bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

White Lightnin' 25/37

Title:White Lightnin' 25/37
Author: BmblBee
Rating Adult overall
Paring: S/X
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 Appalachian mountains to search for
and destroy illegal alcohol when he has an accident.
Xander is a moonshiner who takes him in.

It had taken Spike a few minutes to truly understand
what he was seeing.
When he had entered the barn his first thought was that
someone else must have been storing his car in Xander's

Then the agent side of his brain kicked in and immediately
started analyzing the situation.
This car was spotless.
No dust meant it had not been sitting idly. It had been
driven and lovingly cared for.

There was plenty of room outside and a padlock on the
barn door which indicated the car was being kept out of
sight for a reason. Hidden from prying eyes.

Spike jerked open the passenger side door.
It was everything he had been taught to look for. The rear
seat was gone, replaced by wooden carrying cases that
reached back into the trunk.
Cases filled with brown jugs.

Spike pulled out one of the jugs and uncorked it.
The smell that assaulted his nose made his shaky legs even
He tossed the jug to the ground and collapsed sobbing.

"God damn you Xander!"

He couldn't believe he had been lied to.
Everything about Xander was a lie.
His broken heart filled with hate and despair.
Everything he had come to believe in was a deceit.

All his adult life he had guarded his emotions against affection
for another man. Then Xander came along and filled him with
He was shattered. Crushed. Full of rage.

Pulling himself to his feet, he held tight to the car for balance.
Summoning all the strength he could, Spike unleashed all the
fury he felt inside. Picking up a lug wrench from a tool shelf,
he swung.

There was no satisfaction or relief in seeing the glass shatter.
It only made him feel worse.
He knew there was only one thing that would help the pain to
go away. The same thing he had begged Xander for and was
"Don't have no booze here" Spike mocked in his best
Xander voice.

Spike snatched one of the jugs from the car and pulled the plug.
No longer caring about the consequences, Spike swallowed.

He felt every cell in his body welcome the burning drink.
It warmed his throat and stomach as it ran down.
He could almost count the brain cells that fried and died blessedly.
Tipping the crock, he let another mouthful go down.

Laughing sourly Spike had to admit, "You make some quality shit,
Xander. I just might become a regular customer."

Trying to clear his head, Spike considered his options.
Even with reason and logic drowning in liquor, Spike knew he
would not arrest Xander. He just wasn't sure why.
It would be the perfect revenge.
The divine punishment, yet he also knew it would bring no

The half empty jug slipped from his hands and fell to the dirt floor,
spilling. Grabbing another full one, he staggered back to the
cabin with it to wait for the moonshiners return.

He had no interest in finding the still.
"RULE ONE: Find and destroy the apparatus."
Maybe rule one should be 'Don't fuck the moonshiner'

He sat there for what seemed to be hours. The jug was
almost dry and the fire had gone out.

The cabin was getting cold and Spike briefly thought of
stoking it and adding some wood. 'Fuck it.'
He wanted the room as cold as his heart.
Besides, this was Xander's place.
If he wanted it warm he should be here to care for it.

The afternoon sun had passed to the other side of the cabin
causing the room to dim.
Xander had shown him how to light the lantern, but that too
went untouched.
Slipping in and out of his drunken haze, Spike finally heard the
footsteps he had been waiting on.

Xander stood inside the door for a moment allowing his eyes to
adjust to the faded light.
"You're drunk. Or should I say, you're drunk, Agent Beemish."
Xander slammed the door behind him. Crossing the room, he
angrily snatched the jug from Spike's lax fingers and threw it
smashing against the hearth.

"What?" Spike had centered himself and prepared a somewhat
coherent outraged speech.
He would throw all Xander's lies in his face then sit back and
enjoy his begging apologies.

Now he was off balance. How did Xander know who he was?
The combined effects of the alcohol and confusion left Spike silent.

"Nothing to say, Spike? Good, cause anything out of your mouth
would probably be a lie anyway. You're a fuckin' liar and a
stinkin' drunk. You want to arrest me? Well kiss my ass!"
Xander was pacing back and forth in front of Spike making him
dizzy and causing his stomach to threaten a revolt.

The hate of the words cut through his heart and mind like a knife.
"FUCK YOU, Xander! I'm a liar? Well what the fuck does that
make you? A God damn back woods, ignorant, moonshining,
hillbilly. Yea, I'm an agent, but you're a ......"

Stopping in mid rant, Spike rushed to the door on weak legs and
barely made it outside before vomiting what felt like gallons of
alcohol onto the front yard.

Xander stood watching. He had always been disgusted at the
weakness of a man trapped by alcoholism, but watching Spike
he found the anger and disgust was only directed at himself.

He had done that.

He wanted to run to him and hold him while he threw up. He
wanted to comfort him, but pride and shame held him back.

Spike slumped weakly against the door frame. The painful
retching had somewhat sobered him up.
"I hate you."
The fact that it was said quietly did not lessen it's effect.

It knocked out what little breath Xander had in him.
"Yea, well, I hate you too."
Crossing the room, Xander grabbed Spike by the arm and
tossed him roughly onto the bed.

"Sleep it off, Spike. We got 5 hours before I start my run.
When I go I'll drop you about a mile out of town. Get on the
bus tomorrow morning and get the hell off my mountain
and out of my life."

Xander turned and stomped out of the cabin hoping Spike
couldn't see the tears that had already started to fall.

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