Don't ask. I have no idea.
Dec. 7th, 2004 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backupHe finds him on the floor. Beaten. Bloodied. Bruised beyond all recognition. But it smells like him. Plus there's that damn floppy hair.
He's almost surprised at the rage that boils within at the sight before him...almost. It's obvious the Regar demons have had their fun; as has their master, judging by the state of Xander's...undress. Had there not been the overwhelming stench of vomit, excrement, and other far more vile bodily fluids, not to mention the corpses scattered about the room in various states of decay, Spike might have been intrigued. But he had nothing to do with this. The boy had nothing to do with this. It was all mob mentality fueled by a sodding demon hormone.
Gentleness would be lost at this point. Spike was just glad that Harris was unconscious. Made the whole picking up and chucking him over a shoulder much more manageable.
He pushed the door open with his free hand; daylight was coming. The tingles on his neck, not to mention the paperboy doing his rounds told him so. Crypt then. Witches and Slayer later.
In a practiced motion he withdrew a cigarette from his pocket and then the lighter. Fag in one hand. Xander in the other. Things were looking up.
He's almost surprised at the rage that boils within at the sight before him...almost. It's obvious the Regar demons have had their fun; as has their master, judging by the state of Xander's...undress. Had there not been the overwhelming stench of vomit, excrement, and other far more vile bodily fluids, not to mention the corpses scattered about the room in various states of decay, Spike might have been intrigued. But he had nothing to do with this. The boy had nothing to do with this. It was all mob mentality fueled by a sodding demon hormone.
Gentleness would be lost at this point. Spike was just glad that Harris was unconscious. Made the whole picking up and chucking him over a shoulder much more manageable.
He pushed the door open with his free hand; daylight was coming. The tingles on his neck, not to mention the paperboy doing his rounds told him so. Crypt then. Witches and Slayer later.
In a practiced motion he withdrew a cigarette from his pocket and then the lighter. Fag in one hand. Xander in the other. Things were looking up.
