WARNING: This fic will include violence, torture, bondage, character death, bloodplay,
etc...
 

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Graham walked around the room, his eyes slowly, methodically, going over every inch of
his ?cell?.  The first seven times he had done this exercise he had found nothing useful,
but he had to keep trying, had to keep looking.  There must have been something he
missed.

Two doors, one open, leading to a small bathroom.  The other closed, locked, leading to
what Graham presumed was a way out.  No windows.  One bed, brass, neatly made except
for the wrinkles in the cover showing where Graham?s body had lain earlier.  One table,
made of ornately worked pieces of iron, welded together.  No loose pieces.  No dressers,
or bureaus, or desks.  Nothing wooden.

Barring the regular fixtures, the bathroom was just as barren  A toilet.  A glass encased
showerstall.  A porcelain sink.  A mirrored, empty medicine cabinet.  The only auxiliary
things were the extra rolls of toilet paper and bars of soap that sat under the sink.

Graham had to admit that the vampire did a good job of clearing the place out.  But
there was one thing that spoke of it?s previous owner, that told the Marine this wasn?t
the creature?s normal lair.  The purple and white daisies on the bedspread.

Someone used to *live* there, and not too long ago.  If Graham put his face into the
pillow and breathed deeply he could just make out something.  The faintest whiff of
strawberries.  It wasn?t strong enough to be perfume.  Maybe shampoo.  Whoever had
lived there had used strawberry shampoo and liked the look of purple and white daisies.
And had invited the wrong person in one night.  Or maybe it had just taken her on the
street, killing her before she had a chance to scream, and then pocketing her keys.
Graham didn?t know.  He didn?t want to know.  Didn?t want to think about why he wasn?t
just killed on the street as well.

Of course, not wanting to think about something invariably leads to thinking about that
exact thing.  The Marine leaned against one of the walls as he once again began to
speculate on what was going to happen to him.  Every single vampire victim, both alive and
dead, he had ever seen flickered in front of his eyes.  Everything he had read.
Everything he had learned.  Everything he knew these creatures were capable of.

He slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor, eyes staring blindly ahead, mind
filled with unspeakable horrors.  Graham had thought he made his peace with death a
long time ago.  He knew signing up that he would be put into situations where people would
try to kill him, where he would have to kill them first.  It was his job.  For better or for
worse, he had always thought that when it was his time, he wasn?t going to make a big
fuss over going.

He had come to that decision during ?special? training.  Back when he was learning sniper
skills and how to repel out of a helicopter without breaking both legs.  Of course, then, in
any conceivable action he would have been a part of, death was easy.  Double tap to the
head.  Knife across the throat.  Five seconds at the most.
Then, goodbye cruel world, hello whatever comes next.  And, he was cool with that.

But the vampire wasn?t going to abide by those rules.  It didn?t want him dead, at least,
not yet.  It wanted to play first.  It had even used that word.  Play.  Graham had no
illusions about what was going to happen.  He wasn?t an idiot, he wasn?t naive... and he
couldn?t do anything to stop it.

That was going to be the hardest part, just laying back and taking whatever the thing
threw at him.  But he couldn?t fight back, no matter what.  Unless... unless he could
actually figure out a way to kill the demon.  The deceptively innocent looking demon from
hell that had threatened his family.

And that was the crux of everything.  The monster had brought his family into this.
Graham knew he could always rush the vampire.  If the moment was right, and he had
surprise on his side, he might even be able to get out of the bedroom.  And, if he was
lucky, *really* lucky, there might  be something to use as a weapon outside.  The thing
couldn?t have gotten rid of *all* of the wooden products in the entire apartment, right?

Graham thought about all this.  Mulled it over, tried to come up with all possible
scenarios, weighing the options in his mind.  If it was just his life on the line he?d do it,
no hesitation.  But, that wasn?t the case this time, and Graham didn?t want to do anything
to piss off the vamp.

He snorted at the thought, disgust clearly heard in the derogatory sound.  He banged
the back of his head against the wall.  Then, for good measure, he banged it a few more
times.  Maybe if he hit it hard enough he would stop thinking about how long it was going
to take him to die.  He would stop worrying about whether or not his family would be
safe even with his cooperation.  He would stop wondering what the vampire meant when
it said it was going out for supplies.  He banged his head a few more times.

Absorbed in the dull thump that was produced as his skull hit the painted drywall,
Graham almost didn?t notice the soft scrape of a deadbolt being slid back.  But he was
fully aware, and on his feet, when the door to the bedroom opened.  He blinked at his
captor, not quite getting what he was seeing.  Of all the things he expected the vampire
to walk through the door with, a bag from a fast food restaurant wasn?t one of them.

?Thought you might be hungry,?  it said with a slight smile.

Graham didn?t think he was, but at the sight of that brown bag with the red and yellow
on it, his stomach growled out a Pavlovian response.

It held out the bag.  ?Here.?

Graham licked his lips.  ?No... thanks.?

The vampire blinked, then, in an instant he was in front of Graham, pressing the Marine
into the wall, a cold, unnaturally strong hand once again at his throat.  ?Here I am, trying
to do something all nice, and *this* is how you act?!?

Unwillingly, Graham made a small sound of protest as inhuman fingers pressed harshly
into his already bruised skin.

As quick as it had appeared, Xander?s rage was gone.  He frowned and released his hold
on the Marine?s neck, though he didn?t move away.  Instead, his questing fingers pulled
aside the collar of Graham?s shirt, revealing dark purple bruises.  ?Well, something got
too close, didn?t it??  Xander?s eyes darkened.  He hated the fact that something had
marred his newest acquisition before he got the chance to do it himself.  That was all
right, though.  If the human lived long enough bruises would heal.  They wouldn?t leave a
trace.  Xander just had to make sure that whatever he did, would.  All the greats signed
their work, didn?t they?

Xander had been thinking also.  It seemed his intentions towards this mortal were
changing every other minute.  Food.  Fodder.  Fuck toy.  A vamp could go nuts over the
whole thing.  And he hadn?t been sure why he was waffling about any of this, after all, he
knew what he was supposed to do.  But, in the middle of Home Depot, it hit him.  Why
should he do what was expected when no one else was around anyway?

For the first time in his unlife he was alone.  Really, truly alone.  No minions to put on airs
for.  No Darla looking over his shoulder critiquing his techniques.  No Willow pouting and
then hogging the flogger.  He had said it before, but it hadn?t really sunk in.  It was just
him and Graham.  There were no expectations, no right or wrongs.  Xander could do
whatever the hell he wanted.

That thought opened up a few new possibilities.  There were things Xander had always
thought about trying but never actually got around to.  It just would have been too
complicated.  Willow would have wanted to play too, and she had been too far gone to
understand the meaning of the word subtle.  Anything Xander built, she would have
destroyed, not out of malice or spite, but because that was the only thing she was
capable of anymore.

And the Master certainly wouldn?t have approved.  Old Batface had stopped thinking of
humans as anything but food a long time ago.  Xander made a mental note to ask Graham
what happened to the other two vampires and their kin, not that he was going to do
anything about it besides probably have a good, long, hard laugh.  But, later.  First he
wanted to get started on his new plan.  He had no idea how long it was going to take,
though, considering his guinea pig?s obvious physical and mental strength, it might be a
while before those walls of propriety crumbled down.  Good.  Xander had been looking for
a challenge.

It was ridiculously easy to break someone physically.  With fists and fangs he could
reduce this proud, unyielding body to a crushed husk in the matter of a few minutes.  And
while, yes, that might be fun, if he looked at the bigger picture it wouldn?t really do
either of them any good.

So, Xander had another plan of attack.  It was nothing to make Graham cringe away from
contact, but it was quite another to make him arch into it.  To make him want it.  That
was his new objective.  Turn the big, tough Marine into a begging, pleading bundle of
exposed, aroused, nerve endings.

Xander backed away a bit, giving the human a little extra space, then grinned.  He
pressed the fast food bag to Graham?s chest.  ?Eat.  After you?re done, go in and take a
shower.  Don?t bother putting your clothes back on.?  He paused for a moment, savoring
the look on Graham?s face.  ?I?ve still got a few things to take care of in the other room,
but I won?t be long, and when I get back...?  Xander left the statement open ended,
knowing what the human?s mind was going to come up with was going to be infinitely worse
than anything he was actually going to do.

Food and a fuck toy.  Xander smiled.  It would be nice not having to get out of bed for a
noon snack.

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