(PART1)
He was in a hell of a lot of pain. It began from the mark he knew was on his arm and then spread out like a wave of fiery agony. But the pain wasn't the worst of it. No, pain was almost a constant part of his everyday life and had been for years, from the abuse of his father and parents, to the jocks at school, to the vampires and demons at night on patrol with the others. Pain, one could say, was almost his constant companion.
No, the pain was definitely not the worst of it. It was the dreams. Or nightmares really. Night terrors more like it as he was forced to watch the vision floating through his consciousness.
Oh, he knew he was unconscious, for starters the pain was less noticeable, more like background noise rather than a present and ignorable agony. The other part was he'd always been at least partially aware that he /was/ dreaming whenever he found himself dreaming and this was no different. Except for what he was dreaming about.
{Xander's Night Terrors}
/"Noooo! Please, oh god, please NOOOO!" It was Buffy. Screaming as she was dragged across the ground against her will. Her fingers even dug into the cement of the road, leaving trenches in her wake, her hands now bloody and broken from her attempt at escape./
/"Noooo! Stop it! Oh god, please, just stop it, please!" she cried as she was dragged onto a patch of barren earth, devoid of anything but mud and dirt./
/Suddenly, whatever was dragging her along, stopped and then flipped her over and repeatedly punched and hit the cowering Slayer until even he could barely recognize her face. In a motion faster than the eye could follow, Buffy's pants were torn open and immediately forced to past her knees./
/"NOOOO! Oh god, someone PLEASE! NOOOO!" she cried./
/The same motion had her panties ripped right off of her body and then stuffed into her mouth as a gag. Next her top, shirt and bra beneath it, were torn right down the middle revealing the healthy tanned skin of her torso. What remained of her top and her jacket were then stripped off of her and somehow bonds were made that held her arms spread eagle out from her body. Her muffled screams were loud and piercing but unintelligible./
/Her thighs were shoved open and spread apart. Xander Harris's face came into view directly above her, his engorged cock waiting at her nether lips. Buffy's eyes went wide and she screamed even louder through her soiled panties./
/With a savage grunt, and a cruel smirk, Xander lunged forward and took her . . ./
/Willow's cheeks hollowed as she increased suction. The hot pulsing member in her mouth twitched with pleasure and the innocent looking redhead smiled with delight around the phallus passing through her lips. She looked up into cruel, demanding and savage dark eyes, magnified by the evil smirk on his face./
/Luckily for her, he saw no anger or deception in her eyes as she gazed up at him from her giving him a blow job. He saw only blind love and adoration of a broken slave to its master. It meant he didn't have to interrupt his blow job to kill her./
/Instead, he just roughly grabbed her by the crimson locks and forced her to take more of his impossible length down her throat until he actually saw her neck bulge and expand around him with each thrust. He pushed harder, faster, getting closer to his own selfish orgasm./
/The pale girl's face began to flush red, and then, as he no longer allowed his member to fully exit her throat for even a moment, purple and a darker red, her eyes bugging out as she asphyxiated. To ensure his pleasure, he harshly pushed down on the back of her head, forcing himself even further down her throat into her esophagus, her eyes now bugging out of her head in an almost inhuman manner, the red veins of the eyeballs bursting, flooding her eye with red blood./
/He roared as he felt the potent semen swell in his balls and then expand his cock wider as it exploded out of him and directly into the poor girl's stomach, the bulge of the built-up cum stretching and breaking her larynx and esophagus in several places./
/With a final gasp of pleasure, he smoothly pulled the still-warm corpse off his cock and leaned forward to look at her bloody and bruised face. Looks like I ended up killing her anyway, oh well, he thought to himself before tossing the dying body away like it was less than nothing. Xander stood and walked away without so much as a glance back, not even when Willow gave one last attempt at life, and ended up regurgitating all his cum, a lot of blood, and half her guts, thereby drowning in her own fluids before finally dying entirely./
/"No! NO!! You can't do this to me! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!!" Cordelia Chase screamed as her ass was penetrated by her rapist's hard tool.
/She was tied down, naked, her hips and ass raised up by both the cold metal chair she'd been put on and the way she'd been tied. Xander leaned down over her, grabbed her long brown mane and used it as reins to increase the pace of his thrusts. She screamed bloody murder before choking on her own spit, and then could only moan in despair and mounting lust as he just kept going faster, harder, drilling deeper into her in the most painful of ways./
/Seeing that she was beginning to enjoy it some, Xander cruelly, and without mercy, moved one of his hands to her tits and began pawing and mauling them, like they were fleshy handle holds. Her cries began anew, the pain making her go insane as her pleasure, against her will, kept rising and taking hold of her reactions./
/Against her will, she came, fighting every sensation, hating herself, her body, but above all else, her tormentor. "!!!" she came, in her shame, and broken./
/He stared without mercy at the broken figure, chained to the wall, naked save her chains, bloody, beaten, superficial injuries. He took a drag from a smoking cigarette, then a long shot from a bottle of alcohol in his other hand./
/She heard him. Looking up, Xander could see Jenny Calendar's face. She didn't try to cover her nudity, didn't meet his eyes either. It was more like she looked through him, like she couldn't really see him. Her spirit was crushed, and her body was following slowly./
/Taking another drag and another shot, he stepped towards her, unzipped himself, and then relieved himself. His piss drenched her hair and face, but still she didn't really react. Oh, her mouth opened to take the nourishment, though that was hardly nourishing. But she was as good as dead. She couldn't really do anything anymore. Except die./
/After relieving himself, he just turned and left, leaving her chained to that wall, slamming a locked door behind him, leaving her to rot./
It went on and on and on. Sometimes his closest friends, sometimes just girls he'd seen around school. But always it was him, and he was doing . . . things to them. Horrible, wrong things. He couldn't take it anymore, and kept trying to wake up, but he couldn't. Something wouldn't let him.
And so it continued, the images, visions, dreams, pure terrors one right after the other, a never ending cycle of cruelty, sadism, and sexual lust. It continued until Xander felt he would lose his mind or his soul, one or the other. When it did finally end, he'd stopped fighting the images, becoming numb to it, no longer caring that it was his friends and loved ones that he was doing these things to. He no longer cared.
//////////
Buffy was softly crying as she wiped a wet cloth over Xander's forehead. He'd started having nightmares a while ago, tossing and turning in his sleep, sometimes moaning a "No" or a "Stop" here and there, then an hour ago he'd gone strangely still, still dreaming, but now he seemed like he was sad instead of fighting whatever he was seeing.
She wished she could help him, but when he'd first started having nightmares and she'd tried to wake him up, something . . . bad had happened. For a second, just a second, it felt like the same sensation of what the demon, the Incubus had done to her and the others. After that, she'd left Xander to his nightmares, not wanting to ever feel . . . that . . . again.
Willow came in a while later, they had put Xander in Giles' office on the couch, and pulled up a chair next to the Slayer, beside the unconscious young man. "How is he?" she asked.
"Still sleeping. He'd been having nightmares earlier, but he seems to have calmed down some now," the Slayer answered. "When did you get back?"
"It's morning Buffy," Willow pointed out with a burst of sympathy.
The blond turned to look at the window and saw that indeed the sun had risen and was actually quite high in the sky. "Oh," she replied, then turning back to Xander and wiping his forehead with the cloth again. "How's the research coming? Giles suggested that I watch Xander, in case he suddenly got some kind of . . . demon strength or something."
"Not good," the redhead answered, "Everything we have on Incubi and Succubi is about their abilities, strengths, weaknesses, patterns of behavior . . . and how to kill them. Nothing about curing an Incubus bite. At least nothing that's worth anything. There are a few things from like the Salem Witch Trials or witch hunts about "curing" the mark of the devil, like drowning, or branding or meaningless drivel like that. Giles is on the phone with some contacts of his in England. Some kind of Coven I think he said."
"Well, maybe they'll have something," Buffy remarked, sounding tired.
"You should get some sleep Buffy," Willow suggested, "I'll watch over Xander for a while. If he wakes up or does anything, I'll be sure to get you immediately. But you won't do anybody, least of all Xander, if you're half-asleep."
"You're probably right, but . . ." she protested.
"You don't have to go home, in fact you could even lay down in here somewhere, I'm sure Giles wouldn't mind if you slept on his desk or in his chair. It's not like he's using them for the moment."
"Yeah, but . . ."
"No buts. Sleep Missy," Willow put on her resolve face.
"OK," she quietly agreed, then went over and grabbed an extra blanket before heading out to the main library, probably to fall asleep on the table. "But you'll call me the second he wakes up, won't you?"
"Get some sleep Buffy," the redhead insisted, physically pushing the super-powered girl from the office.
"Going, I'm going," the blond retorted, leaving Willow alone with Xander.
The redhead instantly took the same point of vigil the Slayer had been in only moments before, looking over her lifelong friend with a concerned eye. "Please be OK Xander," she quietly begged, "Please."
As though in answer, the boy groaned and his head turned towards her. Excited that he might be waking up, Willow moved closer and cried happily, "Xander?"
He groaned again, but then his head turned the other way, and then right back towards her. He groaned a third time, this time arching his neck before moaning in a way she'd never heard him do before. When he made the sound again, this time his entire back arched off of the couch and she blushed bright red in embarrassment as she realized what was going on.
"Definitely not having nightmares anymore," she whispered to herself, flushed sitting back in her seat.
//////////
Willow could not have been more wrong. The night terrors didn't stop, in fact they'd only gotten more and more gruesome and cruel, but something had changed for Xander. At first he could only watch without stopping as "he" did things to his friends and loved ones, slowly becoming numb to seeing himself commit such atrocities. Now, that he'd been effectively acclimated to the scenes, the dreams truly changed as he wasn't watching "himself" do those things, but he started to /do them/ and felt the things happen as they happened to him in the dream. The truly scary part was that he . . . felt things that normally he was sure he wouldn't, and not just the sensations of blood, hitting soft flesh, or raping a tight pussy or ass. He /felt/ things like pleasure at causing a scream of pain, ecstasy at feeling blood and broken skin beneath and between his fingers, and all the time an utter contempt for those that he "punished" in his dreams.
His mind nearly reeled at the conflict that welled up within him, but the core of him, /HE/ fought it and remembered what he truly was even while feeling what these night terrors were forcing him through. At first the terrors continued as always, but suddenly, when he could no longer stand that . . . that /contempt/, his core, /HE/ changed it. The night terrors were still cruel, sexual torments, but there was no more blood, no more contempt. Instead replaced by a feeling of . . . caring, or love. Which in its own way could have been even more insidious than holding nothing but contempt for his dream-victims, Xander now felt love for them, and "believed" that even while doing such horrible things to them, he was doing it because he loved them and they loved, no, needed him to do such things to them.
Continued ONLY If Requested by more than 10 DIFFERENT people...
