Disclaimer: I do not hold the copy right to Buffy the Vampire Slayer™, Angel:the Series™, or The Chronicles of Riddick™ nor do I claim to. All characters belong to their original creators, networks, and subsidiaries. I make no profit from the making or sharing of this fanfiction.
A/N: Thank you to those observant readers who caught the language "slip". Now if you would just keep your nickers untwisted, all will be revealed in accordance with the plan. *Looks around with shifty eyes*Cough* Plan. . . yes. . . right. . .
0o Xander o0
'Help me? O-kay. Guess that rules out most of my other theories about what he wants. Though he could still be lying through his teeth. And damn if that isn't one intimidating body. Angel was buff, Oz was wiry, but this guy? Shit, he can so take me.' Xander took a few steps back once he actually set eyes on the strange man-thing in the shadows. He could have sworn he heard laughter, but. . . naw.
It had been months since he lost control. There was no way that it would happen now. If his shields broke, if his control cracked there was no way he could protect himself. Weird Guy wouldn't matter, he wouldn't be able to protect himself from the enthusiastic ladies of the Fabulous Ladies Night Club, never mind something actually meaning him harm.
Panicked breaths began speeding in and out of his lungs, too fast for him to actually get the oxygen he needed. He was hyperventilating where he stood, fear scent bleeding out of him like a lethal wound. His terrified eyes shot up to the man in front of him.
'Been a long time since I smelled that much fear.' But the thought wasn't Xander's. So he did the only logical thing he could. He fainted.
0o Riddick o0
Riddick moved faster than gravity and managed to catch the boy before he hit the plasmat covered ground. 'Well. . . that was unexpected.'
He hoisted the boy into his arms and headed into the dark. Didn't seem like the boy would be waking up any time soon. Best to find some place that was defensible and comfortable. . . for the boy that is. He didn't think help would be very forth coming if he left the boy on some cold hard rock. He might take offense at that.
An ugly looking land-bridge was just within his sight, most of the lights around it dim and pale lavender in his sight. The brightness wouldn't hurt his eyes, but would be enough to keep the boy from panicking. He crawled up a steep embankment and hid near where the bridge joined its moorings and placed the kid on one of the few spots that looked like it wouldn't give him a cricked neck. Then he took up post and watched over the boy. . . Harris, waiting for him to wake up.
He spent his time looking over the boy- Harris. Trying to figure out what he could. He had the beginnings of a solid build, not as heavy as his own, but the boy could have some serious muscles in a year or two. His legs were toned from what he could see, good runner's legs. His baggy shirt draped around him, but didn't hide the strong chest or wide shoulders from his sight. The boy had looks that would have gotten him into real trouble in Slam. He looked like the kind of boys used as currency in the double- and triple-max slams he was used to.
Damn, but it had been a long time since he had seen a boy as pretty as this. Vakko had a rugged charm and if there had been more time. . . but nothing beat having a pretty boy in his bed, begging him to protect him from the other scary men, begging not to be whored out again. Too bad this boy didn't seem like the begging type.