Fic: Skinning a Cat 2/?

[dragonyphoenix]

Title: Skinning a Cat
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Spike/vamp!Xander
Rating: I'm going with PG-13 in this chapter but the next one will be R-rated for sex
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: Even chipped, Spike can figure a way to get what he wants.
Notes: I want to thank everyone who, after reading part 1, which was originally a standalone story, suggested I should write more. This is turning out to be a blast to write, and I owe it all to you!

Master List for Skinning a Cat


Spike shifted Xander to both arms, standing carefully so Xander's head wouldn't get bumped, say on a stray tombstone, even though there was nothing close enough to hit him. “Time to get you home.”

Home. “Damn.” He hadn't thought through where he'd take Xander. Buffy'd be sure to look in the basement first thing. His old crypt was out too; not only did Buffy know it, but with those soldier boys blundering around none of the cemeteries would be safe. The factory was too predictable, especially since he'd taken Xander and Willow there that last time, and Buffy'd be sure to check the mansion, just in case.

There was that room Angel used to hole up in. Spike grinned. Demons would leave it alone – they tended to live underground – and most humans wouldn't go near it. Whenever she was in town Dru, convinced Daddy's space was being desecrated, had killed anyone stupid enough to be living there.

Skating around the long way, so he wouldn't be noticed by any of the kids heading to the Bronze, Spike carried Xander up the fire escape and in through the window, figuring it was safer than leaving the door kicked in. In one corner, far enough from the window that no light could reach it, was a canopy bed, curtains hanging all the way around, the pale gray fabric looking like something you'd find in a coffin. Pulling the curtains aside, Spike laid Xander on the black bedding, wondering for a moment about the color scheme until he remembered. The last tenant Dru had killed had been a Goth, a little bint of a girl with yellow dreads.

Taking off his leather jacket, Spike draped it over Xander like a blanket. Not that Xander needed the extra warmth but, well, it wasn't like it could hurt the lad. Curling up onto the bed, he wrapped his arms around Xander, staring at him all the night through and well into the next day before finally falling asleep.

Spike woke shortly before dusk. Wanting to have a prezzie waiting for Xander, something to take the edge off before they started in on the mayhem, he stalked through the apartment, searching for anything that might hurt Xander while he was gone, even though he knew the place was empty. Ending by the bed, he closed the curtains, securing them tightly, muttering uncertainly, “Not like anyone will be looking here.”

He ransacked through the dresser, searching the drawers until he found what he was looking for, certain that the girl he recalled would have them, a pair of handcuffs. Hanging the cuffs off his belt, he climbed out into the night. It only took about ten minutes to find someone he could lure back to Angel's apartment. About eighteen, her jeans were too ragged to be real, making her a poseur, soft, protected all her life, while her short hair, buzzed almost down to the scalp, and kick-ass boots meant she thought she was tough enough to walk to hell and back. Stepping out of the shadows, he shifted his left hip forward so the light would glint off of the cuffs. As she stopped, a slow smile spread across his lips.

“Never seen you around,” she said, walking over.

“Not everyone does,” Spike agreed, eying her up and down as if evaluating her. “Nah, a little bitty thing like you wouldn't be up for the danger.”

She stepped in closer. “I'm up for just about anything. What'd you have in mind?”

He caressed a hand over her hip. “I'm thinking about checking out that haunted room, the one where all the killings went down.”

“The Aerie?” She ran a finger around the edge of his handcuffs.

He brushed his lips across hers. “Is that what they're calling it now?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth, tickling against his for a moment. “I'm game if you are.” Skipping backwards, heading down the street, toward Angel's apartment, she added, “If you think you can keep up.”

“Oh, I can keep up all right,” he said, chasing after. As he caught up, at the edge of Angel's building, he pointed down the alley. “This way. We'll take the stairs.” Gesturing toward the fire escape, he said, “Ladies first.”

Not wanting to give her time to find Xander, he was right behind her as they climbed in the window. As she glanced around at the room, she said, “This isn't so bad.”

“Give it a chance. It gets worse,” Spike replied. “Come 'ere.” He waved her over to the closet and opened the door. It was crammed full of clothes, mostly black, although there were a few leather pieces as well.

Brushing her hand over pants covered in painted skulls, she asked, “All this shit was just left here?”

Stepping in behind her, trapping her body against his, Spike ran his hand down her arm, trailing a finger over it lightly, seductively. Taking her hand in his, he raised it up, placing it on the clothes pole. As she grabbed on, wrapping her hand over the top of the hangers, he nuzzled against her neck. “Hold on.”

Looking over her shoulder, licking her lips, she pushed her ass against him. “For dear life?”

“Something like that.”

There was a flash, faster than she could follow, a clicking sound, and cold metal against her wrist. She was handcuffed to the pole. “Hey you little fucker, let me go.”

He stepped back, staring at her dispassionately. “Thought you weren't afraid.”

“I'm not,” she yelled. “I just don't like surprises.”

His lips twitched up at the edges as he saw the fear in her eyes.

“I said, let me go,” she shouted, pulling against the cuffs.

Spike shifted into vamp-face. “Boo.”

Screaming, she cowered against the clothes. Yanking a tank top off a hanger, Spike stuffed the shirt into her mouth. “I'm not gonna hurt ya.”

She screamed against the gag, the sound tiny and weak in the vast silence of Angel's room.

“Shhh,” he said, placing a finger over her mouth. “I told ya, I'm not the one you have to worry about.” Walking over to the bed, he pulled aside the curtains, gazing at Xander, his eyes soft with affection. “He's the one. When he wakes up, you're his.”