The End of The Beginning XXIII
Title: The End Of The Beginning
Part: XXIII
Title: North for winter
Pairing: Xander/Spike (eventually)
Overall Rating: NC17
Chapter Rating: PG13
Beta: shakatany
Disclaimer: Not mine officer, honest.
AN: I know it’s taken me absolutely ages to get this chapter done, and I will try and write more frequently.
AN2: In case you missed it in the last chapter; for the next several chapters (at least) this is not going to be a nice story. If you have problems reading rape, torture and general Xander bashing (of the literal and mental kind) please stop reading now.
Previous Chapters
Xander was still sitting in the kitchen when Spike sauntered in, cooler in one hand. Blue eyes barely acknowledged him as the lithe figure made his way to the fridge, packing the plastic bags in with practiced ease. When the blond head swung around to regard him curiously Xander stood up, suddenly desperate to get away. Making his way to his room, he picked up a small axe, a stake and a bottle of holy water.
"Going out for a while, be back in an hour or two." Yelling the words over his shoulder as he tied up his boots, the brunet was gone before he heard a response.
Barely down the street before the sound of a scream cut the air, Xander hefted the axe and launched into a ground-eating lope. Skidding to a stop at the edge of one of the smaller parks he caught sight of a small woman attempting to fight off a demon that reminded him of Big Bird on steroids.
Realising he only had seconds until the woman and Big Bird noticed him he sank down onto his haunches, awkwardly scrabbling his way between the trees until he was positioned right behind the demon. Springing up when the monster stumbled backwards, he was almost surprised at how easy it was for him to sink the axe into a slightly squishy head. Blinking at the now dead bag of feathers he looked up to find the woman staring at him.
"Umm... Sorry I didn't get here sooner, but I think it's dead." Frowning down at the slowly deflating monster he jumped when cool fingers touched his cheek.
"You've got some... Umm..." Waving her hand towards his face to indicate what she meant Xander paused for a moment before wiping something unidentifiable off his face.
Looking down at his shirt he made a face. Apparently, although he was fast enough to avoid the woman from being turned into kibble, he wasn't fast enough to save his shirt. Making a face he wiped goopy hands on his already ruined shirt before turning to look properly at the woman standing beside him.
She was taller than he'd first thought, and there was a look in her eyes that spoke of shock. Holding out a hand he gave his best goofy smile when she offered her own. Leading the way out of the park with her tucked firmly into his side he smiled down into still slightly glassy eyes. Sad when he recognized someone new to Sunnydale by sight, though the "I bit off more than I can chew" expression was pretty much always a dead giveaway. Turning his head to look for any of the multiple signs of trouble the little town had to offer he hissed at the sharp pain that bloomed in the side of his throat. Lifting his hand from around the woman's shoulders he found a slim needle sticking out of his neck.
Shaking his head he pulled the needle out, looking to the woman beside him. Any trace of shock was gone from her face and all that was left was impatient expectation. Frowning he tried to open his mouth and ask her what was going on, but somewhere between him thinking it and his muscles doing it the message seemed to get delayed since he didn't move at all except to fall slowly forward.
The falling itself was an odd experience. Slower than he would have expected, and when he finally hit the ground it seemed to take an eon before his nerves recognised the pain of the impact. Even then it was muted, like someone had stuffed the world with cotton wool and his mind seemed to be moving with the speed of molasses. When a thought finally came he hung onto it with everything he had; he had to get back to Dawn, keep her safe.
Unsurprisingly, while simple in theory, in practice it was a lot harder. Trying to shake the cotton-wool feeling he forced his muscles to move. He hadn't gotten far - he knew by the pattern in the pavement - when he felt another sting, rougher than the first but in approximately the same spot. This time the cotton wool didn't cover him, it suffocated him, choking him until unconsciousness came like a relief.
*~*~*
Waking had never been Xander's favourite part of the day, normally because it was signalled by a night of dreams and could-have-beens. This time was different. It was a lot like going to sleep in reverse. The heaviness that had accompanied him slowly lifted until it was just fingertips at his throat; present but not pressing. Once it receded enough for him to think his body made its presence known. Rolling onto his knees, he felt the burn all the way up his throat, dry wrenching until even his back ached.
Once he could move again he slid backwards, away from the smell of his own vomit. Scrubbing a hand over his face he tried to make sense of his surroundings, with little success. The light was minimal at best, and the feeling of moisture clung to everything, but other than that he was close to blind.
When explanation came it was hardly what he would have hoped for. A demon that looked distinctly like the Big Bird imposter that he'd killed stood with a torch in one hand, illuminating what he'd quickly recognised as a cell.
"Why am I here?" Older and wiser he may be, but his trademark mouth was still getting him into trouble.
"I'm so glad you asked." It took Xander a minute to find the origin of the voice, the man's figure hidden in the shadows.
"Why is it all you bad guys can't resist the melodramatic?" He was going to blame whatever drug they'd used to knock him out, because surely he had learnt to think before pissing off the guy who had him locked in a cell by now.
The laugh that trickled out of Dark-and-Gloomy's mouth was supposed to make him shiver in fear, he was sure of it. But having dealt with Spike in all his glory, not to mention Angelus, and a Willow resolve face, meant that while he still played comic relief, he was somewhat jaded when it came to fright.
Looking to his feet at the slight noise the brunet frowned at the small square of paper that had come to rest in front of him. It took him a moment to understand what his eyes were telling him, and just what that meant. It was a photo, inconspicuous except for the subject of the image - Dawn.
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