What He Needs
by Rune
I'm pretty sure I know why I'm here.
It's hard to focus on anything other than the pain, but I'm pretty sure I
know why I'm here.
Addiction.
That's it, addiction.
I'm an addict.
((Sharp hiss of pain))
Ahhhhhhh Christ, but he's getting good at this!
((Whimper))
Bloody fuckin' hell it hurts
ithurtsithurtsohJesusfuckingChristonabroomstickithurts!
But I'm here.
Here am I.
I'm here; here and hanging by my bleedin' wrists from manacles and rattling
these chains like some kind of freaky, evil, sadomasochistic fuckin' Muppet.
Yeah, I'm Jim Henson's worst fuckin' nightmare, me.
((Grunt))
OH SHIT!
Sometimes, just sometimes I wish he wouldn't fuck me dry. Just a little
lube, just enough to stop from ripping my insides apart; just enough so that
I can at least enjoy a fuck sometime in the next two weeks without nearly
biting my own lip off with the pain.
The game would still be The Game.
It wouldn't spoil the illusion.
The song would remain the same, and the vampire would still scream.
I can hear him now.
Chanting, his words rasping hotly in my ear, voice hoarse and tight with
desire and emotion and fury.
The same mantra every single time.
'Kill you, kill you, fuckin' kill you.'
Bamm.
Bamm.
Bamm as he slams into me; his body pounding, punishing, ripping asunder.
And oh, those sweet nothings that tickle my ear.
'Kill you, kill you, fuckin' kill you.'
Fuck, but this hurts.
I can feel blood trickling down the insides of my thighs.
The pain has evolved into a white-hot flare of agony that radiates from my
ass and down my hip muscles which tremble with the pain and exertion of
trying to support some of his weight.
He's bigger than me.
If I took the weight on my arms, I'd most likely dislocate my shoulders
again. If you've ever done that, you'll know why I'm trying to avoid it.
It feels like some big bastard tried to pull your arms out and damn near
succeeded.
But you know what the big joke is? You know what the irony of it all is?
I'm here of my own free will.
I'm a Master vampire. I'm fuckin' immortal. I'm an evil, unrepentant,
genocidal son-of-a-bitch who could snap this whelp's fuckin' neck like a
TWIG if I so took the notion.
I'm a whirlwind of black, ugly death; a holocaust of fuckin' PAIN and I'm
swinging 'ere on these bloody manacles while some BOY, some dark-haired,
puppy-eyed, frightened and abused child has his way with me.
While he tortures, humiliates and beats the ever-loving SHIT out of me.
And when it's over, and it will be over soon...
When it's over.
It'll be silent.
He'll catch his breath, and when he does he'll unlock the manacles, lift me
in his arms with ease and deposit me onto his soft bed, which he's had the
foresight to cover with an old sheet.
Can't get blood on those new bedclothes.
Then he'll look at me. He'll look at me with those dark, mahogany eyes.
This is the part I hate.
I'm lying 'ere. I'm bleeding, some of my bones are broken, my ass is like
mince-meat and my throat is raw with screaming but THIS is the part I hate
the most.
Why?
Because he cries.
He'll sponge me down, so gently you'd never believe he could hurt a fly.
He'll put ointment on my wounds, dress those that need it. Finally, he'll
feed me with warm, sweet blood from his own veins.
And all that time he'll be weeping.
You see, he's an addict too. He doesn't want to do this. Hell, this boy
doesn't have an evil bone in his whole body.
He doesn't want to do this.
He NEEDS to do this.
Lemme explain.
Y'see...
MY addiction comes from my Sire. I loved Angelus, Amen.
I loved him.
He tortured me. He humiliated me. He broke me in ways you could never
conceive of.
But still I loved him.
He was my daddy, you see. No matter how much he hurt me, no matter how many
times I promised myself I'd walk away, I always relented.
I stayed home.
Home is where the heart is, where daddy is. I could no more leave Angelus
than I could stake meself, I needed the pain, I THRIVED on the pain.
Because it was a gift from daddy.
And it's just the same for the boy.
His bastard father has beaten him and his mother for as long as he can
remember. Put the whelp in hospital once or twice.
Dear old dad even allowed that fuckin' paedophile bastard uncle to butt-fuck
the boy once or twice. For the price of a bottle of whiskey of course.
But the boy loved him. Loved him and feared him.
Humph! Yeah, I can relate. You don't get to choose who you love OR fear.
Now me, I've been punishing mankind for daddy's sins for decades.
I didn't used to torture my food you know. But all that pent-up rage, all
that frustration; well, it had to come out somehow. The more vicious a
beating or fucking I got from daddy, the worse it was for my food. I don't
like to call them victims. I don't see them as victims.
Do you see COWS as victims?
The American obsession with McDonalds and Burger King tells me no.
It's the same with the boy, except he had no outlet. I don't think sneaking
into fields at night and torturing a few cows was an option for him, so it
stood to reason that something was gonna give.
Bloody Slayer! Supposed to be his FRIEND and she can't fuckin' see what's
been going on underneath that re-moulded little nose of hers all these
years. Christ, the boy's wandering about nearly catatonic with grief and
pain sometimes and all she can do is send him on fuckin' donut-runs for her
and that sanctimonious soddin' Watcher.
As for Red, well she's so busy shaggin' her little squeeze toy she's nearly
cross-eyed, so no chance of her noticing anything.
Finn knows.
I KNOW he knows. But you know what? That asshole is living in a world of
fuckin' pain all of his own. And here's the doozy - Slayer doesn't see HIS
pain either. Selfish little bitch.
I love her, you know.
Oh fuck no, not in THAT kind of a way. Give me SOME credit, please! No, my
demon loves her. Loves the rage she ignites in him, loves the hate and how
keenly it burns, and how well she fans the flames. Loves the fantasy of
taking her and ripping her apart; decimating, dissecting, degrading. Loves
how Angelus loved her in his own homicidal, psychotic, twisted way. His
demon way. My demon way.
In my wildest fantasy, I'm with them both; a willing apprentice of Angelus
in the taming of the Slayer, the raping of the Slayer, the ending of the
Slayer. Angelus and I fuck in the spilt, stolen pools of her rich,
intoxicating blood and suck the sweet marrow from her bones.
No fuckin' white wedding shit here, pet; no 'Wind Beneath My Wings'. This
is demon love.
But back to the boy.
And me. Because NOW, there is no him and me, there's only US.
I'd been having these headaches. Damn chip was fuckin' around inside me
head something rotten. I think it must have been some of the cracks to the
skull I got helping Slayer with her demon problem. Actually, I wasn't doing
it to help her; truth be told it was my only outlet. I was wanking
practically half the bloody time I was awake and the hunger and the burning
still never let up. I discovered that a little healthy demon killing here
and there eased the pain, made the pigs blood just that little bit easier to
get down my throat. That coupled with the fact that killing something,
ANYTHING, got me off.
Anyhow.
I'd been having these headaches and they were getting worse. One night I
went around to the whelps house; not for any other reason than to annoy him.
Oh shit, he was always up for it. Demon girl had just blown him off and I
knew he'd be feeling a little vulnerable.
Fuck, I love that word.
Vulnerable... It just trips off the tongue all smooth and silky like pre-cum
or a woman's juices when you're tonguing her.
So. I went to his house, I taunted him, and he surprised me by kicking my
ass. No, really. He beat the shit out of me! Not a damn thing I could do,
what with the chip and all, so I just lay there on the floor whilst he
kicked ten bells out of me.
He told me later I was out of it for three hours. He knew I wasn't dead as
I hadn't turned to a big pile of dust, so he hung around biting his nails
and gettin' all angsty 'cause he thought he had really hurt me bad. The
WORST thing for him was that he came. He had an orgasm while he kicked and
pounded me.
((Chuckle))
Horny little bastard. There are hidden depths to Xander; hidden depths that
glimmer behind those dark eyes and screech a siren's song to me, hidden
depths that I want to plunder and nurture and fuck into the mattress.
((Sigh))
Anyhow, he told me later that after the beating he felt so light and free;
all his agitation, his hate and his rage was tempered for a while.
And so it began.
Don't ask me how, or who suggested it. It just seemed to happen.
We both NEEDED.
I needed the harsh fuckin' loving that I used to get from my Sire, and he
needed to pound out his frustration and rage without actually hurting
anyone. Sure, yeah, it hurts me at the time, but I heal really quickly and
it's not as if he could beat me to death.
But if he ever started on a human...
Mmmmmm, yeah...
Little Xander has potential I haven't seen since Jeffrey fuckin' Dahmer.
So when it gets too much for him, whenever the pressure is on he comes to me
for some hard, angry hurting and fucking. I don't think he realises just
how addicted he has become to Dr Spike's little sessions. Huh, I could make
a fucking FORTUNE as a therapist, me! Or maybe not. America's serial
killer population is thriving quite nicely without any help from yours
truly.
It was last weeks session, however, that changed everything. In the true
style of cataclysmic happenings, things will never be the same again.
I hit him.
Funny thing is, neither of us noticed the enormity of the act at the time.
He was hurting me, as usual. I must have been in a mood, I dunno... But he
bit me hard on the balls and I couldn't stop the demon coming out. Before I
knew it, he was lying in a heap on the floor; big shit-eatin' grin all over
his face.
'Hey... We gotta try that sometime. Next time, you can hurt me.' he
grinned, all bloody mouth and hard-on.
It's funny that sometimes when the really important things happen they just
pass you by. It's not until later, when that big old projector in your
brain starts churning out the days events JUST before you fall asleep, that
you have your epiphany.
I wept.
I don't mind telling you that I wept.
For the first time since the soldier fucks violated me I actually hit a
human without serious painy badness to my brain.
So. I decided to try it out.
I was very careful. Definitely did NOT want to alert the Slayer to her
approaching annihilation at the hands of Mr Fangless as she is so FOND of
calling me.
Oh the bloody fucking joy of it all!
I'm free. Thanks to my pet, I'm free. Oh those magic Xander feet that
pounded that hated chip right out of my brain.
Ahhhh. It's silent now, he's finished.
I hear him trying to slow down his breathing. Soon he'll unlock the
manacles and the wackiness will ensue.
I don't know why I felt the need to give him this one last session. I think
it was primarily for me; it's the last time I'll feel his heat and his pain.
Tomorrow, he'll be my Childe and his education will begin...
Then HE will scream.
Fuck, what a beautiful piece of art he'll be; I've already unlocked those
delicious, sadistic urges and when the demon takes hold, when he's Turned,
he'll be the fuckin' Picasso of vampires and I his proud daddy.
You'd better believe me when I say that NO ONE will ever hurt him again.
No one, that is, except me.
Awwww, look at him now; all teary-eyed and flushed. I wonder if he can put
on that helpless face so convincingly when he's Turned? I rather think
he'll enjoy what I've got planned for Slayer, after all, he's always wanted
to fuck her.
Oh well.
Time for closure.
((Chuckle))
He's seen my fangs.
Oh, the sweet smell of fear! Xander, my love... You wear it SO well!
But then, so did Finn. Another tortured boy SO in need of Dr Spike's loving
attention, so in need of a lovin' daddy.
I'll be a good daddy; Angelus has taught me well.
I'll mould, I'll torture and I'll knock the fight out of them so they'll
never leave me.
They'll love me like I love him.
Will it cure my addiction?
No.
Angelus is the only cure for what ails me.
But when things are wrapped up here in Sunnydale; when the Slayer is just so
much gore walked into Xander's carpet, THEN...
Then me and my brood will move to LA and pay their Grandsire a little visit;
lure him back to the fold.
We need him...
I need him.
And I'm not going to take no for an answer.
Then we'll have our hap, hap, happy home.
THE END
