Summary: Xander doesn't want to be a demon magnet anymore. Willow does a spell. Oops.
Prompt: #1 - ritual
Warnings: cliches abound
Word Count: 460
Rating: PG-13, this part
Feedback: Yes, please.
Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, sadly Joss and Mutant Enemy won't let them go. Not for profit.
Author's Notes: This story follows the prompts from [info]50kinkyways on this table. The timeline for this is early season 5, and I've flipped the timeline of "The Replacement" and "Buffy vs. Dracula". Very loose plot to hang porn on.





Demagnetized


by
Creyr



Part One


“No more butt-monkey!”

“Yes, Xander.”

“No, Willow, I mean it. Put a stop to it . . . the Xan-man is off the menu. Permanently.” His hands made chopping motions, flourishes to emphasize his point.

“All right, sweetie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Xander nodded, happy his point had been gotten and would be taken places.

*** One week later ***

“Why the bleeding ‘ell should I?”

“Spike, we’re all in danger from Xander as long as he’s a demon magnet. Just help with the spell.” Willow’s eyes were pools of deep sincerity, which Spike ignored, lighting his fag.

“No. Whelp attracts fun toys for me.”

He backed up though when Mr. Pointy slid under his shirt. Buffy didn’t look amused, and he snorted in disgust.

“Bollocks. What do I need to do, Red?”

“Stand over there.” She pointed to the outer swirl of the design painted on the floor. “It’s the Ritual of Mondanaki. Very rarely performed, I could barely find any information about it, other than it protects the subject from interference by demons, but the main ingredient of the spell is willingly shed demon blood and how many demons will willingly shed their blood so a human can’t be harmed by them, I ask you?”

No one replied, assuming the rhetorical nature of the question. Harris took his position in the center swirl. Buffy and Tara sat off to the side, the Slayer swinging her legs impatiently from her perch on the table.

“Now, we need the blood of the demon to seal Xander away from other demons. Hold out your hand, Spike.”

The peroxide blonde complied and the witch sliced across the pad at the base of his thumb with a clinical proficiency that belied her earlier babble. Spike hoped he never seriously offended her. She began chanting, tugging him after her while she walked widdershins through the swirls. She squeezed his hand at regular intervals, allowing his blood to drop into the design.

When they reached Harris in the center, she dropped his hand, raising hers to the ceiling, her voice swelling with the final cadences of her spell before dying away.

There were no bright lights, no ominous rumbles, nothing end-of-the-worldy, and Buffy and Tara looked at each other with mirrored smiles of relief.

“How do you feel, Xander?” Willow asked anxiously.

“Uh . . . .”

Harris had a puzzled look on his face, and Spike cursed. He was getting bored and wanted to get the hell away. He was late for a poker game and he still needed to find a kitten.

“Well, Harris? Some of us have things to do.” the vampire snapped.

The boy’s eyes were terrified, but his voice was soft and gentle as he turned to Spike.

“My Master.”

“Oops.”

“Oh, bloody hell.”





Part Two

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Red. Instead of sealing other demons from him, you’ve sealed him to mine.”

Spike couldn’t decide whether to be royally pissed or gloatingly pleased at the complete ass-up that was this spell. He’d no intention of having any more to do with the whelp than strictly necessary. But on the other hand, having one of the Scoobies in his thrall wasn’t so bad.

Willow looked beseechingly at Tara. “I did exactly what it said.”

The shy witch nodded sympathetically, pulling her lover into a hug. Spike rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see the boy safe home.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Buffy’s eyes were narrowed and suspicious.

“Yeah, I don’t want you anywhere near me, bleachboy.”

“Because he’s my responsibility now, innit he? Fine Master vampire I’d be if I let anything happen to him. Matter of pride, it is.”

“Hello. Still here.”

Buffy and Spike both ignored him, concentrating on their face off, Buffy studying him hard, trying to find the deceit. She finally relaxed, the tense wariness leaving her body.

“Your pride better keep him safe. Or you and Mr. Pointy will chat. We’ll call you when Willow finds out how to undo it.”

“And I have no say in this?”

“Not anymore.” Spike smirked at him, deciding that he’d take advantage while the fun lasted. “No one’s butt-monkey but mine now.”

“Spike!”

The girls’ voices were a discordant note and he waved them off, tugging Harris after him. The whelp was still muttering complaints as Spike paused to light a cig before turning towards Harris’s apartment. The vampire’s mind was working in happy circles, as he thought of creative ways to torment the boy with their suddenly changed status. He’d not warm any of his own blood for a while for starters.

“God, why did I have to get stuck with the chipped un-menace. Of all the annoying, obnoxious, aggravating . . . “

“Oi! Don’t strain your limited vocabulary disrespecting your Master.”

Spike reached out, reflexively pinching Harris’s arm like he would a disobedient fledge, hard enough to bruise.

“Ow! Shit, Spike, what was that for?”

Spike barely had enough presence of mind to clutch his head and turn his face away before Harris looked at him. The chip hadn’t fired. Why the fuck hadn’t the chip fired?

“Forgot myself.”

Harris grunted and they continued their walk in relative silence, broken by Harris’s occasional grumbles. Spike’s brain was working furiously. He wished he’d paid better attention to Red’s spell, because the question was whether the chip wouldn’t work for Harris or whether it had quit working completely. Spike finally concluded that the use of his blood to seal Harris to him had made Harris part of him. And he could bite himself all he pleased.

Spike worked hard to keep the gleeful grin off his face and his demon under control as they reached the apartment. The beast was howling in its cage, desperate for freedom, but Spike had plans, wanted the right moment.

The boy unlocked his door, and stepped over the threshold, getting ready to close the door. “All right, blondie, your pride’s intact. Find somewhere else to be.”

“Don’t think so, pet. Invite me in.”

“Do I look like my IQ’s dropped fifty points in the last hour? No. And . . . hell no!”

Restraining his demon with difficulty, Spike put a note of command into his voice, the kind of tone he used on minions.

“Not a request, boy. Invite me in. Nicely.”

Harris’s face twisted, but his mouth framed the words, his tone pleasant. “Please come in, Spike.”

Spike strode over through the doorway, smiling. He plopped onto the couch, still debating the slow way or the quick way to what he wanted. Harris paced restlessly around the room, picking things up and putting them down. Right. Time to get the party going.

“Lost your cherry yet, boy?” The question was light, teasing. He’d get some intel before he went all Big Bad.

“What?” Harris’s voice squeaked, but he cleared his throat. “If you mean, have I had sex, then yes, I have.”

“With a man or a woman?”

“What? Ew. Woman, of course. Faith . . . and Anya.”

“Woo, whelp, you bagged a Slayer. Good on you.” Spike paused respectfully in deference to that feat. “And a demon. Interesting choice of bedmates, boy. Are you bent?”

“Spike, don’t you have better things to do?”

“Not particularly. So, no men? You and Drac . . . ? Didn’t do the nasty when he had you thralled?”

“Again I say ‘Ew.’ I’ve never been with a man, I’m never gonna be with a man. And can I say how disturbing it is discussing this with you?”

Spike swarmed off the couch in full game face, crashing into Harris and pushing him against the wall. Spike used his vampire-enhanced strength to press his entire length along the larger human.

“Never say never, boy.”

Harris’s eyes widened and Spike inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of terrified human. It had been too long. The demon was raging, but Spike wasn’t ready to loose it just yet. The boy felt too good under him, long sturdy bones and hard muscles.

“Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. How long has the chip been dead?”

Spike’s ridges contorted into a snarl. “Not dead, pet. Only for you. Can thank your little friend for that.”

“Spike. Please. You don’t want to do this.”

“The fuck I don’t. Now, I’ll give you a choice. My demon demands a spot of violence here. So whatta you chose . . . feeding or fucking?”





Part Three

“Feed or fuck? Chose, boy!”

“Neither! None of the above!”

“Not possible.”

Spike spun Harris around until the boy’s cheek pressed into the wall, but Spike was careful not to slam him. He really didn’t have any intentions of hurting Harris any more than was necessary, particularly since he didn’t fancy fleeing a brassed-off Slayer for the rest of his unnatural life. He wrenched one of the boy’s arms up behind his back, watching the shoulder blades protrude from his shirt like bony wings. He laced the other hand through the wavy hair, knowing how tender the scalp could be, counting on the pain to get his cooperation.

The vampire felt he was getting bigger, his power expanding, a Master once more, if only for a court of one. He was back where he belonged.

He marched the human into the kitchen, releasing his hair long enough to slam open a cabinet. Ignoring the human’s squirming, he quickly found what he needed, an unopened bottle of olive oil, most likely a housewarming gift from the witches. It would do.

The boy wouldn’t stop struggling, and Spike cuffed him on the side of the head, hard enough to slow him down.

Sticking the small bottle into a pocket of his jeans, then he tightened his hand in the human’s hair again. He forced Harris into the bedroom and threw him onto the bed. Spike was on him before Harris could regain his wits enough to move. He caught both of the boy’s hands this time, pulling them behind his back to rest at the base of his spine. The vampire increased the pressure, chuckling when he realized that the boy would bear bruises from his hold the next day. His vampiric strength was enough that he could hold both wrists still while he slid his knife out of his boot.

A few slices later, and the human’s shirt was split open from hem to neckline, and his jeans were in shreds, his rounded ass exposed and Spike paused a moment to admire the treat before him. Construction work had done the boy a world of good, in more ways than one.

He fumbled one-handed with his own jeans, hissing as the pressure was finally taken away from his engorged cock. Harris’s protests and pleas were getting louder and more desperate, but Spike ignored them, instead reaching for the oil bottle and flipping the top open. He drizzled oil into the boy’s crack and then ran up and down his own cock twice. The human was lucky that Spike was taking this much care.

Spike shifted his stance, using his knees to spread Harris further, tightening his grip as the boy thrashed. He surged forward, howling with joy as he felt delicate human tissues give way to the force of his assault. Harris’s scream of outraged pain nearly made him come, but he narrowly clung to his self-control.

He was sheathed in human warmth, and could feel the rich liquid of life welling slowly around his cock from the wounds he’d inflicted. Blood was everything.

Spike’d been too long with only his hand for company, rude thoughts of the Slayer interrupting his happy wanks. He’d been too long enslaved to human technology. The pain and warmth were bliss, and he wouldn’t last. He pulled back and plunged in again, but it didn’t take long and he roared his completion as he pumped into his unwilling partner.

The vampire slumped over Harris’s back, letting a fang rest against the nape of the boy’s neck. It was tempting to feed, but Spike knew that while the boy might be too embarrassed to tell Buffy about this assault, she’d know instantly if he bit her Scooby. So he restrained himself reluctantly, not without promising himself that it would happen someday soon. When he could figure out how to hide it from the Slayer.

He pulled out carefully and then scooted down the bed, hiding his true face. Harris wasn’t struggling anymore; the fight seemed to have left him when Spike entered him. The vampire parted the boy’s muscular cheeks and his tongue went out, softly lapping at the ravaged hole. The boy tasted of blood and semen, and Spike found himself purring. He worked his saliva inside and around, intent on healing the damage he’d done.





Part Four

When Spike thought he’d done as much as he could to heal the boy, he parted the cheeks one last time, inhaling deeply, sniffing at the opening. He could sense no damage inside, so he sat back on his heels, satisfied.

The human was shaking, but not moving off the bed. Great waves of anger, and fear, and grief were coming off of him, and Spike became concerned that he would find himself on the wrong end of a stake if he didn’t soothe the boy. He saw no traces of tears on Harris’s face, though, and the vampire felt another unwelcome tendril of respect for him.

He stepped off the bed and removed the clothes that he’d been in too much of a hurry to deal with before. Then he fished around in the sheets for the discarded bottle of olive oil. He sniggered silently. Demons might not think Harris was food anymore, but humans might before Spike finished with him. He poured a good handful into his palm, and knelt between the human’s spread legs, pushing what was left of the boy’s shirt off his shoulders.

Harris flinched when he felt Spike’s hands on him, but Spike hummed softly, letting the vocalization drop into a throaty rumble.

“Hush, pet. Let me tend you.”

He’d felt some connection between them when he’d been inside the boy, not the same as a sire/childe bond or a consort claim, but it had been there. Spike didn’t understand it, but he was hoping that he could use it like any other vampiric link and get Harris to settle down.

Tense muscles in shoulders and back yielded gradually to Spike’s sure hands, relaxing. The vampire kept up a steady murmur, mostly nonsense, while he delicately probed the spell that had connected them. The trembling gradually stopped, and Spike could feel the calm growing inside the boy. He halted to get more oil every so often, working the muscles until the knots were gone and the boy was quiet under him.

Spike found himself fighting an unanticipated battle as his hands moved over the human. Whelp’s muscles were hard from his construction work, his shoulders were broad, and his legs were long and shapely. He shouldn’t be lusting after another human, but he was afraid it was too late. The boy was all heat and sweetness, and Spike wanted more.

Finally deciding that the human was as relaxed as possible, Spike wiped his hands on the linens, and moved to the headboard, giving in to the temptation to run his fingers through the boy’s thick hair.

“Spike. Don’t.”

Spike withdrew his hands, wondering what to do.

“Won’t apologize, cause I don’t think you’d take it. And ‘m not sorry. Demon here. Evil.”

Xander rolled over and Spike tried desperately to read him, but failed.

“I should kill you.”

“You can try,” Spike snorted. “I could have killed you. Thought you’d rather live.”

“Then Buffy can.”

The boy was distant, unemotional, and Spike didn’t know how to rescue the situation. He’d been gentler than Angelus ever had been when he was fucking Spike, but he knew that he’d hurt the boy still.

He wanted to argue, to fuck the boy until he gave in. To bite him and make his first childe. Spike hated feeling confused.

“Bloody hell, boy! What would you have me do? I can’t take it back.”

“Let me stake you.”

Spike stared. Boy had stones, no question. The vampire wasn’t sure how his non-existence would affect the human, considering the spell. Fuck, he hated magic, it was too twisty. But the way Harris was looking at him, he didn’t think the boy cared much if Spike’s death would lead to his own.

Ah, fuck it. What’s the fun of immortality without taking risks. ‘Sides, the boy was a white knight. He leaned back.

“All right.”





Part Five


Harris stared at him.

“Yeah, right, asshole.” He sat up. “You’re stronger than me or you’ll use that voice thing.”

Spike shrugged, taking a gamble, counting on the boy’s decency and whatever the red witch had done to them to get him through.

“Tie me up, then. Gag me.”

He nearly lost it at the expression on the boy’s face. Xander shook himself.

“That offer is the best I’ve ever had, bleachie. On so many levels.”

The human swung his legs off the bed and looked around the room, his gaze finally resting on the bed. He picked up the remnants of his shirt. Spike sat up wordlessly and put his hands behind his back. Xander used the shirt to bind his arms together nearly to his elbows.

Spike was interested to see that the boy hadn’t thought to dress himself again. He kept his thoughts to himself, but he couldn’t help his eyes drifting to the package between the boy’s legs. It wasn’t happy at the moment, but even shriveled, Spike could see that it was nice and fat. And the balls beneath were heavy, brimming with life. He wondered idly what it would take to see the whelp full and excited.

Harris picked up the shreds of his boxers and wadded them up, thrusting them into Spike’s mouth. Spike’s eyes widened as the boy’s flavors swamped his palate and drifted up to his nose. The demon part of him was very interested.

But when the human pulled a stake out from under the mattress, the demon forgot about the pleasant smells. Spike kept his human face with effort as Xander approached him. Harris knelt on the bed, and settled the stake just above Spike’s left nipple. The vampire gulped, and closed his eyes, unable to watch as the wood slid in.

“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t do this. You’re dangerous and evil. Killing you would be of the good.”

Spike wished he’d shut up and get on with it. Or not. The pressure on the pointed wood increased, and Spike felt his skin part. He vamped out, unable to stop it, but kept himself from ripping the bonds on his arms with effort when he realized that the boy wasn’t going any further.

“Maybe I deserved it.”

Spike’s eyes flew open as the stake pulled back slightly, but then the boy traced it across his chest, poking at his right nipple with it.

“I tried to do . . . that . . . to Buffy. Maybe that karma thing got me.”

He was circling Spike’s nipple with the wood now, and the demon inside him was still howling in terror, but Spike was getting interested. What the bleeding hell was the boy on about?

“She was strong enough to stop me.”

The stake moved to the center of Spike’s chest, then back to the wound on his left side. Xander dug the wood in a little, further opening the wound that was oozing blood, making more flow. But he pulled back again, and the stake scratched down Spike’s torso, raising welts.

Harris used the stake to lift Spike’s cock and Spike whimpered. Not even Dru had dared play these games with a stake. That would be too edgy for his dark princess. His respect for the mortal grew, even as his body responded to the touch. He was fighting desperately to stop the demon from breaking loose, because he had an inkling that he wasn’t really in any danger, but the demon’s fear was becoming hard to resist.

“If it had been Willow . . . . “

The boy faltered for a moment, the stake dropping. But then the stake was back, rubbing on Spike’s prick and the vampire whimpered as his organ filled. There was a new scent in the room, barely there, one that Spike hadn’t smelled before, but he easily identified it as the boy’s arousal. The mortal was getting off on torturing him.

He felt a small regret that he hadn’t tried to seduce the boy instead of raping him. But his demon had needed it so badly.

The stake was still rubbing him, catching on sensitive parts. His cock was starting to tingle and the whole thing was so nasty, so warped, that Spike couldn’t resist it. He was ashamed of it though, no Master vampire should let a human use him like this. And it was too similar to Angelus for his comfort. But his shame made it sicker, and fuck knows, his demon liked sick shit. The boy worked the stake harder and Spike screeched around the gag, his demon panicking even as his prick exploded, spraying cold come on his thighs. He shuddered, trying to gulp in unneeded air around the sodden cotton.

“Spike.”

Xander knelt in front of him, the stake again in the wound. Spike met the human’s eyes, trying to let his own show his willingness to allow what Xander wanted to do, despite being vamped.

The whelp nodded and threw the stake across the room. He pulled the boxers out of Spike’s mouth.

“Go away, Spike.”

Spike flexed his arms, using his vampiric strength to rip the fabric binding his arms. He concentrated on getting dressed while he regained control of his face. He was angry with himself for many things, disgusted that he’d allowed that, wanting to take it out on the boy. But he was intrigued more than anything else, he decided.

Xander wrapped himself in the blankets, watching the vampire dress expressionlessly. When Spike was finished, he couldn’t stop his own curiosity.

“What were you talking about?”

The whelp shrugged.

“I was possessed by a demon once. A hyena demon. I did some things . . .” He shuddered. “Things I regret. I don’t forgive you, but I know . . . what it’s like.”

Spike nodded, gathering up his duster and heading out of the apartment. He had a lot to think about.




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