Speed Demon

Chapter Seventeen

“Welcome back, folks, to the New Hampshire International Speedway! The race will be starting any minute, so don’t you go anywhere. In the meantime, we’re here with the father of one of our most popular new drivers. Ian Thomas, a driver well known for his own talent on the track, flew here all the way from London, England to be here tonight to watch his son William ‘Spike’ Thomas take on the rest of the boys in the race for points. He’s currently third in the point standings, just a few behind Tony Stewart, with Earnhardt Junior leading by almost two hundred. You must be very proud of your son, the way he’s followed in your footsteps.”

“Yes, quite. William has always made me proud. I am looking forward to seeing him again. I’m afraid he’s been too busy here to get to come back home often.”

“Well, that’s just too bad! Still, we all know who he’s going to be thinking about while racing this afternoon. It looks like we’re about ready to start now. Dave, what’s happenin’ out there?”

***

Spike started his engine along with the rest of the drivers, the dull roar echoing in the previously quiet confines of the car. His hands were fisted on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching in unconscious time with the muscle in his jaw as he ground his teeth, blue eyes staring unseeingly out the windshield.

His father had been everywhere that morning, everywhere he had looked. All over the television, the radio, with his slimy politician-like voice and his fake, blindingly white public smile. Stomach twisting and tightening, vision blurring as his head went light, he shook his head roughly, breathing in deeply.

The air felt too warm, suffocating against his sweat-cooled, clammy skin. Teeth bit into tongue sharply, the sting and copper taste overpowering the bile rising in his throat as he swallowed convulsively.

The bastard had screwed up so much of his life and now he was there… threatening the one solace he had, ruining the last escape he had been left with. Although they had known for days he was coming, the very fact of it, that the man he had been running from was there and impossible to stay away from, was enough to make his head spin and cause chills to ripple up and down his spine. All of his hard-earned self respect grew shaky, making him feel again like a scrawny little boy watching his father with wide blue eyes, worshiping eyes.

The car in front of him started moving, nudging him out of his mental fog, and with shaking hands, he shifted gears and moved into position. Swallowing the lump in his throat, his last thought was of Xander’s soft brown eyes, before long-built defense mechanisms kicked in and he blanked his mind of everything except for the desire to wipe the fake loving smile off of his father’s face.

***

“Would you watch that boy, Tom?! He started out in the back of the pack because of some car trouble, but he’s passing these drivers like they’re standin’ still. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone take those curves like this kid.”

“Yeah, I hear ya, Dave. It’s almost like he doesn’t even realize the danger, like he thinks he’s invincible. Thomas’s either a brave, brave kid or he’sa damn fool.”

Laughter.

“Yeah, or he’s got some kinda death wish! Either way, look out Dale Jr., he’s comin’ for ya and he’s comin’ fast.”

“Stay tuned, folks. We’ll be back after this brief break. You won’t want to miss this!”

***

Teeth clenched so hard he could feel his jaw popping, murderous black eyes stared intently at the car flying around the track like it was controlled by some gleeful child, unconscious of the deadly, deadly dangers. Barely restraining his snarl as Spike edged by the driver in 6th place, darting in front of him before even a whisper was between them, almost careening into the wall before continuing his nerve-wracking dance with death, Xander finally snapped.

Knowing that their radio connection would be monitored because of the great attention that was on the two Thomas men at the moment, he had tried hard to control his temper as Spike acted like some kind of bleached English kamikaze, but his nerves couldn’t take it any longer.

That was his lover out there and damned if he was going to let him kill himself to get out of seeing his asshole of a father later.

Growling into the radio, he tried hard to keep a low but firm tone. “Spike, you need to damn well watch what you’re doin’ out there. That’s the fifth time you’ve almost ran into the fuckin’ wall.”

“Fuck off.”

“Damn you, boy… You need to start fuckin’ listenin’. I’m not playin’ with you.”

Static… then nothing.

“Oh, shit no. He did not just do that again! Jesus Christ,” he snarled, ripping his headset off and throwing it onto the pavement. Whirling around, he ran both hands through his sweat drenched black hair, fisting it in his clenching hands as he shook with helpless fury.

The race was only half over and he was already planning on how he would kill the fuckin’ idiot.

***

“Well, Tom, sounds like Spike and Harris are having some ‘disagreement’ on how to continue this race. Never seen Harris lose his cool like that.”

More laughter.

“Yeah, know what you mean, Dave. Can’t say I blame him, though. If that was my driver out there, I’d be hard pressed to stay calm, myself.”

“True, true. Gotta admit, though, that boy is a genius out there right now, it’s almost like he is that car.”

“Let’s just hope he stays that way. One tiny mistake and he’s done for, the way he’s goin’ now.”

Silence.

“Have to wonder what his family is thinking right now. No race is that important.”

***


As he turned back around, stone-faced as he tried to keep down the flinches as he watched Spike out on the track, Xander felt an eerie kinship with his ex wife. For the first time, he experienced what she had every time he was out on the track. Only, he had never purposely put his life in danger this way.

The sick churning, barely held back terror in his belly, the cold sweat and trembling hands as he watched his lover face death over and over, was enough to make him swear off of watching another race ever. He felt faint and might have passed out if he hadn’t seen a flash of familiar red hair from the corner of his eye.

“Willow,” he managed to say, before she was stumbling into his arms from back where she had been watching the race. He had totally forgotten the girl was nearby, watching the same sickening display of a death-wish that he was.

“Why is he doing this?” she gasped out into his sweaty neck, and his hands trembled as he rubbed his big, rough hands over her back soothingly. Rage flashing in his eyes as he felt her shaking against him, he cursed both Spike and his father.

“You know why, honey. I shoulda known he couldn’t handle it. He was fine this morning… fuck,” he bit out, watching Spike mockingly trade paint with Tony Stewart before breezing past him while the fans stood and cheered, shouting and screaming in deafening cacophony. “Little asshole.”

“Everyone keeps saying that he’s trying to get himself killed. He wouldn’t, would he? I know he’s in pain right now, but surely.. he wouldn’t?”

Pressing her closer against him, he rocked her a little as he considered killing everyone who had upset her. Didn’t they know it was his sister they were telling that shit to?

“Of course not. He’s just… trying to outrun his demons, sweetheart,” he lied, knowing it was more than that, but trying to reassure her.

Wide green eyes, tear filled and scared, but still strong, glanced up at him and he smiled slightly at the look of recrimination in them. Aside from the color, they were so like her brother’s. “Okay, he’s being a fuckin’ thoughtless, selfish idiot and if he makes it through this, he’s gonna severely regret it. That better?”

She nodded and mumbled against his shirt, “Yes. Hate being coddled.”

Hours passed as they stood there, tense and silent, every muscle in their bodies focused totally on that small, fragile metal cage holding the most precious person to them. Every time Spike came in for a pit stop, she had to restrain him from going and pulling the boy out of the car, eventually keeping him away from the pit totally since there was little he could do there except order people around, anyway.

Every time Spike almost ran someone down when they didn’t get out of his way fast enough, every time he brushed the wall or some other car, every time he got clipped and spun around before righting himself and roaring down the track, Xander held her tighter, as her trembling got more intense, until he finally turned her around and kept her face turned away.

With every lap, Spike got more reckless, less and less in control. The bleak future without the boy he was just realizing how very much he loved stretched out in front of him and it was all he could do to keep down the bile that kept threatening to come up or the tears that stung his eyes back. Never again, he swore to himself. Never again was he putting himself in this position.

The cheers deafened and rocked them as Spike passed by Dale Junior but Xander felt nothing. Body and mind numb, he watched blankly as his lover passed under the checkered flag, winning the race.

It wasn’t until the car slowed to a stop that relief flooded his body, weakening his knees and causing the hot, scalding tears he had held in for hours to cascade down his cheeks. Burrowing his face in Willow’s soft red hair, he hid from the cameras as he tried to regain control.

Trembling small hands rubbed over his back, soothing him this time, as she kept murmuring it was over, all over, he was okay. When the crushing vise in his chest eased, he gasped in a couple of breaths and ran and big palm over his face, smearing tears with sweat and dust, before smiling down at her shakily.

“Thanks.”

“You, too,” she replied, before shivering in the smoldering hot air. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to head back to the hotel. I can’t…face him right now.”

He nodded, raw fury gripping him hard and shaking him again since the sheer terror that had held him in its grip had loosened. “Wait a sec and I’ll get someone to run you back.”

***

Cold. He was so bloody cold.

Automatically climbing from the car, laughing and smiling, inside he was freezing. The blankness that had filled him was slowly leaking away, leaving him shivering and empty, weaving slightly on his feet as the past few hours caught up with him.

Fans were screaming, clapping and cheering and he waved up at them before closing his eyes briefly as they all spun together into a blur of colors and sounds. Oz stepped up behind him, catching him slightly as he stumbled, on the pretense of clapping him on the back in congratulations.

“Damn, try to breathe, man. You’re whiter than a sheet,” the slender redhead murmured in his ear, smiling for the cameras. Spike nodded, his smile in place, and breathed in a few deep breaths, before stepping back and standing on his own two feet.

Which were subsequently knocked out from under him as Xander gripped him hard, looking for all the world like a hug, but feeling more like the older man was strangling him. Part of him relaxed, the feel of Xander’s arms around him driving away the lost and fragile feelings, making him feel safe and secure.

The other part of him was scared. The rippling, hard as steel muscles gripping him, the shaking in the other man’s arms as he held him tight, the tightly controlled voice growling in his ear, “You’re okay, you’re fine. Just smile for the camera and we can get the fuck outa here. Then I’m gonna fuckin’. Beat. Your. Ass.” All of that made it perfectly clear that his lover was not pleased with him.

Lights were flashing all around them, cameras were stuck in their faces and somehow he replied with at least some semblance of intelligence, but later, as they walked, or he was drug, rather, back to Xander’s car, he didn’t remember a word of what was said.

“William.”

Muscles froze as his body flashed hot and cold, feet nearly going out from under him as Xander kept walking, not noticing that Spike had stopped, paralyzed. When he realized the wrist his hand was wrapped around wasn’t moving along with him, he looked back at Spike, scowling.

Something of his emotions must have been on his face because a look of concern flashed in those wild black eyes before they flickered to the man standing behind Spike. Seeing those dark eyes flash with something a lot darker than what had previously been in them, Spike ground his teeth together and straightened his shoulders, slowly turning around to face his nightmare.

“Father.”

He might as well have been saying hello to a stranger for all the lack of emotion in his voice and he saw his father’s eyes narrow, before his fake smile slid back into place. Spike felt Xander step up behind him and knew that whatever their troubles, his lover was there for him and it made the moment a little easier to bear.

“I had hoped we would have a few moments to chat while I’m in town, William.”

Barely suppressing the shudder that rippled through his body at that voice saying his name, “You’re not my son, William, my son wouldn’t be a damned girl.” “You’re a disgrace, William, get out of my sight before I kill you, no one would miss you.” “You’re worthless, William, worthless, disgusting…”, he shook his head and smiled coldly, cockney accent dropping away to his now unfamiliar upper-class one.

“Sorry, I’m going to be busy.”

Annoyance flashed in those cold blue eyes, his eyes. “Really, William. You’re acting like a child.”

He felt his own eyes flash and before he could stop himself, he retorted, “Really, Father. That’s surprising since I don’t recall what being a child feels like anymore.”

The supporting heat of Xander’s body left his and he started, eyes widening, as the older man stepped around him. Fury was rolling off of him in waves and, while it made Spike’s heart dance that the man cared so much for him, it still made him uneasy to be near that much black rage.

“You,” Xander snarled, voice low and tense, holding barely restrained venom, “don’t get to speak to him.”

Spike watched as his father blinked, eyes growing wide as he stared at the large man in front of him, Xander's muscles flexing as those large beautiful hands Spike loved so much clenched into fists, black eyes wild with wrath, teeth bared in a snarl. Hands trembling slightly, Spike reached out and touched Xander lightly on the shoulder, seeing the cameramen start over, wanting to get the Thomas family reunion on film.

The hard muscles under his fingertips tightened, then eased, Xander taking a step backwards, closer to him, shielding him. It made his heart ache, in a way a lot sweeter than he was used to. He didn’t deserve this man, this dark warrior protecting him from the devil of his nightmares.

From where he was shielded behind Xander’s large form, he saw his father notice the cameras, watching with a detached fascination as the man composed himself, straightening his shoulders as he pulled on the cloak of his public persona.

“How dare you threaten me! He is my son and I have every right to speak to him if I wish.”

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Spike tried to pull Xander backwards, back to the car so they could make their escape, but he wasn’t budging. When Xander took another step forward, Spike’s eyes widened as he realized just how furious his lover was. If he didn’t stop him, he could do a lot of damage to Spike’s father, not that he cared either way, but he knew Xander wouldn’t want that kind of publicity.

Catching Xander’s arm before the older man could raise a fist to the smug irritating prick that was his father, he murmured quietly, “No. It’s not worth it.”

Xander stilled, glancing down at him with blazing eyes, barely seeing him at first, but then making a visible effort at controlling himself. With a short nod, he stepped back and took a deep breath, respecting Spike’s wishes.

Still playing it up for the cameras, his father wasn’t that ready to let go of the confrontation, though. As they turned to leave, he called out after them, “I’ll have your job for this, see if I don’t. You’ll never work in racing again!”

Spike snapped.

In two steps, he was in front of his father, eye to eye, then with a solid punch, which he felt all the way through his body, he dropped the other man to the ground, amid shouts and flashes of light. Leaning over him, he watched calmly as his father wiped the blood from his mouth, snarling out quietly, “Don’t you dare threaten him, you overblown prig. Do what you want with me, but don’t you go near him.”

Looking steadily into eyes that showed just the barest flicker of fear, he forced down both the joyously murderous laughter that echoed in his mind at what he had just done and the sick roiling in his stomach because of the same action. Straightening, he nodded once at the cameraman standing there gaping, before turning back to Xander and smiling faintly.

“Bloody hell, that felt good,” he said, slipping back into the more familiar cockney again and striding past his bemused lover. By the time he reached the car, however, Xander was walking silently in step with him.

Climbing into the passenger side, he closed his eyes and laughed softly, bitterly, shaking his head at the utter gall of the man. Thinking he’d want to ‘chat’ with him. Farkin’ imbecile.

The door slammed as Xander got in and started up the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and into traffic. After a few minutes of complete and utter silence, Spike turned his head slightly and slowly opened his eyes, watching the older man’s face as he drove.

“Where’s Willow?” he asked, suddenly remembering that his little sister had been there at the race. Xander stopped at a red light and, with all the inborn grace of a predator, slowly turned his head to fasten his intent stare on Spike.

Shivering at the cold fury that had been hidden in those dark eyes, Spike realized with a sinking feeling that even though his lover had stood up for him, protected him and let him deal with his father on his own, that he was far, far from calmed down about the race.

Xander was furious. Vibrating with it. The tension that had eased in Spike’s stomach since the confrontation with his father coiled again tightly in his belly, nerves fluttering and his breath hitching.

“Don’t,” was all the older man ground out, eyes focused back on the road as he drove, muscle ticking in his jaw as he ground his teeth.

Suddenly, Spike had no desire to get back to the hotel and started silently cursing each and every green light they passed under.