Paring: Spander (of course)
Warnings: Bad language and explicit sexual m/m activity.
Summary: Xander is wrongly convicted of murder and sent
to Riverview Correctional Institution where Spike is a guard.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or products named in
this story and sadly, make no profit.
A.S. (angst scale) 1
Thanks to the amaxing Petxnd for the banner.
Spike dropped his bag on the floor by his feet and settled in at one of the
long tables in the aptly named, multipurpose room. His shift didn't start for
another fifteen minutes but the state required, and paid for, officers to be
present and accounted for 15 minutes ahead of time for roll call procedure.
It was a time for exchanging information from the previous shifts, relaying
to the oncoming C.O's details any disturbances, real or rumored, and any
changes relevant to their assigned work posts.
Spike smiled and looked around him, enjoying the rowdy comradery
of the other officers, joking with each other, betting on the next big pro
game and regaling the others with exaggerated war stories.
Spike couldn't imagine working anywhere else.
It was an odd occupation. One fraught with daily danger, often life
threatening, and nothing the average citizen would want any part of.
Still, when he was asked if he liked his job, he had found the most
honest answer to be that it really wasn't the type of job you like, but it
was the type that suited him very well.
Unlike most of the state prisons, this was a relatively small facility
consisting of eight separate living units, each with a specific population
It was an experimental building constructed in the late 1970's with
the goal of rehabilitation rather than punishment.
It was, therefore, built with a school attached as well as several work
programs that have, due to budget cuts, been long discontinued and
left empty and dust covered.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, can you please shut the hell up and pay attention
so we can get the fuck out of here?"
Spike's attention was drawn to the older, black man standing at the front
of the room, a stack of papers in his hands. The roll call opening wasn't
very dignified, but it was both tradition and effective. Everyone settled in
and waited. Unpredictability was the operative word in this job and any
prewarning or heads up as to what they are walking into is crucial.
Sgt. Gates began with "E" unit, the gang unit, advising them there had been
several minor skirmishes in the exercise yard. Nothing serious and no
weapons involved, but it needed to be watched.
He continued with "C" the sex offenders and a found stash of pornography,
"B" unit, the smaller, younger offenders and read todays list of suicide watches.
He advised the C.O.'s from "N" that the mental unit was true to form and
had spent most of the morning kicking their doors and shouting profanity.
Angel kicked back knowing there would be no exchange if information
from the inmates on his unit. As senior C.O. he had, as soon as C.O.Henning
retired, bid on his spot on the honors dorm. It was a cushy spot. 50 of
the biggest butt kissers in the California penal system.
Mostly white collar and similarly skinned inmates that simply wanted to
do their time as easily and quietly as possible. Trouble and altercations
on this housing unit were usually confined to name calling and the occasional
shove. Angel prided himself on the control he believed he exerted.
The other C.O.'s knew better. These were the cunning inmates. The clever
ones that knew how to play the game, say all the right things and appear
to be strictly on the up and up.
"Spike. As soon as role call is over, you need to report to the basement.
We have a van arriving in about ten minutes. You will have 3 new ones
coming in. Go ahead and process them, get them showered and in to
blues. After they get their cell assignments, I will have the nurse do their
Spike nodded. He had been working intake for the last year. Except for
the druggies going cold turkey, he liked this spot very much. It was his
job to get the new arrivals acclimated to the system, evaluate them, and
at the end of their three month stay on his unit, send them on to the general
population housing dorm they were best suited to.
Spike nodded and accepted the file folders the Sgt. handed him, glancing
through them as the roll call wrapped up.
#1. Daniel Osborn, age 25, arson to an occupied structure causing personal
injury. Sentenced to 5-7 years.
#2. Adam Steele, age 32, 3 counts of attempted murder with gun specification.
Five previous felony convictions. 15 - 20 years.
#3. Alexander Harris, age 23, second degree homicide. Sentenced to life.
Spike frowned, he remembered hearing about that case. There was apparently
no body found but the evidence against the boy was overwhelming. Forensic's
had a laundry list.
Discarded victim's clothing stained with both the offender's blood and the
victim's were located on the beach. They had been seen arguing earlier and
when a search warrant had been executed, Harris's shoes were covered with sand.
It was assumed that they were lovers. Harris admitted as much. The prosecution
contended that they fought and Harris murdered him, tossing the body out into
the ocean where the undertow could carry it far and away to be served up
as fish food. Harris had sworn that when he left the victim alone on the beach
that he was still very much alive. His attorney had failed to convince a jury
that some other perp had come along later and done the deed.
Although interesting, it actually mattered very little to Spike. He never
concerned himself with the specifics of an inmates case. He was no one's
judge and jury, that job had already been done. Spike was only concerned
with the man and the here and now.
He only cared that the inmate follow the rules, adjust to the system and
not cause any problems for the staff or other prisoners.
Spike slapped the folders against the palm of his hand, scooped up his
bag from the floor and headed out. Nope, he didn't care if Alexander
Harris had made his honey walk the plank or not. Besides, sharks have
to eat too. That's what the Discovery Channel says.
Within the next few minutes, he would just be another inmate and
Spike would make sure that Harris understood that.
No more high profile.
From now on, he was #2694502. Property of the State of California.