2: Night of the K'Taksm

Nobody seems to take any obvious notice of him when he enters the bar, but he can tell he's being watched. The vibe of the place shifts subtly and out of the corners of his eyes, he manages to catch more than one angry glare directed his way. Straightening his posture, he keeps walking, his hands brushing against his various jacket pockets in a reflexive weapons check.

Taser, hand-axe, knife, two stakes.

Not quite the same ring as spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch, but it has a much more reassuring effect. He ambles up to the bar and seats himself on a stool next to a yellow-skinned, salamanderish demon that sits, leaning with its arms on the bar, staring into its beer glass. He can tell it's staring at its beer because on each side of its head is an orange globe of an eyeball, the lizardy, slitty kind, rotated to face forward. It doesn't look his way when he sits down. Thankfully. The bartender, a grumpy, rumpled demon with a mouth like a snapping turtle, continues to listlessly wipe down the same spot of bar a few feet away. Sighing, Xander pulls out a few crumpled bills and lays them out before him. The bartender reluctantly sets aside its towel and shuffles over to him.

"Yeah?" it grunts.

"Gimme a whiskey. Straight up. Uh... no blood."

The bartender turns away without another word. The money disappears and is eventually replaced with a heavily spotted glass containing what is hopefully whiskey.

"Cheers!" Xander lifts his eyebrows in salute and flashes a halfhearted smile as he raises his glass. He's rewarded with another unenthused grunt from the general vicinity of the bartender. The glass hasn't quite touched his lips when he feels the hand on his shoulder. He swivels around.

"Human," the grinning vampire the hand belongs to challenges, "What makes you think you can drink here?"

His hand is already on his stake when the salamander guy turns an eye - and yes, just one of them - on the vamp.

"Better watch it, vampire," it cautions. "This one's with the Slayer."

The vamp hesitates, pulling its hand away, but still isn't entirely impressed. "The Slayer, huh? Should that scare me or somethin'?"

Thrilled that his reputation has preceded him, Xander stands up from his stool, emphasizing the fact that he's about a foot taller than the vamp. He launches into his best Clint Eastwood. "That's right, Blood-breath. The Slayer. I've been dusting uglies like you since before I could shave. Long enough to be able to tell that you're fresh from the grave, inexperienced, and more than a little stupid." Pausing for effect, he adds, "Y'know, I can't even remember how many vamps just like you I've staked in my day." He jabs a finger at the vampire's chest, right over the heart, careful to keep his hold on the stake in his pocket with the other hand. "Not to mention the fact that, by the smell of you, you've been getting your drink on, whereas I have yet to even start. Now, if you're really looking to get your ass kicked, I'll happily dust you in a second. But to be honest, it would bore me, and I was really looking to have a good time tonight."

The vamp stares at him blankly for a moment before shrugging and turning away. "Yeah, whatever," it snorts as it saunters off.

Xander watches it go, giving himself mental high-fives for his victory, with bonus points for use of the word "whereas." He sits back down and takes a quick swallow of his drink, trying not to tremble outwardly as much as he is inwardly.

Oh yeah, Xander Harris, he grins to himself. You're a bad-ass.

He could get used to this demon bar thing. Nothing like it to cure the lonely. Buffy and Dawn have only been gone a day and he's already feeling it. Just knowing that he is to be Sunnydale's only defense against the forces of darkness for awhile is enough to make a guy restless. Yep, it's all up to him. Last of the Scoobies. Well... there's Anya but he hasn't seen her in awhile and she's really more of a Scooby alumni. Alumna? Whatever. She's ex. And a demon. And probably not speaking to him. She hangs out at the Bronze a lot now. Probably drumming up vengeance business. He's seen her there a couple times and they did the polite smiling thing but she had made it pretty clear by the look on her face that stopping to chat wouldn't be an option.

He doesn't go to the Bronze anymore. And even though this summer had been just as boring and Apocalypse-free as every other summer, he figured it would be a good idea to get out of the house and make sure the demon population isn't getting up to any world-endy hijinks on his watch. After all, Buffy might just be kinda disappointed in him if existence as we know it came to a crashing halt while she's away. So just a quick patrol then before bedtime. Patrol had led him to this place, which is currently leading him to his second whiskey. With any luck, whiskey number three would lead him to not dwelling on who may or may not be at the Bronze right now.

Xander Harris, Bad-ass, hasn't quite finished his with whiskey number three when the four-foot tall demon with the slippery looking grey skin and the prehensile tail bursts through the door with a clatter.

"It's the K'Taksm!" It shouts excitedly, hopping up and down a little bit as it speaks. "Mynhork's got it cornered in the alley!" Having made its announcement, the little demon spins around and disappears back out the door even faster than it had entered. Xander looks around, confused, as excited murmurs fill the air and most of the patrons begin to shove their way out the door.

Next to him, salamander guy blinks its double eyelids and shakes its head in disgust. "Idiots," it mutters to its beer.

"What?" Xander asks, his curiosity winning out over the heebie jeebies he gets from looking at the demon next to him. "What's a Cat Tax... A-Hooey?"

Salamander guy grunts, not looking up from its drink. "K'Taksm. An apostate demon." The eyeball closest to Xander swivels back up to look directly at him. "You'd be advised to stay away from it, human. This one's a revenant. Vicious. And more than a little -" he twirls a clawed finger in circles beside what is most likely his temple, right behind the bulbous eye at least. "- If you know what I mean."

"Uh huh," Xander agrees, not entirely sure he knows or not.

"Some say it can infect you with its madness," the demon continues, "...but then again... some are pretty stupid."

Xander peeks back over his shoulder to see that the bar has mostly emptied. "So what's everybody so excited about?"

"Oh, that." Salamander guy rolls its eyes, which - by the way - is a truly disturbing sight. "A lot of the demons have taken to hunting it. It's caused quite a bit of damage to us in the past, you know. There are... resentments. When they catch it, they like to play."

"Play?" He takes another gulp of his whiskey, already wishing he had another. "Like... they chase it down and force it to engage in a rousing game of Yahtzee?

A slithery-sounding chuckle. "Not quite. It's only been cornered twice before. Both times, it escaped. Six dead, total. It's cunning. Quite the challenge for the sporting demon."

Xander turns, looking to the door. "If this Cod Toxic thing is so dangerous, why do these guys keep ticking it off?"

Salamander guy just shrugs and flicks its tongue into its glass, savoring its beer before responding. "It gets boring, y'know? Even on the Hellmouth."

Xander understands boredom. He's not so sure how well he'd really be able to appreciate the demony hijinks, but still... he is kinda curious. After all, why had he even come here? Deep down, wasn't it the need for a little excitement? He asks salamander guy, "Well, why aren't you rushing out there with the rest of them to, uh... play?"

The demon shrugs again and grins at Xander, revealing for the first time a mouthful of needle sharp teeth at least an inch and a half long. "I'm not that bored yet."

Xander returns a squeamish grin of his own, quickly grabbing his whiskey and downing the remainder in one gulp. "I think I'll just go check out the... uh... show... out there."

Salamander guy's grin widens, showing off even more teeth. "Sure. Tell the Slayer I said 'hi,' next time you see her, okay?"

Xander nods as he rises to exit, "I'll do that, yeah."

Stepping outside, he hears the commotion coming from the side alley. Turning to join the crowd, he is nearly plowed over by two hulking demons dragging a third between them. The demon clutches at its stomach and makes some kind of agonized whirring sound deep in its throat. Greenish-yellow stuff, probably its blood pours out through its fingers.

"Mynhork!" One of the demons doing the dragging shouts at the crying demon, "Shut up! It's not as bad as it looks. You've still got three hearts left. Besides, you damaged it well. Did you see it fall?"

The other demon shakes its head. "Big baby," it mutters. "I just lost two hundred kittens. What's one heart compared to that?"

Gulping, Xander pulls out the axe and continues toward the alley brandishing his weapon before him.

A boisterous crowd of demons has gathered in a semicircle around two overflowing dumpsters. There are cheers and heckling and bets being made. As he makes his way through the crush, he also begins to notice snarling, tearing, inhuman cries of pain.

The demons pay little attention to the human pushing through their ranks, so intent are they on the spectacle. Once he's through the bulk of the crowd he's alarmed to see what looks like a human, cornered in the narrow space between the two dumpsters, struggling with a large hairy demon with two yellowed tusks poking out through a long, shaggy beard. Nearby, Xander recognizes the tell-tale pile of dust that must have recently been a vampire and a bit further off, an M'Fashnick demon sprawled in front of one of the dumpsters. It's groaning, one of its arms torn almost completely off. Nobody moves to help this one up. It must not have come with friends.

Catching a glimpse of yellow eyes and fangs glistening in the scant moonlight, Xander quickly realizes that the first figure is a vampire, not a human. Even so, it's clearly wounded. On the defensive. It's been pretty badly crippled and keeps leaning on one of the dumpsters for support as it fights, hobbling miserably once it is knocked free from it. Still, it's putting up a good fight, snarling, back against the wall, ducking and lashing out to defend itself against the tusky monster's attack. But as the fight wears on, its defenses grow slower. More often than not, the monster's blows land.

After rendering an audibly bone-cracking kick to the vamp's ribs, causing it to double over and cough up a gout of dark blood, the monster pauses to gloat. With a rumbling laugh, it turns its head to the assembled rabble.

"See?" it proclaims, "Like biting the head off a kitten!"

The other demons join it in its laughter. Xander, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable - probably just because of the kitten imagery, fails to join in.

Various demons mill around, collecting their bets as those who had bet on the vampire grumble bitterly. Tusky struts before them a few times before turning to finish off its opponent. It isn't fast enough to notice as the vamp, bellowing in agony and desperation, launches itself at him. Bringing an awkwardly dangling leg up, it manages to smash its knee directly between the creature's hairy legs.

Judging by the monster's reaction, Xander surmises that this particular demon's anatomy is much like a human's, at least when it comes to special ouchie places. He can't help but wince a little in sympathy as the demon's eyes bulge and it crashes, wheezing, to its knees. Wasting no time, the vamp lunges forward, sinking its fangs into the creature's neck and pulling back, ripping the thing's throat wide open. Ropes of blood whip out and splatter on the ground in arcing spirograph patterns. The vampire staggers and falls. It tries to pull itself back to its feet but the dangling leg won't hold any weight at all now. Still snarling and wild eyed, it drags itself into the corner where one of the dumpsters meets the building wall, as far from the mob as it can get.

Feeling sickened, Xander turns to leave. The battle or whatever it had been is over. He's had enough of a demon-style good time for one night. Maybe a quiet night at home with frozen burritos and infomercials isn't such a bad idea after all.

"Who's got next?" a voice calls.

Xander turns back, recognizing the voice of the cocky little vamp from earlier.

"I'll go," shrugs an apathetic-looking young demon with antlers on its head. The antlers seemed to be excreting some kind of pus that keeps sloughing off onto its Old Navy flag tee shirt. It doesn't seem to notice or care. This new demon steps forward through the crowd with the others chuckling and clapping it on the back as it approaches, clacking its hooved fists together. Fresh bets are placed.

It isn't over. The vamp really doesn't have a chance at all with the demons coming at it one at a time until it's completely worn out. Xander feels kinda dirty just watching - even dirtier than when he catches himself being riveted to one of those reality t.v. shows. It's not like he's ever exactly been leader of the vampire pep squad, of course. And as far as he's concerned, demons are welcome to thrash each other as much as they like. But this just seems kinda unfair. He stays to watch though, feeling like a rubbernecker at a car crash.

The vampire slips down so low it's nearly lying under the dumpster. It might be trying to get under the dumpster to hide or to slip away, but there isn't nearly enough clearance. Xander finds himself hoping that this latest demon ends it quickly, at least. He, himself has always been one to just dust and run. Even Buffy would usually stop at a few quick puns before dusting a vamp. Okay, the punning is kinda cruel maybe... but not like this.

"Rip his guts out!" the cocky vamp shouts. The antlered demon nods and lowers its head. It's going to use its antlers.

But it doesn't get a chance to because at that moment, the dumpster flips over, spilling an overabundance of incredibly smelly trash onto the crowd and forcing the antlered demon to jump back. Xander darts to the side just in time to avoid being buried up to his knees in demon garbage. A whoop of excitement rises from the crowd as demons crawl out of the filth to give chase. The vampire is trying to escape from the alley but its dumpster flipping trick hasn't bought it enough time. It's loping on all fours, or... all threes... dragging its mangled leg behind it. The cocky vamp shoves Xander aside as it climbs free of the garbage and tries to join the pursuit. That's it. Xander's had it with him. He swings the axe up smoothly, lodging it in the back of cocky vamp's neck and severing the spine. The axe is much too small for a beheading, but Xander already has his stake out before the vamp can even fall. All that lands is dust. And the axe, which Xander picks up and wipes on his shirttail. He hates vamp dust.

When he looks up, he sees that the K'Taksm - vampire, whatever - has turned, apparently realizing that it isn't going to make it out of the alley alive. Or... well... undead. It's making its final stand. Thanks to the light coming from the street, Xander catches a glimpse of its snarling face as it launches itself into the middle of the pursuing mob. The demons fall on it and Xander loses sight of it completely as it's buried in a hell-beast dogpile.

Xander's mouth drops open. Spike? Holy cats! The K'Taksm is Spike! That's just... actually, kinda predictable, when he thinks about it. He stands with his mouth hanging open, not sure what he should do for about two seconds. Then his brain obviously short-circuits because he runs, leaping onto the side of the overturned dumpster.

"Hey!" he shouts, his voice completely swallowed by the din. He leans down, pounding his axe on the dumpster. The resultant clanging is enough to get the attention of most and heads begin to turn toward him. "Hey!" he yells again. "Hold it!"

More heads turn and the din becomes a disgruntled rumble. He's interrupting their fun. There's an expectant pause while they wait to see what the puny human has to say. His mind races to catch up with his actions. Sadly, yelling "hey" had pretty much been the extent of his plan so far. He decides to punt.

"That's Spike!" he points at the dogpile, hoping the vampire is still in there somewhere.

There are assorted mutters of response. The consensus reply seems to be, "Well... yeah."

He can't believe he's actually doing this. A part of him is tempted to just step down with a weak, "Okay, just checking," and leave the demons to their fun. But he remembers the look on Buffy's face when she'd tried to explain to them about what Warren had done to the guy. Although Xander still suspects that it might have been some kind of trick to throw her off guard... or to gain sympathy enough for the vamp to get into her pants or something. Hey... he knows the old sympathy trick. Not... uh... that he'd ever tried to use it or anything.

Buffy had been adamant about finding Spike. She had been sure that he had survived somehow and that she would eventually find him. Even as she was getting ready to leave town, she'd asked Xander to keep an eye out. Xander hasn't really been actively looking, per se... He'd been sure that if Spike wasn't dust in the wind by now, he's at least long gone. And Buffy would be better off for it. He'd never really gotten why she seemed to care so much. Once, he'd even jokingly asked her if she was in love with Spike or something. Instead of the automatic ick noises and spitting he'd expected, she'd just shaken her head sadly and looked up at him.

"Let's put it this way," she had answered, "He's fought beside us, right? He's part of the team... well... kinda. More like a spare part. Anyway, I just... well, you were soldier boy once, right? Let's just say I don't like the idea of leaving a man behind. Does that make sense?" And it sorta did. And lucky for Spike... or, more precisely, unlucky for Xander... he'd given his word. And his loyalty to Buffy outweighs his distaste for the annoying vampire.

"All right. That's it," he finds himself saying. "Demon fight club is over. Go home... or... slime pit, or wherever the hell you things live."

More and more demons rise up from the pile. They stand to stare at him like he's a crazy man. They're probably right.

"Perhaps we play with you next, human?" A leather-clad demon with sharp bone ridges running from its forehead to the base of its skull like razor-sharp cornrows steps forward, looking him up and down.

A nervous laugh escapes Xander's lips before he can clamp them shut. "Play with me next? Oh, hey, thanks for wanting to include me and everything... but uh... I don't, um... play well... y'know... with others."

The demon smirks and comes even closer, stopping just in front of Xander's dumpster platform. More demons take the opportunity to approach as well. Xander's stomach announces its desire to secede from his body. Maybe he can still make a run for it and forget this whole thing ever happened...

There's a small eruption from the thinned out pile as the little grey demon is thrown from the heap, landing amongst the bags of trash. It's dead, its skull crushed. Demons scatter as the K'Taksm, a.k.a. Spike, pulls himself from the bottom of the pile, growling insensibly and ripping with his teeth at anything he can sink his fangs into. The demons resume their attack, grabbing and slashing and kicking from all sides. Spike goes under again and Xander loses sight of him.

Gritting his teeth, Xander begins pounding again on the dumpster, shouting at the top of his lungs. "I'm speaking for the Slayer, here, you stupid fucking demons! Now cut it out!"

That gets their attention. Several even panic and run at the mere mention of the Slayer. Even bonehead looks around uncertainly. Again, things die to a rumble. The only movement seems to come from Spike who can be seen once again, still thrashing against the demons that hold him down, completely oblivious to anything else going on around him.

Xander licks his lips and repeats, "I speak for the Slayer. I'm with her and so..." he points to Spike, "...is he."

Bonehead snorts at him. "Slayer's not here, human. Just you. Why should we care?"

Xander considers him for a moment. "Y'know, that's a good point." He slams the axe down with the precision and strength of a man who has hammered many a nail. The blade sinks deep into the demon's skull, right between two of the bone ridges. The demon's body jerks once, twice, then sags. Xander pushes his foot against its face for leverage as he pulls the axe back out. The body thumps to the ground and Xander stands still for a second or two, surveying the stunned crowd with narrowed eyes.

"As I was saying," he continues. "Spike belongs to the Slayer. I'll just be taking him back now. You've had your fun. Now it's over. Lay a paw on either of us and she'll find out. Then it'll be her turn to play. You guys pickin' up what I'm layin' down here?" He jumps down from his pedestal and approaches the spot where Spike lies. Demons part reluctantly around him brushing shoulder to shoulder with him as he walks. He tries to keep his knees from shaking so hard they knock together and give him away. The dog pile disperses entirely at his approach, leaving only Mr. K'Taksm lying curled on his side in a seeping pool of blood. Spike looks to be unconscious at this point. The guy is shredded. Literally. As he gets closer, Xander sees a glint of bone jutting out from the messed up leg. He winces. That's not good. He doesn't like seeing stuff like that. Call him old fashioned, but he's always thought that bones should stay on the inside, where they belong.

He knows he has to act fast. The murmur of the demons is getting louder. He needs to grab Spike and get the hell out of there before any of the spectators get any ideas. Just as he bends over to turn Spike onto his back, the vampire, apparently not so unconscious after all, rears up and swipes a fist at him. It misses his face by less than an inch. He feels the whoosh of it as it goes by. There's a ripple of amused laughter from the demons. Xander jumps back just as Spike half-rolls, half-scoots away from him, pulling himself as far as he can get with only one arm - the left one is now dangling uselessly at his side - and the one good leg. He gets as far as the wall and stops, trapped once again. Xander puts the axe away and reaches into his pocket. He tries again to approach the vampire, walking slowly, bent low, trying not to startle him.

"Hey Spike," he says, attempting a soothing voice and failing miserably. "It's me, Xander. Long time no see, huh? So, uh... whatcha been up to? Besides... y'know, being pummeled and stuff?"

When he's a few feet away, the desperate snarling kicks in again. He's close enough now to get a look at Spike's face. He'd taken a pretty good beating. Three deep wounds run down his jaw from his ear to his throat, bleeding heavily. Claw marks. Darkish tangles of hair hang around his face, sticking where there's blood, which is everywhere. He watches Xander with feral yellow eyes, totally not recognizing him. Or maybe recognizing him and not caring. His lips are pulled back warningly, exposing bloodied fangs. The snarl sinks into a low, rattling growl, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Xander stops, knowing that he won't be able to get any closer without losing some of his parts. More snickers from the demons who are watching the show. Standing up straight, Xander takes a step back, plotting out the best way to do this. Settling on a game plan that will hopefully work, he pulls the taser from his pocket and zaps.

Spike's body jerks when the charge hits, then slumps. The disoriented vampire continues to glare at him with frightened eyes as Xander bends over him, grasping him just under the arms and hoisting him into a fireman's carry. He turns abruptly and leaves the alley, ignoring the curious demons that trail him at a distance. His truck isn't far. Not that Spike's even heavy. Xander carries him over his shoulder, circling his arm up and over his back to hold him in place. Since there are probably broken bones aplenty, he tries not to jostle the guy too much. Sympathy for the devil. He's such a sucker. The vampire is still trying to fight, managing only to growl at him in sharp huffing gasps.

"Oh, shut up, you ingrate," Xander grumps as he reaches the truck, opening up the tailgate with his free hand. He drops Spike on the truck bed and jumps up there himself to pull him up off the gate. "See if I ever rescue your demony ass again."

He looks down at the disabled vamp thoughtfully for a moment, then goes to his toolbox and rummages a bit. Spike's head turns slightly to follow his movement. Xander notices. Great. The taser jolt is already starting to wear off.

"Aha," Xander mutters, pulling out a handful of tow rope. "This'll do."

He kneels down and goes to work. Grasping Spike's wrists, he pulls his arms together. Spike's body lurches and his teeth gnash together when Xander moves the left arm. Dislocated shoulder. Nothing to be done about that just yet. Spike's not in any state of mind to listen to reason and he'll be able to move again very soon. Holding the arms together at the wrist, Xander first wraps one of the ropes tightly between and around the wrists themselves, then another around the arms and torso, pinning the arms securely to the body. The third rope he wraps around the ankles. He would do the knees too, but the kneecap looks pretty screwed up on the shattered leg. All bone and gristle and ground up meat. Best to leave that alone for now. Any attempts at kicking would mean moving that leg and he figures Spike would be wanting to avoid that scenario.

He stands up again when he's done. "How's that?" he asks the trussed vamp, smiling down at his handiwork. "Comfy?"

The vamp doesn't answer, but Xander could swear he sees a sneer.