle?"
Xander blinked. "I told you I have to get to my brother in Cartagena. It's a matter of life and death."
Spike fetched his pack and set it down on a rock and began to go through it. He muttered under his breath. "Pet you're likely to lose more than a button before this is through."
Xander watched the blond. It was the first time he hadn't been scared to death long enough to actually notice him. He was dressed entirely in black. The black T-shirt soaked through by the rain clung to a slender, tightly muscled body, the black jeans, already tight fitting and now soaked through, clung to slim hips, tight buttocks and strong thighs.
A machete was strapped to his left thigh. Even his boots were black.
By contrast his skin was lightly tanned and his dark blond hair streaked through with gold highlights from the sun: it tumbled to his shoulders curled and waved from the recent rain. His eyebrows were dark brown with an intriguing scar over the right. His cheek bones high and sharp and his lips full, soft and pink. His eyes were the bluest Xander had ever seen and long, dark blond lashes completed the picture. He was shorter than Xander by one or two inches, but carried himself with such confidence that he seemed taller.
Spike smiled to himself as he felt Xander's scrutiny. He rather hoped the brunette liked what he saw.