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Hold Me. Thrill Me. Kiss Me. Kill Me

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Hold Me. Thrill Me. Kiss Me. Kill Me Okay here is one of the killer plot bunnies I couldn't not work on. I don't want to, but I had to, you know? I'm also posting it on my dead journal in case something ever happens to lj again. Thank you kind kyrieane for the code. Also thanks to kitty_poker1 for the beta. I don't own the bois, sorry to say. Also thank you to averillovessev for the great cover graphic! Hold Me. Thrill Me. Kiss Me. Kill Me by Amejisuto Part One Xander walked through the streets of Sunnydale in the early hours of the morning, jumping at nearly every shadow and sound. His beloved Father had tossed him out of the house for the night for some slight he’d imagined. Xander knew it was just an excuse for his Dad to get rid of him so he could screw his latest groupie while his Mom was out of town. Normally he didn’t care, he was glad to get away from his so-called home. But this time he cared. Spending the night outside in beautiful Sunnyhell was a…a really bad thing waiting to happen. Buffy was off in L.A., visiting her Dad for the Summer and, while Willow’s parents may not give her a lot of affection, they didn’t leave her at home for the family’s month long tour of educational vacation spots. Giles was off in Watcher-land, filing reports on how Buffy had killed the Master. He wondered if he’d end up as part of an entry or a footnote. “Ordinary boy saved The Chosen One thanks to Red Cross CPR lessons.” Even Deadboy had followed Buffy to L.A., or at least that’s what Xander assumed. The vampire’s apartment was closed up when he’d gone by out of sheer boredom. He had hoped he could drop by and bother the older man, make his non-existent blood pressure rise till you could tell that Angel was gritting his teeth. It was something to do, at the very least. So the Xan-man was alone. On the Hellmouth. At night. He really needed to do something with his life or else he’d end up stuck here for the rest of his life, walking in Daddy Dearest’s footsteps. Problem was, he sucked at school, he got bored way too easily and then his mind would drift off and end up in la-la land. And if Buffy couldn’t get extra cash from the Slayer gig there was no way he’d get any from the sidekick gig. No wonder Robin was the coolest sidekick. Bruce Wayne had lots of money and neither Tim, Jason nor Dick had to worry about working to pay for their own school clothes. Or had craptacular parents that didn’t give a damn if you lived or died, much less if you had three square meals and brushed your teeth before bed. The Batman might have given Angel a run for his money in the brooding department but he kept his wards in Kevlar and new jeans. Xander figured he’d walk the streets of Sunnydale till dawn, and then try to sneak home and get inside without his Mom catching him. His Mom was okay, at times, but would do anything her husband told her to. Anything. So far he was doing pretty good. Adrenalin and fear were keeping him from getting sleepy. The main problem was, it left him with too much time to think and his brain was so not his friend. It kept on coming up with nasty comments about his life that he really didn’t need to think about. So he was trying to concentrate on a way to make money this summer. Mowing lawns was a possibility, and yard work. He liked fixing things; maybe he could hire on as an apprentice handy man or something, bring the actual man his tools and hold his measuring tape. As long as it wasn’t the Doublemeat Palace, he’d be fine. Considering that he’d walked just about every street in Sunnydale tonight and was making his way to the outskirts of town, he probably could deliver papers or pizza. Dayshift, please; he’d gotten his fill of the nightlife for the entire summer all in one night, thanks very much. He walked a few more miles, trying not to notice how his legs hurt or how tired he was. He was also trying not to think about stuff, and Xander figured if he made it through this night he could get a high score in any game that called for repressing. He was a top-notch repressor now. Able to distract his brain with a single thought. Maybe if he acted like he believed it, then it would work. And that snarky voice in his head would shut the hell up. The one that said he was worthless and deserved to be alone. He really hated that voice. It usually only showed up when he was alone but since Buffy had rejected him it was showing up more and more. Of course, it didn’t help that the one person who did really love him, lovedhim. And while he loved Willow it was like he loved a sister, or Buffy’s Mom. The thought of kissage with Willow made his stomach flop in a bad way. But he didn’t want to hurt her, and he knew that, while ignoring it wasn’t really working, rejecting her would be way worse. He’d get those sad puppy eyes and the trembling lip and he’d cave and it would be awful. Xander tried to shake himself of his thoughts. Repress. That meant not thinking about it at all. Not thinking about it over and over. He realized he was getting near the edge of Sunnydale and wondered what would happen if he just kept walking. Would anyone miss him before Willow got home next month? He could slowly walk to L.A. or Oxnard or somewhere that didn’t have a Hellmouth. Knowing his luck, he’d get caught by the county cops and brought back home and end up worse off than he was now. He realized he was near one of the many city parks. This one was just as you passed the Welcome to Sunnydale sign. There were so many parks in Sunnydale that if Xander didn’t know better he’d think the town’s founding fathers had made sure there were plenty of places for people of the undead persuasion to stop for snacks. He thought about turning around. All he had for a weapon was a stake and a small cross. Not the best things to use. But there was something going on; he could hear music and yelling. He’d have to turn in his sidekick license if he backed away. It was a vampire, sitting on top of an old DeSoto, smoking like a dragon with several empties at his feet and scattered around on the ground. Evidently it took a lot to get a vamp drunk. Weird, discordant music was blaring from the car stereo and the vampire sometimes sang along and sometimes yelled obscenities to the sky. Xander tried to stand still, not breathe and just watch. This vampire was different than any he’d seen before. He was very obviously upset, grieving even. In the few minutes Xander had watched he had shaken his fist at the sky, blaming everyone for taking “Her” away from him. While he was in his game face, he was obviously heartbroken and blood red tears were flowing down his face. He knew that feeling, when you were so sad, so angry at life that you couldn’t help but cry. It wasn’t that you were being a crybaby, despite what his Dad might say, it was that there were just so many emotions inside of you that the dam burst and everything came out at once. Part of him was embarrassed. This was something private, something he shouldn’t be seeing. But part of him felt sorry for the demon, despite the fact that he knew the other man would kill him without thinking. It was obvious that whatever had happened had shaken the vamp to the core and no one should feel like that. No one should be alone when they felt that freaking crappy, he knew that from experience. But what to do for a vamp that was upset? He sure as hell wasn’t going to slit his wrist and offer it to him; he was sympathetic, not suicidal. The answer came to him as the vampire dropped his last bottle of booze and it rolled away from him. He was too drunk to get up and get it. Xander stepped forward and very carefully picked up the bottle and handed it to the distraught man in front of him. “Here, you dropped this.” Part Two The vampire snarled, and grabbed the bottle. “Not nice sneaking up on people, boy.” “I wasn’t sneaking, you were just…occupied. I don’t think I could sneak if I wanted to. There was this time, when I was trying to get out of the house and…” “Fucking hell, you’re right. You babble too much to be quiet. Go away, child, it’s your lucky night. Don't really feel like eating right now.” Xander backed away, never turning his back, and sat in one of the swings.
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