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Night Terrors

by
BmblBee

Part Twenty-One

Xander slammed through the steel back door of the club and marched, unspeaking, past the security guard. He was tired, irritable, and restless. He had slept badly, and when he could sleep, he tossed and turned resulting in a crick in his neck and a charlie horse in the arch of his left foot. To make matters worse he then woke with an odd combination of
empty stomach and heartburn.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed, his plan of calling Kim for breakfast was shit canned for several reasons. One, he didn't think he could face his friend's perpetual positive attitude. Second, because he was in no mood for light chit chat about the price of bananas, the weather forecast, and, oh, yes, apparently there really are demons and monsters flitting about in the world and Xander is on a first name basis with at least one of them.

No, Xander knew he was in a foul mood and the real reason he didn't phone was that he couldn't subject his friend, whom he thought of as a brother, to his nasty, 'wanna snap the head off someone', attitude. Besides, he reasoned, he would see him at work and by then maybe he would feel better.

Xander stomped down the hallway and into his office. He did NOT feel better. Dropping down into his chair, Xander picked up the mail on his desk and started glancing through it.

It was a bit of normalcy that went a long way towards easing his mind and calming his rattled nerves. When he finally thought he could act in a civil, adult manner, he hit the intercom button, calling the security desk.

"Yes, Mr. Harris?"

"Jim, do you know where Mr. Li is?"

"Mr. Li hasn't come in yet, Sir."

Xander frowned and checked the time on his watch. He had been running late today and the club was just minutes from opening. Kim was never late. Something felt wrong. Xander's bad mood just took a dive south.

"Look, Jim, I'm going to make the rounds and get the dancers set up for opening. I want you to try to call Mr. Li on his cell and at home. Just make sure he's all right. Let me know as soon as you talk to him."

"Will do, Sir."

~*~*~*~*~

The private plane was just one thousand miles from it's destination. A mere drop in the bucket of time when you consider how far they had already come. The occupants had now circled together and were discussing the perplexing results of Willow's detection spell.

Andrew was the first to react. He withdrew his hand from Giles, and went straight into business mode. He pulled out his notepad and began jotting down notes, comments, facts, anything Rupert may need to reference later.

Knowing his aide was ready, Giles began. Although it was information he already knew, he asked the question more for the documentation of facts. "Wesley, you are the demon expert, what exactly is a Nambulist?"

Wesley shoved one last pecan biscuit in his mouth and began relaying what he knew as he brushed the crumbs off his hands on to his pant legs. "A Nambulist is a particularly dangerous demon because it is so difficult to dispatch. It is a dimensional slider, usually coming into this world through a portal of dreams. Because of that, it is incorporeal in our dimension. Like a phantom it can't be touched, killed, or captured. It is a shape shifter. It can take the form of any living thing but most often it mimics the appearance of the one who called it forth. Which brings us to the most perplexing part of all this. Willow was most correct when she stated it was a self summoner. Apparently Xander has called this demon himself, although I can't imagine why."

Willow immediately felt her blood start to boil at the perceived accusation. "I don't believe it! Xander always hated magic. He wouldn't do something like that. If this is the demon that's responsible for those men's disappearance that would make Xander a killer and HE ISN'T!"

Casually, Wesley began rooting through the basket at his side. He was sure there were one or two of those cookies left. "Actually, Willow, you don't know what he may be doing. Ten years is a long time and may have changed him a great deal. You can't possibly say what he may or may not be capable of. After all.........AHA!"

Wesley triumphantly withdrew one last pecan crunchy out of the bottom of the pile of chocolate chip and mint pattys, waving it high in the air. Instantly, Willow slapped it from his hand. The portable table along with Giles briefcase and Willow's own laptop tumbled to the floor as she leaped to her feet. Screaming and looming over him, Willow shouted her anger and frustration as heated tears stung her eyes.

"NO! YOU don't know him, but I do! How dare you accuse Xander of murder, or magic, or anything bad. He's not like that. I don't care how many years it's been, he wouldn't do that. I know him! I know him and he's still Xander."

Giles, too had scrambled to his feet, stepping over the fallen objects and grabbing Willow around the waist, holding her back, away from the man who now sat frozen, eyes bugging comically and mouth hanging wide open. Mashed cookie lay in globs on his tongue.

Andrew tossed his notes aside and quickly gathered things off the floor before any more damage could befall them. Catching Wesley's eye, Andrew shook his head wildly, signaling to him that standing up right now would be the worst possible thing he could do. Wesley stayed seated.

"Stop it, Willow, NOW!' Giles stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist holding her back. No one, including Willow thought she would actually hit Wesley, but she was enormously grateful for the solid grip of the older man that allowed her to struggle and burn out the sudden burst of fury and frustration that surged through her.

Within minutes, her small body went limp. Her hands went to her face and her shoulders shook with the sobs that consumed her. "I...I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean it. I just miss him so much. It's all so confusing and so frightening."

Giles released her gently and helped her sit back down. "We have all missed him. We love him very much, Willow, he is family, but we must be prepared. Ten years is a long time and we don't know what changes have taken place in his life. Whatever happens, we will still love him, and I promise, no one will hurt him. O.k?"

Willow wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Still not trusting her voice, she just nodded.

"Mr. Giles and party...." All four looked toward the cockpit as the overhead intercom crackled  with the pilot's voice.

"We are approximately twenty minutes from touching down. Please prepare for arrival at our destination of Oxnard California. A customs official will meet you there and pass you through immediately, Sir. We will remain on stand by and you may call at anytime to arrange the return trip."

Without comment, the four officials of the Watcher's Council straightened their appearance, collected together their belongings and prepared themselves for the business of saving mankind.

Part Twenty-Two

The man in the trim black suit tipped his nose in the air and sniffed as though something distasteful had 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 doorman as they 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 conspiratorially. ".......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, an 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 children?"

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 the 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 customs 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's a three bedroom so we can all have our privacy but it's imperative that we remain in close proximity while we're 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 flare 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 waistband 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're 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.

Part Twenty-Three

Xander sat, silently studying the smirking vampire across from him and the last ten years fell away as though it were no more than ten minutes. Spike, as always, held the upper hand.

The knowledge made him sick. It made him want to storm out in a superior huff, but he didn't. Xander knew if he wanted to save his friend from the unknown, he couldn't do it alone. As much as he recoiled from the idea, he needed Spike.

Reaching for the whisky, Xander pulled two shot glasses out of his desk drawer and poured the golden liquid into each one. He lifted his, tipped it in Spike's direction and swallowed it in one gulp. When the gut and throat wrenching burn of the alcohol had subsided and the air returned to his lungs, Xander spoke.

"Fine. I admit I need your help but we need to agree on a few things first. I'm doing this for Kim and the other men who have gone missing. I have no intention of going back to this chaotic life. That isn't me anymore. We find and kill this demon and you go away. Period. End of story. Agreed?"

Spike picked up the other shot glass and mimicked Xander's action. He then slammed down the empty glass and grabbed for the bottle to refill both. "Gotcha. We do it and I return to the Poof and you get your little Korean cutie back in your bed. Everybody's happy."

Xander scowled as he gulped his drink and smacked his glass back down on his desk top. "He is not MY cutie. I mean he is cute just not in bed. I mean not MY bed. I mean........shit! Hey! Nobody said he was missing. I just can't find him. Shit! Pour the fucking drink."

Spike chuckled. One thing hasn't changed. Xander Harris can't hold his liquor. And so it went. The two men argued, drank, joked, drank, and skirted the issue of demons and dangers of the night.

As politically incorrect, they both, by silent mutual agreement, avoided the subjects of the past, the Scoobies, and anything related to the fall of Sunnydale. They seemed to respect the fact that this was a time of testing the waters and feeling each other out.

As the level of the bottle went down, the mood in the room became greatly elevated. Xander was pleasantly surprised that Spike knew the names of all the characters on the Munsters along with the little known fact that there were TWO Marilyns.

Spike had to say that the bumbling boy Xander Harris had turned into quite a successful businessman. Spike was very impressed, although he would die - again - before admitting it.

Sometime after three, Jim the security guard had stuck his head in to say that they had closed up for the evening. The doors were locked and the bank receipts were in the deposit bag in the safe. Xander saluted Capt. Jim and nearly fell out of his chair.

Jim just laughed before leaving. It was good to see the boss actually enjoy himself for a change. He was usually so stern and serious. Spike divided the last of the liquid between them and they finished it off.

"'S'all gone."  Xander stuck his tongue in his glass and proceeded to thoroughly lick it clean of any remaining whisky. It was a stunning visual that caused a flow of heat to roll through Spike's body and land in his crotch. "Muss be time to go hum."

Hoisting himself to his feet, Xander tripped and started to tumble backward where luckily, and just in time, a pair of strong arms caught and held him tightly.

Spike steadied his old acquaintance as well as he could despite Xander's swaying. "Whoa! Easy, there. Looks like home might be a long trip for you to make. I noticed you have a couch in the outer office, why don't you just sleep it off there?"

Xander was overwhelmed and touched by the concern of the wonderful vampire. The sexy, blond, strong and handsome vampire. Turning in the grip of the secure arms, Xander faced the blond and threw his arms around Spike's neck.

Spike's eyebrows shot up but before he had the chance to ask or question the advisability of the man's actions, the softest, warmest most amazing lips in the world attached themselves to the vampire's.

Never one to shy away from a golden opportunity, Spike tipped his head slightly to the side and opened up. As expected, Xander moaned and his slick, wet tongue dove in. It licked the roof of Spike's mouth and tasted the sides of his tongue.

Spike's brain swam in the combined flavors of expensive liquor and warm human. The long forgotten familiarity of the scent of his old companion swamped and fueled Spike's need.

Ten years may have changed a lot of things, but this was still Xander, and Spike knew one thing. This was no fumbling, inexperienced boy. This was a man who knew how to kiss another man.

Spike was thrilled. He loved to kiss but was beginning to think it was a dying art. No one kissed him anymore. Not the quickies he picked up in bars and clubs and certainly not Angel. Angel could barely stand to look at him when he fucked him. Kisses and cuddles were definitely NOT on the table.

Grabbing Xander by the hips, Spike pulled him closer. He could have stayed there kissing all night, but apparently Xander had other ideas sloshing about in his booze soaked brain.

He suddenly pulled back. Spike opened his eyes and looked into the heated passion boiling in Xander's face. It shot fire bolts through Spike's body and caused his already hard cock to slam it's head against the zipper of his pants in a wild escape attempt.

With his hand on Spike's shoulder, he shoved the vampire, hard, slamming him back against the wall and Xander again closed in. He slithered like a deadly predator, forward, his breath ragged and his heart beating fast and hard in his chest.

Spike shut off his vampire instincts and allowed himself to feel afraid. Even if it was just pretend, it was wonderful. The sight of the larger, pumped up, sexually charged man advancing on him thrilled him. He whimpered and knew from the small tic in Xander's lip, that it was the right move.

Xander pounced. He slammed his right hand into the vampire's chest, pressing him even flatter against the wall, his left hand on the door frame by his head. Spike lifted his head and stared at Xander's lips, willing them back where they belonged. They obliged.

Immediately Spike grabbed him around the waist and tried to press their bodies closer together. His cock needed friction. His cock needed freed from it's confine. His cock needed.

The alcohol had shut down all thought and Xander's body was free to just feel and right now everything felt good. His crotch ached and tingled, his cock throbbed, begging for a hand, his, Spike's, hell, the mailman would do right about now. And his lips. Fuck, those cool wonderful lips.

Xander's hand slowly slid down the firm chest to the flat, hard stomach. His thumb and forefinger expertly flipped the button on the top of Spike's jeans and the fingers aimed south. Spike sucked in as much as he could to give the human some wriggle room, and the hand slipped in.

Both men gasped as the hot over heated hand circled the sticky, rigid, cock. His hand slid down the foreskin expertly so that his thumb could swipe through the wet, dribbley head. "Oh my God, your body is perfect. So fuckin' perfect"

Xander broke the kiss and laid his forehead on Spike's shoulder, his own hard cock humping and jerking against the smaller man's hip frantically as he stroked. Spike's head hit the wall and he moaned. It was a sound that seemed to trigger a practiced response and Xander's hand slowed.

Spike immediately put his own hand on the outside of his trousers over Xander's and humped, trying to make the man understand what he needed. "Come on, Love. I'm close. Shit, don't stop now."

Xander held firm, his tight grip around the cool, confined cock did not allow Spike any control. He slowly kissed the vampire's neck, starting up behind the ear then down to his shoulder. Spike whimpered. Xander's own frotting never stopped. He was close too but knew he needed more. He couldn't cum just from this. As good as it felt,  he needed more.

"You feel so fuckin' good. Damn, you're fuckin' perfect. You want to cum don't you? You want me to start strokin' you again? I'm close too." Xander continued to kiss, lick and nibble on the smaller man's smooth flawless skin.

Spike was nearly crazed. His whole body screamed for release. It was too late for undressing. He had no interest in finding a bed. He shuffled his legs apart, his balls were so full and heavy they hurt in the tight cramped space. His cock was swollen to the point the fat head poked up above the foreskin. "Come on, Xan. Shit, I need to cum."

That was what he was waiting for. That was the expected response and Xander knew his own orgasm was within reach. He smiled against the neck of his partner and whispered in his ear. "Me too. Look, Baby, I'm gonna give us both what we need. I'm gonna make us both blow our loads. You want that don't you?"

Spike whined and nodded.

Xander again started moving his hand. Up and down, faster and faster. "I need something too, Baby. When I cum I need to call you Spike and just bite you a little bit. You won't mind will you?"

Spike's eyes popped open in shock. He wanted to ask. He briefly thought about what it meant. In the end he just closed his eyes and nodded. Xander humped harder, almost painfully as his hand did it's practiced best. Within seconds both men felt the rush of passion and release.

At the first sign of orgasm, Xander bit. He clamped his dull, human teeth down on the neck of the vampire, never breaking the skin. It was an action that shot a fevered rush of electricity through both their bodies, up their legs, down their spines, and right out the heads of their cocks. Spike's eyes rolled back.

They jerked, each man slammed by the power of their own release and floated, riding the wonderful waves of orgasm that turned their extremities to jelly and their pants to a sticky mess.

Finally, Xander tugged his hand free. He wavered, swaying on his exhausted legs. Sleep suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world. The alcohol now completely took over and Xander squinted open his unfocused eyes. "Thanks, that was great. Sorry you got to go but I'm gonna go lay down now. Maybe I'll call you. What did you say your name was again?" Xander yawned

Spike's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Name's Spike, remember?"

Xander dropped down on the couch and flopped over on his side. "Ha ha. Nay, you only have ta be Spike when I cum. You can show yourself out can'tcha?"

Spike face burst into a huge grin. He wanted to move the human over and lay down with him. He wanted to stay. In the end, he just tossed a throw over the sleeping man and walked away. He knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Part Twenty-Four

Authors note.
Some readers don't like my Angel and feel I am disrespectful of his original character. My response is that it is only a story and all in fun, however, be warned that if you are a die hard Angel fan, you may wish to skip this chappy.

The sleek black car passed through the residential neighborhood nearly unnoticed. The predawn hours saw all the houses dark, the occupants still tucked safely in their beds, sound asleep.

When the car reached the road's dead end, it pulled into the driveway of a sprawling ranch house. Separated from the others, it was surrounded by a six foot privacy fence and a row of tall,  fragrant pine trees.

Silently, the garage door slid up and the limo cruised in, the door lowering quietly behind them. Dropping the glass shield behind the driver's seat, the voice gently stirred the sleeping riders.

"Sir? Mr. Giles? We're here sir."

"Huh? What? Oh, yes, thank you. Willow. Wes. Andy, dear. Come on. We are here. Let's find a proper bed and get some sleep."

The announcement was met with moans, groans and mumbling as they all pulled themselves together. The driver had already jumped out and was in the process of unloading the luggage from the trunk of the car. With his hands full, he expertly slipped the key into the lock and opened the house door for his important clients.

Entering the kitchen, only Wes seemed to notice the very high end interior of the expensively decorated home. Willow and Giles simply tossed their jackets and briefcases on the nearest empty surface and kicked their shoes to the side.
Wes, shook his head. Was there nothing too good for them?

"I'm done. Dibs on the first bedroom I find. See you all later. MUCH later." Willow waved her hand in the air and stumbled off down the hallway in search of a soft mattress and a dark draped window. From the sound of the slamming door, she found it.

Wes was next. He felt conflicted being back in the States. He was restless and wanted to talk about the demon and Xander's connection to it. His body was exhausted and screamed for sleep, but his brain was in high gear. It spun and whirled like a child's top.

Immediately, he opened his briefcase and extracted the folder he was compiling on the facts of the case. "Giles, I think the first thing we need to do is contact Angel and let him know we have arrived. He can notify........"

"NO!" Andrew stood with his hands firmly planted on his hips. The evil look on his face would have been much more effective if his eyes hadn't been so bloodshot. "No, Wes. Whatever we need to do, we can't do in our present condition.
We're all whipped and need to sleep." Turning to Giles, Andrew snapped his fingers and pointed toward the hallway.

"Rupert, take the overnight bags and find our room. I'll check the house for security and I'll be there in five minutes. Wesley, I can't order you to bed but I can tell you that if you disturb us in the next eight hours, I will personally shoot and dismember you. Are we clear?"

Wesley stood with his mouth hanging open. He looked to Giles to see if he was going to allow this insubordination. Giles smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "You heard what the man said." With that, the older man turned and walked away, a sleepy grin covering his face.

Spike slid the key card through the slot on the door of his suite watching the little light turn from red to green. The second he stepped foot inside the room, he knew and mumbled angrily. "The Poof."

He stood silently to determine where his annoying sire was, his thoughts focusing on one point. 'Why the fuck is he here?' Spike was fairly sure Angel couldn't have gotten the bills for his spending yet and he didn't think he would drive all this way just for a quick fuck, so why the hell, he wondered, was the giant PITA (pain in the arse) here?

"SPIKE!"

Spike cringed as the baritone voice boomed from down the hallway, apparently Angel's vamp radar was working as well as Spike's.

"Fuck!"

Spike could see it now. By the end of the day they would be uncomfortably ensconced in the Knights Inn, the Motel 6, or God forbid, the tacky place out by the edge of town, The Twins Motel.

Tossing the keys to the BMW down on the coffee table and his duster on the back of the chair, Spike strode purposefully forward. He had no intention of giving up his comforts. There was no fucking way his slug of a sire was going to move him out of this God damn suite. After all, he reasoned, he was a fucking champion on a fucking mission
and deserved the fucking best.

Following the scent of the older vampire, Spike was slightly surprised when it led him to the closed bathroom door. Spike slammed his fist against it once and shouted. "What the fuck you doing here? Didn't trust me? That it? Think I
couldn't handle a simple demon and an ex-donut boy? Thanks a lot for the show of confidence, you big prick!"

"Don't even try it, Spike! How the hell much is all this costing me? You couldn't get a simple room? And what about the car? You fuckin' took my best car. Damn you Spike!"

Spike would not have this argument behind a closed door. Grabbing for the knob, he twisted, only to find it securely locked. Again he pounded, this time harder, longer and leaving no doubt what he intention was. "Open this fuckin' door you big fuckin' potato eater!"

"Go away, Spike, we'll discuss this later, and stop insulting my heritage."

"Open the fuckin' door, ANGEL!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

Suddenly, Spike had had enough. He was not about to be put out of his suite. If the cave-vamp wanted a slum room then let him go find one. With his shoulder against the door, he shoved, splintering the cheap wood easily off it's hinges.

Both men were shocked silent. Spike stood in the doorway with his hand on the off kilter door knob staring at Angel who sat chest deep in a bubble filled bathtub.

The older vampire had a loofah sponge in his hand and a polka dot shower cap on his head. The topper, for Spike, though, was the bright yellow rubber ducky perched on the head of his sire's hard, erect penis.

In a flash, Spike spun on his heels, rushing back toward the sitting area and the poof's briefcase he had seen there. He rummaged through it's contents, retrieved what he wanted and was back with an amazing speed.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

Angel casually slid down till the bubbles tickled his chin and he resumed his abuse of the yellow grinning floater.

"Ha ha, Spike. Camera. Vampire. Out of luck. Come here you yellow bastard. Suck the big bad vampire's cock. Oh, yeah that's the stuff. Ride that dick you feathered little flexable flyer, you. The big bad Angel vamp is gettin' him some of that rubber ass."

Spike watched in disgust as Angel used the hole on the bottom of the duckie's flexible body. He slid it over the head of his cock and gently squeezed it causing the suction to massage the head as his hand stroked the shaft. He had a hell of a rhythm going.

The painted red grin on the damaged duckies face never wavered as Angel stroked, squeezed and humped, causing waves of bubbles to slosh over the rim of the tub and onto the expensive tile floor.

"Ahem. Digital, you perverted poof."

Angel's hand stopped. "Digital?"

"Works like a charm."

"On vampires?"

"Don't you ever read the fuckin' enclosed instructions?"

"We're staying aren't we, Spike?"

"Biggest room is mine you disgusting debaser of dunkable ducks."

Spike had no idea if digital cameras really worked on vampires or not, but just out of curiosity he decided to check it out, later, right now, he was exhausted.

With a whistle, he trotted off to bed with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart. Unfortunately the song running through his head was "Rubber Duckie, you're the one. You make bath time lot's of fun..........."

With a violent shudder, Spike dropped his clothes to the floor and fell into the king size, pillow top bed. He resolved to remember to tip the maid for the excellent service. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Part Twenty-Five

The house was deathly quiet, all the occupants sound asleep but one. Wesley's mind was running on the little pink battery bunny and would not shut off. He prowled silently through the Council owned residence restlessly, marveling at it's opulance. Each room was perfectly decorated and could easily have been in an issue of Elegant Homes magazine.

He picked up perfectly selected nick nacks, chosen for their matching or contrasting color to the decor, then set them back down. He walked from room to room running his hands across the backs of the rich fabrics and pausing to examine the seemingly expensive reproductions of art hanging on the walls.

It was all flawless. It was all perfect. It was completely cold and impersonal. Wesley puffed up at the falseness of it all. He couldn't be impressed by such trappings. He was, after all, a rogue demon hunter.

He was much more at home in humble surroundings. A small, cozy apartment filled with love and.......no. Wesley stopped himself before the familiar feelings of loneliness and homesickness could take over. He immediately returned his attention to the contrast of the past years.

He knew life at it's harshest. He had roamed the dark alleys of the big city. He had stood bravely against the demons of the universe and won. He had let a master vampire fuck him up the ass. Repeatedly.

With defiance and raw courage, he marched, barefoot, into the formal dinning room and moved several of the rare Capidomonte flowers out of place, leaving them awkwardly scattered.

Wes stepped back and grinned evilly with his hands on his hips. "HA! Not so perfect now, are you?" Deciding a cup of tea would hit the spot, Wes headed for the gourmet kitchen, stopping only long enough to hustle back and return the flowers to their measured arrangement.

Wes sighed, 'Ah, yes,' he thought. 'Leopards and spots.' He continued on to make himself a cup of whatever tea they had stocked. No doubt it would be exactly what he himself would have chosen.

Given a choice, he would much rather be tucked in bed, sound asleep but it would seem he would have to be content with the short nap he took on the flight over because now that they were here, his mind was on full speed ahead. He settled in the little breakfast nook and, with a yawn, rested his head on his hand.

The kitchen door burst open nearly causing Wes to topple from off his chair. Only then did he realize he had fallen asleep, head on his folded arms and tea, cold and forgotten. He looked at the kitchen clock and saw that nearly three hours had passed.

"Wes? Surely you haven't been here all day have you? We really do need to be rested and alert for the situation at hand." Giles sat at the table while Andrew, looking very relaxed and satisfied, hustled about making the Watcher tea and toast, exactly the way he liked it.

Wes blinked. His brain cried as his sleepy eyes struggled not to do the same. He was so tired his vision was unfocused and his hair wild and stiff. "No, no. I'm very rested, thank you. I just need a quick shower to revitalize and I will be more than ready."

Again the door swung open and Willow headed straight for the fridge and a carton of orange juice she knew would be waiting for her.

"Geesh, Wes, you look like hell. My bed was great, wasn't yours? Hey aren't those the clothes you were wearing this morning? You didn't sleep in your clothes did you?"

All eyes turned in Wes's direction and waited on the expected explanation. "I do believe we are here on a very serious matter and it does not concern my attire. Now, as the sun is about to set I suggest we turn our attention to the problem at hand. I have Angel's cell phone number, I think we need to call him and have him contact Spike to meet and update us. We then need to decide how we go about confronting Xander."

Willow sipped her juice thoughtfully. "Wow, I can't wait to see Xan. I've missed him so much and, Spike, how weird is that going to be? We all thought Spike had succumbed to the final barbeque back in the fall of the hellmouth. I was shocked when Angel said he was back. What's he been up to, Wes?"

Wesley was busy trying to flatten the wild tufts of hair he could feel sticking up. "Not much. After we all barely survived the final battle of Wolfram and Hart, he has just been sluffing about. He helps Angel on demon cases and he drinks. That pretty much covers it. I can't say that we became tight mates while I was there but we did, I believe, share a mutual respect for each other."

Apparently the diversion tactic worked as everyone at the table immediately forgot about the inconsistancies that were Wes and again focused on the issue at hand.

Everyone sat around the table and waited. Finally, Giles voiced what they were all thinking. "We are going to have to consider the possibility that Xander will not want to see us. Unfortunatly, he is going to have to. We are certain that he is somehow involved and apparently summoned the demon himself for whatever reason. If we are to dispatch this demon, we are going to have to do it through Xander."

The others nodded, deep in their own thoughts. Finally, Andrew efficiently took over and came up with a suggestion they all could live with.

"I'll call. I'll arrange with Angel to contact Spike. Spike will have to get Xander here without telling him why. That way we can talk to him before he has a chance to get away. It's sneaky but sometimes we have to do what we have to do. Everyone agree?"

Willow sadly hung her head but agreed. It wasn't the loving reunion she had always envisioned. Wes smiled. He looked forward to seeing Spike and maybe asking how the caveprick was doing. Not that he cared. Well, he conceded, maybe a little.

Giles beamed with pride at Andrew's solution. He squeezed the young man's knee under the table. Andrew blushed and hardened, delighted and proud.

The four quickly set their plan into motion, giving Andrew the number to Angel's office cell phone in L.A. They then sat quietly and waited.

ring ring ri.....

"Hullo?"

"Angel? Did we wake you? Andrew here."

"Andrew?"

"Rupert Giles assistant. From the Council. From London. I work with Wesley."

"WESLEY? Why the fuck didn't you say so? Is Wes here? Did he come over like I said we needed?"

Andrew glanced at the phone. Did Angel want them in LA?

He shook his head, confused, and put it back to his ear.

"Angel, we are all here in Oxnard. We understood Spike was here and had contacted Xander Harris. The reason I'm calling is that I don't have a separate number for Spike. Would you call him and tell him to bring Xander over here to the Council house to meet with us? And, Angel, we feel it would be better if Spike didn't tell him anything beforehand."

"Oh, sure, I can do that. So Wes is there too? I mean yeah, you said he was so, it's not important, I just wondered. Right, I'll have that little shit round up Harris and haul him right over."

Angel had decided that it might be better if Wes thought he was still in LA. That way he could sneak up on Wes while everyone else was sneaking up on Harris. It was perfect. Angel smirked and he puffed up with pride. He was the very definition of covert. He was more than CIA. He was better than FBI. He was hotter than GQ. He was horny as HELL!

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