Rating Adult overall
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story and make
no profit from them
Summary: Set in the early 1940's, Spike is a G-man sent on
a mission in the Applachian mountains to search for
and destroy illegal alcohol when he has an accident.
Xander is a moonshiner who takes him in.
By this time, Spike had decided to do what ever it took to get
this grade school drop out to bring him his booze.
Letting Xander roll him over on his side, the pain shot through
his body with such force he could do nothing but sob.
Xander immediately stopped and gave the stranger time to
"I'm sorry. I'm trying to be gentle. Can you feel anything at
all in your legs or feet. A tingly, prickly feeling maybe?'
Taking a deep breath and allowing the pain to wash over rather
than paralyze him, Spike tried to concentrate on what Xander
"Yes. Yes, it feels like pins and needles. Do you think that is good?"
Gingerly, Xander eased Spike's undershirt up.
Right in the center of Spike's back was an ugly large bruise.
Looked like the shape of the door handle on the car.
He must have slid sideways in the seat and slammed his back
against it when he wrecked. Probably already too drunk
or passed out to know what was happening.
Carefully running his hand over it, Xander felt the swelling and
knotted muscles. He had seen this happen often on the
football field, though not as severe as this.
Xander knew the swelling around the spine would need a few
days to come down. After that he should be able to walk
some, but it was going to be a long recovery, and a lot of pain.
It did bring a small amount of relief to know that he was not being
This was not a faked injury, still it didn't solve the problem of
what to do with one very crippled Mr. William Beemish.
Spike clutched the quilt and strained not to cry out.
Christ, if he only had a drink.
"Well?" He asked through gritted teeth
"Ya got a lot of swelling and an ugly bruise around your backbone.
Most likely cain't walk on a counta that. Take a few days for
the swelling ta go down then we can see what happens."
Xander groaned mentally at the thought of this rude, gorgeous
ass hole ('Now why did I think that term?') being here for
God knows how many days.
He couldn't possibly keep up this stupid hillbilly act, and how
the hell would he keep his still fired up and next weeks shine
cooked and delivered.
This was not good. This was not good at all.
Allowing Xander to ease him onto his back again, Spike
contemplated the diagnosis Dr. Stupid had given him.
'Bloody hell! There is no way I can lay here at this man's mercy
for days on end.
If he doesn't go get that case soon he is going to find out he has
more on his hands than just a fuckin' cripple'. It had already
been way too long and Spike could start to feel his hands shake.
The cramping in his stomach would flare up and in no time he
would be in the middle of a raging case of the DTs
"Please, Xander, I let you look at my back. Now, please go
get my bags. I really need a drink to ease this pain, please."
The man's begging stirred more foreboding in Xander than pity.
He had grown up the son of Tony Harris.
He knew the signs of an alcoholic. The twitchin', the licking his
lips like he is always trying to taste something, the begging
one minute then the screaming threats the next.
Xander didn't know how bad Beemish's alcoholism was, but
he knew this was going to get ugly.
Well fine. Who the fuck cares.
I am not this brother's keeper. Sides, if he stays drunk I won't
have to deal with him.
"Sure, Mr. Beemish. I'll go get your stuff right now. It is just
a fair piece up the road. You rest here and I won't be but a bit."
Xander got no response, but didn't really expect one.
He closed the door and took a deep breath of the cool
Leisurely, he started down the path. He was in no hurry.
Waiting till he was clear of the view, Xander darted into the
woods and circled around behind.
Making his way toward the still, he studied the area for any
signs of change or disturbance. Satisfying himself that all was
as he had left it, Xander stoked the coals.
He knew if the copper coils of the still went cold the shine in it
He had a couple more days before he would drain off this batch
and would worry about the next one later.
Continuing on about 100 ft. further back, Xander approached
what appeared to be a pile of brush.
Looking all around, more out of habit than fear, Xander
pulled some of the scrub away to reveal a small cave dug out
of the hill side.
Ducking his head he stepped in.
Immediately he was absorbed in the deep earthy smell of damp
soil and foliage. It was a primal smell that always made him
feel one with the earth.
Crouching down he felt around and located the spare crocks
he had stored along the cave wall.
It wasn't much.
Just a few he kept in case his still broke down or was damaged.
It wasn't enough to fill all his orders, but at least most of his
best customers would be supplied.
Joe would get his first.
Secure in the knowledge that everything was untouched,
Xander reconcealed the cave entrance.
Checking the tubing, coils and tub of the still, Xander banked
the fire and started away.
Stopping as he always did at a fair distance, he turned to survey
the entire area.
Xander knew he would instinctively know if one twig or leaf
was out of place.
But for now, it wasn't.
For now, all was as it should be.
Feeling somewhat better, he started again for the site of the wreck.
Spike watched Xander leave. After giving him a few minutes
to make sure he was really gone, he allowed the tears to fall.
His life was so fucked.
He had no idea how far away the car was. Would he be
gone 5 minutes or 5 hours?
He had to hold on.
Thank God for once he did follow his superior's advice.
There was nothing in the car that could in any way connect him
to the government.
Not that he had anything to fear from Xander.
Kid probably couldn't even read.
Besides, Xander wouldn't be looking for anything.
"Damn, why were the really good looking ones so unexceptable
and untouchable. Why can't I find a man that wants what I want.'
Spike felt the familiar saddness sweep over him.
Again the tears ran slowly from the corners of his eyes down
to his ears. Unable to stop crying, he wiped his nose on the
back of his arm and automatically tried to turn over.
The pain shot through his body like a sword slicing up
Keeping as still as possible, Spike strained to stare at the
doorway listening for any sound outside.
'Please God, make him come back soon.
Jesus I need a drink.'