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Night Terrors
by
BmblBee
Part Eleven
The hooting and shouting of the club's party goers had calmed temporarily as Billy Bob finished his rodeo show
and the waiters hustled around the room to refill the drinks, get their asses groped and clear off the tables.
All the staff had been carefully screened when hired to make sure they fit the image the new Fabulous wanted to portray.
They had to be young, well built, handsome, outgoing and most of all willing to wear tight spandex pants that clearly showed off their best assets. Padding was permitted.
When he took over as owner, Xander personally oversaw the staffing. The hiring, firing and especially the meeting that spelled out what was allowed and what was not. The old days of selling ass with the drinks was over. While private lap dances were permitted, he wanted it understood that Fabulous was not a brothel.
Within minutes the tempo of the stage music changed and the next dancer, Carlos, a muscular Hispanic stepped out. He held a red cape in front of a presumably naked body and proceeded to do a modified bull fight routine where the audience got more than one brief peek at the bull in question.
The audience applauded wildly in appreciation of the multi-national theme of tonight's show. Bobby grabbed Spike's hand. "Oh, God he's so talented. I've never seen a real bull fight before."
Spike briefly considered pointing out the fact that Carlos was probably born right here in Oxnard and wouldn't know one end of a bull from the other but hell, why spoil a good time.
Meanwhile, Spike kept an eye on the side exit where the dancers came and went. Right on time, and just as he expected, Billy Bob, again dressed in his cowboy finest, came sauntering out.
Stopping often to smile, visit and pause to allow a dollar, usually with a hand still attached to find it's way down the front of his g-string, Billy worked the room. His smile never faltered and he had a cheerful word, a joke or a handshake for everyone. Billy Bob could sell himself like a used car salesman and the money he earned nightly proved it.
Spike laughed as he watched a small gaggle of housewives rush over to the handsome dancer only to be shoved aside by a couple of flaming gays with a sparkle in their eyes and a fist full of dollar bills between them. Billy never flinched as his cock and ass cheeks were enthusiastically stuffed with money.
Eventually, as Spike knew he would, Billy casually slid over to Spike's table. He leaned his bare arse against the small round bar table and he crossed his arms. "Evenin' Blondie. Haven't seen you here before. Enjoy the show?"
Spike turned his back to the stage and Carlos' "Ole" as he flipped the red cape, nearly allowing his charging bull to escape it's pen. The crowd roared. He lit a forbidden cigarette and looked Billy Bob up and down slowly. "Yeah, you dance pretty well, course couldn't see too much what with all these gentlemen pressing in. It appears you have quite a fan club."
Billy chuckled modestly and shook his head. "They love whoever is dancing at the moment. Right now Carlos is the star. You don't seem interested in him. You not into bull fighters?"
Spike shrugged. "Not into sharing. You ever give personal dances?"
Billy smiled. "You asking for a lap dance? A private one?"
Spike blew out a slow circle of smoke then dropped the butt on the worn wooden floor and ground it out with the toe of his boot. "Just might. How would we do that?"
Billy tipped his head toward Spike's credit card. "A private dance is $100.00. You give the manager, Mr. Kim, your card number then, after, if you want to, you can add a tip. That is if you are satisfied with my performance." Billy gave an almost shy smile and a wink.
Spike snorted, he knew whatever Billy Bob was, innocent was not the word to describe him. Spike handed the credit card to Billy. Before taking it to the manager, he checked the name of the card's owner and chuckled. "Your name's Angel? You look more like the devil to me."
"Might just be a bit of both. Maybe we'll find out, yes?"
Spike laughed and watched as Billy worked his way over to the bar where the Oriental man who had introduced him on stage, sat. Spike watched them as Billy stepped behind the bar and took all the money off his body and dropped it into a basket while the manager completed the transaction.
He also saw the manager appear to give Billy a warning. Billy's smile stayed firmly in place as he nodded an agreement.
Within minutes, Billy was back. Spike rose to his feet and followed the dancer through the crowd. Behind him he could hear his table mates shouting their approval and envy.
At the side entrance of the stage area was a small hallway that led to the back of the club. Spike followed as Billy passed several closed doors until he came to the last on the left. Opening the door, he stepped aside and indicated Spike should go in.
The room was small. 8X10 at the most. Plain, no windows and painted an institutional gray. The only furniture was a large padded chair positioned in the center and a radio/CD player that sat on a short, chest of drawers. "I know it's not much. I guess the boss doesn't want anyone getting too active. But then you aren't here for Martha Stewart decorating tips are you?"
Spike dropped down in the chair and watched as Billy smiled and flipped quickly through the CDs looking for just the right music. When he found what he wanted he slipped it in. He then reached into the top drawer of the small chest and took out a single serving packet of lubrication.
Spike's eyebrows went up. "That's a bit of an assumption innit?"
Billy tossed Spike a second one. "That's the point of the privacy isn't it? I dance and you enjoy yourself. Feel free to get comfortable. We aim to please."
Spike took the hint. He tossed his duster to the side and unashamedly unzipped his tight black jeans, tugging them down over his hips. His cock had been hard for the better part of an hour already and it felt wonderful to release it from the confined space. He lifted his balls out and rested them on the cool plastic seat.
His hand took one smooth slide up the shaft as the music began. Billy lifted his hands high over his head and his hips began to sway slowly to the rhythm. He glanced coyly into the beautiful blue eyes of his customer and he took a step forward.
As the tempo picked up so did Billy's movement and in turn, Spike's hand. He kept his grip light, Spike had no intention of cumming by jerking off.
Billy's body glistened in the artificial light and Spike could again detect the rich, sweet smell of the coconut oil. The dancer put both hands on his chest pinching and rubbing his nipples into hard nubs. He then hula danced his hips as his palms slid slowly down over his flat, hard stomach, on to the sides of his swollen bulge.
Watching the dancer who was now just inches away, Spike nodded his head. "Ditch the chaps. I want to see your cock."
Billy smiled and, swiveling his body around, he turned his bare butt to Spike as he snapped and pulled the leather costume off. Spike's hand paused in his stroking as his other hand reached up and felt the smooth firm round buttocks that was bouncing in his face.
Billy bent over and placed his hands on his knees. His ass, covered by only the thin thong strap that ran down the crack, continued to keep time to the music as it moved in the blond's cool hands.
Finally, Spike released his cock and grabbed both Billy's butt cheeks in his hands, pulling him down toward Spike's lap. He slid his fingers between the thin strap and Billy's crack, brushing his finger over the dancer's hole.
"How much?"
Part Twelve
Billy stopped moving to the music but made no effort to pull away or straighten up. He glanced demurely back over his shoulder.
"The boss doesn't like us to fuck the customers. New rules of the club. I'm really not even supposed to allow you to touch me."
"Screw the boss. How much?"
"If you like my dancing you can add a $150.00 tip."
Spike grinned from ear to ear. He could just see the great Poof's face when he got the bill for this one. "Sounds fair. Turn around and take this off. I want to touch your cock."
Billy stepped back, out of reach just as the song concluded. The time for shyness and dickering was over. Now it was all business. "You have to wear a condom. I don't fuck without a condom."
Spike, deciding that a discussion of the existence and presence of a vampire would be a definite mood killer, agreed. Billy retrieved one from the drawer, tossing it over. Spike slid it on as both men watched.
Billy started over to where the vampire sat, but Spike stopped him with an upturned hand. "Turn the music back on. I want to see you dance on the head of my dick."
Billy smiled and did as he was told. Quickly switching disks, this song was faster than the last. This was not music for seduction or romance, this was for fun, for movement, for fucking. When the first thumps of the hip hop song "Low" started, Spike laughed his approval.
Immediately, Billy's dance took on a pelvic hump. His thumbs slipped under the strap of his silk thing and peeled it away from his body. As he worked its way off, his thick, full erection popped out and slapped back against his body. Spike licked his lips and kicked his trousers the rest of the way off, spreading his legs wide.
Billy's whole body now joined in the dance. With his hands behind his head, he swiveled, bumped and shimmed, each step moving closer till his legs straddled Spike's and his bouncing cock was just inches from Spike's face.
Billy's hands then framed his shaved crotch, his thumbs pushing his stiff rigid cock forward so Spike was staring directly into the wet slit.
Spike's left hand continued to stroke and please himself while his right reached out and encircled the warm human cock.
Billy was the first to moan as the cool hand grasped his overheated flesh.
Spike leaned forward and licked a strip from root to tip, pinching the bundle of nerves near the head and Billy temporarily lost the rhythm. Quickly, he remembered why he was here. This was for the customer. This was for the money, not his pleasure.
Stepping back out of Spike's reach, he again lost himself in the music and, remembering the chorus, turned with his back to Spike. As the singer belted out "Low, low, low, low low, low low." Billy crouched and bounced his butt cheeks in time to the chant till he was nearly sitting on his heels. His ass then ground circles back up.
Spike chuckled and gripped both cheeks pulling the dancer back towards his lap. Billy continued to sway as Spike massaged and groped the firm round globes. Pulling him open, Spike could see from the looks of Billy's hole that very possibly his middle name was Roger.
Spike ran his hands up and down the back and sides of the warm human, coating his fingers and palms with the oily slick that made his smooth body shine. He then rubbed his hand down the dancer's crack coating his entrance and dipping one fingertip in the relaxed, ready hole.
Spike leaned his face forward and sniffed. He could detect the faint smell of other men, long washed off but still there.
"You like it up the ass? You like it when men shove their cocks in you?"
Billy rested his hands on Spike's knees, bending in half as his hole was sniffed and licked. He glanced down and saw the first bubbles of pre-cum oozing from his slit. Billy wanted nothing more that to just stroke himself to a heavenly orgasm but knew he couldn't. This was business before pleasure. "Yeah, I like to be fucked."
Spike pushed two fingers in and scissored them to open him up even more. "Then why don't you slide that sweet hole down on my lap?" Spike removed his fingers and held his cock out, guiding Billy back and down.
Both men let out an "Oh, fuck!" together as the dancer dropped, settling flat on Spike's lap and fully penetrated. Spike again ran his fingers up the other man's spine, feeling the bumps of his backbone. When he got to the top he shoved him roughly over.
Billy bent forward and Spike startled him with an open handed slap that left a stinging red hand print on the cheek of his butt.
"Dance!"
Billy had all but forgotten about the music playing in the background but now tried to pick up the rhythm and tune. Within seconds he had it. His ass began moving and rocking.
Spike slapped him again. "Fuck yes! Just like that. Fuck! Dance on my cock!"
The burning sting of the slap caused Billy to clench his hole and both men groaned at the wonderful feel. Billy had to use both hands on Spike's legs to maintain balance despite his neglected cock crying for attention and friction.
"Jesus, fuck, you look sweet. Come on, bounce on me." Spike watched his lap as his thick cock worked in and out
of the tight hole in time to the music. Spike held Billy's cheeks open so he could get a better view of the pink, wrinkled
hole that gripped and squeezed him. He knew it was worth every cent Angel was going to pay for it.
Lost in his own pleasure, Spike hardly noticed Billy whimpering till the cowboy finally broke down and begged.
"Please. Please touch me. Shit I'm so close. I need to cum so bad."
Spike sat forward, giving up his magnificent show and licked the dancer's back. His hands slid up the inside of the dancer's thighs till they reached his crotch. Involuntarily, his fangs dropped and he wanted to bite. He wanted to suck down the hot, rich, pheromone spiced blood. Spike also knew that despite the chip, if it was willing, it was possible.
"Let me bite you."
Billy's stopped moving as his sex soaked brain tried to process what he was being asked. "What?"
"How much more to let me bite you?"
Billy knew he should say no. This could be a dangerous pervert. He should run, call the cops, get the manager to toss him out. "$200.00"
Spike grinned and his forehead ridged up, his whole body tingling with anticipation. Flexing his claw like hands, Spike wrapped his slippery fist around Billy's leaking desperate cock and began stroking. The new position had Spike's cock hammering into Billy's prostate on each thrust.
"Yeah, just like that. Shit, please, I need to cum"
Spike could feel Billy's cock harden even more and was ready. The second the dancer's body went rigid and the first spurts of cum shot out, Spike sank his fangs into the man's side, by his ribs, sucking deeply.
The combination of Billy's tight hole spasming around his cock along with the hot blood flowing down his throat sent Spike tumbling over the edge. Each man forgot the other and flowed through the waves of their own orgasmic pleasure. The bite added electricity to each.
Spike wrapped his arms around Billy, pulling their bodies tightly together and he rocked them through the last of the aftershocks while they eased and ebbed. When it was over, Spike made sure his human face was back and he gave Billy's ass one last slap. "Good show. Hell of a dance. What's the tally?"
Billy eased up off the deflating cock and grinned. "$450.00. Pay the man out front and cum again."
Both men laughed at the cheesy line, dressed and left the room.
Part Thirteen
Three am came quicker than anyone could imagine. Spike had put his mission on the back burner and, still floating on a post orgasmic high, spent the rest of the evening drinking with his new buddies and watching the various dancers work the stage.
Whatever was happening in Oxnard California would keep just one more day, and Spike was enjoying his much needed
break
As soon as the last act left the stage, Kim stepped out. Apparently the regulars recognized what that signaled and a roaring chorus of "BOO" hissed up good naturedly from the crowd.
Kim laughed, he knew it was nothing personal. It was almost expected and it was repeatedly nightly. It meant business was good and the dancers enjoyed. It sounded like money. "Thanks, thanks. As always, I appreciate your affection for me."
The crowd laughed and applauded.
"And now gentlemen, it's time to settle up, you don't have to go home," The crowd responded by shouting back the response of , "......but you can't stay here!"
Kim chuckled. "You got it. Swallow your last......beer, and get the heck out. By the way, if Jim Carter is here, your boyfriend called about an hour ago and said he was going to kick your ass when you got home."
The crowd roared their sympathy for poor Mr. Carter and slowly dragged themselves to their feet as the overhead bar lights came on blasting the room in a glaringly bright light.
Spike braced himself as all three of his very drunk table mates hugged him with tears in their eyes. "We love you Shpike. Will we eber shee you again?"
Spike chuckled and patted their backs. "Ya never know Mate, may be back sooner than you think."
He then walked away as they argued amongst themselves as to who was the most sober and who could drive. Spike wondered, at this point, if they could even find the parking lot.
Approaching the checkout, he handed Kim his card and waited. The total was astronomical and Kim looked at him quizzically. "This is pretty high. Nearly $500.00."
Spike just rolled his eyes. "Card's good innit?"
Kim ran it and found, much to his relief that, yes, it was. "Yes, Sir. All good, just didn't want you coming back here tomorrow when you sober up and contesting the total. I see you have $450.00 for a private dance. That's a hefty tip."
Kim stared into Spike's eyes suspiciously.
Spike tucked the card back in his pocket and shrugged. "Boy did a good job and I wanted to show my appreciation. Not a problem is it?"
Kim could see others waiting their turn impatiently and knew he had to move on. He handed Spike the copy of his receipt and smiled. "No, Sir, no problem come and see us again some time."
Spike returned the smile and stuck the slip in his jeans. "Oh, yeah, you can count on it."
Kim paused and watched the back of the blond as he walked away. He knew danger when he saw it. While nothing about Spike's behavior had been threatening, he couldn't help but hope he would not return. Everything about the stranger gave him a terrible feeling. $500.00 or not, he would be very happy to never see him again.
"Hey! You want my fuckin' money or not?"
Kim was startled out of his thoughts by the next drunk in line waving a sweaty fist of money. "Oh, yes Sir, sorry."
Spike slipped out into the cool night and lit a cigarette as he walked to his car. He still had several hours before sunrise to find a motel room and decided to have a bit of a look around town. All of the missing men had apparently vanished during the hours of midnight and five am. Since there had been no bodies turned up, an exact location may be difficult to pin point.
Spike hopped in the car and rolled down the windows. If it was demon activity it was more than likely in a fairly uninhabited part of town such as a park, a garden or a designated green area. If it was a demon, Spike would smell it in the air.
Kim was finishing up with the last of the customers and the bar had cleared out quickly. As usual, the place was a mess. It looked like it had been trashed beyond repair, but Kim knew better. The cleaning crew would be arriving soon and by tomorrow afternoon, have it standing tall. Xander was a stickler on spotless.
As his normal routine, Kim checked all the rooms, restrooms and enclosed spaces to make sure no one had passed out and would be locked in. When he came to the last room on the left, he stepped in.
The smell of old sex was strong in the air but that didn't surprise him. This was a room for private lap dances and the customer is encouraged to enjoy himself, by himself. Masturbation is expected. Touching the staff is not. Looking down, he saw the opened wrapper from a condom and immediately knew how Billy had earned his big tip.
Kicking the foil with his shoe, Kim cursed the boy's defiance of the rules and resolved to speak to Xander about firing him.
In fact, he decided, maybe he would swing by on his way home. He knew even on his off days Xander seldom went to bed before five am. and anyway, he wanted to make sure his friend and employer was feeling better. It wasn't like Xander to get sick. Not a health nut like him.
~*~*~*~*~
Xander's soft cotton sleeper pants rode low on his hips as he padded toward the kitchen. The particulars of the earlier nightmare had been very effectively blocked out and his only concern was the situation of his relationship to the missing men.
He had watched the nightly news, flipping from one local channel to another to see if any one had more information than the other. They didn't. The only facts seemed to be that they were there one day and gone the next. No mention was made of them being with a mysterious dark haired man just before disappearing. So far he was in the clear.
Xander picked up the cup of cold tea from the small kitchen table and remembered dozing off. He also recalled waking from a bad dream, but refused to examine it. He dumped the brown liquid down the sink and put the kettle on to heat.
Checking the clock on the stove, he knew the club was closing down and he expected Kim to drop by for an update and a cup of Orange tea. He usually did on the few nights that Xander wasn't there.
Before the kettle whistled, the knock came on the door. "Hey, you look like you feel a lot better. Maybe you just needed a night off." Kim walked in, tossed his suit coat over the back of an easy chair and headed straight for the kitchen, Xander followed.
"Maybe I did. You want some tea? Anything happen tonight?" Kim nodded and took the cup. "Thanks. Nay, pretty much an ordinary night. Oh, there were a couple things."
Xander sat down across from his friend, sipped his own tea and waited, praying the 'couple things' had nothing to do with missing persons.
"Well first, one of the customers, a new guy, ran up a tab of over $500.00. He paid with a credit card and everything went through o.k. but I did talk to him. He seemed sober enough. Shouldn't be a problem.
Xander frowned. "That's a lot of money. He buying drinks for the whole damn club?"
Kim set his cup down and tore open a pack of sugar. He poured it an and stirred as he considered his wording. He knew any way he explained it, Xander was going to be pissed. "No, the majority of it went to a private dance with Billy Packer. He gave him a......sizable, tip.
Xander sat back and crossed his arms. "Why? Just what did Billy do to earn this......sizable, tip?"
Kim sighed. "When I checked the room later, there was an empty condom wrapper on the floor."
Xander slammed his fist down on the table. "Son of a bitch!"
Part Fourteen
Xander zipped through the back door and went directly to his office. It was late in the day, much later than he usually came in and the club had already opened for business.
Ever since oversleeping, everything about his internal timing was askew today. He felt totally off kilter. He took too long in the shower, he was out of eggs, and the dry cleaners had lost his favorite suit, which, he realized after much haranguing, he had forgotten to bring in.
Sitting behind his desk, Xander stared off into space. He didn't check the mail and he didn't turn on the t.v. He knew he should be out in the club and before the night was over, Xander knew he would be advertising to hire a new dancer.
But right now he just needed some time. He felt overwhelmed and choked. It was like the sky was falling and he had eaten chicken little for a wing snack without heeding his warning.
"Hey, someone said they thought they saw you come in. Shit, Xan, you still don't look like you feel good. Maybe you should see a doctor."
Kim stepped in and closed the door behind him. His concern for his best friend was clear on his face and it only served to make Xander feel worse. Forcing a smile, Xander chuckled. "No, I think I just ate some bad sushi. One good shit and I'll be back on top of the world."
Kim laughed but was not one hundred percent convinced. "Yeah? Well your birthdays coming up, maybe I'll wrap up a box of Ex-Lax and put a bow on it for ya."
Both men relaxed slightly and Kim figured it was a good time to bring the boss up to speed. "Hey, the reason I came in here was, remember me telling you about that $500.00 customer from last night? Well he's back and he's asking
questions about those missing men. I'm sure it's just because they were gay and this is a gay club. I mean there's no connection to us, but still, I thought you better come out."
Xander's body flushed through with a tsunami wave of nausea. "Is he a cop?"
Kim snorted with disgust. "Not unless they're sending undercover cops in to fuck the dancers now. No, if anything, I would say private detective or maybe reporter. Either way, I'd be real careful what you say to him. Something about him just screams 'unscrupulous'."
Xander nodded and slowly rose from his chair. His brain wrestled with thoughts of doom 'Can things possibly get any worse?' If only he'd known.
Xander followed Kim out of the office and down the hallway toward the main room of the club. Kim tipped his head silently in the direction of the back of a white blond head that sat at the end of the bar. "That's him."
Xander frowned.
The closer Xander got, the darker the storm cloud hanging over his head felt. The small niggling feeling of recognition stirred inside him and grew stronger with each step. Suddenly, he felt like he was dragging his feet, in slow motion, through a tunnel of sludge.
He knew he should run in the other direction. His self preservation that had served him so well over the past ten years, was now tugging at his shirt sleeve bidding him to turn away. He foolishly ignored it.
Kim, who was unaware of Xander's state, reached Spike first. "Sir?"
Swiveling on his bar stool, Spike turned, full faced, and slid to his feet. Spike and Xander stood. Face to face. Past to present.
Spike's eyebrows shot skyward. "Harris?"
Xander's eyes locked on the eerily familiar blue ones and he forgot how to breathe. His side vision and hearing shut down. Somewhere, off in the distance, he thought he could hear a faint voice calling to him.
"Xander? Xan? Hey, you o.k?"
Xander's disconnected body stood, locked in a form of living rigor mortis. He felt like the memories that had been cocooned in a web of suspended animation were starting to sway and the silk cords that constructed that web were beginning to snap, one by one, and release.
His brain exploded into full color pictures of blood, death, monsters and fear all running side by side with friends, comradery, victory and life.
He was tumbling through all the images of his nightmares and he could no longer differentiate what was true and what was not. Time and space had shifted. He had been thrown back to the before and he knew now he could never again escape. The last ten years threatened to evaporate.
"XANDER!!"
Xander blinked and slowly came back to himself to find Kim standing directly in front of him shaking him by the shoulders. His friend's eyes were filled with fear and concern for him. It was a base of normalcy that gave him strength.
Xander took a deep breath. He was here. He was in his club, with his friend and with........."Spike?"
The name flowed from the recesses of his brain directly to his tongue with no stopping to check it's correctness in between. Xander shoved Kim aside. He needed to know if it was real or if he was finally losing it. He didn't care that the bartender had been wiping the same glass for several minutes, staring at the odd scene playing out. He was unaware of the other customers talking, laughing, drinking, spending money. He had to know.
Spike sat on the bar stool, patent smirk on his face, sipping an expensive whisky. Like the barkeep, he was patient. The next act of this playpromised to be very entertaining.
"Spike." It wasn't a question. It was an affirmation.
Spike chuckled. He couldn't have ask for a better reception than shocking the pants off the slayer's cast off. Although to be honest, Spike himself was a bit stunned at the sight of the grown, handsome as hell, man. Xander Harris had grown up VERY nicely, thank you.
"Well as I live and breathe, Xander Harris." Snort. "Course we both know I don't do either." Spike raised his glass in a salute and swallowed the golden brown liquid in one gulp.
"Xander, what the hell is going on? Do you know this guy? Do you want me to throw him out?" Kim was already giving the heads up hand signal to the club bouncer who began working his way through the crowd.
Xander ignored him, keeping his focus on the man he now clearly remembered.
"Still chipped?"
"Sadly, yes."
"Soul"
"Also, unfortunately, still present and accounted for."
"You died."
"Which time?"
"Get out! Out of my life, out of my club, out of my town."
"But,.........."
"NO!"
Xander took two steps back. He could feel the tears starting to sting his eyes and he had to escape. He couldn't think rationally and the realization that his nightmares and fears were real was more than his repressed mind could take. If it bent any further, it would absolutly snap.
Xander turned and was gone. He rushed back to his office and slammed the door behind him, throwing the dead bolt lock and pulling all the window shades. He rushed to the furthest corner, wedged his back in and slid down the wall
When his butt hit the floor, he pulled his knees up to his chest, dropped his face and let the tears fall.
Outside, he could hear Kim banging on the door. "Xan. Please, Xan, let me in. God, Xan, please."
Xander squeezed his eyes shut and placed his hands over his ears. He knew he had to keep Kim out. He would die before he allowed his best friend to be part of his living nightmare. Xander continued to sob as he rocked himself back and forth.
Kim's hand was getting sore from beating against the solid wood. He could hear the muffled sobs from inside and it terrified him. He had never seen Xander respond like that and he wondered just who the fuck that guy was to illicit such a reaction.
After a few minutes he made a decision. If he couldn't get the answers he needed from Xander, he knew where he could. Kim turned and marched back toward the bar. This "Spike" had some serious explaining to do.
When he got there, the barstool where he had been sitting now contained a drag queen whe was doing her best to charm a free drink from the impassioned bartender.
"Where did he go?" Kim slapped his hand down on the bar, getting the waiter's attention.
"The blond? He left. He said when Mr. Harris was ready to talk, to give him this."
Kim took the offered business card. One side had an odd doodle in the shape of....possibly a moose, and contained the name and address of a private detective agency. Angel Investigations. Kim snorted, he had been right after all.
The other side listed a nearby motel and room number. Kim dropped the card in his pocket
Part Fifteen
ring ring rin.....
"Hello? Angel Investigations. We help the he......."
"Can it, Poof. It's me."
"Spike?"
"Of course Spike, you moron. Who the hell else calls you Poof?"
"Well, Wesley did say........never mind! What the hell did you find out? Is the case solved? Demon killed?"
"Not exactly. I found the whelp."
"The what?"
"The boy?"
"What boy?"
"Xander Fucking Harris, you fuckin' idiot!"
Angel sighed. He hated trying to deal with Spike. Why couldn't his damn childe just shut up and bend over? Unlife would be so much simpler. "Oh, so he's alive?"
Spike clenched his fists and ground his teeth together. "Yes, Angel, Xander Harris is alive and kicking, although to be honest if I hadn't seen him close up, I could have probably passed him on the street and never known him. Ain't no boy anymore. Nope, the Slayer's foot soldier has grown up VERY nicely. All firm, hard muscles and haired over."
Spike heard Angel suck his lungs full of unneeded air and slowly blow it back out.
"Did you see it? His hard, hairy body?"
"JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST, Angel! Put it away!"
"Huh? Hey, I resent that remark! Anyway, so you found him but you didn't get the demon right? O.k. Good. Fine. I, um, kind of have my hands full right now. I'll have a blood delivery sent to your hotel. Call me when you know anything. Bye."
Spike blinked. The only time Angel hung up that fast was when he was..... "Damn! Poof and I have more sex when I'm gone than when I'm there!"
~*~*~*~*~
ring ring ri.....
"Good Morning. Council Headquarters. How may I direct your call?"
The voice was clear, crisp, feminine, and all business.
"Good morning. This is Angel of Angel Investigations. We help the helpless."
"Oh, well, that's lovely Mr. Angel. Who did you wish to speak to?"
"Is Gil......NO! Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. I was told to deal exclusively with Wesley. Is he in?"
"Yes, Sir, I believe he is. Please hold."
Angel gripped the receiver of the phone so tightly he felt the plastic crack. He switched his weight repeatedly from one foot to the other while the strains of "Muskrat Love" entertained him. Before long he caught himself dancing to the catchy tune.
"Wyndham-Pryce here, how may I help you?"
"Wes?"
Angel's only answer was silence. He waited. When he was beginning to think both Wesley AND the muskrats had hung up on him, he heard the Englishman clear his throat.
"Ahem. Yes, Angel, it's me. Why are you calling? Is this in regard to Oxnard? I understood you were dealing directly with Rupert."
"Oh, no, Giles said I should work through you. So, um, how are you doing, Wes?"
"What do you have to report, Angel? Have you contacted Xander? Have you gotten any information on the demon at work there?"
"Oh, sure, strictly business. I can do business. Yes, I sent Spike. He has spoken to Harris and he is fine. So far he has been unable to locate and dispatch the demon but he will stay on the job until he does."
"That's fine, Angel. I will pass on the information and we sincerely hope this matter can be resolved expeditiously."
Angel whimpered. "Fuck, Wes, you know it always turned me on when you talk smart. Please, Wes, can't you just come home so we can talk?"
"Angel! I can't do this with you. We can't keep rehashing the same old arguments and neither of us is prepared to compromise, so if we can't keep this on a professional level, you will have to deal with one of the other Watchers."
"Yeah, I mean, no. Sorry, I'll keep it on the up and up. Look, Wes, I kinda got my hands full right now. I'll call tomorrow with an update. Bye."
Wes frowned. The only time Angel hung up that fast was........ "DAMN. Fucking Vampire will never change!"
~*~*~*~*~
Kim had spent the rest of the evening with one eye on the business and the other eye on the office door. Neither one seemed to be showing much activity tonight. Weekdays were usually slow and after making the executive decision to close a half hour early, the club cleared out quickly.
tap tap tap
"Xan? We're closed. You need a lift home?"
"Door's open. Come on in."
Kim tried the knob and was relieved when it turned easily. He stepped in and was shocked at the look of his friend. Xander's face was pale and sickly looking. His eyes, red and puffy. "Shit, Xander what is it? Who was that guy? Do you know him?" Kim and Xander both knew it was time for some answers, some honesty.
Xander nodded at the chair across from where he sat behind his desk. "What do you know about me?"
Kim was surprised. It wasn't what he expected, but he could tell by the look on Xander's face that he really wanted an answer, so Kim gave it a minutes thought, then spoke, slowly and with much consideration. "O.k. I know you're a smart business man but I don't think you have a college degree. I know you're gay and comfortable with it. I think you're early thirties, one or two, and I know you're very health conscious. Just from hints dropped, I think your family and maybe your friends all died in the great quake of Sunnydale. If so, I can understand why you've cut off your past. The only thing I know positively is that you're a good man and the best friend I have ever had."
Xander sat quietly, nodding and listening to Kim talk. He was right on every point but one. He knew he was not a good man. "My parents did die there. I tried to get them to leave but they were too drunk to listen. I knew what was coming but they didn't believe me so they died."
Kim reached over and placed his hand on Xander's. "Christ, Xan, I'm sorry, but an earthquake and sink hole certainly aren't your fault. How could you have known?"
Xander ignored the question and went on with his explanation. "So my family died and that's where I got the money to buy this place. Insurance. Government hush money. Buckets of it. All paid off on the bodies of my family. My friends were another story. They knew too and most survived with me. At the last second we all escaped together. Bloody, beaten, and barely half alive, we all boarded a bus and got out. All except two."
Kim released Xander's hand and sat back, frowning, confused. "So where are they? For as long as I've known you, you've been alone. Where are these friends of your's and how the hell could they just turn their backs on you?"
Xander snorted and put his head in his hands. "They didn't. I did. They all returned to London and I ran away the
night before we were to go. I just couldn't be that Xander Harris anymore. I had lived a lie for so long..........pretending to be brave. Pretending to be straight. Just.......pretending. I couldn't go on. I knew what they expected and I couldn't face the horrors any more. Over the past ten years I have blocked it all out so well, it almost seemed like a bad dream."
Kim wanted to ask 'what horrors?' He wanted to understand what his friend was so afraid of. "You said two people didn't escape. Who were they?"
Xander rubbed his hands over his face and another round of tears threatened to fall. "Anya, the woman I was set to marry. Actually, the woman I left standing at the alter."
"Wha....?" Kim was dumbfounded. Xander was the last person he would have thought would play straight. "And the other?"
Xander took a deep breath and looked his friend in the eye, praying that despite the illogic of it, that his friend would believe. "The other one that I watched die that night was Spike, the man you met here tonight."
Kim sat there silently. How ever much of the story he did or didn't believe was irrelevant. He had absolute faith in Xander and nothing else mattered. "I think you need this." Reaching into his pocket, Kim pulled out the business card and dropped it on the desk.
Xander picked it up, reading both the front and back and snorted. "Fucking Angel. Figures."
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