NOBODY: Chapter Two
by Trixx
Notes

Xander was alone in the middle of his living room, sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, focusing on nothing, his senses swirling chaotically around him like a death shroud.  Everything was wrong, so wrong, and he couldn’t pinpoint when they had gone that way, when things had gone from manageable to, ‘oh god I’m fucking Spike.’  Bowing his head to rest on his knees, he let his senses drift outwards through the building, moving through its inhabitants barely touching on one thing, trying to find a connection to anything, something, anyone, but finding nothing, feeling more alone than he had in years.

Raising a hand to rub at his face, he scrubbed the two day growth, scratching at the soreness.  He had gotten so lost in himself that everything else had been forgotten or ignored.  He knew there were messages from both Buffy and Willow, wanting to spend time with him, wondering where he was, wanting to touch base, getting worried, so many messages in just a few days.  They worried obsessively about him, smothered him, tried to get him to rejoin the land of the living.  Snorting to himself, dark thoughts swirling in and around his head, he knew it was already too late.  The land of the living didn’t want him anymore.

Nothing was working anymore.  Two nights ago he’d fucked Spike, or more accurately let Spike fuck him through the dirty mattress, and then in the morning, he had run.  Still unsure as to why he’d run, Spike had been caring, attentive, had tried to figure him out… it was more than anyone else had done in a long while.  They all tried to fix him, tried to make him into what he used to be… But he couldn’t be that man anymore, he had stepped so far past the line of who he used to be that he couldn’t even see it in the distance.  He had been unable to stand Spike’s questions, his prying, the way he’d genuinely wanted to know Xander.  It was the last thing he would have expected of the 'old' Spike... but this Spike was definitely not the Spike he remembered.  He’d died since then.  Death changed you, tore you apart and put the pieces back together in a different order… Spike was something he would have to figure out later, when the memories stopped assaulting him every time he let himself think of anything at all.

 He had been almost afraid to go out at night… just in case he ran into Spike in a darkened alley.  Everything was so messed up, he just couldn’t face him right now, not with that night still lingering in his body, he hadn’t showered since then, wallowing in the clinging scent of Spike on him, rubbed into his skin, reveling in it.  Shaking his head at his absurd behavior, sighing softly he swallowed the bitter bile that had been sitting at the back of his throat for days, rising slowly to his feet, steadily making his way to his bedroom, into the closet, inhaling the smell of leather and death.  It was time to stop sitting here trying to figure out where things went off track, time to put his confusion to use.

Heading for the bathroom, he turned on the tap, letting the steam envelope him in an anonymous cloud as he undressed and stepped under its stinging spray.  Resting his forearm against the tile, letting the water pounding down, he let his hand drift down to his already stiffening erection, thoughts wandering to two nights ago, fingers curling around he gave a sharp tug, stiffening into full on aching hardness, a drop of pre-cum dribbling out the tip.

Memories filtered through his body, he could almost feel Spike’s fingertips ghosting over his abdomen, combing through his pubic hair, gripping his length.  Moaning into the water, he mirrored Spike’s actions of a few nights ago, letting his hand roughly strip his cock as he pictured Spike leaning over him, watching, piercing blue eyes boring holes into him as his body arched off the bed.  Shuddering as he stroked himself harder, remembering Spike whispering in his ear, telling him how he was such a good boy, how pretty he was when he moaned, arched, gave himself over.  His balls drew up when he remembered Spike whispering how he wanted to fuck him, hard, deep, so far inside that they would be one person.  Milky streams of cum shot out onto the tile wall, slipping down the shower tiles forgotten.

Rinsing his hand off, he grabbed the razor off the side of the tub and scraped the whiskers off his face quickly, washing his hair, and stepping out of the shower onto the damp floor, toweling himself off, he made his way back to his open closet.  Reaching in to finger the leather, before moving on to a soft dress shirt, hovering back and forth indecisively, simple choice sex or fighting… it was always simple.

Bowing his head, Xander grabbed the leathers, dressing hastily; he muttered the words of the masking spell, no more scent other than leather and danger for Xander this evening.  The tight constriction of the form fitting outfit making him feel safe, bound, secure, able to conquer the world, or at least his own mind.  He would give anything to just be able to conquer his own life.

Raising his head up, he turned his face towards the window, letting his senses stretch outwards, out of the building, down the darkened streets, let his mind leave his domicile before his body stepped one foot outside of it.  Then he was gone in a swirl of black leather, fear, and confidence. 

********************

He felt him before his senses could trail back away from the scene playing out far below in the dark alley, caught like a mouse in a trap he couldn’t pull away, had to stay and feel the fight in all its violence and glory.  He curled around the two writhing figures, around their flailing legs and the flurry of arms, tangling with them as they moved around each other.  Letting himself get lost in the rustle of fabric and leather, the dance they were performing below.  Hands he knew to be pale and soft, stained yellow from nicotine, gracefully pushing and pulling his partner, blue eyes snapping in passion, mouth curled in a smirk. 

He could picture him in his head, what he looked like, the way his body moved, he knew him, knew how he would move before he had even twitched in that direction.  He remembered it so well from previous experience.  The passion, the fire, the burning desire, right before… there it was, the shower of dust cascading through the alley, traveling on the breeze to where Xander was hiding high above.  A smirk playing on his face behind the mask, Xander leapt off the side of the building, gliding down to land softly a few feet away from Spike.

”Nothing like a good spot of violence to get you all worked up… looks to me like that fight ended too soon.”  Voice coming out harsh and muffled behind the black leather covering his face, allowing him the anonymity of baiting the vampire he’d been obsessing over for days.

”That it did.  Not much of a fight anyways, couldn’t throw a decent punch if his unlife depended on it.”  Smirking, Spike turned towards the dark shadow behind him, staring intently at the mysterious figure.  “Want to give it a go then?” His lips stretching wide into a nasty grin as he whirled into a dervish of wild limbs.  Throwing a volley of punches and kicks he didn't bother waiting for an answer, dancing back as they were parried and blocked.

Xander threw himself into the violence of fighting with Spike.  It was elemental, almost primal in the ferocity of their duel.  Limbs flying, legs lashing out, movement so fast they seemed to be a blur moving back and forth in the pale light filtering in from the street behind them.  Neither one giving an inch to the other, taking, giving, moving around each other in a complicated rhythm neither one of them anticipated.  Neither giving quarter as they moved till their muscles burned with the strain, till they felt it deep in their bones, the weariness of fighting to a stalemate.

Xander suddenly grabbed Spike by his duster and whirled him around into a trashcan sitting against the side of the building, bending him over the cold metal, his fingers expertly popping Spike’s button and lowering the zipper, dragging the black jeans down around the vampire’s knees.  One gloved finger moving around Spike’s head to his mouth, slipping inside without protest, licked till it was wet and dripping with saliva, hastily shoved into the waiting asshole, making Spike groan loudly, and clutch at the wobbling can. 

One hand rising slightly to fumble in deep coat pockets, pulling out a battered bottle of slick and pressing it back.  “Here,” Spike bit out, wanting this so much but not wanting to be torn in two.  Sighing in relief as the bottle was taken, the soft click of it being opened echoed loudly on the dirty brick walls.

Xander pulled his finger out of Spike, panting as Spike mewled low in his throat at the absence.  Liberally coating two gloved fingers, he pushed back into the waiting body, hard and fast, scissoring his fingers quickly to relax the opening.  Setting the lube on Spike’s back Xander’s free hand hastily undid his own pants, letting his cock spring free, hard and dripping, landing with a solid thump on Spike’s backside, twitching as Spike moaned low in his throat, pressing back into the cock, shoving the fingers deeper inside him.  Grabbing the lube he squirted it onto his cock, not bothering to spread it before pulling his fingers out and pressing harshly inside.  Stilling in the cool depths, perfectly still as Spike began to push back, fucking himself on Xander’s cock.

”Fuck that’s good, so hot in me it burns… fuck me dammit!”  Spike grated out harshly, picking up the pace still gripping the trash can for balance as he violently fucked back on the hard thick cock filling him, almost losing his balance as the hips behind him began a brutal thrust and withdrawal pattern, sporadic, making him shudder and moan while clutching the can for dear life, not moving now, letting himself be shoved head first into oblivion.

Xander fucked the way he imagined a demon would, no apologies, no remorse, brutal fucking without tenderness.  Taking what he wanted and owning it with every movement of his balls slapping against pale thighs.  Listening to the moans and pleading cries for more, harder, deeper, taking them inside himself, giving in to the demands when the voice became husky, unintelligible, fucking harder as he felt the tight channel grasp him firmly as the body below him began to orgasm.  Going wild when the scent of Spike’s cum filled the air, head thrown back in abandon as he let himself pour out, filling him full, felt it dripping out and down the pale thighs, coating his own as he came in strong heavy spurts.  Dropping forward to rest his head against the heaving back, panting for air, as he held the tense body tightly until the last drop of his orgasm was wrung from him.

Shuddering at the sound of Spike’s heavy panting in the stillness, he pulled slowly out, feeling his release trickle out of the abused opening to land in splatters on the ground.  Pulling his pants up, letting his senses whirl around Spike in a protective jumble, feeling for any movement as he tucked himself away without making a whisper of sound.

”Shoving off then mate?”  Spike’s accent was stronger, blurred with tiredness and raw emotion.  “Not staying for round two?” Voice sour and skeptical, dark and brooding, giving away what he truly thought of himself.

”Can’t.”  One word simply spoken, but Xander was pulling Spike backwards into his arms, Spike’s pants still around his knees, the gloved hand coming around to stroke Spike’s erection, still hard even after the orgasm.  “Keep it waiting.”  Xander’s voice had gone low and husky, sounding slightly garbled by the mask.

”Don’t think I will.  What’s the point if you’re just gonna up and leave?”  Weary sigh, as he leaned his head back against Xander’s shoulder, head cradled on black leather, the scent so familiar, giving him peace in his defeat.  He wrenched out of Xander’s arms pulling his jeans up quickly, doing up the zip but leaving the top button open, whirling around to face the man behind him.  “I’ll just be going then,” nodding sadly he turned around in a whirl of coat and the smell of leather and cigarettes.

”Wait!” Xander yelled, the sound bouncing back and forth, getting softer as it carried across the faded abused buildings.  Watching as Spike stopped but didn’t turn.  “Next time,” words whispered in the darkness, a promise of things to come, senses curling around Spike’s feet as he once again moved into motion, leaving the alley behind, leaving Xander standing alone in the dark.

********************

Soft clapping filled the enclosed space, seeming to surround him, ricocheting off the buildings, mocking him in his misery.  Turning around slowly letting his senses whip behind him, out from him, moving over the figure leaning against a building two dozen feet from him.  Whispery licks of power curling in and out of the dead body, wrapping around the legs, over the black leather coat, twining like a snake up the beefy arms and muscled torso, brushing softly over the face, tentatively touching every nuance in the implacable features, realizing who was standing in the darkness with him.

”I never thought to see Spike bending over and taking it like a pro for a coward like you,” soft words, easily reaching Xander’s ears as he faced Angel in total silence.  “He always did have a soft spot for anyone with a mission,” cruelty marring his words, twisting them into sharpened knives slicing into Xander’s flesh beneath the protective layers of butter soft leather.

Xander refused to be goaded into action, senses wrapped tightly around Angel he waited, tense, for any sign of movement, for the attack he knew was coming.  Cocking his head slightly at the soft scrape of boot over asphalt, anticipating the fight that had been coming for years, since the moment they had met, the one that Xander had no hope in Hell of ever winning, before now.

In a burst of speed Angel was on him, punching him back into the wall behind him, pinning him against it with an arm across his throat.  Leaning in he sniffed at the leathers, taking in the smell of worn leather, of countless vampire deaths clinging like sour milk, “Why can’t I smell you? Or Spike for that matter… why is there only leather and death… What are you?” confusion marring his voice, as he searched the contours of the mask for an opening to tear it off.  “Who are you?” menace heavy in his tone, wrapping around Xander like expensive silk, as he shuddered in Angel’s hold.

”Nobody,” Xander spoke softly behind the mask, before using Angel’s weight against him, slipping out from under the circle of arms, landing a roundhouse kick to Angel’s back, sending him crashing into the rough bricks, waiting as he whirled back to his feet in a swirl of black leather, the menace in the air, thick and palpable, as he moved in to attack. 

Xander moved on automatic pilot, letting his senses guide his movements, losing himself in the fight, mentally taking a step back to evaluate Angel’s fighting style.  There wasn’t much of one really; he used brute strength and his size to dominate the fight, no special fighting moves, no martial arts style… nothing special about the way he fought at all, except for his strength.  Xander remembered Angel being a far better fighter than this, back in Sunnydale, fighting with a purpose… stopping suddenly in the process of raising his arm to block a punch, Xander let his senses envelope Angel, cascading over him in a riot of skin tingling sensations.

”Why?” Xander’s voice pitched low, facing Angel and cocking his head to the side in query.  “Why fight me, your heart isn’t in it, you don’t want to win… you’re… testing me.”  Xander spoke slowly, trying the words out on his tongue, knowing them for the truth they were.

Angel’s dark gaze bore into the figure in front of him, skin trying to crawl off his body at the invasion, voice soft in the quiet of the night, “I had to know… Spike’s views and opinions are skewed at the moment… he’s not thinking clearly, I have to know what you are, if you’re a threat to me and mine, if you’re a threat to my city.”  Immobile Angel let all the sincerity he could lace his voice, weaving into each syllable, to get his point across.

”I told you.  I’m nobody.  I’m not a threat to you and yours.”  Xander scraped out past a throat thick with irony and self flagellation, “Go where you’re needed, you don’t belong here.”  Senses whipping back into himself, freeing Angel from his paralysis, he moved in a blur of motion, quickly scaling the building and disappearing from view.

Staring after the disappearing figure, Angel shook his head, making his way slowly out of the darkness into the light of the street ahead, pressing his cell phone to his ear.  “Did you get that?  Good, analyze his voice, see if we have any matches on record.”  Clicking the phone shut, he limped off down the street, disappearing around a corner.

Xander stood high above the city, watching Angel’s slow trek through the streets, shaking his head at the duplicity.  “You’ll never learn will you Angel… not all mysteries need to be solved.”  Sighing softly into the still night air, Xander leapt to the next rooftop, gone in a blur of speed, a swirl of black leather, disappointment clinging to him like a second skin.

********************

Spike stood on the outskirts of the crowd watching the writhing figures on the dance floor.  Lithe arms waving overhead as two pelvises ground together to the heavy bass beat thickening the air.  One set of hands cupping a firm rounded ass, pulling the two bodies closer together, not a breath of air could pass between them.

Growling low in his throat, stalking around the gyrating figures inhabiting the far reaches of the floor, eyes riveted to Xander’s dancing body clutched so tightly to the male vampire, Spike cursed him again for the millionth time since spotting the man in the throng of wildly gesticulating bodies.

Didn’t he realize what he was dancing with?  Didn’t he realize that he could get eaten rather than fucked through the floor boards, or against a wall, or in the backroom… groaning lowly deep in his throat, Spike closed his eyes at the mental images assaulting him, feeling his body harden, tighten under the unbidden pictures flitting through his mind.  Growling louder, scattering the few people that were close enough to hear him over the pounding beat, he shook off the images and looked towards where Xander had been only moments before, only to find him gone.

Searching the crowd wildly for any trace of his dark haired prey, he moved towards where he had last seen Xander, snarling in frustration as people got in his way, shoving them lightly aside.  Finally spotting Xander moving towards the door, same vampire in tow, making his way in and around the bodies, hand firmly clasped in the thing’s cold one.

Eyes intently watching the subtle byplay of Xander pulling the vamp into his arms, twining his arms around its neck before lowering his head to claim those dead lips with his own.  It was obvious who was gonna be in control of that little fuck fest.  Xander wasn’t giving over an inch towards the natural predator.  Puzzled, Spike made his way closer to the entwined couple, freezing in place when Xander looked up and fixed Spike with his cold dead stare.  Empty vision scanned the crowd around him, before seeming to look straight through him.  A cold shiver made its way up his Spike as he stared back.  Eyes locked with Xander’s empty gaze, he drew in a quick breath as Xander nodded in his direction before pulling the vamp out of the club into the brisk night air.

Why that cheeky little… Pushing people out of his way, Spike made his way over to the door that Xander had just disappeared through, just in time to see him get into a cab with that thing.  Face turned slightly in his direction, Spike was able to see the small smirk gracing Xander’s face as he slid in effortlessly beside his companion.  Swearing softly under his breath, Spike jumped into the next available cab.

”Follow that cab mate, my friends left without me.”  Spike ground out between clenched teeth, leaning back against the seat as the cab peeled away from the curb. 

They didn’t go far before they pulled over in time for Spike to see Xander disappear into a building with the creature.  Throwing a few bills at the cabbie he made his way up to the door, listening to the sounds behind it.

Soft thudding made the door shudder, the sound of a body slamming against it, followed by a muffled groan, masked behind the wood.  A rhythmic pounding started up, causing the door to shudder with the force of the impacts, shaking under Spike’s hands.  Pressing his forehead against the door he listened to the vamp being fucked right on the other side, mere inches away, soft mewling cries showing that he was being fucked hard and deep.  The cock he remembered so vividly, encased in the coolness of the other vampire’s body, slick, red, and angry, disappearing between those pale globes of preternatural flesh.

Shuddering slightly as he heard their cries getting louder, reaching a crescendo, the vibrations against the door becoming more frenzied as they neared orgasm, and then nothing, silence.  Opening his eyes, Spike looked at the door worriedly, raising his hand to knock, until he smelled it, the dust, the remnants of a thing that had once been a vampire.  It was sifting out beneath the door, caught on a draft, swirling around Spike’s boots before it was caught on the wind and taken away. 

Staring disbelievingly at the door he waited for it to open.  Waited for Xander to open the door and be whole and unharmed, so he could pound him into the floor.  Sighing Spike took a step back as the door began to open.

********************

Standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, Xander pressed his face against the scarred wood, mirroring Spike’s actions on the other side.  Rolling his forehead back and forth, he wiped the dust off his naked torso, pulled up his pants not bothering to buckle them and took a breath for courage.

Spike knew… well he may not know but he knew that the vampire that had just been fucked through the door was now nothing but a dusty pile littering the floor and his clothing.  There was sure to be questions, remarks, more questions.  Spike would want to know why.  There would be yelling, arguing and a scene, and he’d probably end up leaving.  Again.

Taking another deep fortifying breath he slowly raised his hand to grip the door handle, letting the corner of his mouth turn up in a small smirk, blanking every other emotion on his face.  A trick he’d picked up fighting demons in the middle of the night, when all good little boys should have been in bed.  If he showed no fear behind the mask, he felt no fear.  No fear to be what he was now, no fear to give in and let the violence pour out of him in deep crashing waves.

To Be Continued...