01 - Don't interfere!

~ Spike ~

I’ve been living in the whelp’s bloody basement for about a week now. It’s better than staying with the watcher. Master Vampire chained to a bathtub and fed by the slayer with pigs blood out of a –kiss the librarian- cup. That’s a story to frighten baby vamps – or a story to get every fucking demon on this world to laugh his arse off. The boy’s basement is definitely the better place for unlife. And I didn’t just think that. Damn.

Well, there he is, the star of the day, the goofy white knight in Pizza delivery uniform. He’s had a hard day, can see his stiff movements, back and shoulders are all tense, thirty minutes of my magic massage and oh you’d see boneless and relaxed Harris. However, I’m evil so I won’t offer --- as if he would accept. Boy hates me. He will certainly not let me comfort him.

He isn’t looking at me at all, his head bowed down, chin nearly on his chest and the misery is surrounding him like a fat cloud – got fired again. Damn.

Damn?

Above us, the front door slams open and shut again. Welcome home, Daddy.

In addition, there are the changes in my boy – whole body going still, all muscles tense, heart beating faster, breathing nearly stopping, head cocked to the side, straining to hear what’s going on upstairs.

If it weren’t for the scent of fear that is pouring off him in waves, he would look like a predator on hunt.

He’ll stay like this for a few minutes. When he hears his bastard of a father going up the stairs to the bedroom, calling for his equally drunken wife, he relaxes and goes on as if nothing ever happened. Denial is all in Xanderland.

However, I can hear the bleeding asshole hitting and raping her until she passes out. One of the moments, I hate my superior hearing abilities. Yeah, yeah, I’m evil and I should get off on it, but I don’t. Rape was never my thing. Neither was hitting women – not counting the slayer there. Bleeding gentleman my mother made me. Man of honour and all that crap. Can’t get over my nancy boyish human self sometimes.

Nearly ten minutes have passed and the sound of the heavy working boots on the floor of the living area has not subsided.

The fucker is pacing.

Never did that before. There is this tingling on my neck like a spider climbing around.

The sound of the fridge being opened.

Glass bouncing against glass.

The plop of the beer being opened.

The scent of fear is getting weaker but a new scent is in the mix: resignation.

Something I never smelled before on the whelp.

It creeps me out.

Upstairs I hear the older Harris grasping a new bottle and then he is slowly but steadily coming to the door that is leading to the basement.

Suddenly Xander turns to me and looks me direct in the eyes. The impassive look in his eyes is really freaking me out. I see him swallowing hard.

“Listen Spike, a choice for you: go and don’t come back or stay and don’t interfere in *any way* including telling anyone.”

I stare at him. His eyes are so neutral – he has to be a hell of a poker player. His eyes are totally erased of emotions. His body language and the scents are telling different stories – perhaps if we work on that we could visit Las Vegas for a weekend…

I remember that he waits for an acknowledgement of his demand. I just nod. Not sure what I’m going to do. His gaze is not wavering; he is not blinking or anything.

His stare makes me nervous, twitchy. I have to say something.

“What you’re gonna do?”

“I’ll deal. I always deal. If you interfere, you’re dust. There is nothing you can do. Understood?”

I nod again. How does he know, I will stay? Didn’t tell him. Got to know me a little. Well, I get to know the real Alexander Lavelle Harris just now.

We both hear Xan’s ma rushing down the stairs and to her husband.

“Oh Darling, come to bed?” She tries to sound seductive, she fails. Her voice is too high, too afraid.

Drunken-Dad turns away from the basement door and walks to her.

The whelp is going to the stairs while he’s taking his shirt off. Nice back. Like the shoulders.

“Pleeeaase, come to bed. Do everything you want. Please. Let me take care of you. Please. Please…” The boy’s mother begs and I’m kinda amused. The whelp must give his Dad a hell of a ‘talk’, when Ma is so desperate too.

The sound of flesh connecting with flesh.

Thu-thuud, resounds as her body falls to the floor.

Xander is up the stairs, hand on the door handle. He looks down again with the flat eyes and mouths “Don’t interfere” to me. Now I have a very bad feeling in my stomach. Something is very wrong here.

The basement door falls shut behind Xander.

“I’m here, Sir.”

“You’re too late.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Sorry will not make your mother better.”

“I know, Sir. I need to be punished.”

That’s when everything falls into place. “No no no no no” I gasp in my mind and need all my energy to keep my demon from roaring. I crouch onto the floor. Without the chip, I would have had the bastard’s head already in my hands. Nevertheless, I can’t do anything. I promised Xan. For a moment I think over my choice again. Perhaps I should leave. Leave Xan to that fucking parody of father – damn. Xan is the white knight. He would never raise his hand against his father. How could I come to this ridiculous idea that white knight Xander would stand up against the ones that are supposed to love him? It’s not right to hit your parents, even if they hit you. Not my way of living. Who hits me, is hit back. Who hits mine, dies. I can’t leave. I have to get him out. I have to off the fucking asshole upstairs.

“You’re right. You haven’t been punished for too long. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, Sir. I need to focus. I need you to bring me back on track, Sir.”

“You’re telling *me*, what to do? What do you think you are?”

“---“

“Answer me, you coward!”

Slap.

“I I’m n-n-nothing, S-s-sir.”

Slap.

“Aren’t you able to speak right? Stu-stu-stutter-boy.”

“I am nothing, Sir.”

“Damn right. You’re nothing. You’re lesser than dog shit, lesser than dirt on the street. You disgust me.”

Spit.

“What are you?”

“Nothing.”

Slap. Slap.

“Nothing, *Sir*!”

I can’t believe this is happening! I am a fucking master vampire and there is a goddamn human hurting what is mine and I am here hiding out. Xander knows this all too well. Each phrase comes nearly automatic. The little mistakes he makes are.. they're deliberate. So his father can get the anger out of his system still in the beginning and the punishment will not last *that* long. Fuck. The boy isn't supposed to know this kind of things. Took me years to figure it out for myself and to use it to my advantage against my Sire. How long has this been going on? Why does nobody know?

“Right! Ready for your punishment?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Won’t you be a good boy?”

“Will you *please* punish me, Sir?”

“That’s a good boy.”

The sound of a belt being pulled through the loops of a pair of jeans is heard.

“Bend over, son. You’ll get what you deserve.”

Szzzn. Crack.

Szzzn. Crack.

Szzzn. Crack. Szzzn. Crack. Szzzn. Crack.

…

I flinch every time the belt hits flesh.

Xander makes no noise at all. Is he unconscious? He cannot have this much self-control, can he? Back to former question: How bloody long has he had to endure this sick shit???

His father is moaning. The sound of flesh shifting flesh. More moaning.

Szzzn. Crack. Szzzn. Crack. Szzzn. Crack. Crack. Crack. …

This sick fuck is getting off on that. If he …

“You like that, don’t you? You like it like that, don’t you? Son?”

“Y-y-yes. I like you hurting me, --- Daddy.”

With that the bastard comes and I hear Xan trying to get to his feet.

Thanks … whoever. It’s over. I’ll make it better, Xan. …

“You dirty faggot. You sick fuck. Look, what you made me do! I hate you. I wish your whore of a mother had aborted you. You loser.” Kick in ribs. “Coward” Kick in ribs. Xander’s lying on his side now. “Waste of space!” His father kicks him in the stomach. “Asshole.” Opens the basement door. “You are nothing!” Kicks Xander again. The boy tumbles down the stairs. The door slams shut and my arms are around him.

02 - First Aid

~ Spike ~

“Ssshh, pet. I’ve got you. Ssh…”

"Yeah, … you really got me for a moment. …. For a moment I thought you really tried to pretend to care.” What the fuck?! I really cared. Why is he struggling out of my grip? Why isn’t he sobbing and breaking down and all that?

“Let me go, Spike. Just have to shut down, okay?” Shut down?

“Your wounds need cleaning and perhaps ribs are broken or …”

“Yeah, get your point Spike. You can have the blood. Just let me lie down and then you can lick it off. ‘kay?” Lick it off? Was not what I meant. Antibiotics and such… Well, vampire saliva will help it heal.

“Vampire saliva will …”

“I already said, you can lick it off – no need for further lies. Shut up now. Don’t worry. As if you would worry! I came back.” Came back? What is he talking about? His back looks bad. All open and still bleeding. Thick ruby drops slide out of some very deep welts.

“Xan, you sure about the licking part? Don’t want the slayer … Xan?” His eyes are closed. But he can’t be asleep already? He must be in great pain and should… check: breathing – very deep, very even, very slow. Heart rate – very slow, very even. Kind of meditation genius?

“Xan?” No reaction. Well okay, let’s clean you up then.

I really contemplate whether to get a wash cloth and antibiotic cream or so - just to show the boy that it isn’t only the blood I care about. And when did I get comfortable with that thought? I care? The chip must be frying my brain, synapse by synapse.

I look down again. His whole back has welts crisscrossing the skin. Blood is oozing out of the wounds. Red, powerful, delicious human blood. Life. Nearly a month since I’d had my last real meal. There is this edge to fresh human blood. Not sure how to describe it without creating bad poetry. No time for such likes. Have to stop the pain – it doesn’t matter for Xan wherever he has locked himself away but it matters for me.

I struggle for control when I bow my head down. The smells of the liquid life alone makes my demon break free. Hesitantly I stick my tongue out and lick on one shallow cut. Just one small drop. Xan’s taste explodes in my mouth, fills all my senses.

His blood is like the warm chocolate Joyce made for me, with a hint of strong coffee and tinged with the juice of ripe oranges. It’s a mix of emotions, there is so much love in his blood but everything is spiked with pain and disappointment. But above all feelings there is always hope. Hope, so strong, like a sunbeam breaking through a clouded sky. Hell, what a boy, no man… I’m instantly hard.

 

~ Xander ~

I so hoped, Spike would be gone before my dad would get to me again. The older I get, the longer are the time spaces between two encounters. So it’s not predictable anymore. But my skin itched and I knew it would happen soon.

It’s humiliating that Spike knows. Sure he will find a way to get an advantage out of his knowledge. Maybe it’s enough to let him lick my blood. Strange show he made when I came back. Can still hear his voice so near my ear, soothing me. His arms around me felt good. For a second I felt … strange. As if he could protect me. I felt safe. God, it’s ridiculous! I felt safe in the arms of a former serial killer! He would hurt me without thinking twice if he could. But he can’t. Even if he wants to, he can’t. The chip. It’s because of the chip. I know, he is incapable of hurting me. So I could feel safe. Alright.

I try to get to my happy place. I found it when I was six. I needed some place to go. I couldn’t go away physically, so I went in my mind. It’s nothing special – just a place to feel safe. A place to recover. A place to find new power and resistance and hope. It works. But it’s hard with Spike nursing my back. I’m in a relaxed enough state but I can’t shut down.

He is so careful with me. His tongue and fingers are cool and they feel good on the abused flesh. He is making all these little cat-licks and butterfly-kisses on every cut. I can feel his sharp fangs smoothing the edges of some gashes. He is really trying not to hurt me.

I wish it would be because he cares for me and not just because he doesn’t want the chip to react. Nobody ever really cared for me.

 

~ Spike ~

I really hope Harris has this shut down thing going. I simply can’t stop myself from being tender with his wounds. The chip is based on intention, so no problems there. I could jab my tongue deep in one of his cuts, plough all the way through it to open it again and again and... All with the intention to just clean the wound.

My chip wouldn’t twinge but for Harris it would be very painful. I think he would pass out before I’m half through with his back. Hmm. Or not. Has a lot of control going on. Didn’t make a fucking groan or anything when his father whipped him. Yeah, and look at his back. Nobody can control the pain of whippings of this extent without a lot of… practice. The resistance must be built up – slowly and steadily.

I’m through with nearly all the wounds. Licked them clean, made the edges of the torn flesh smooth for better healing and lesser scarring and fucking kissed them better just because his skin is so hot. I already said I hope he is not awake enough to notice it.

Now there are two really deep long welts crossing his back. All the time I nursed the smaller cuts I thought about what I should do with them.

They need stitches.

The boy will never go to the hospital.

I can do stitches but I could do more.

I could ask him.

Tell him, what I want to do and that then he won’t have ugly scars.

Scars which he will need to hide ‘cause everybody just knows from looking at them that he was whipped.

I think he would say yes.

He wouldn’t want scars.

He wouldn’t want *anybody* to know.

So it’s not necessary to ask him, right?

Right.

He will never know.

Good plan.

Let’s do this.

I bite into my right wrist, drag the fangs deeper to open the punctured marks wider and hold it over the middle of his back where the bad cuts meet. My left hand starts to rub my blood gently into the wounds and generally on his back in growing circles and I can’t stop.

I just keep massaging my blood into his body until…

… The smaller cuts have vanished completely after a few minutes and the deeper cuts will be faded by morning. No scars, no more pain for my boy.

I stand up and go to the sink, wetting a new towel and clean my own and his blood from the back. There is not much of my blood. His skin has nearly absorbed what it could get.

Will not do any damage.

For a moment I just look at him. He looks good. I like the hair this long, the soft curls on his neck are inviting me to grab them, pull his head back to reveal his throat… Yeah, little Me is twitching in my jeans. I’ll just tuck my Xanpet in and go for a smoke and a wank outside.

 

~ Xander ~

I have to be pretty fucked up if a vampire – a vampire like Spike aka William The Bloody – feels sorry for me. Or he was really thankful for ‘the-human-blood-from-a-warm-body-slurping’. Yeah but it was not exactly slurping, more like soft kisses and nearly playful hesitant licks. I really had to suppress a moan when he dipped his tongue deep into a cut or his fangs scraped along my flesh. Kinky much? I’m turned on by a vampire gently licking my belt-whipped bleeding back. It has to be the gently part. Gently doesn’t happen often in Xanderland.

My back feels better. The cool liquid cream Spike massaged in my skin has numbed the pain a lot. I have to ask him later which of my resources he used so I can replace it. By the amount he applied it must be nearly empty. I don’t want to not have the cream in my first aid supply when he… ahm, when I am injured again.

Part of me is sad, that he stopped nursing me. Hmm. He washed my back and then tucked me in. He carefully wrapped the blanket round my shoulders, sees to it that it doesn’t touch my ears and shoves it under my upper arms so it can’t get away. He hesitates a moment as if he wants to say or do something but he decides against it and just goes away. I hear the leather of his duster cracking and then the door clicks shut.

I’m so tired. I only want to sleep. But I can’t get it out of my head: How the hell does he know, that I can’t sleep when the blanket is over my ears?

 

~ Spike ~

Bloody hell. That was close. I am so stupid sometimes. When I tucked the boy in I KNEW the boy was *back* – accelerated heart rate and breathing and all but all I can think of is bowing down and kissing him and promising him to keep him safe.

Yeah.

As if he would believe me.

As if he would let me.

Aaarghh. I AM A fucking MASTER VAMPIRE I DON’T…

I don’t what?

A master vampire does what he wants to do. Right.

I want to have the BOY.

And chip or no chip if I want the boy giving himself WILLINGLY to me I have to play along.

Therefore I have to be gentle and careful and that entire rot.

The chance to get him is nearly non-existent.

He’s straight. He hates me. He adores me in a way for my coolness. He hates me more ‘cause he adores me. He doesn’t believe in himself. He doesn’t believe that he could be wanted as person. He is… unattainable for me. I am insane.

I have to wait, be patient. Maybe tomorrow he opens his mouth and says something like: ‘I hate you down to the bones. You can choose now: Do you want to go willingly in the sun or may I give you a shove? Nice afterlife fangless.’ And then I forget that I cared. Yeah, right.

The fag is still unlit in my hand. I don’t want to spoil the taste of the boy’s blood lingering on my tongue.

God, creamy chocolate melting in hot coffee in the sunshine. Delicate. Precious. It makes me dizzy – or that’s all the blood rushing so fast to my groin. Doesn’t matter. I need relief - now.

Wish my hands were not so cold. Makes it hard to pretend, his hands would work my cock and caress my balls. My tongue gliding around in my mouth searches for hints of his blood and the memory of my lips on his burning skin,
*upanddownupanddownupdownupdown*
painted with fresh hot blood,
*moan*
and my tongue dipping in the wounds,
*deep*,
seeking more
*moremoremore*
of the delicious red fluid and
*cumingcumingcuming*.

03 - News I

~ Spike ~

After my wank and a few cigarettes to calm myself down I went back to the whelp. I sat on the edge of the couch and just watched over his sleep. His face was relaxed and I was thankful that his sleep was not disturbed by nightmares. I hadn’t known how to handle them with Harris. When Dru had bad dreams it was easy. I pulled her in my arms and calmed her down with a good hard shag. I don’t think Xan would appreciate that kinda comfort. It’s a pity. It would do him good to get some… snuggles. It would do *me* good. Bloody hell, I am so desperate! It’s pathetic. But I never was a loner.

His heart pumps faster now, wakey, wakey, shiny boy.

Aaargh. Stop it! Damn.

Why isn’t he opening his eyes? He has to know I am here. And now he is… giggling?! Why the hell is he giggling? I never heard him giggle before. It’s cute. I smile.

 

~ Xander ~

When I wake up I know he is there. Watching me. I don’t open my eyes. He knows I am awake. I can feel it. My back feels like thousands of ants are running around on there. It’s a tickling sensation and I can’t help it I start to giggle. Yeah, really giggling like a girl.

I can’t stop it. I have to scratch my back. But I can’t, my hands are occupied with holding my belly. Giggling hurts after some time. I roll over onto my back and I start wriggling around. I arch my back, rub it against the sheets and it’s such a relief… ehmm. mhmhm. ehmm…

 

~ Spike ~

He rolls over and the blanket falls away, exposes his tanned chest and the dark nipples. He rubs his skin against the sheets and moans…

He is trying to kill me I’m sure.

My cock jumps painfully against the metal teeth of my zip. I look into his face, eyes still closed, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed from laughing and he still makes these delicious groaning sounds.

He *is* beautiful.

I use all my will power to not ravish him.

His eyes fly open.

His brown depths are totally free from pain and responsibility.

They sparkle with hope and laughter.

I am lost.

 

~ Xander ~

Where is Spike? I have the feeling he is close, sitting on the edge of the couch or so. I open my eyes to look at him and am nearly shocked by the intensity of his slightly darker than usual blue ones. We lock gazes for a few seconds and some kind of… I’m not sure what he offers and to what I am agreeing to but it feels good to know it, feel it.

His smile, the first real smile I ever saw on him, gets… smilier and I grin right back.

That is the moment when the door to the basement opens.

 

~ Spike ~

The door opens and in less than half a second I see the hope and laughter die in my pet’s eyes. He is panicked, frightened and, for a split second, his gaze pleads for my help. He then regains control over his emotions and an unreadable expression settles on his face. A helluva poker player he would be. Have to explore this further. He is up and shoves me to the floor, turns around and faces his nearly sober mom.

Mom?

She never comes down here.

Sober?

She is never this sober.

I climb under the bed to hide and concentrate on the conversation between them.

 

 

~ Xander ~

God, what is she doing down here? It has to be bad if she comes down to the basement. And she is almost sober. The world is going to end. I’m sure. This is bad news.

“Mom?” I squeal - all manly - hysterically.

“You have to go away, kid. Rory moves in on Friday Afternoon. Your Dad has given him the basement.” she whispers and can’t look me in the eyes.

“Rory? Friday? Basement? Mom? No. … … Nononono.”

“Yes. Your father decided this. I did what I could but since you’re with…”

“With?” I gasp and I have an idea where this will go. Fuck.

“Where is he hiding?” Shit, she knows. She is sober and she knows that Spike is here.

“Mom…”

“It’s okay, you know. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s what you are. I saw this show about gay people and I understand.” She smiles at me warmly.

What?! Gay?!

“What? Gay? … No, I’m not… It’s not what you think… It’s… He’s…” --- an evil vampire and I just let him lick my back ‘cause it was bleeding and vampires like blood and he is evil but not dangerous ‘cause he has this chip in his head from the initiative and that’s the secret government demon hunting operation and Buffy dates one of the soldiers and she is the slayer and she should dust Spike ‘cause that’s what she does, dust vampires, that is, but she don’t ‘cause Spike has this chip from her boyfriend and have I told you that vampires and demons are real and Sunnydale is on the Hellmouth that has a great attraction to any things that go bump in the night…

“Come out… Spi- William. Meet my mom.” God, what am I doing?

 

~ Spike ~

What is the whelp doing? And who is Rory?

I climb out from under the bed, rise to my feet and smile my most charming smile.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Harris. My name is William. I am deeply sorry to have caused you trouble.” Xan is looking at me as if I grew a second head or five. What did he think. I have manners. I just don’t show them often.

His mom takes my hand and shakes it firmly. I look directly into her brown eyes and now I know where Xander got the sunshine from. It’s in her eyes too but it’s nearly faded. I have to look down. I will never let the sunshine in Xander’s eyes fade away.

“Hello William. It’s nice to meet you. You’re not the one causing the trouble, my son and I, we’re always in trouble, Alexander surely told you. I’m glad my son found someone to confide in.” Wish he would.

“Ehm, Mom, why is Rory moving in?” Xander asks still puzzled.

“He is broke.”

“He is always broke.”

“He stayed here before, you remember…”

“I don’t want to remember.” he says icely.

“Me neither, Lexi, but he is your father’s brother and your father wants him here. And you have to go. Both of you. I am sure you can make it on your own. You have a job and William surely has one too, or can get one…”

“Mom, it’s difficult…” Okay, my turn now.

“Mrs. Harris, Xander, please, I am sure, my flat is now free of the cockroach infestation and we can move into it. Xander is very welcome to stay as long as it pleases him.”

Xander opens and closes his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Good boy.

And mom smiles at me.

“Oh good. When will you move out?” Hurry much?

“Thursday evening.”

“Good. I trust you to take good care of my boy. Don’t come back, don’t write, don’t phone. It’s better if you both disappear for a while. Rory and my husband are unpredictable sometimes…” Nice to remember you too.

Wait --- did she say she trusts me? Trust me? Me?

Whoa, Harris’ Mom’s lips are on my cheek.

“Mom, you have to leave too. You said yourself when Dad and Rory …”

“Ssh. Go with your William and be happy. I will be fine. Now start packing. Don’t look back.” She drops a kiss on his cheek too and he hugs her.

His eyes are glittering and I hope he’ll not cry. I have to organise a few things, have to call in favours. I don’t have time to console the boy. Yeah, you’re right, same as with the nightmares, have no clue how I should console him without shagging it out of him. Definitely lacking some skills there. Or Harris could just get over it and let me…

Xander stares after his mom while she goes upstairs. We both can hear her rummaging in the fridge and taking out a bottle and a glass.

Xander turns around and looks directly in my eyes.

“Thank you, Spike.” he says with a teary voice and honest puppy dog eyes. And I’m not touched. No, not touched at all.

04 - News II

~ Xander ~

Shitshitshit. I start to pace. We have to move out. Tomorrow. Where the hell shall we find a room or anything so fast? They are my parents. They shouldn’t kick me out like that. God I’m so fucked. I have no idea what to do now. And I said thank you to Spike.
To Spike of all people!

Maybe Willow would let me stay until I find something. Or Giles. No, Giles has this friend visit thing and therefore kicked Spike out. Spike – William who is my boyfriend if you ask my mom. Boyfriend? Vampire. Boyfriend-vampire. Vampire-boyfriend? Aaargh.

I look at him and he cocks his head to the side and raises his scarred eyebrow. He tries to look cool but insecurity is written over his face in big black block letters.
“Are you alright, Xander?” He asks me with this ridiculous Giles-imitating voice. Suddenly it hits me. Spike’s isn’t – wasn’t - the bad boy he pretends to be! He is the Giles of the vampires – or Ripper is like Spike for Giles and William is like Giles to Spike or… lost track but again. Spike was a librarian? I start chuckling which leads to laughing which leads to guffawing hysterically and can’t stop.

 

~ Spike ~

The whelp is giggling – again. I think it’s shock or something. He can’t laugh at me. I’m the Big Bad – nobody laughs at me.

“What ya laughin’ at, wanker?” He just continues giggling. Then I get it.

Bloody hell! My reputation went straight down the drain.

I have given him a complete William the Ponce live show!

Did it for his Ma. Don’t want her to worry. I’ve really gone soft.

“Start packing!” I snarl and turn around. The giggling stops abruptly and his hand is on my wrist. I sigh loudly and his hand drops away. He appears in front of me, blocks my way. I know my irises are completely golden when I gaze at his face but he is watching something very interesting on the floor.

“You meant that?” He questions with a four-year-old’s-voice.

“What?” I reply faking indifference.

“I mean you know with the moving out and into your apartment. You don’t have an apartment or do you have an apartment – flat? And with me moving in with you and…” He raises his head and meets my eyes.

Hell, he is so vulnerable.

How has he survived this long?

His babbling goes on: “You said that to my mom just because you don’t want her to worry right? But why should you mind if she worries or not? I mean you’re evil and all. The chip is only stopping you to hurt physically right? Or has it fried your brain this much and you are a kind of invalid vamp now? Being nice and…?” I growl. “No, you’re planning something big, aren’t you? Something to hurt my mom. At first telling her you’re nice to me and later she gets one by one my body parts every day by mail. You’ll torture her. If you torture her I’ll dust you. But I can’t dust you when you send my body parts around, can I?” I cock my head to the side. “When you start with my ear I still have my hands and would be able to dust you. Will you start with my ears? I like my ears…” What is he on? Why is he giving me torture advice? Have I really to decide *now*, with which body part I start? He thinks I will hurt his mom. I would never hurt her. She is a kind woman and I understand her conflict between husband and son. She didn’t handle it well. Whatever. Un-fucking-believable, he is still babbling. He’ll pass out from the lack of oxygen. “… she was so grateful that I have someone who likes me and I thank you for the nice act and all. For a moment she was happy – haven’t seen her that since – ahm – forever. If you could keep it up for a while longer. Just until we move out and… “

Or not. I grit my teeth and interrupt him: “Wasn’t an act. Don’t want her to worry, had a mom too, you know. Start packing. NOW.” A growl accompanied by a flash of my other face for emphasis.

 

~ Xander ~

Whoa, pissed off Spike.

He had a mom too. Everybody has a mom.

Spike pushes past me and is out of the door into the night.

“Wait!” I call and he stops and turns around.

The yellow lights of the street lamps illuminate only one side of his face. One half in the light, one half in the dark, I register and store it away for another day when I have the time to think it over. It seems kinda… important - in a creepy way.

“What whelp?” He drawls annoyed.

“Where are you going?” Don’t leave me, I don’t know what to do without you. God, Xander get a grip!

Spike lights a cigarette, takes a drag and another, blows the smoke into the clear night.

“Find a place for us, find a job for you and…” He lets the sentence hang in the air. What is he not telling me? My hearts starts pumping furiously, drumming against my chest.

“And what?”

“Andperhapsoneformetoo.” Huh?

Did he say what I think I heard?

“You, job?” Oh that was coherent, Xander. Congrats. Shut up.

“Not the nice kind of job!” He growls. “Now. You. Pack! What is not packed is left behind, pet. And grab my stuff too – all of it.” With that he throws his cigarette to the ground, stomps it out and turns. I blink and the night swallows him.

I stay in the door jar for a moment longer, stare in the dark.

Spike and a job.

A job and Spike.

Not a nice kind of job, he said.

Not a nice kind of job for him or for me or for both of us?

What is not a nice kind of job in demonic meanings?

I should be scared. God knows what kind of work I’ll have to do. Don’t have much choice, have I? I’ll be patient. Spike has surprised me a lot in the last two days. Manners and Moms and laughing and nursing me yesterday. And my back! I have totally forgotten about it. It doesn’t hurt, so it can’t be that bad. Have to take a look later. Now packing.

I go back into the basement and open a cupboard. There are six or seven duffel bags. I always bought one after really bad beatings I received. Always swore to myself then to start packing as soon as I would be able to leave the hospital. Mom visited me secretly when Dad was at work. I knew she was sorry. I never could bring myself to pack and leave her alone. Now I don’t have a choice. Aren’t I grateful for that?

I am going to leave this basement.

I am leaving this parody of a family.

I am leaving for good.

I start a new life tomorrow.

A new job.

A new whatever to live in.

It doesn’t matter if it’s cleaning the public toilet and living in a dusty crypt – I’ll deal. Everything is better when it gets me out of here. I have to smile. Out of the basement. Out of my psycho parents’ house.

--- out of the ground… into the sky… ---

I start with Spike’s stuff. It’s not much. Two pairs of black jeans, five black t-shirts, some socks, a red and two black silk button-downs, no underwear, two cd’s (Sex Pistols and The Clash), a locked silver metal box the size of a Maxi-Cornflakes-Pack – I wonder what’s in there - , two bottles JD and 5 packs of cigarettes. Everything fits in two duffel bags.

For my clothes I need three duffel bags, the two left are now filled with my comics, some books, two photo albums and little remembrances. I really don’t own much. I go to the bathroom and find a bucket for the stuff there.

My large first aid supply goes where I go.

I look for the nearly empty tube of antibiotic cream Spike has used on my back but they’re all nearly full. Spike had to have emptied it and thrown it away. I shrug my shoulders. It has done what it was needed for; I don’t hurt anymore.

So, I am through. Packed everything, looked twice if I forgot something; I didn’t. I lie down, stand up again, search the fridge, find sausages, cook them, eat them with a lot of bread, eat a chocolate cream dessert, eat the rest of the ice-cream, look for the thousandth time at the clock, nearly 4:30 a.m. and Spike is not back. Sun’s up in an hour.

I am excited. What will Spike organise for us? What jobs? What place to stay?

I start to check the basement again for things I don’t want to leave behind but I am sure there isn’t anything for me here anymore.

And what if Spike doesn’t come back? Why would he care for me? Here isn’t anything to come back to… Totally resigned I fall down on the shabby sofa and try to choke the tiny bits of hope *he* gave to me.

Lyrics: Nirvana

Overview

A: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08
B: 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22
C: 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33
D: 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 |tbc...