Call of the Wild


by
Whichclothes

Lighting his cigarette, Spike casually looked down the alley as he walked past, wondering who or what the fuck those glowing green eyes belonged to. "Oi!" he called. “Wouldn’t recommend a tangle with me. You’ll bite off more than you can chew.”

The creature made a sound—a low, warning growl—that was feral enough to make the hairs on the back of Spike’s neck stand up. And that made him angry. He was a bloody vampire! He wasn’t meant to be scared of beasties in the dark. So when the…whatever it was…growled again, Spike took another puff of his fag, ground it out beneath his bootheel, and turned into the alley.

It was dark there, so dark that even his eyes could make out little aside from a looming shape that looked vaguely human. The smell, though, was not human at all. It was animal and it reminded him uncomfortably of Africa. The creature growled again, this time even more menacing. But it hadn’t actually attacked yet, so perhaps it wasn’t as murderous as he’d feared.

And just as he thought this, the thing leapt at him. It knocked him flat onto his back and straddled him and it was heavy and strong. He vamped out and tried to buck it off, to no avail. Then he clawed frantically at it, but it draped its body over his and sniffed at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, snuffling at him like a dog. That put Spike in a good position to bite, and he almost did. But a car drove by and in the wash of headlights, Spike finally got a view of what was on top of him.

“Harris?” Spike exclaimed.

The creature froze and sniffed at him again. It made an odd whining sound but didn’t answer.

But Spike was quite sure what he had seen: Xander Harris, buck naked and with blood smeared across his face and chest, his eyes no longer a soft hazel-brown but now nearly as amber as Spike’s own.

And Spike recalled a story Buffy had told him once, perhaps a year ago, during one of their few after-shagging conversations. A story about Xander Harris having been once possessed by a sodding hyena.

“Xander?” Spike said, his voice as calm and soothing as he could manage under the circumstances. The man still straddling him shuddered. So Spike ran a hand down the broad bare back. “What’s with the call of the wild, Xander?”

Xander didn’t answer, but he pressed himself more tightly against Spike and, quite suddenly, killing seemed off the agenda, having been replaced with something else entirely. “Bloody hell,” Spike moaned as Xander gnawed lightly at his neck. “Can we at least take this back to your flat?”

As an answer, Xander licked at his jawline and ground their pelvises together. “Right then”, Spike said with more pleasure than resignation. In the alley it was.




The End




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