Yup, I had hoped to have this ready for posting, but no such luck! Anyway, a quickie runthrough would be muchly appreciated. It was thrown together in like 45 minutes. Thanks.
Darkness in Sunnydale is a roll call of morons.
That’s the thought that crosses Spike’s mind as he’s out nickin’ some smokes and a pint or two. The Slayer and her ragtag group of do-gooders aside, the people in the town - former happy-meals - find time to prove their stupidity on a nightly basis. He takes a swig from the bottle of rotgut he managed to pilfer, and sneers at the lot of them. His stomach growls.
Huffing out a breath, he rolls his eyes and continues on his way back to the dingy space he’s calling home now. With any luck at all, his new, unwanted roomie will be snoozing, and he’ll be able to catch a little football on the telly. Nothing like watching Manchester get their arses kicked. He barely has time to finish that thought when he hears abject pleading coming from the alley a block up from him.
He considers. “On second thought, nothin’ like watching some miserable bloke buy it, might as well check it out.” Finishing off the whiskey, he tosses the bottle and stalks up to the alley.
In the shadows, some nasty bugger has a young bloke cornered. Green scales and long red claws are visible in the swath of light from the corner of the building. Spike watches as that hideous hand trails its claws over tanned skin that’s blanched by fear. He inhales the aroma, nearly choking when he recognizes the underlying scent.
“Harris?” He steps further into the alley.
“Spike? ‘S that you? A little help here would be nice.” The green beastie lays his hand over Xander’s mouth, but not before Spike hears the tiny, high-pitched “please” that escapes.
“Right. Well, don’t fancy being dusted over your death, so yeah. Give us a sec, pet.” He crackes his knuckles and addresses the demon who has Xander muzzled. “Um, hey. That belongs to me, mate.”
“Leave me be, vampire. My find, my meal.” The demon growls.
At the exchange, Xander turns anxious eyes on Spike, begging for his help. Spike nods and gives a derisive sniff.
“Don’t think so, chum. See, this here morsel used
to be the Slayer’s little pet. Now, he’s mine. He’s a bit light in the brains department, roamin’ about without me, but still. My property. What say you just move on and find another stupid bloke to eat?”
The demon swipes his tongue over Xander’s cheek, and Spike grimaces at the stench of its breath, knowing Xander, in such close proximity, must be overwhelmed. The demon shivers and moans. “Mmm. Tastes good, vampire.” Then the bright red eyes turn to Spike. “If he’s yours, where’s his mark?”
“What is it with you demons these days?” Spike’s frustration sends his voice high. “What’s a demon’s word worth these days? Nothing? I’m tellin’ you, that boy is mine. If you don’t take your scabby, snot-colored claws off what’s mine, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
The demon snorts then drops Xander who hits the ground with a dull thud. “That’s better, mate,” Spike says, smiling. “Now, why don’t you toddle on off? Find the little missus and get your own meal.” He’s about to move toward Xander when the demon knocks him sideways into the brick wall of the building.
“My find, my meal,” the creature growls, and Spike stands up, dusts off his jacket and grins.
“So, bit of a tussle’s what ya want, eh? Yeah, let’s go then, beastie.” He hurtles himself at the demon, jumping over it and onto its back. A flurry of punches confuses it, and Spike jumps down again, planting a foot in its knee. It collapses to the ground, and he punches its jaw, laughing in glee when blood flows from its mouth and nose. “You’re not so tough, are ya?”
The demon growls low, rumbling the air with it’s noise, then launches itself at Spike, catching him around the waist and tackling him to the ground. Spike’s stunned for a second, long enough for the demon to get its hands around his throat. Spike can feel his head being twisted, the bones in his neck creaking and snapping as the thing pulls at him. He continues to punch the thing, but nothing works, the strength in the things arms is enormous and immovable.
He tries to shout at Xander to run, but can’t, and then the first bone in his neck breaks. The demon’s eyes glow in triumph, and the foul odor of its breath nearly burns Spike’s skin. He closes his eyes, lowering his arms, knowing he’s about to die. Oh, balls. This is what I gt for helping.
Suddenly, the demon’s eyes go dim, and it collapses fully on top of Spike. Then it’s rolling aside, as though shoved. Spike looks up into Xander’s wry smile. He starts to chuckle. “Well. That was a piece o’ piss, Harris. You couldn’t have rescued me faster? Bastard broke one of my bones.”
Xander reaches a hand down to help him up. “Eh. I figured you needed some adjustment, Spike. Besides, you had him up to then. How was I to know he’d bested ya?” He hauls Spike’s smaller frame up and claps him on the back. “Thanks, man.”
Spike pats his pockets, looking for his smokes. Finding them, he lights one and grins. “What are roomies for, if not mutual rescues from damn
smelly demons? I swear, Harris, you sure know how to pick em!”
“I swear, Spike. I have nothing to do with it. They pick me.” Xander’s self deprecating tone makes Spike frown.
He looks Xander over; sees the shaggy brown hair that always looks this side of bed-fresh, the doe-brown eyes that scream for notice, the quick grin on the full mouth. Turning away from Xander to smile unnoticed, Spike says, “Can’t say as I blame ‘em, pet.”
Xander laughs, a little sharp and sad. “Tell me another one, Spike.” He shakes his head. “On second thought, don’t. Just...let’s get back home. Had enough demons for one night.”
Spike nods. “Right there with ya, Harris. Right there with ya.”