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Coercion 36 The Bivouac of the Dead
The woman whirled and squeaked at the sound from behind her. Spike struck quickly, wrapping his hand around his dinner’s mouth, and
pulling back to expose the throat. The demon let out a growl as his fangs sank
into the first human he’d tasted in almost a year. The girl heard a growl from within the alley and, fearing a dog, quickly
moved to the other side of the street. The mugger attempted to stab at Spike, but his blow was intercepted and the
knife clattered to the pavement as fingers snapped. Soon, the man’s body slid
to the ground. William the Bloody grinned his bloody death’s head grin and
howled his triumph before running off into the night. +++ He went to the docks next, and took out three men he’d been watching for
months. Shortly after his chipping, Spike had watched them gang-rape a girl. At
the time, he’d wished he could join in. Since then, they’d proven themselves
to be bullies and thieves. He’d not been down there lately, and was glad to
see them. His revenge was through. +++ Spike hit the road and went where he would and did what he wanted. His
freedom had returned. Time and distance meant nothing. He wound up in San Francisco. He dove down into
the steamy gut of the underworld there and rolled in it. He partied with the
beautiful people and fed off the unworthy. He killed drug dealers after they’d
sold their stashes and took the dirty money. He gambled, winning and loosing
thousands of dollars. So many people were wanting to have sex with him, he could
pick and choose. +++ Spike sat in his fancy high rise, well, as high as the area would allow,
hotel room. The room was so large that he could leave the curtains open and the
sun never reached the bed. Spike had earlier chased off the twin starlets who
had… lingered after last night’s party and then finished the novel he was
reading. Somehow, finishing the book was unsatisfying. He wanted to talk about
it with someone. He fished the remote from the litter on the floor and pushed a
series of buttons. The curtains slid shut, closing out the too-bright California
day and view of the bay. The wide-screen television rose from it’s hidden
place at the foot of the bed. Spike flipped channels as he rummaged around,
finding the needed items for a smoke. Three times through, and two cigarettes
later, Spike still hadn’t settled more than a minute on any of the two hundred
channels. He turned off the TV and sighed as he watched it vanish. He admitted
that nothing on was as fun when you had no one to snipe at it with. Spike was
bored. He looked around the wreck of the room, frowning, called room service, and
requested the room be cleaned, bathroom first. He’d learned quickly that the
spoiled rich were the same everywhere. They made a mess because they had no
reason to clean it up for themselves. Ten minutes later, a team of maids had
made the bathroom sparkling again, not speaking to the eccentric rich, pretty
man where he sprawled naked on the huge, rumpled bed until they indicated the
bathroom was clean. Spike had sat, staring at nothing, thinking of little, as
they worked. At the woman’s polite words, he mumbled a thanks, rolled out of
bed, and stalked into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself.
As were his standing orders, the curtains were all tightly closed. All
surfaces gleamed, and fresh towels and a robe hung on the warming rack. Spike
turned the taps on hot and watched from the plush chair as the huge tub filled.
Why would anyone put a plush chair in a bathroom? The atmosphere on average
would be too damp for even a Naugahide chair like the chair of convenient boy
positioning. Damn, he was getting nostalgic for the fucking furniture, now.
Spike turned off the lights, lit some candles, closed the taps, and stepped into
the tub. Letting out all his breath, Spike sank to the bottom. He lay still in
the clear water and watched the candle flicker above him. He relaxed his body,
letting his arms drift as they would. He focused his mind in a way he had not
for some time. Blood called to blood. Relatively near by, he knew from L. A., Spike felt
the sharp-edged buzz that was his grandsire, Angel. The poof was still alive,
that was fine. He closed off the connection before Angel could locate him or,
hopefully, even know he’d been looking. He quested farther and father afield,
looking, looking. Twice he caught the dull buzz of some minion who’d managed
to survive, but they were unimportant. Finally, he found the warm tickle that was his sire. Drusilla was apparently
far away, over seas somewhere, on the night side of the planet. He mentally
cupped the feeling, letting it tickle like a moth trapped in his hands before
letting go. Dru was fine. Spike drew back toward himself, for there was no one else to search for.
Then he paused. Curiously, he sent a quest south, toward Sunnydale. He felt the
broken-glass jag of the Hellmouth and shut it out. He’d forgotten how strong
it could be. He searched along, like a child looking for a lost toy in a sand
box. He briefly touched the steel razor sharpness of the Slayer, debated messing
with her, then moved on. He found nothing. No other spark, but that meant
nothing. There was no reason to think he could find Xander this way. They’d
shared lots of semen, but only drops of blood. Spike returned to himself to find
the candle burned down and the water cold. He stepped from the tub, opened the
drain, and went to the shower. He turned the water on to a comfortable
temperature. Standing under the spray, Spike let himself think. Hey.
Wadda ya know? The water’s the temp the boy likes it. Damn, I could use a blow
job from him right now. Not that the Big O twins weren’t fine… Okay. It’s
unfinished business that’s bothering me. We played and played, but Xander
wouldn’t go the last two steps. The green dildo, then me. I hate to leave a
plan I’ve worked on so long. Spike absently washed his hair, then lathered his body, scouring away the
evidence of all the partners he’d had the night before. He’d fucked a number
of them, he knew, but he’d let no one in, anywhere. Not his mouth or his ass.
Hours before he’d left, he and Xander had fucked and sucked. For hours. Spike
had found he didn’t want anyone else. He’d discovered himself wondering what
bands were playing near by as the two barely-legal, highly recognizable twins
licked his cock while their bodyguards watched from across the room.
Damn
it, I’m over a hundred. When something’s wrong, I can admit it and then fix
it. Hell, yeah, the chip is dead. I can hunt and I can kill. I can feed from a
living human again. The Big Bad really is back. And
he’s lonely. Spike lathered his body with the cucumber scented gel and wrapped his hand
around his erection. He’s
not lonely for his Sire. He’s not lonely for the chance to create mayhem,
‘cause, done that. The Big Bad misses the once-pizza boy. I miss talking to
him. I miss sharing things with him. And wouldn’t he have fun in a place like
this? I miss him fucking me… Do I love him? Don’t think so. Though he is
soooo pretty. Spike
closed his eyes and pictured Xander as he worked his cock. He could see the
laughing brown eyes, so scared when he found out about the chip, then hopeful
when Spike promised to call. He could see the strong, healthy body. The way
he’d shudder when Spike bit at his neck. He could almost smell the boy’s
arousal. He imagined slipping out the green dildo, the one that he’d chosen
because it was just fractionally smaller than his own cock, and slipping himself
at last into the heat of Xander’s body. With a cry, Spike came, then beat
himself hard and came again. Three more times he did this until he felt somewhat
drained, though only slightly satisfied. The
sun had set and he opened the curtains. He stood watching lights reflect on the
water as he planned his next move. There was something he needed to do before he
went home. Home.
Yeah, I miss that feeling, too. Xander welcomed me in and made me feel at home. Spike
found his cell phone and flipped it open. As he had a hundred times before, he
paused, staring at it. He was ready now. He cued up Xander’s number and pushed
a button. “Hey,
Pet. … Yeah, I’m alive. Well, as alive as I ever am. … Six months? It’s
been that long? I’m sorry. I’d lost track. … Fun? I’ve had some. …
Orgies. Hosted one last night. … Not lying! Stop laughing. … Bloke as pretty
as me? I got three movie deal offers as well. … Celebs? … Well, remember
those girls you bet me will be in Playboy once they hit their late
thirties? … Both of them! At once!… Proof? Nah. If I had proof I’d sell it
to the tabloids.” Spike
laughed and started moving around the room, packing what few belongings he
wanted to keep from this outing. “San Francisco. … No, not that far. …
yeah, I went other places first.” Spike folded a robe into his suitcase. He
abandoned his task when he heard the sadness creep into Xander’s voice as the
boy tried to be cheery, chatting about what he was up to. “Oh, Xander. I’m
sorry, Pet. … I… I’ve been lonely, too. Say, have you read anything good
lately? … Lord of the Rings? Like the movie? I read that when it first
came out.” Spike
cursed himself. Why was he tearing up? “I can’t wait to talk about it with
you. … No. Not right away. … Remember you told me to work everything out? I
have, most of it. I’ve been my old self and indulging, but only feeding on the
wicked, Pet. Most times I don’t even kill them. … I know you didn’t ask,
but you want to know. I owe it to you to tell you.” He
put a little steel in his voice and cut into the babble
from far away.. “Xander, listen to me. I’ve done as you asked. I’ve harmed
none but the wicked. Drug dealers and pimps are far too plentiful in
today’s world. It’s easy. And, Pet? You may not believe me, but I don’t
like my old life quite as much any more. … Honest. … Just ‘cause… Aw,
you’ll laugh. … Okay. I’ve got no one to share it with. Back in the day it
was the Scourge, or even just me and Dru. So, I think I’ve, I donno, grown up
maybe? … Hey, it can happen. … Yeah,
I’d like to come ho… back. … Home? Yeah. I’d like that. There is one
more thing I must take care of. … I don’t know how long. ... I have to do
this… As short a time as possible. Maybe a month. … Xander, Pet. Is your
schedule still the same?” Spike
started gathering his belongings again. “Yeah? … I’ll call every, oh,
three days at least. .. I'm going to be busy. Sure, you can call me, don't
expect an answer all the time, okay. ... I'll tell you after. ... Tell you what,
I’ll pick up a copy of that book and re-read it. We can talk about it… No, I
don’t think the twins have read it. … No, I didn’t think to get you an
autograph. Wait.” Spike picked a strap of pink cotton and elastic from the
neat pile of found objects the maids had discovered in their clean up and
sniffed at it. “I think one of them left their undies.”
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